starting with a roll for the first post back was probably a bad idea

Rolled 90 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>6080901
Sorry I'm a bit late

>>6080917
barring a roll of 1 that's a full success

Rolled 35 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>6080901

LETS GO!!

I really don't mind players rolling again rather than being stuck waiting

Rolled 15 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>6080901
The Cape goat has returned!

>>6080917
full success!

He was moving toward an L station. I kept pace. It's not like Zeke was a hard guy to tail. A couple of guys cut me off, blocking my way into the platform.

"-and get this. Finally she says Napperville."

"Oh man, hate that shit."

I duck around them, taking steps two at a time to keep from losing sight of Zeke.

A carriage pulls up on the Orange Line and he gets on. I get on the next carriage down. Neither are full, but there are enough people on I'm not sticking out like an idiot in my damp clothes. The hot day had dried them off some, but I'd still clearly been in the water. I sit, and even if I can't keep an eye on him, draw on my fire to boost my hearing.

The fire inside me flickered to life, the white heat spreading from my chest through my body. Every sound around me grew sharper, til even the pulse of the woman across from me seemed to drum to the same beat as the bounce of the carriage on the tracks. I block that out though, focus it.

Do I know Zeke by breathing alone? Of course I don't. But he mutters, 'what the fuck am I doing?' just under his breath. That's enough of a tag. I got him. We sit, him in his carriage, me in mine, and we go a while before he gets off, almost to the end of the line. Got to get off quick if I'm going to follow, its only luck keeps him from spotting me.

What the hell are you up to Zeke? Pulaski street and Zeke didn't look comfortable around here, whether because it was too far south of the Loop than he was comfortable going, or because of who he was going to meet.

We get out of the station and there's a car waiting, a beat up old piece of shit with two guys standing out the front. I recognized one of them.

Jeremy Kusich was as smug as ever and just as toad like, maybe even more so, his pallid and spotty skin and too large throat. He'd grown his hair out and wore dark aviators above his smug amphibian grin. With him was a clean cut looking black guy in blue jeans and a tucked in black shirt, his moustache clipped and neat.

I was a fair distance but could hear them fine. Not a lot of traffic around to obscure their voices.

"Onward mankind's soldier, marching off to war," Jeremy sang. I noticed the change in lyrics, "You ready for this?"

Zeke didn't say anything. He unslung his backpack and Jeremy flinched.

"Careful with that," he said, nerves creeping into his voice, "We're not going full towel head here."

My skin went numb. Holy shit. My worst guess seemed right. Zeke was carrying a bomb.

"Kid, shut the fuck up," the black man said. Even these guys had nothing but contempt for Jeremy. "You know the plan. I drop you off. You drop the bag. You walk, don't run, three blocks to where we'll pick you up."

"Yeah, yeah, walk don't run," Zeke said.

The black guy didn't seem certain about Zeke either.

What the hell have you gotten yourself into, Zeke?

>I need to intervene now, before something goes wrong
>follow them a little longer, figure out their target first
>write-in

>>6081016
>I need to intervene now, before something goes wrong
Keep it away from people

>>6081016
>follow them a little longer, figure out their target first.

Humanity first has help from blacksite agency's in covering up their crimes. If we apprehend them before they do anything, they'll be able to brush this under rug and try again later. We need to catch them directly in the act if we want these toadies behind bars.

>>6080901
Uooooohhhhh it's back!

Rolled 2 (1d2)

I'm going to flip a coin/roll 1d2

1 is intervene now

2 is follow a little longer

A bomb. He was carrying a fucking bomb. And one they were planning to use.

But where and how? I needed to know more, dangerous as it was. Whatever Zeke had got himself caught up in, I knew how ruthless Humanity First could be. They'd staged a para attack on their own youth camp, and spun it into a wave of anti-parafolk hostility. I needed to know just what this was all about.

So when Zeke got into the back of the car, I ducked behind a dumpster. I didn't have my costume on me, but maybe I could old school this.

Rutting around in the garbage, some old tarp made a pretty bad mask, a stinking, filthy mask wrapped around my head with the rest worn poncho style, but I needed to move to keep up with them and I didn't need some jagoff with a phone to snap my bare face leaping from building to building.

Face covered enough, I jumped to the roof of the building, scattering pigeons where I landed, then started after the beat up old second hand car, bouncing from roof top to roof top with the agility of a human flea.

People don't really look up. It's what had saved me more than once. That and convenient billboards. I startled a couple of guys killing their afternoon with some roof beers but didn't look back as I bounced through. If they had a story tell about Hotspur dressed in hobo chic it wouldn't be the strangest story told about me.

They turned off Pulaski road and hit some residentials. Strangely that was easier for me most days. A bang on the roof people might just put down to an adventurous raccoon. I tried listening in to what they might be talking about, but the driver had cranked up the music, hard bass hurting my ears as he played a club track. I don't think they talked much anyway. They'd said what they needed to say.

I got a sense where they were going before they got there. Marquette Park. With a lot of people in it. A lot of people with placards and signs, shouting at each other through a screen of cops. Two crowds of pro and anti parafolk facing off. It was becoming a more common occurrence every week, it didn't help the anti side had been steadily growing from a smaller group to one about the same size. The car stopped away off and Zeke hopped out. The car hooked a u-turn and drove away slow.

Don't do it, I thought, watching Zeke from a rooftop crouched gargoyle like on its shingles. He slouched toward the park, adjusting his straps, looking way uncomfortable.

How many people were currently screaming at each other on the park green on a scorching hot summer day? Had to be hundreds.

Don't fucking do this.

Zeke paused about half way toward the protestors. He looked sick, looked like he might vomit.

That's right Zeke, that's right. Think about what you're doing.

He shook his head and swallowed, started forward again.

Christ. He was going to do it.

He slipped off the strap of his backpack. He looked woozy as he grabbed the other strap.

He was going to fucking do it.

>go, now!
>wait just a second longer...

>>6081101
>Go!

>>6081101
>Go, now!
Ho-leeee, now that's a blast from the past! Glad to have you back Bullpen!

>go, now!

Zeke you racist asshole!!!

>>6081101
>go, now!

>>6080901
HOLY JESUS!
I thought this was dead for sure.
So glad it's back, such a fantastic quest.

File: Go_small.png (17 KB, 600x222)

17 KB PNG

>>6081101

>>6081249
>>6081213
>>6081190
>>6081165
>>6081112
>go, now!

ok, writing it up, give me one second

There was no time to be delicate about this. I sprung from the rooftop leaving burning white foot prints behind me, hurtling towards Zeke. The distance between us blurred as I closed, Zeke's face turning a white shade of terrified as he looked up, his bag half off.

"Don't do it!"

I reached for the bag.

He pulled it to his chest.
-

>roll 3 x 1d100+20 dc 50

sorry for taking so long with getting this tiny update up, had issues with my dog

Rolled 71 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>6081649
Come on baby... Big money, BIG MONEY

Rolled 77 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>6081649

barring a crit fail, this is looking good

Rolled 67 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>6081649
giga chad Hotspur time incoming.

>>6081659
a smooth pass

I wrenched the bag from Zeke's grip. There wasn't much he could do to stop me but shout a lame 'hey!' I spun, pumped up full of the white hot fire, and flung the bag as hard and as high as I could. The bag straps made the twin tails of the saddest looking comet as the bag hurtled upward until it was a pin prick on the blue sky.

Then a distant puff left a small dark stain on the sky. Whatever shrapnel left would rain harmlessly down on nothing.

"Won't...won't the height of the explosion still hurt people?" Zeke said, "You know, falling shrapnel. Velocity an' shit."

I gave him a look that said 'go back to math class' and smacked him upside the head. "Wind resistance," I said. Thank you, Dane, for the tutoring.

People didn't really look up, and the protestors were so transfixed by each other they didn't even notice the potentially deadly explosion detonate far above their heads. Marquette Park and its occupants were safe, for the time being.

Zeke now at least, seemed to realize what he'd almost done. He fell into a crouch, gave a little 'oh God' followed by a sick little 'hurk', then hot bile came rushing out of his mouth to splat across the sidewalk.

Yeah, you stupid piece of shit. Feel it.

When he was done vomiting he grabbed his knees and started to cry. Hiccupping sobs that did more to make me angry than feel sorry for him.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...I don't want to hurt anyone. I don't know why I..."

Considering the timing of the explosion I wasn't sure he'd have had time to feel anything. His friends in the Humanity First movement probably hadn't meant for him to walk away alive.

"Are you...are you going to turn me into the cops?"

He looked up at me. Snot ran down from his nostrils, his eyes had turned rheumy, his face pale and red blotched. Zeke looked like his whole world had crashed to an end, and maybe it had. Maybe it deserved to. I'd seen enough of what happened to the human body when hot pieces of metal tore it apart. I'd seen enough of families left to figure out how to go on after losing someone like that. The absurd, surreal change to their lives. Their world ripped apart by a stranger's act of malice.

No one had died yet today, but did that matter?

"Please," he whimpered. Pity and loathing both rose inside me, as did the righteous hum of the white hot fire. What did he deserve?

>Turn Zeke into the police
>Let him go, for now
>Write-in

>>6081689
>Turn Zeke into the police
He would've done it.

>>6081689
>Write-in
>"You better go to your fucking home and stay low. I'll go and talk to you later, don't say nothing to anyone and don't answer if your bosses call you, and if they know where you live or your parent are into it, then go to another safe place that you know, I'll text you later"

We don't know how corrupt the police are, so maybe they'll suicide Zeke while on custody. Right know we could use him to file a case against those sick fucks with Zeke recorded testimony, what we saw on the camp massacre, and if we get to contact with the cat lady and convince her to give us some of the photos she took. Hell, if we convince the techno brat, we could make a really secure page to leak all of these stuff

Rolled 2 (1d2)

six hours later and its still a tied vote (of two)

I like this write in but I feel bad about needing to do another coin flip. Still, no exceptions.

1. is turn Zeke in to the cops now
2. is the write in

the write in wins! putting it together now

My fist rocked his cheek, knocking him over. It had no force in it, not even without my powers, but it was enough to wipe the self-pity off his face. Staring up at me in shock, I loomed over him in my hobo costume, pumped with such fury I didn't try to keep my tone civil. It was baking hot beneath the tarp, but right now I didn't care.

"You better go to your fucking home and stay low. I'll go and talk to you later, don't say nothing to anyone and don't answer if your bosses call you, and if they know where you live or your parent are into it, then go to another safe place that you know, I'll text you later."

"Wh-what?" he said.

"You deserve to go to prison," I said, "You deserve...a lot of bad things. But all you'd get being turned into the cops is Epsteined. They'd find you hanging in a jail cell and call it suicide."

"Hotspur, dude, do you really think-" he said before stopping himself, "Of course they fucking will. Shit, shit!" He started punching himself in the head. "My dad, my dad works in the Governor's office and my Mom, she's part of the CCV. What the fuck was I thinking?"

"So where the hell are you going to go then?" I said, "I mean to bring down those sick fucks in the Humanity First militia. You're going to help me do it. Whether legally or some other way, I don't care. You're doing it."

"But-"

I grabbed him by the front of his shirt. "Don't test me," I said. Any friendship I felt for Zeke was currently in the gutter. "Now do you have anywhere safe to stay, or do I have to find somewhere for you?"

He couldn't look me in the eye. He stared down at his shoes.

"My friend Ayesha maybe," he said, "She might. She's helped out other people."

My blood ran cold at her name.

"Does that sound smart to you?" I said with a firm shake of his shirt.

"Maybe my uncle in Cicero. He...he doesn't talk to my dad. Not since I was little."

An uncle in Cicero. It was better than Ayesha, but not exactly secure.

"How are you going to contact me?" he said.

"On a phone, idiot," I replied. I had my back up phone, the good old Hotspur hotline courtesy of Ms Grant, exactly for this.

"Shit, Jeremy and Hudson are still waiting for me," Zeke said, and he started to cry for the helplessness of it all. "What do I do, dude? I don't know what to do!" His face crumpled up. He tried hugging me.

>take him to his uncle in Cicero
>arrange something for him, maybe through Ms Grant
>maybe Ayesha's place wasn't a 100% bad idea
>write-in

>>6081855
>arrange something for him, maybe through Ms Grant

>>6081855
>arrange something for him, maybe through Ms Grant

>>6081855
>arrange something for him, maybe through Ms Grant
Tell him that bomb was going to go off too early for him to survive, in case he's worried about leaving Jeremy and Hudson hanging

>>6081855
Exfil with him ourself, but add the write in from >>6081997

Glad to have you back Bullpen, been waiting for so long, that this inspired me for several campaigns I have done myself.

>>6081997
>>6081975
>>6081908
locking this in

>>6080901
Holy shit you arent dead

I pushed him back.

"I'll make a call," I said, "Find you somewhere to lay low. Then you're going to make up for what you tried to do today."

"I didn't mean it."

"Save it!" I said, "And if you're worried about your pals, believe me I doubt they're waiting. That bomb looked ready to go off way before you were out of range. And even if you did manage to walk away, a bullet to the back of the head is a good way to tie up any loose ends."

He looked as if he might vomit again.

The heat of the crowd was rising with the heat of the day. Bottles were being thrown, protestors were jostling the dividing line of the police trying to get at each other, shouting incoherent slogans across at each other, the only thing audible their rage. I grabbed Zeke by the collar and hustle him out of there.

I was sweating hard under the tarp and needed to get into some shade. Chicago wasn't meant to get this hot, and my make shift costume didn't help.

Made me wish those latex tight super hero costumes from the movies were real. One I could pop out of a convenient ring or belt buckle. Maybe I could talk to Remix or someone about making one. Save me having to scrap something together out of the blue.

I pushed him into a liquor store and was grateful for the cool kiss of AC.

The cashier didn't say much as I pushed Zeke in to the back of the store before getting on the Hotsput hotline to call Ms Grant. If anyone could help me here, it was her, and anything Zeke had to say could only help the both of us. We were partners in cleaning up the city.

This was too important for a text chain. I called her up.

"What have you got for me?" cool, professional, and already switched on. That's how Grant operated.

"An idiot ready to do some good," I said, "But the idiot is in danger. Needs a place to lay low."

Silence on the other end.

"Okay, meet me at-" she gave an address not far from here, up in Brighton Park. "See you soon."

I hung up, grabbed Zeke by the collar.

"We're going," I said. I walked him back outside. "Hold on tight and don't scream in my ear," I said.

"Wh-" Zeke started as I pulled him up for a piggy back ride. Too quick for words, I bounded out of there. Zeke sucked in a deep breath but to his credit, didn't scream as we went hurtling up in the air. Sometimes I wished I could actually fly, but we all have our limits and this was one of mine. I leapt across Marquette Park, landing first in a tree startling a squirrel, then my next leap took me across the rest of it smacking down hard on the roof of a parked car.

If Zeke thought we were done he was sorely mistaken. I bounced out over columns of bumper to bumper traffic along Kedzie Avenue. Over family homes and warehouses.

We landed on the roof of a dollar store and that was where we waited. I didn't care how bad Zeke was sweating. It wasn't long before he asked for some water. I just gave him a hard glare.

"Can I call my parents at least?" he asked.

"You really think that's a good idea?" I said.

He wilted at that. He stared at nothing. I kept an eye out for Ms Grant. It went on for a while. He broke the silence with a dry cough.

"Can I tell you something?" he said. I didn't reply. He took it for an invitation. "There's this girl I...there's a girl." My skin prickled. "She's the best, y'know. She's always been the best. She...she got pulled into this parafreak stuff though. Started going to protests to stand up for their...for your kind." He gave me a guilty glance. "I mean, it was only a matter of time before it got her hurt. She just can't see that...how dangerous they are. Or...I'm not saying this right."

"I like her. I...I really...I love her," he said. He was crying again. "Since always I've been in love with her. You don't know, man. You don't know how much her smile hurts. Her laugh. Fuck! But there's this guy at school, this fucking asshole she's head over heels for. He's a real jerk, he's got her in this creepy threesome thing. He's going to hurt her, I just know it. He's going to talk her into weirder and weirder things and its all going to end in her getting hurt. It's like the parafr...parafolk stuff, she just can't see how bad it is for her."

"So you're doing this for a girl?" I said, throat tight with anger. "You think killing innocent people will get her attention?"

"No!" he spluttered, "No! I mean, maybe it might get her to stop and think but...but I don't know. Maybe I thought if she saw me make a stand for something she might...she might actually see me."

He wiped at his tears. "Shit, I'm a fucking cuck. None of this is coming out right."

I stared at him a minute. Tears in his eyes, he said, "I just want Ayesha to see me."

He couldn't have picked a worse way to do it. I clenched my jaw, fist balled up at my side. Not sure if I wanted to cuss him out or beat him down. Lucky for him a car pulled up beneath us, Ms Grant got out.

She wasn't alone.

With a hand on her waist, he helped her up to the rooftop with a touch of metallic assistance. Ironclad, the hero for hire, let her down from the metal disc they shared getting up. There'd been something intimate in the way he'd cupped her waist as he let her down.

I thought he'd left for New York. 'A less crowded market'. Seeing him with DSA Grant was the last thing I expected.

"Ironclad," I said.

"Hotspur," he said, professionally respectful even if we personally didn't get along.

"Are you cheating on me, Maddy?" I asked, half-joking, "Here I thought we were exclusive."

She smirked. "Things have been hot in the city since the Council of Crime bust," she said, "Figured some added protection was needed."

"If that's the case I could find you someone a lot less mercenary," I said.

She snorted.

"Her money's good," Ironclad said, "So long as it stays good there's nothing in the world she has to fear." He was probably right. Unlike me Ironclad didn't hesitate to turn his enemies into hashtags. And though I give him grief for being mercenary I don't think he was the type to throw in with the cartels or the DPA, even for a steady paycheck. He'd have been doing that already if that was the case. Didn't mean I liked him though. He took a puff on a vape. I really didn't like him.

Was I jealous? Maybe a little.

"Is this the snitch?" she said, looking at Zeke, "Christ, he's just a baby. Humanity First must be desperate if they're recruiting kids."

Zeke stared at his shoes.

"He needs somewhere to lay low," I said, "You put Misfit up, can you do the same for him?"

She nodded. "So long as he cooperates," she said, "You said he was going to bomb a protest? That's serious stuff there. Terrorism is no joke. Even a failed bombing will get you a long sentence, and not in baby jail. You'd be going to big boy prison. They'd make a little snack out of you up in super max. What's your name?"

"Zeke," he said, "Ezekiel."

"Biblical," she said, "I'm Madeline Grant, DSA. My friends call me Maddy. You can call me Ms Grant. You're lucky Hotspur stopped you, you realize that, right?"

"Yeah," he said, staring at his shoes.

"So, say thank you," she said.

"Thank you," he mumbled.

"Thank you who?" she added.

"Thank you Hotspur," he said, glancing up from his shoes. I had to admit, I enjoyed his humiliation a little. Even Ms Grant was enjoying it. No one liked a teenage bomber.

Ironclad grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt. "Come on, Baby Bomber," he said. Zeke didn't look back at me as Ironclad took him down, giving me and Ms Grant the roof.

"How are you doing?" she asked, more personal than professional. I shrugged. "Remember what I said, about taking time for yourself."

"I'll do it when you do it."

She flashed a grin. "Don't worry about the kid, we'll take care of him."

I nodded. There were few people I trusted more than Ms Grant. Thinking on that though, maybe there was more I could do. Or maybe I should head back. My friends were waiting.

>Keep hunting, look for Jeremy and Hudson
>Ms Grant was right, I'd done enough for one day

>>6082324
>>Ms Grant was right, I'd done enough for one day

>>6082324
>Ms Grant was right, I'd done enough for one day
If I remember right we had some TLC stuff to do.

>>6082324
>Keep hunting, look for Jeremy and Hudson

>>6082324
>Keep hunting, look for Jeremy and Hudson
We can't just let them give some other gullible kid a bomb.

>>6082324
>Keep hunting, look for Jeremy and Hudson

They were the ones who organized this, if they get away they'll try again.

>>6082324
>Keep hunting, look for Jeremy and Hudson

I just want to get rid of Jeremy for good.

>>6082355
>>6082356
>>6082370
>>6082415
>keep hunting for Jeremy and Hudson

As much as nothing seemed better than kicking back at the water park with my friends, I couldn't sit back and do nothing while Jeremy and this guy Hudson were on the loose. I might have stopped Zeke from doing something horrific, but that didn't mean something horrific wasn't still bound to happen. For now I had to trust Ms Grant could take care of Zeke for me, but there was no one else who was going to catch his accomplices.

Bounding back to Marquette Park, as I got close my blood froze at the sight of smoke drifting up from the green lawn. Had they planned a contingency? I looked, listened, my horror mounting.

There were screams but it wasn't the blood curling screams of the dying. It was the pain and rage of a protest turned into a riot, with the police launching smoke grenades before wading in with the riot shields and APCs, going in gangs of threes to pepper spray and beat into custody anyone unlucky enough to get caught by them. In heavy vests and visored helmets, the cops must be sweating worse than I was. It only made them angrier, their nightsticks finding knees and wrists, coming down hard on collar bones, leaving broken protestors for their companions to scoop up and throw into the back of vans.

News cameras had arrived, frantic reporters breaking the news as if reporting from a warzone. I might have stopped a massacre, but nothing could stop this tide of anger. Not with a good left hook at least.

I could just imagine Jeremy's gloating toad grin as he sat in the passenger seat of the car, loving all the chaos erupting. He'd gone from school bully to baby fascist. I was looking forward to knocking the smug grin off his face.

First I had to find him though, and in this anarchy it wouldn't be easy. That's assuming he'd even stuck around to watch the show.

I drew on my powers. Only through boosting my senses would give me the shadow of a chance of finding him.

-
>this is going to be a tricky one. You're looking for a needle in a haystack here.

>roll 3 x 1d100+5 dc 95

Rolled 81 + 5 (1d100 + 5)

>>6082467
inb4 triple nat1

Rolled 46 + 5 (1d100 + 5)

>>6082467

Rolled 17 + 5 (1d100 + 5)

>>6082467
Aight let's do this

>>6082493
Damn, so close

Dang, couldn’t repeat the hound master feat

Rolled 71, 70 + 5 = 146 (2d100 + 5)

>>6082467
Just gonna role to see if I get it

>>6082700
Ooop, well still got it wrong anyways

>>6082523
>>6082518
>>6082493
that's a fail.

(sorry for the delay, I have an annoying dog)

>>6082881
Its cool, dont forget your name

Through the smoke and the noise I searched. A man with hair dyed blue and range came running out of the smoke, blood running from a split lip, panicked eyed as behind him the cops came chasing. They caught him with a blow to the back of the knee, dragged him back by the collar of his shirt. Instincts had me wanting to help him, but I had to focus. Block out the noise and the chaos. I leapt up high to the top of a tree, scanning the surrounding park land, the nearby city blocks.

"-out of here!" someone said.

"-fingers, broke my f-"

"-asshole, don't you touch-"

"-sorry, please-"

Nothing good happening out there. Priscilla Takanawa stood at the far side of a soccer field in a bullet proof vest, speaking quick and earnestly into a camera, the young man shouldering it intense and nervous. A fat black man by a pick up truck cracked a beer, giving an evil chuckle as he watched the pandemonium. Nervous people looked out from the windows of nearby shops, smart phones in hand recording it all. But there was no sight of the beat up old car. No sign of Jeremy or Hudson. No finger print of the people responsible.

Sight beyond sight, I thought. And looked past the physical world to the other one.

The sky above went from blue to red, the shadows grew inky black and impossibly deep, and the sun. The sun became a black pit of nothing that I dared not look at. Across the fields of Marquette Park, thick pulsing vines had grown, glimmering cruel thorns standing from the wet flesh. A noxious smell came over me as I glimpsed into this unconscious world. I didn't like what I saw, and it didn't help me in my search either.

I forced away the vision of another world. Back to the smoke and chaos of our one.

Right in time to see the blonde jackboot, Semper Fi, glide down from the crowds, her short pleated skirt ruffling in her descent. Blonde bobbed hair and a red half cape over a golden dress, Semper Fi looked right off the cover of a comic book, but I knew she wasn't here to help. Not the ordinary people at least. She descended on the riot with an unnatural calmness, passing me on the way down.

She gave me a glance. "Why are you dressed like a hobo?" she sneered, but she wasn't here to fight. I wished she was. It wouldn't end well for her if she did.

"Never fear citizens!" she called, "The ever faithful Semper Fi is here!" Then set about helping the cops round up the rioters.

Rather than wait for her to try me I booked out of there.

Landing on a rooftop, I let out a string of the worst curses I knew as I searched the backstreets for some sign of the would be terrorists, wishing I could do more for the scene I'd just left. I can't fight every battle. That's what Ayesha would say. Pick and choose and try not to die. Just do my best. Ivy would say that. But it felt like for every win I caught two set backs. There seemed no limit to the bad shit the world could dish up. Someone had to do more. I needed to do more.

The day cooled into the afternoon, though not cool enough, not really. The wind out of the east helped some but it was still 70 degrees by the time the sun came down. I was hot, itchy, and needed a shower. This hobo get up was not comfortable. And I was angry at the nothing I'd turned up. At the fruitless searching across the rooftops. I needed to hit someone. Needed to hit someone hard.

But what good would that do, other than make me feel better for five minutes? There had to be something I could do.

>No, I'm doing too much, go rest
>There's always a thug to beat on, go on patrol
>write-in

>>6082938
>No, I'm doing too much, go rest

>>6082938
>>No, I'm doing too much, go rest
There's burning the candle at both ends and then there's chucking the candle into a crematorium.
Which one do you think we're doing?

>>6082938
>No, I'm doing too much, go rest

>>6082938
>No, I'm doing too much, go rest
That old dude drinking seemed suspicious

>>6082977
For real, you know what?

>>6082974
I'll add to the vote
>Check the old man who was laughing with the supernatural sense

We don't know if there's people who get infected by all this bad force and maybe the old man got some weird spiritual condition. I feel maybe we should go to the Zoroastrism temple again and ask for the more "mystic" of them and see if he can see something, instead of freaking out like the guy who attended us

>>6082938
>No, I'm doing too much, go rest
Wish we had asked Semper Fi why she was dressed like a prostitute in return

>>6082938
>No, I'm doing too much, go rest

>>6082981
Its pretty late now, if I read right, he probably left

>>6082989
>>6082982
>>6082981
>>6082977
>>6082974
>>6082966
>>6082963
pretty unanimous vote there

What the hell was I doing? I needed to rest. Looking for more trouble wasn't going to solve my problems. Home, a shower and a bed. That's what I needed. I went out that way, stopping to change at my hideout before walking home.

Everyone I lived with new what I was about now, but that didn't mean I could be careless about going too and from. There were always people on the look out for me, trying to find out my secrets. Not just government types either, the paparazzi had become a problem. A whole new wave of gossip websites had grown, all focused on 'capes'. Articles questioning our secret identities, the details of our love lives, and what our agendas were. The most harmless were simple fan pages, but some got obsessive and intrusive.

So I walked the way back home, saying 'hi' to Mrs Valdez on the way up.

Inside music was playing, a fan going strong, and Ms Flores at the kitchen stove dancing while she cooked, her back to me. Ms Flores, Carmen, dad's girlfriend and my English teacher. She'd been living with us a while now but it hadn't grown less awkward. Not least because she was cooking in bike shorts and a white crop top, beating the summer heat by stripping down with the fan blasting.

We really needed AC. I really needed to...not look where I was looking.

There was an age gap between her and Dad. She was 27, he was 40. Some how they were making it work, even if sometimes people asked if he was her dad. He wanted to marry her. I'd asked him to wait. It was too soon for me, after Mom had died. Maybe that made me an asshole. I don't know.

"Hey!" Carmen called, not looking back, "You back from the Jewels already? That was quick!"

She turned then and laughed. "Sorry Eric, I thought you were your dad."

Mangy came up and ran herself against my leg.

"What's cooking?" I asked.

"Chili. Did you eat? Got an appetite?" she said, stirring the pot. I always had an appetite. "Piping hot, Texas style chili." She said it with a laugh like it was a joke. I didn't get it. Hot food while it was hot out maybe? I dunno.

I scratched a red spot on my arm. I really, really needed a shower.

"Did you have fun at the pool?" she called through the wall as I hit the shower. I gave a grunt as I turned the tap, the sudden cold spurt making me jump. I got the temp how I liked it, then scoured off the sweat and the filth. The pool. The pool felt like it had happened years ago. Ivy, Ayesha, and all our friends. I owed them both an explanation for why I'd been gone for so long. They'd understand, they always did, but I still felt like the biggest jagoff in the state, if not the country.

Cleaned up, I came out to a bowl of chili with some crunched up corn chips for a garnish, beans and rice as a side, and a tall glass of cold coca cola.

Maybe them getting married wasn't such a bad idea.

"Your dad's out picking up some things," she said, "Uh, maybe I should mention. We're planning a trip. Down to Mexico. Me and your dad. We're visiting my grandparents down in Monterey. No date for it yet, but..."

The chili went down good, just spicy enough. The coke did too.

"I thought you were from Chicago," I said.

"Born and raised," she said, "And my Dad's side have been here since the 60s, but my Mom is originally from Mexico. She moved out here as a teenager with my aunt, staying with their aunt. It's a very interesting story." She said the last dripping with sarcasm.

"Any idea when you'll go?" I asked.

"Before school's back," she said.

What she wasn't saying was if I was going too or not. She knew about the superhero stuff. Maybe she didn't want to deprive Chicago of its number one protector. Maybe she wanted some alone time with Dad. Maybe she wanted to get away from me. Our summer getaway to the country hadn't exactly been the restful escape she'd imagined. On account of all the violence.

"You're old enough to be home alone for a week," she said that to the table surface. She glanced up. "Isn't that every teenage boy's dream? A whole week unsupervised."

I stuck my tongue in the side of mouth, fishing out a bit of chili stuck in my gums.

"But you can come if you want!" she said, all a bit too quick, "They'd love to meet you. And Mexico is great! Don't believe the headlines."

>that's okay, you guys deserve a real break
>you know, I do want to go to Mexico...
>(write-in)

sorry again for being gone so long. how have you all been?

the dude drinking the beer was just an asshole by the way, not meant to be a clue

>>6083050
>that's okay, you guys deserve a real break
>"But let me tell ya, I expect some nice key chain, or a "Someone went for a trip to Mexico and only brought me this T-shirt"

>>6083050
>>that's okay, you guys deserve a real break
We have enough problems with the cartels without walking into their backyard.

>>6083089
>>6083081
okay, locking these in

>>6083050
>that's okay, you guys deserve a real break
We've gotten in the way enough

"You guys deserve a break," I said, "Just bring me back something nice, okay? A t-shirt or a keychain."

Carmen smiled as the front door opened.

"Hey kiddo," Dad said, coming in with groceries. He looked past me over to her. "You uh, did you talk to him about Mexico yet?"

She nodded. "Don't go too wild down there, you crazy kids," I said, not feeling the humor I was forcing into my voice. It wasn't them, I was just tired. And they both deserved a long vacation from all the crazy shit I'd brought into their lives.

"Right back at you," Dad said, clapping my shoulder, "You and that...throuple of yours."

I just about choked on a spoonful of beans. "Throuple?" that was a bad word. Sounded like phlegm in the back of the throat.

"Polycule?" Dad offered, "Hey, I just googled this stuff."

Polycule was even worse. A polycule was something you used to fix a carburettor. Polycule was one of the pokemon everyone forgot about. Polycule was not a word for our...romantic entanglement. God even that sounded cringe in my own head. Why did it have to have a label?

"You better not call it a harem," Carmen said, her voice flat as road kill on the Dan Ryan.

Jesus. I was blushing. I was squirming in my chair and blushing.

"Back in my day you had to pick," Dad said, "Archie didn't get to have Betty AND Veronica."

"I didn't watch Riverdale," I snapped.

Dad laughed as Carmen gave a sympathetic smile.

"I think that's enough," Carmen said to Dad as he chuckled his way into the kitchen.

I needed to message Ayesha and Ivy. I needed to check on the situation with Zeke. I needed...I needed sleep.

But a week to myself, before school went back in? That did sound nice. Even with the city outside my window waiting, the idea of being alone, having the place to myself. It offered some interesting opportunities.

>time alone...and time to focus on fighting crime
>time alone...or time alone with Ivy and Ayesha
>time alone? time to throw a hell of a party
>(write-in)

>>6083123
>>time alone...and time to focus on fighting crime

>>6083123
>time alone...or time alone with Ivy and Ayesha

>>6083123
>time alone...or time alone with Ivy and Ayesha

>>6083123
>ONE HELL OF A PARTY

>>6083180
>>6083178
locking this in with a question: are the rules for semi-lewd material still the same on /qst/ since I was last here?

>>6083123
>>time alone...or time alone with Ivy and Ayesha

>>6083123
>time alone? time to throw a hell of a party
We need to get everyone over and hangout, we must look like cockheads to them, soooo, party at our place because Dad and Ms. Carmen are going to Mexicoooooo

>>6083231
It's pretty unclear desu

>>6083231
Rules for lewds might have increased, Reptiod qm got a thread of his packed up for ""erotic roleplay""

you should probably only put lewds in a pastebin and link it, instead of risking it.

>>6083548
that's pretty annoying. guess I should keep any potential sex times as indirect as possible. not that I was writing anything hardcore before.

this update is taking a bit longer than expected thanks to outside circumstances, but it'll be up soon

Ayesha and Ivy.

I really owed them a lot. Days felt like they were the only thing keeping me sane, or maybe driving me crazy in the best way possible.

Our relationship...not everyone understood it, but we'd been through a lot together. Ivy had lost her sister to leukaemia while her parents ran away and hid in Malibu. God, her parents are some of the worst people I've had the misfortune of meeting. Losing Grace had torn her up. As bad as that, a year earlier she'd been taken advantage of by a scumbag music teacher. A parasite who'd sunk his claws into her during the chaotic months of grace's terminal illness.

Somehow she'd pulled herself out of that, but not without scars. We'd helped her heal some of those wounds, the way she'd helped us heal some of ours. Her ferocity scared me and thrilled me all at once. And the wounded heart her fierceness hid knew depths even she couldn't fathom.

We, meaning me and Ayesha. There were times I thought I'd brought nothing but pain to Ayesha's door. First had been the business with her stalker, the Creep. A classmate of ours turned invisible man, Ivy and I took him down. If that had been it, that had been bad enough.

Before Houndmaster caught her, trying to draw out Hotspur by abducting his number one fan. He'd beaten her up, tied her, pumped her full of drugs. He might have done more, Ayesha didn't like talking about it. I didn't pry. It was after rescuing her from him she'd found out my secret identity. We both found out who I really was that night. Even frail and beaten and suffering all the aftermath of that, God she'd been strong.

She was the strongest person I know. Her compassion, her gentleness, her kindness. Everything I was trying to protect in this world.

And I loved them both. Loved them both so much it made my head hot, made the most ordinary thing seem the wildest, strangest adventure. And it felt so awfully wrong to love them both so much at the same time. Everything said there had to be a choice, one or the other. Pluck out my left eye to keep my right one. I couldn't cut one out and keep pretending we were friends. It would be a mutilated, false friendship compared to the heat coursing through me at the thought of them.

But sometimes life gives me a win, and sometimes it isn't all about me either. They loved each other too. They had hurt each other, found each other, healed each other. We'd found each other, and decided the world and what it thought was decent could go fuck itself against the strange knotted up thing that had entangled us, bound us all together.

We love each other, and anyone who had a problem with that could fuck themselves.

Maybe it wouldn't last forever. Maybe it would break apart one day. But what did last forever? Not life, not love, not the ice caps or the Amazon rainforest. The universe itself would slide into the night of entropy one day and there would come a great nothing, an endless night where creation had once been. But until the stars went out, we chose to live. Me, Ivy, and Ayesha. Together, for as long as love lasted.

Or maybe we're just a bunch of dumb horny teenagers.

God, I'm a sap.

I sent them a message through the group chat, telling them about Dad's planned trip to Mexico, heart thumping on all I'd just thought over.

Ivy - sounds cool.

I grinned at how plainly she'd punctuated my thoughts.

Ayesha - I don't think my parents would approve that kind of sleepover, but...if I told them I was sleeping over at Kaylee's or Jessica's? Don't know. I'll figure something out.

Always worried about appearances.

Mangy rubbed against my knee.

"Guess you'll be around too," I said to the fluffy white cat, scritching her behind the ear. That was one responsibility I couldn't avoid. Feeding the cat.

Dad and Carmen were leaving for their trip sooner than I expected, just the next afternoon.

"Here's some money for groceries," Dad said, living an envelope full of tens on the counter.

"No stress Dad, Luis will have me covered," I said.

Dad frowned. "You need to eat more than just boxes of expired donuts and day old pizza."

That was his opinion.

"And stay out of my bedroom," he said, "If there's any trouble..."

"Dad, do you really think I need to worry about burglars?" I said.

"Don't destroy the house," he finished, "Just do your best to have a safe, normal end to your summer break." He thought about what he said. "Normal for you, at least."

Normal for me. There was a thought.

Normal showed up the next morning just after Dad and Carmen left for O'Hare. Normal carried a gym bag over her shoulder, wore blue jeans, a black tank top, sunglasses and a grin. Ivy.

"You look ready to stay," I said, standing in the door. Considering how much we'd already done, my guts were still churning up. "Your parents are okay with this?"

She laughed that bitter way I liked.

"No, the fuck do you think?" she said, shoving her bag into my chest. She went to the fridge. "So are we playing happy family or what? Who plays the housewife?" she fished out a coke.

"You'd make a terrible housewife," I said.

The look she shot me had a little glare in it. "Pal, you don't know what you're talking about. I could housewife so fucking hard you'd think it was the 1950s again. I'd housewife so hard they'd abolish women's rights. Don't tell me how I'd do being a housewife." She leaned against the table and batted her eyelashes at me, "Now when would Daddy like dinner ready, before or after his blowjob?"

Oh fuck. I blushed so hard I had to look away. Ivy snorted.

"You're too easy."

A knock on the door and Ayesha was waiting in a yellow sundress with her own bag.

"I told them I was staying over at Annie's," she said, grinning, "Which is great since Annie is still away at camp, but they don't know that." She popped me a kiss on the cheek before strolling in, then popped a kiss on the bridge of Ivy's nose. "So are we playing happy family?" There wasn't a trace of sarcasm in her voice as she got out a fry pan and some of her vegan food.

For some reason that got me blushing even more. Even Ivy gave a soft, red cheeked sigh at it.

"How'd things go with Zeke the other day?" Ayesha asked as she stored away her food. "If you're okay talking about it." Mangy rubbed herself against Ayesha's leg, getting a pat for her troubles.

>that was something I'd rather not talk about
>fill them in on the details

forgot my trip

>>6083744
>fill them in on the details

>>6083744
>fill them in on the details
>Let them know its probably, dumber than they think first. Or just plain worse.

>>6083744
>>fill them in on the details
We decided to go all in on this relationship, means we can actually talk about our day without having to dance around

>>6083682
Pretty sure it depends on whichever janicuck is lurking too, if its a pastebin link they cant do anything though.

well I'm not exactly going to derail this quest into hardcore smut so we shouldn't worry, just thought I'd ask

>>6083744
>fill them in on the details

>>6083780
Plot is plot, especially when it's "Plot", with how you handled our threeway relationship turning into horny diabetes. I for one want to see more, maybe not right off the rip so you get in the swing of things again, but it is good when you make it.

>>6083766
>>6083768
>>6083770
>>6083803
going to confirm this and start writing the update

"They could have been worse," I said, "Could have been better too. No one died at least."

"Don't jump for joy now," Ivy said. We sat on the couch, the three of us.

"You know he told me he was in love with you?" I said to Ayesha. She squeezed her eyes shut, rubbed her temples. "Sorry, maybe should have kept that part to myself."

"And he thought killing people would what, impress me?" she said, "He knows I'm a vegan."

"I don't think even he knew what he was thinking. All I know is he got himself into a real mess."

"But he's alive, and no one got hurt," Ivy stressed, concerned for both of us.

"Not hurt by him at least," I said, "You saw the news about the riot? It was bad. I just couldn't...couldn't stop it or do anything about it. I could only watch while people just...hurt each other. Hated each other. And over what? It was just...it was harder than the stuff with Zeke."

"It sucks being stuck on the side lines," Ivy said, "Welcome to the human race."

"Humanity First got what they wanted and didn't even have to do anything," I said, "Half the country thinks Chicago is some kind of warzone. That my people are just out there causing chaos and ripping apart the city."

"Yeah, wouldn't know anything about that," Ayesha said, maybe a little sarcastic. "It sucks you have to go through this, Eric. It really does. People can just be so...so...stupid sometimes!" She punched her lap with the cutest snarl I'd ever seen.

"The summer camp," Ivy said, undistracted by emotion, "You said you found something. Something called the Waingro Foundation?"

"Yeah."

"Did you tell your sugar momma at the DA's office about it yet?"

"Oh God don't call her that," I said, "But yeah I told her."

"And?" Ivy said, "It seems like a pretty big lead. Bigger than Jeremy in a busted up old Subaru."

I shrugged. "These things take time," I said, "And I'm more the 'bust heads open' kind of guy more than the 'spend hours reading files' type."

"If there's one thing I'm good at its reading," Ayesha said, "If you want we can look into it."

It was a tempting offer. Before I could give an answer Ivy flopped into my lap, on her back, looking up at me with a sly grin.

"But," Ivy said, "I don't think you wanted us to stay over for a study party, even a 'save the world' study party, did you?"

A cough in the back of my throat turned into a grin of my own. "Not exactly."

"Bet you just want to forget everything for a second," her fingers brushed my chin. Then I felt Ayesha's arm slide around my shoulders. "Forget all your troubles. Get the weight of the world off your shoulders." Ivy did all the talking while Ayesha just bit down on a smile, big dark eyes lowered on me. Something stirred in me. It was Ivy's turn to bite her lip. "That's right. You just let us take care of you."

Hours later, in the dark sweatbox of my room, Ivy lay her head on my mangled shoulder. Still panting, a flutter in her eyes.

"It's funny, Eric, there was a time I thought you were the most annoying boy in the world," she said, "Now look at what you've got me doing."

"I'm still pretty fucking annoying," I said, pleasantly out of breath, "And if it makes you feel better, I used to think you were kind of a massive bitch."

"I always thought you were both pretty cool," Ayesha said, her head now on my other shoulder, giving us both tender eyes while a twitch still ran up her side. She placed a hand on the scar across my belly.

"And you, I thought you were an uptight goody two shoes," Ivy said. Ayesha wrinkled her nose.

The bedsheets beneath us were tangled up and sweated through. The room stank of us, stained by us, marked by the unrestricted burst of unsupervised passion. No need to worry about being heard or found out. I ached all down my legs. We ached together, joyful in the afterglow.

Fuck me. Did I even deserve this? What kind God took mercy on me and ushered me to right this moment? Nothing about being a super hero had come with much reward, just a lot of pain and misery. And there was more misery to come. Why not enjoy this while I had it, even if I didn't deserve it. Maybe deserves got nothing to do with it.

"I love you," Ivy sighed, and meant it for both of us.

"I love you," I said, meaning the same.

"I love you," Ayesha said, eyes fluttering shut as she nestled into us.

I did forget, for a second. Even as I slid into sleep, for a second I got to forget...

-
The prince lay in his bower. He wore a doublet of white and silver.

His maidens all around, in white dresses and veils. A diadem of starlight they placed upon his brow, a white flame upon his breast, a sword hilt of silver fitted in his grip.

The prince lay in his bower, unmoving. A sleep so deep no cry could raise him, though cry his maidens did. They wept against each other for their lost prince. And more, for what was lost without him. The sky was dark beyond them, though not the dark of night but something worse. An ugly nothing, swallowing, greedy, relentless. They wept and held each other hard against the nothing.

Against a nothing that allowed no light or shade.

A nothing that saw.

Even in dreams.

And beckoned, 'look closer and see'.

See the fate of all.

Come

And

See
-
WAKE UP!
-

I shot up from bed, panting. It was the dark of morning. No one had spoken. I grasped for the sword hilt and wondered at the weight of the diadem gone from my brow. Lost to me, as lost to me as my maidens. My maidens, I...I looked. My maidens slept deep, nestled against each other in gentle repose. My...my what? Maidens? The dream slid away as I panted. It was this heat. I closed my eyes. Just the heat, and my own fucked up head.

When I opened them, Mangy stared from the doorway. Her white fur had a soft glow in the night. A light from the kitchen still on. Maybe.

She slow blinked at me, her soft purr carrying across the room.

There was something strange about the cat.

Water, water would help. I got up.

A good night followed by a bad dream. That was my life I guess. I chugged water. Filled the glass. Chugged some more. Thirsty.

I closed my eyes again.

The light had been from my phone. A fifteen minute old text.

Dad - Check it out!

A picture of him and Carmen at a Mexican airport. They'd got there safe.

Dad - Hope you're safe!

Good. That was good.

Safe. I rolled my shoulders.

I had to make sure the city was safe.

>chuck on the suit and head out for some early morning patrols
>resist the urge and return to bed, Chicago could survive a day without me

>>6083893
>chuck on the suit and head out for some early morning patrols

sorry if I'm a bit rusty. I haven't written prose in a while

>>6083893
>chuck on the suit and head out for some early morning patrols
Oh man, remembering the weird dreams now

>>6083893
>resist the urge and return to bed, Chicago could survive a day without me
Literally got no leads, better to chill and make calls then running around with our heads cut off.
>>6083900
Sucks the lewds were quick, but it was sweet all the same, and the flashbacks are properly creepy.

>>6083893
>resist the urge and return to bed, Chicago could survive a day without me
>Check Mangy
>"You're a really strange cat... Is there something you wanna tell me or I can go to bed now?..."

>>6083893
>>resist the urge and return to bed, Chicago could survive a day without me

As in the old days I'll only be able to vote after the session or maybe the next to last vote when I get up

>>6083893
>>resist the urge and return to bed, Chicago could survive a day without me
and I'm gonna second checking Mangy >>6084057

>>6083893
>resist the urge and return to bed, Chicago could survive a day without me

Crime fighting? Weird prophecy dreams that red wizard guy should know about? Nah back to bed.

>>6084360
>>6084129
>>6084064
>>6084057
>>6084012
back to bed it is

give me a sec for the write up

I had to-

I had to get some fucking sleep! The city could survive a night without me. Goddamn, I had two beautiful women to cuddle up with. Would I really forget that first night in to instead bust a junky in the jaw for trying to lift some copper from a construction site? Where was my head? I had another glass of water. The clock on the microwave said it was 3 AM.

Turning back to bed, Mangy was watching me from the doorway, tail whisking behind her.

"You're a really strange cat," I said.

"Mrrp," she replied, blinking again.

"Is there something you want to tell me or can I go to bed?"

She bopped her head against my calf before running herself against my legs. I gave her a scritch behind the ear.

"Okay, keep your secrets," I said, before slumping my way back in.

Ayesha and Ivy held each other in sleep, cheek to cheek, Ayesha snoring softly while a trickle of drool ran from the corner of Ivy's mouth. It was a peaceful sight. I slid in behind Ayesha and looped my arm over both of them. Holding them, protecting them.

We didn't know what we were but what we were felt right. Felt good.

Life doesn't last long. It gets snatched away in a second. So I had to hold on to what I could. Tomorrow was never a guarantee. Why give up what's good, just because others didn't understand? I breathed in the smell of Ayesha's hair, listened to the harmony of their sleeping breaths. It lulled me off to sleep.

And this time, there were no dreams.

My phone went off at breakfast. Pancakes. I'd made them, the first one coming out one big fucking mess of half cooked batter. Cooked vegan style for Ayesha's benefit. Egg free with basedmilk.

It was different, I'll give it that. In neat stacks, it went down good with some genuine Canadian maple syrup.

It was the Fire Watch group chat.

Misfit - Need some help here!

A really bad photo of half Misfits thumb blocking what looked like a massive shard of ice. In midsummer, during a heatwave, in the middle of Chicago.

Misfit - Calling all FUCKING HANDS!

I looked up to my girls munching on their breakfast. What a sight, sleepy eyed and tender. Pancakes and orange juice. Christ.

Grit might make it out there first, or Pratfall. Did it have to be me?

>Of course it did. Time to fight
>Leave it to the others to handle, just this once

>>6084064
>As in the old days I'll only be able to vote after the session or maybe the next to last vote when I get up
I like to end on a vote so's you guys can stay included in decisions

>>6084440
>Of course it did. Time to fight
Time to go face off against some crazy cryomancer.

>>6084440
>>Of course it did. Time to fight
Crime never sleeps, at least we got one night to ourselves

>>6084440
>Of course it did. Time to fight
As is tradition, time to beat the day inti submission.

>>6084440
>Of course it did. Time to fight
Doing it just to get away from vegan breakfast

>>6084444
>>6084450
>>6084452
>>6084456
didn't doubt it

let's go fight a supervillain

"Duty calls," I said, laying the phone down.

"Love 'em and leave em," Ivy sighed, swirling a chunk of pancake in her syrup.

Ayesha fetched my costume, giving Ivy a glance like they'd planned something.

Okay now this is me being spoiled. Ivy got off my shirt while Ayesha did my pants, and together they dressed me. My jacket, my pants, my boots and gloves. They buttoned me up and made sure it was right. The mask went on last, and not before both took a kiss. You want to give a guy courage enough to fight the armies of hell, you couldn't have done much better.

And they weren't tender pecks but deep, needing kisses, the kind left little of the mouth on touched. The kind that said, 'I need to hold your taste until I see you again, because I might not ever see you again.' Ivy whimpered into hers as her fingers dug into my back, and there were tears in her eyes when the kiss broke.

"Come back to us," she said.

"Kick some ass," Ayesha added with a wink.

I pulled on the mask as much to hide my red hot face.

They held each other as I went out the window, and with a surge of white hot energy, leapt away into the blue sky.

It hurt more than I'd expected, leaving them behind. My heart pumped with a strange and unexpected fear. Maybe I wouldn't ever see them again. Maybe this really would be my last ride out.

No. I wasn't going to let that happen. I'd mop up this super freak and come back to them. I would. I didn't have a choice.

Bounding out through the city, thoughts set on the fight ahead, but I still had to appreciate somethings about the city. If there's one thing I love about Chicago it's the architecture. The old buildings mixed in with the new ones, big broad palaces of commerce with all the gilding of the 19th century standing between the towering skyscrapers, the monuments of the 20th century. Construction was going on fixing up old ones and bringing up new, giant machinery at work totting steel beams to form a lattice work of a structure. And cutting through it all was the strip of water of the Chicago River, pouring in from the lake.

I might not have been born here, but dammit this place was my home.

The first clue I had something was wrong was when the temperature dropped from the high 80s straight down to what felt like 30 degrees. Then one the river, sludgy ice like what you got at winter's end came flowing down, melting apart with every yard it travelled down stream.

The second clue was the flecks of snow in the air.

The last, and most obvious, was the sound of ranting.

It was out the front of Merchandise Mart, one of those great old Chicago buildings from before last century. Bad name for a beautiful building, I heard a revving motorbike and over it, a harsh screech.

"I AM DEGREES KELVIN! I AM THE WINTER STORM COME TO SAVE MANKIND!"

First thought, bad name. I dropped onto the roof of a river boat stuck frozen in the river. The pilot shivered, looking up at me. He shrugged. His passengers and their tour guide huddled as far from Merchandise Mart side as they could. You ask me they should stay where they were, rather than risk the fragile ice that had them stuck in place.

In front of the grand old building, a snow storm whirled, and in its heart a small blue man with bright white hair. His hands moved, conducting the storm around him, fingers flicking to form great shards of ice that missiled out, trying to spear the loud black bike currently gunning around him.

"WE ARE CREATURES OF THE ICE AGE, AND TO AN ICE AGE WE SHALL RETURN! WE EVOLVED FROM THE LONG WINTER FROST!"

"Bad fucking name, Kevin!" Misfit yelled through the storm. She was in her black biker leathers and skull helmet. White light filled the cup of her hand and she flung a flash bang. It burst against an ice shard, splintering it to pieces before it could hit her. She gunner her bike through the shower of splinters toward him.

"I SHALL RESTORE THE CRYOSPHERE!"

"See! That's a good fuckin' name! Cryosphere! Go with that! Spell it fuckin' f-e-a-r even."

"AND RULE OVER IT AS A WINTER KING!"

"Winter king, now that's a banger!"

He threw out his arm and a wall of ice speared up from the ground, trying to total misfit against it. She threw her arm out and a line of hot little detonations rippled across the slick ice surface. She knuckled down and charged straight through, the weakened ice wall shattering against her helmet.

"I'LL NOT BE LECTURED BY THE LIKES OF THE MISFIT!" he wailed. And raising a clawed hand, a pillar of ice erupted beneath her, catching her bike in the undercarriage and sending her spinning off overhead.

Time for a heroic entrance.

Leaping from the roof of the boat, I scooped Misfit over my shoulder, landing hard on the grin.

"Fuck me, Hotspur, you left that to the last minute!" she said as I popped her down to the frost slick ground, "Maybe show up before he totals my bike next time!"

"NOW THE HOTSPUR COMES TO JOIN THE FRAY? IS THERE NOT END TO YOUR THOUGHTLESS MEDDLING?"

"What was this asshole's name again?" I asked.

"Degrees Calvin or something," she said. Then shouting at our ice summoning foe bellowed, "BAD FUCKING NAME!" Then back to me. "Asshole has people stuck in the building. I been trying to keep him distracted, but he has a real ant up his ass about getting to the people inside."

I cracked my neck, seizing up the icy maelstrom whirling in front of the Merchandise Mart. "Let's go then."

Misfit laughed. "Hotspur's got his badass pants on today. All right, let's do this!"

We knocked forearms before diving in.

>focus on rescuing the people inside, let Misfit deal with Degrees Kelvin
>focus on taking down Degrees Kelvin, let Misfit focus on rescuing the civilians

>>6084501
>>focus on taking down Degrees Kelvin, let Misfit focus on rescuing the civilians
Time to mix things up

>>6084501
>focus on taking down Degrees Kelvin, let Misfit focus on rescuing the civilians

>>6084501
>focus on taking down Degrees Kelvin, let Misfit focus on rescuing the civilians
We're fire, we can deal with him

>>6084521
>>6084537
>>6084555
Time to beat up a nerd

"I'll handle the nerd, just get the people out to somewhere safe," I said, striding into the snow.

"Gotcha!" she said, racing off.

Degrees Kelvin rode a whirling vortex of snow, riding six feet off the ground, all the grass and cement around him covered in a coat of frost. Each step I took I moved into Antarctic temperatures, until my boot stuck on the last step. The cold. I was numb all over, the fabric of my mask stiff against my face.

"THE HOTSPUR! I'M HONORED TO BE THE ONE TO KILL THIS VILE CITY'S FALSE PROTECTOR!"

Yap-yap-yap, the dude was worse than the Black Claw.

This 'Degrees Kelvin' had a sharp ferret-like face and large eyes that near bulged from their sockets, acne scars clear even at this distance. I don't know if his powers had turned his hair white or if he'd dyed it himself. For a costume he wore what I'd best call a sleeveless blue gimp suit, really going for the tight leather look without much to show for it.

He whisked his hand and ice shards once more burst from the thin hair, slicing toward me.

"BLIND FOOLS!"

The fire ran hot through me, unsticking my boot as I ducked beneath the deadly ice needles. It pumped a hot white course through my body, driving off the cold.

"WE ARE THE PRINCES OF THIS WORLD! WE HAVE THE POWER TO TAKE IT! TO CHANGE IT! WE NEED ONLY REACH OUT OUR HANDS!"

I ducked to a knee beneath a flurry of snow.

I had some hands for him all right.

Then I lunged, straight into the maelstrom.
-
>roll 3 x 1d100 +30 DC 75

sometimes I think this quest was better to read than actually play

Rolled 1 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

>>6084573
inb4 triple nat 1

>>6084577
Oh yeah thats what Im talkin bout. Its Snow Time

>>6084577
OOOH

NOOO

only a crit success can trump a crit fail

I just HAD to write a bunch of sappy nonsense before this

>>6084579
Shoulda stayed in bed Hotspur, its cold outside.

>>6084580
It really did set this up didnt it. Red Flagging his ass all night and morning.

I'm pretty sure this is the first ever crit fail

Rolled 75 (1d100)

>>6084573
no way

Rolled 69 (1d100)

>>6084573

>>6084587
>>6084585
>>6084577
critfail confirmed!

oh boy!

been waiting for this!

>>6084588
youreabouttomakeanameforhimselfroundhere

Ok, realize I disappeared for a second at a pivotal moment. Sorry, I have an annoying little dog who needed attention.

back to it

>>6084577
I cant believe you called the crit fail as well... The cyromancer is about to go super sayian.

>>6084625
Its really perfect after that dream vision. Going out so confident and happy with his little group dress up scene, only to get back absolutely busted and nearly frostbitten in summer. He truly was the Winter King.

Have an Ice day in hell Hotspur

The first annoying thing about Degrees Kelvin is his constant fucking yapping. The second was the snow flurries, making it hard to see. Snowflakes came in thick gusts, frosting the lenses of my goggles. It made night out of day. And through the flurries came the deadly shards of ice, darting out.

I ducked one, slapped down another. The snow rose as steam from my shoulders. Frost crunched under my stride. A wall of ice burst in front of me but I put my shoulder into it and burst through the other side. It hurt going through, the initial shock before the ice gave way wasn't gentle. Steam rose from my burning white foot prints behind me.

"You can catch my hands, motherfucker!" I snapped, shoulder stinging.

"FIRE IS IT? THEN WE SHALL MAKE THIS A SONG OF ICE AND FIRE!"

Fucking! Nerd! Blades of ice came whirling through the snow. I caught one and with it, smashed the next with a baseball bat swing. Pebbles of ice showered over my shoulders and chest. I threw the blade of ice javelin like toward Degrees Kelvin.

He reached out a clawed hand, and stopped the blade inches from his face, panting in a shocked rage.

His hands. It was all about his hands. Twitching his fingers of his left hand to gather the levitating flurry of snow and wind that kept him aloft, the sweeping gestures of his right hand sending out the deadly hail. He controlled it all with his hands.

I'm going to break every one of his fingers.

Pulse running strong I broke into a full sprint, leaving a tail of steam in my wake. I knew what I had to do.

The distance between us closed and I saw stark terror begin to flood the villain's face.

Fist cocked back, I leapt. The wind whipped against me. I could smell the rot on his breath.

"No, no!" he brought both hands up, palms flat toward the sky.

I heard a great cracking of ice before I felt it. A hot sting in my right leg, followed by the whiplash of being brought to a sudden, horrible stop. Oddly, other than the sting there wasn't much pain. At first. Until I flopped back and the world turned upside down.

My scream rang out before my brain registered the pain. I was caught on a spike of ice, the tip bursting up out of my right thigh. And I dangled from it, like bait on a hook, the Chicago river my horizon line with the city streets on the opposite bank my sky. It was so cold in my leg I could feel the heat of my blood pump against it.

The relief on Degrees Kelvin's face became a gloating smile. It was disturbing the degree of clarity I had.

"FOOL," he said, "DON'T YOU REALIZE I'M TRYING TO SAVE THE WORLD?"

And then he punched me in the face. It hurt him more than me. Hurt himself enough I could tell he was angry about it.

He could have done anything with his powers. He could have made snow cones for kids. He could have gone to the Arctic to help weld it back together. He coulda done anything. He'd decided to be an asshole. Now he was deciding to be a bigger one.

A long needle of ice formed between his finger tips.

"Perhaps I'll pluck out your eyes," he said, hovering close.

Close enough my swinging fist rocked his chin. He reared back with a screech. I pulled myself up by abdominal muscle alone, grabbed the tip of the ice jutting from my leg, and in a fuck you to him, myself, and my future surgeon, snapped it off and pulled it out.

Landing on my feet with a big hole in my leg wasn't easy or fun. The pain almost dropped me to a knee. I had a mind to fuck him with the bloody spike of ice, but the damn thing dissolved in my hand, my own blood bubbling in my fist. I threw it aside, leaving a red spatter across the frosty ground.

I don't know if it was my powers or my rage that kept me standing. I panted behind my mask, breath hot. My mind burned, blazing hot. My thoughts burning out in a single hot pulse. As the fire took over me. As I became the fire.

And as there was no thought, there as no pain.

His clawed hands rose before him, ice flying fast toward me, deadly missiles of sleek and deadly make.

I stepped around one. Stepped around another. My hand came up to cut the next in half, then came down upon the other.

The fire in my hand. The fire. Exploded in my fist. A white hot blade, burning brighter than the sun, leaving black spots in the tail of its cut.

"YOU CAN'T DO THAT. WHAT IS THAT? HOW THE FUCK DID YOU DO THAT!"

I saw now the black marks upon his soul. I judged it, as was a fire-bearer's wont. More ice to scatter with my blade.

"Come then, false-prince," a voice said, cold with judgement and contempt. My voice. "Reach out now, and take what's yours."

His hands. His he rose, no match for the swing of my sword. They came off at the wrist, hot blood pumping out onto the snow.

A laugh barked that did not sound like me. Then a cough. Now pain. My chest hurt. I looked down. A spear of ice, struck me up through the gut, up under my ribs. A cough and blood was in my mouth. A smile, with bloody teeth.

"Well struck," the not-me said, blood trailing down our...my...chin.

Degrees Kelvin was too busy whimpering at his bloody wrist stumps, the snow storm dying around him. "Jesus fucking Christ, dude! My fucking hands! You cut off my fucking hands!" Snorting as he cried, like a blubbering child. The ice spear in my innards dissolved. I fell to my knees. The white hot sword in my hand disappeared into black spots.

"Hmm," I grunted, snorting on blood. I clasped a hand to the hole in my stomach. A hot palm. Steam rose beneath it. The fire rolled out of me, my mind coming back to itself. Needed a doctor. needed a...a...

Ayesha and Ivy. I saw them. Both of them, alone and together. At their best and worst. Dad. He was in Mexico. And Mom.

I couldn't die here. I...so many people were waiting...I...oh God.

It was all going away, and it I could see. See the fate of all things.

I heard a distant boom of thunder, and knew. I knew.

IT COULD SEE ME

THE END

Just kidding, I'll be back tomorrow

>>6084588
Sorry Misfit, we did not in fact have our badass pants on today

>>6084636
HOLY FUCK
Now I'm remembering the possessions and all the other weirdness
We really need to find a parafriend with a healing power

>>6084636
We really need to sit down with Jimmy and hash out our mystical bullshit.

>>6084828
Jimmy: "I don't know, fuck off"

Dr Terese McMichael had been working late that night. The news was full of stories about some superhero fight turned bloody on the streets of Chicago. Like a school shooting though, the shock had worn off over the time since they'd first happened. It should have interested her more, considering her work, but her work was enough that outside of it she'd rather occupy her time with the latest CV Higgins romantasy novel.

Dr Czajka tended bees. Dr Wu painted fantasy miniatures. Dr Kalima watched football. Everyone needed an escape, particularly people in their field.

She was deep into the latest Higgins novel. The Black Prince had just confined Lady Kiera to the far side of his manor. The sexual tension was fraught. She knew the love scene would be coming soon, when their passion would finally consume them both in a sexual whirlwind. It always took Higgins time to get to the smut, but it was always worth it.

She flipped a page with an anticipating twitch, glad to be alone in the labs.

She almost missed the signal. The red light switch on one of the tanks. They didn't believe in alarms, why have all that drama? Maybe they should have, because when she noticed the red light on she all but fell out of her chair.

Dr McMichael was a dedicated atheist, as rationalist as they came, but not so dedicated she kept the 'Jesus!' from slipping out of her lips.

The passions of the Black Prince for his silver bride would have to wait. She closed the book and got on the phone.

"Dr Czajka? Irwin? It's happened. One of the subjects. Tank #63. Will you tell...I don't want to talk to him. Okay. Okay. Please, fast as you can."

She hanged up the phone and stared at the monitor. The red light was on above the tank.

Dr McMichael was as rationalist as they came. The red light glowed. Dr McMichael had no time for superstition or ritual. The red light.

Why then did she feel there was something evil in the red light?

Black stars.

Jewels around the neck. White. Ivory. Jewels and throat.

The dark. Serpents. Writhing. The dark. The vast eternal dark.

Serpents writhing in the dark.

Serpents with eyes of black stars.

And a red light.

With eyes that saw. And see.

Jewels.

Jewels on a white throat...

My eyes opened. There was no drama in it. I opened my eyes and was awake in a hospital bed. Plugs in my nostrils helping me breathe.

Not a city hospital. I hoped. My thoughts still sticky. Hard to pull apart from each other. Who I am.

Hotspur. Hotspur...Eric. A prince? No, that's stupid. Prince Eric. Disney shit. No, something. A knight? No. I'm...a miller?

Eric Miller, my name. Dad. Mom. Grandpa and Grandma. Miller, our family. Hotspur. A name to...to protect my family.

Ice and snow and blistering cold. But it was hot in the hospital room. No AC.

Alone in the room. Yes, I was alone. I closed my eyes.

Opened them. Don't know the time that passed.

Black man in coat talking to woman in scrubs. Both looked tired. Ramsey. Doc Ramsey. Good. I knew him. Tried talking. Took a second.

"Uh," I managed.

Dr Ramsey raised an eyebrow at me. Tired, cynical, but in a way relieved.

"Good morning," he said, "Sorry about the heat, there's been a black out and the emergency generators are dealing with, you know, emergencies."

"You're lucky Thunderchild got you here as quick as he did," the doctor kept saying.

Thunder. I'd heard thunder.

"I've been trying to keep the other one out of the room."

The other one?

"What the fuck doc, why didn't you tell me he was awake?" her brash voice was unsteady as she forced open the door. The doc's expression went sour.

Misfit still wore her biker leathers but had ditched the helmet. She had dark pits under her eyes. Hadn't slept. Eyes were pink too. Cheeks wet like she'd washed her face maybe. Her short black hair was all messed up.

"He just woke up," the doctor growled.

"Second time," I said, "Woke up once I..." I closed my eyes.

"Yo Eric, Eric!" Misfit called as I slipped away.

I opened my eyes. It was dark. Snoring. Soft snoring. Misfit in the corner, asleep in a chair, her head tipped back. Snoring harsh, like a coffee grinder. Door opened with a quiet click.

The nurse. "You lost a lot of blood," she said. There was something off about her, couldn't make it out in the dark. Something funny about the way her mouth moved. She came closer to check my chart.

Now I was full fucking awake and pressing back against the bed, heart pounding. Jesus Christ!

"A lot of internal bleeding..." her voice trailed off at seeing me sitting up and backpedalling away. She wilted. Ashamed. The woman with the eight eyes and the spider mouth, cheeks covered in a thorny fuzz. Eight emotive eyes glittering with embarrassment and shame. Sorry but its not easy, waking up to a woman with a tarantula face. "I...I'll get Doctor Ramsey," she said, sprinting away with a sob.

Oh fuck I'm an asshole.

>try to apologize
>just leave it be

>>6085109
>try to apologize

>>6085109
>>try to apologize
We're still kind of out of it

>>6085109
>try to apologize
I had a nightmare. There was a void full of hate, and they were rolling dice to determine my fate. They rolled bad.

>>6085109
>try to apologize

>>6085118
>>6085125
>>6085136
>>6085139
Eric is a good boy with good midwestern values

I tried to get up to go after her.

"Sorry, I'm sorry!" I called, but the tubes plugging me into machines kept me in place. Though plugs in my nostrils came free, and whatever was stuck in my arm pulled in a discomforting way. I near tumbled right out of the bed, and would have if someone didn't grab my shoulder.

"Easy there hoss," Misfit said, pulling me back before I took a fall, "Take it easy, Eric."

She pushed me back into the pillows mounded up around my head.

"I'm a jerk," I said, looking to the open doorway.

"Yeah!" Misfit agreed with a chuckle, "But you been fucked up too. Nessa will understand." Misfit sat back. "That's her name, Nessa. Nice chick. Took real good care of you." Misfit unzipped her jacket, fanning herself out before pulling it off. Her body was glazed with sweat beneath it. "Fuck you had me scared," she said, leaning forward, "I shoulda backed you against Negative Kevin instead of running off to help those rich assholes stuck in the Merchandise Mart."

"I don't...I...don't remember," I said. All I could remember was snow and blood, and a fire. But it was bits and pieces in my memory.

Misfit poked my belly, made a wet sound. "Right through here and out the other side. You're lucky you can still walk. Shit, you're lucky you're still alive." She poked my right thigh. "And another through here. Fuck me, Spur, you're looking like some bad cross stitch these days."

She was making fun but there was genuine concern in her face. "When I saw you bleeding out," she said, and sniffed, "I ain't been that scared." Wetness was building in her eyes. Her voice cracked. "I ain't been that scared since I was a little girl." She took in a deep breath and knuckled at her pink wet eyes, a tremble running through her. She let it all out in a heavy sigh that almost, but didn't, choke up into a sob.

"Any way, you owe Thunderchild a big fucking thank you," her grin came back.

"What about...what about the guy," I said, "What was his name again?"

"Degrees Kelvin," she said with a snort, "You don't remember? Well, you left him a little disarmed." I frowned at her laugh. "Brutal shit dude, real heavy metal stuff. Last I heard the cops had him in custody. He ain't much more than a chump without his hands. Hope he can convince Bike Mike to give him a reach around when he's in prison, therwise it'll be like rubbing firewood."

Oh God that was an image I didn't need.

"I cut off his hands?"

That didn't sound like me. Misfit grinned, about to launch into a story when Dr Ramsey came striding back in.

"Awake for real this time?" he asked.

"Seems so," his nurse, Nessa, said. She crouched behind the doctor. "Sorry for scaring you."

"No!" I said, bolting upright, "I'm sorry! That was on me!" I blushed with shame.

"Yeah, it was," Doc Ramsey said with an unforgiving stare, then to his nurse, "Thank you, Nessa, you can go home now."

She nodded to the doctor, then to me, then scurried out.

Doc Ramsey gave me his frown. "You know how she started working here?" he said, "Some jagoff split her head open with a beer can when she was walking home at night. Threw it at her from out of a car. She sleeps at the clinic because she's afraid to walk home alone at night."

"It's rough out there for us freaks," Misfit said.

Now she copped Ramsey's glare. "Worse for some," he said, "Think about that next time you're ordering a slice. People like her don't get to do that." I wanted to sink into my bed and disappear, but Misfit rolled her eyes.

"Thanks for the guilt trip, doc," Misfit said, "What about the big fucking hero right here? How's he doing?"

"Better than he should be, but that's not surprising," Doc Ramsey said, "It took three days but your body seems to have put itself more or less back together, with the help of some medical intervention. You nearly bled to death."

"Oh," I said, "Wait, three days? Three days!" Panic worse than when I was dying set in. "Do my girlfriends know? What about my dad?"

"Ms Grant has handled all that, same with the media," he said, "You're headline news, kid. Again. Some people think you died. Others are...a mite disturbed by what you did."

I slumped back in the bed. "I don't...don't remember, I cut off a bad guy's hands?"

Doc Ramsey nodded. "You can google it, but the images are pretty graphic. Some of your intestine spilled out when you were impaled."

"Gross," Misfit snorted, too amused for my liking.

"If you were anyone else I'd want to keep you for observation," he said, "Considering who you are though, the sooner you're out of my clinic the better."

"Thanks Doc," I said, only half sarcastic. I tried to get up. Misfit helped me.

"I got a change of clothes for you," she said, "Nothing fancy."

My belly burned with hunger. I needed to eat. A lot.

But I needed to know what had gone down since I passed out. Who knew what, what had been said.

And I needed to get home. home to my family.

>food first, the rest could wait
>before anything else I needed details
>home, home to Ayesha and Ivy
>write-in

>>6085169
>>before anything else I needed details
He should know what our weird possible past life got up to while we were bleeding out

>>6085169
>home, home to Ayesha and Ivy

>>6085171
Seems like we just chopped off some hands and then passed out

>6085169
>home, home to Ayesha and Ivy
they're probably freaking out. we should see them first for sure.

>>6085172
>>6085171
heading home!

Getting dressed wasn't easy. I moved like an 80 year old man. The bad kind of 80. The 'it could be any day now' kind of 80. Misfit had brought me an old Red Sox shirt to change into. That was just downright mean. She really knew how to kick a guy when he was down.

There was now a nice white scar on my leg and my stomach looked worse than ever. I wasn't going to be in any firefighter calendars, that's for sure. It would have been really cool and helpful if my powers could heal scar tissue too, but that was too much to ask for.

Misfit helped me get home, and boy did I need it. Not just the pain but a hunger that felt like a bucket of crabs trying to rip their way out of my belly. She walked me out, then gave me a lift on the back of her bike. A spare little vrrm vrrm piece of shit she'd been working on at the farm, it would have to do. We zipped through the neighborhoods as I held on to her tight, my thoughts preoccupied with my girlfriends.

Three whole days. The last time they'd seen me I'd gone out the window. The next time, had they seen the photos? They had to have. I only hoped Ms Grant had reassured them I was alive, safe and relatively intact.

We didn't talk much, me and Misfit, but it was nice to hold her as she drove. It wasn't a sexual thing. Maybe it had been once, for a second. Misfit was...I don't know what she was to me exactly. More than a friend, but not like a lover. Not just because she was gay.

Family. She could be annoying, she could cross lines, she could bring the worst kind of trouble to my door. But she was family. I love her, and I don't mind thinking it. She was worth the blood and the trouble. And I knew she felt the same way as me, though she'd never say it. Not sober at least.

A sister, I think. I've never had a sister. Or a brother. I figured though that must be what this feeling must be like.

I'd nearly died and now here I was, riding on the back of her bike with the wind in my face. It felt good, and absurd, and surreal. Everything was all off-kilter.

We came to a stop out the front of my place. She kicked out the kick stand before letting me off, pulled a cigarette out of her front pocket. I lit it for her with the palm of my hand, a small throb of energy. It took so much effort I almost collapsed.

"Steady on now," she said, grabbing me before I could lose my feet, "Fuck me, I don't need the grief from your girls if you fall over. That blonde of yours scares the shit out of me!"

She got me steady, then checked my hair.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I really fucked that up. I'll do better next time. Get better at this whole superhero thing."

"Natalie," I said, using her real name, thinking to reassure her.

"Nah nah nah, you just get upstairs and rest," she said, walking me toward the front door, "Let those cute maidens of yours tend their battered hero."

Maidens. That word stirred a memory. Couldn't place it.

"You play too much Elden Ring," I said as she left me at the front door.

"Never heard of it!" she said, backing away.

I grinned. Waved goodbye.

Then I had to man the stairs, and fortify myself against what was waiting for me upstairs.

One step. Two step. Handrail for help. Guilt beat the fuck out of me every step of the way.

I opened the front door.

*pop*

"WELCOME HOME!"

They cheered at the same time, clapping. Not just Ivy and Ayesha, but Dad and Carmen, Luis from the corner store, Ms Grant, and the rest of Fire Watch. Grit, Pratfall, Thunderchild, even Dog Brother. Out of costume of course. Others as well. Thunderchild's phantom girlfriend hovering by the kitchen with a young Asian woman I assumed was Grit's baby mama. Kaylee had stood by the doorway, letting off the popper that now showered me with confetti. Behind me I felt a hard shove, then Misfit's arm around my neck.

"Dumb ass, you thought we weren't going to throw you a party?" she said, "You nearly fucking died!" She kissed my cheek before pushing me toward my girls. Ayesha and Ivy, both laughing but their laughter held tears as they grabbed at me. I pulled them in tight, an arm around each of them.

"I'm sorry," I said, "I'm sorry."

"Idiot," Ivy sniffed into my shoulder, "We thought you'd died. But you came back."

"It couldn't be helped, you told me to."

"What a fucking jerk," Grit said, clapping.

"Biggest one I know," Thunderchild said, clapping too.

The little silver dog tucked in Dog Brother's coat gave a sharp yap.

It felt almost like a dream. Too good to be real.

Was it? My heart started pounding hard. Was it real? I felt my legs grow weak under me as my breath grew short.

"Whoa!" Ayesha pulled me up. The two of them walked me to the couch. "Are you okay Eric?"

"I don't know," was all I could say, my heart beating hard against my chest.

"Get him some water," someone said. Dad came over with a bottle. I drank slow.

"Are you okay?" Ayesha asked again.

I wasn't sure. I looked up to Dad's worried face. He'd cut his trip to Mexico short.

"Is this too much?" Dad asked, "We thought you might like it."

>No, it's good. It's enough, thank you.
>I...I think I'd rather be alone, sorry
>write-in

>>6085214
>No, it's good. It's enough, thank you.
>"Just let me sit this one out for a moment, but if you've prepared something to eat I would appreciate it, I'm starving"
>After that, send a quick text Jimmy saying "Hey,there's a little party going at my house, if you don't mind the shenanigans you're invited, and also I would like to talk with you about something, it's important"

Even if this BIG fucking NERD of Jimmy doesn't like it, we're the protag in this bitch. So either he plays nice or he gets the eventual Gwen Stacy treatment so he can put his shit together

>>6085214
>No, it's good. It's enough, thank you.

>>6085214
>No, it's good. It's enough, thank you.

>>6085214
>Ms Grant,
Ms Grant is not there. I fucked up.

>>6085214
>>No, it's good. It's enough, thank you.
>write-in
"Just need a moment, felt like someone put the spurs to me."

>>6085214
>No, it's good. It's enough, thank you.
Chat is this real
I forgot our secret identity was so compromised

>>6085233
>>6085224
>>6085220
>>6085219
>>6085216
writing it up

I sat on the couch, Ayesha and Ivy hanging off either side of me.

"I'm sorry. No, its good, it's enough. Thank you," I said, "I just need a moment, I just need..."

"Take whatever you need," Carmen said, "Take your time."

She knelt in front of me, rubbing my knee. Dad stood behind her, smiling. They all did. Stood behind her. As she rubbed my knee.

Then her hand moved up. Up and between my legs.

"Take whatever you want," Carmen said, stroking me. In front of everyone.

"Whatever you need," Ivy said, hot in my ear.

I shuddered. Blinking. Not sure what. What was going on. nothing seemed right of a sudden. Nothing. But all still real.

"Whatever you want," Ayesha sighed hot into my other ear.

Carmen bit her lip as she drew me out. Holding me. Stroking me.

"It's yours," Misfit said, where Carmen had been, smiling as she stroked me.

"It can all be yours," now Pratfall spoke in her place, dressed all in her jester tights.

"You just have to reach out," Kaylee said.

"And take it!" now Ms Grant.

"All of it!" Foxtrot with a lusty grin.

"The world is yours!" now Semper Fi, then Baby Girl, then Salamander.

"It can all be yours!" now Ivy and Ayesha and all the others together.

Suffocating. The heat was suffocating. I was suffocating. It was unreal but all too real.

I CAN GIVE IT ALL TO YOU

A strangled whimper as their eyes gleamed bright, all the others watching, smiling. Waiting.

I CAN MAKE YOU A KING

no

I don't want-

DO AS THOU WILT

my back arched under their hands.

no

EMBRACE THE TRUTH

no

IN THE LIE

no!

TAKE

-enough-

And an unearthly scream broke as at my knees a blur of silver struck Carmen and she broke away from me in a howl.

Pitch blackness. I opened my eyes to pitch blackness, and the sound of a cat spitting. I sat up in my bed. My bed at night with the lights off. The cat was at my knees, her tail up, elegant coat now a mane of bristles, hissing at spitting at the corner.

At something in the corner. An ink blot in the shadow. A woman's shape.

Lilitu. I do not know how I knew what it was. It spoke in the voice of a night wind,

"So easy, a boy, with flaws so clear," it said, "Nearly I had him." It was not English the nightmare spoke, but still I understood.

Never. A thought not my own. Never so easy, night hag. Away. Away lest my glaives rend thy flesh.

"Such meager glaives ye have now, little bride. Princess of naught, lady of doom. We see him now, we know where doomed flight has taken ye. And soon he shall arrive, and teach ye that sorrow once again."

Let him come with all his dread legions. The flame of truth will he find. But he'll not find ye!

Then Mangy pounced as the door slammed open.

Jimmy Green stepped in, a book in hand, as the cat hit the lilitu on the chest, claws sinking into its shoulders, bite clamping on its throat. Jimmy spoke words of power as the night hag shrieked, his fingers making crooked symbols.

It thrashed at the cat clinging to its throat. Thrashed in terror for its life as spots of light broke open around it, giving detail to its form. Its black carapace hide, shaped in the mockery of a woman's curves, its latticed ug eyes bulging from its face. It howled and swiped sharp talons at the cat, trying to rip her free as vile green blood spurt from its throat, a foul stink rising from the wound.

"Stay the fuck out of this," Jimmy spat as I took a step forward.

He moved now between it and me. Mangy released her bite, spring down and darted over to Jimmy's side.

"Sister of the night, get the fuck out of here," he said, and spoke one more word that hurt my ears to hear.

It broke apart with a shriek, dissipating into the dark of the room, its smell still lingering on the air.

I sat at the back of my bed, panting. A dream. How much of it had been a dream?

Jimmy, the Red Wizard, looked back at me. "You alive?" he said. I nodded. "That's good. Now get some pants on, I can see your tent pole."

I blushed, covering myself.

A laugh that came from inside my own head, but not my own thoughts. I stared at Mangy.

What the fuck was going on? The dream. I remembered the dream. Just about every woman I'd ever had half a crush on. Fuck me, am I really that horny? I shook my head.

A common weakness amongst princely men, think nought of it. Daydreams and fantasies. True love abides beyond such things.

Most definitely not my voice. I glared at the cat, knowing I knew things I had forgotten, though knowing I only knew them in the vaguest terms. Its confusing even to me.

"You were giving off some kind of energy, going off like a beacon," Jimmy said as I pulled on my jeans. "I came quick as I could."

"Thanks, Jimmy," I said.

"James," he said, "A jimmie is a condom. If I hadn't been here, do you know how fucked you'd have been? Literally and metaphysically, I mean."

"Uh."

"You'd have been the sock puppet of I don't know what, other than real fucking evil," he said, "Causing all kinds of trouble, a prisoner in your own mind. You're lucky you're a wizard's boon. It's about all that saved you."

A most valiant rescue.

"You're welcome, my lady," Jimmy said to my cat, giving a short bow.

Amused laughter again. Your eyes are open.

"A wizard must if he wants to see," Jimmy said. She followed him out my bedroom door.

What the fuck was going on?

Outside to the kitchen, the lights all off. Ivy was waiting there alone. She stepped over, carefully.

"Are you going to faint again?" she said.

"Again?" I didn't know what she meant.

"When Natalie brought you home, you fainted on the front step. We had to carry you up. It was not fun, you're a lot heavier than you look."

"So the party," I said.

"What party?" Ivy frowned, "Fuck, Eric, you just got out of the hospital. We aren't going to throw you a party."

Oh. I guess it had been a bit too apple pie. I sat at the kitchen table, hungry. I could eat an apple pie. I could eat five.

"Ayesha had to go home. Her parents are furious. Turns out they called Annie's parents to see how they were doing and found out everything. Busted, bad luck!" Ivy scoffed. "But that's nothing compared to, I dunno, a demon or something trying to suck your soul out through your cock! I almost consider it cheating, you know! Almost!"

Fuck me. James sat with a grunt. Mangy jumped on the table, rubbing against Ivy.

I really don't like that name. I glared at the cat.

Ivy paced back and forth, frowning, looking ready to punch something. "It never ends," she muttered, "Always something else."

Okay. Things were getting clearer.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Jimmy asked.

"Coming home," I said.

"No, before that. Starting with your fight with the idiot in the costume," he said, "Try. Try to remember."

"I-"
-
>roll 3d100 dc 90

I shouldn't do write ups when I'm horny

Rolled 1 (1d100)

>>6085366
Success crit, on the way

>>6085404
HOW

>>6085404
Huh... I suppose Jimmy will need to make a second exorcism, and on the same day. This for sure is going to count as practice

Rolled 62 (1d100)

Let’s see if our luck comes back.

>>6085404
Bruh, what the fuck

Rolled 83 (1d100)

>>6085366
miller luck coming through

>>6085366
Inb4 crit

Rolled 7 (1d100)

>>6085404

I didn't plan on a second crit fail so soon.

I'll need to take a minute to plan out this next update

>>6085556
We're so fucked

>>6085556
Eric no! Don't fuck Jimmy he doesn't feel that way about you!

this is taking longer than I thought. expect an update either tonight or tomorrow

>>6085899
The gates of Eric's mind are wide open. Prince has not left the building. I wonder how the Prince will treat a wizard. With reverence, or with disdain. If one society of wizards brought about the end, perhaps by inviting the darkness and it's servants deeper into the world, perhaps it will be unpleasant. Thats just wild speculation from someone new tho.

>>6085404
GOD DAMNIT WHY DO YOU ROLL?!

>>6085404
Way to either give us PTSD or throw us into the plot of the hangover.

"I remember..." I said, brow knitting in thought, "I remember..." I stuck out my chin, locking my jaw, struggling. "I remember...the Alamo?"

Not a sound from any of them, not even a smirk. I thought it was funny though.

"Yeah, if you're gonna act a fool I'm going to go," Jimmy said, getting up.

"Wait! Sorry, I'm sorry. This is all just a bit much. A demon just tried to kill me."

Lilitu. Not a demon. The wrong word. Lilitu are not creatures of make believe. They are spawned in the pits of the Enemy, in the dark between the stars. Druj fiends of the vilest sort.

The cat again. I looked at Mangy.

Please, that name...

"You're really chatty all of a sudden," I said.

Your mind is more open. Her tail flicked around her. We shall see how long it lasts. Ivy stared from me, to the cat, to Jimmy.

"This is too weird," she said, stalking off.

Your consort, I like her. The other one as well. They are strong and make you stronger. A prince's consorts must have strength of their own, tis no easy thing to be.

"Consort?" I said.

In your memory you will find it. Your dreams. Red skies and a doomed world.

"My memories," I touched my forehead.

Not yours but given to you, handed down from one prince to another, as yours will be handed down. They are the memories of my...my brother, son of the last ardeshir of our world, and last of the ashavan. Until you, at least. You who now carry the fire.

Ashavan. I'd been called that before, by the necromancer who had stirred up the dead from the Great Chicago Fire.

Is that what the stone did? Made me an ashavan?

No. Not exactly. The stone changed something in you. Made you more sensitive to it, able to access the divine fire by reflex rather than training. A human should not be able to touch the divine fire as you do. And it is through that fire you have these dreams, these moments. And it is the fire that gives you your abilities. I thought I might have been, like, a reincarnation or something. In one manner, yes, but not in the manner you think. So I'm not...not a chosen one or something? This isn't destiny? You were not born to be this, no. It was not by destiny you were chosen.

But you were chosen.

It was by your choices, not an accident of birth. The fire is not so fickle.

I put a finger to the scar on my face. The spot Hector had stabbed me last year, when I'd rushed out to defend Mrs Valdez. Right as the world had exploded.

You've shown yourself to be a...worthy heir to my brother.

There was a bitterness in her thoughts. I stared at Mangy.

Serenäe.

As close as your mind can grasp my name. It is Serenäe. Not 'Mangy'.

"Serenäe," I said. It was pretty. My brother always thought so.

Our thoughts were hard to divide. This was all a lot to take in.

"Enough chit-chat," Jimmy snapped, "Open your mind, Eric. We need to sort this out before you bring something worse after you. After all of us."

"Okay," I said.

Think on the fire. Imagine it, as if it were before you. Then open your mind to it, let it pass through you.

I sat, and thought. A white flame. I pictured a white flame in darkness. Let it take you. It spread through me, but rather than do anything with it, I sat with it. My body hummed, my hearing perked up. My senses grew. I could smell the ice cream on Jimmy's breath. I could hear the hum of electricity in the walls. The soft cough of Mrs Valdez down stairs as her grandson burbled in his crib. The beat of the wing of a fly in Dad's room. The heart beat. Ivy's heart beat. The smell of her hair even from here, of the skin cream she liked. The feel of the table beneath my hands, the cheap wood, the course fabric of my jeans against my legs. I took in everything.

The rummaging of a rat in the garbage outside. The beat of an owl's wings. The sound...like a soft hummed song, a song beneath...everything.

Arash.

Serenäe.

My brother.

Am I?

It's you, I know!

It's me, but not. This is not me. We are both here. Cleaved apart yet cleaved together. If we are joined as one...but I am dead. I know. I know it. Oh I can see it now. I remember now! I'm dead. I'm DEAD! OUR WORLD IS DEAD AND I HAVE FAILED! OH GOD SERENÄE! WHY DID YOU WAKE ME FROM THE DEAD!

I CAN SEE HIM EVEN NOW! THE DRUJ IT LAUGHS AND LAUGHS AND LAUGHS AS HE KILLS ME! MY BRIDES, MY WORLD. I HAVE FAILED AND IT LAUGHS AS HE KILLS ME! IT WILL LAUGH WHEN HE KILLS HIM TOO, AND YOU!

RUN, SERENÄE, RUN! IT SEES YOU!

Close his mind! Close his mind now, Red Wizard!

"Fuck!" Jimmy spat, and slapped his hand full down on the top of my face.

I jerked back in my chair, gasping.

"Was that...was that what you wanted?" I said.

Jimmy didn't look sure. The cat was bristled all over. The cat that was not a cat but some kind of space princess, staring at me.

Staring past me.

"Did ye think a daughter of the great Zahhak is so simpily destroyed?"

It stepped out into the light, and with it a whimper. Its carapace hips and rounded shoulders gleamed green-black. Its belly was a soft grey flesh, its breasts the same with bruised purple nipples. Its mouth was a woman's, but the rest of its face was covered in the same black-green shell, with bulging eyes belonging to a fly. And in its clawed grip, it held Ivy. Ivy's lips were drawn in, her eyes wide, her face a shade of terror I'd never seen before.

"Her soft skin," it said, claw gliding down Ivy's neck, "Will make a fetching cloak."

The fire burst awake inside of me.

No. The cat screamed. My mind was empty once more as I let the fire take me.
-
>roll 3 x 1d100+20 dc 85
>please don't critfail again

sorry that took so long to get done

Rolled 76 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>6086084

>>6086086
Its cool, NOBODY expected the crit fucker to fuck us twice in the same thread. WHOM BETTER NOT DO IT A THIRD TIME LIKE HE CALLED!

>>6086089
both hugely derailed the stuff I'd had planned for this thread

Rolled 5 (1d100)

Please no on critfail!

Rolled 85 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>6086084

>>6086147
Thank fuck, you beautiful bastard

>>6086089
Hey, I just rolled a 1 once, I wasn't the responsible of the first one, CHIIIIIIILL

Rolled 87 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>6086084

>>6086090
One of the unique charms of running quests

Mangy, Serenäe, launched herself at the lilitu with claws outstretched, straight for the soft flesh of its face. It swiped a claw and the cat gave a hideous shriek as she fell away.

But I flew in next. My rage a pounding drum through my body. Thoughtless rage driven by one thing. Terror. Naked terror at the claw it had on Ivy's throat. Kill it. Kill it. Send it back to the pit that spawned it.

Knuckles crunched against its chin. Ivy tore herself out of its grasp and dived over to Jimmy. The lilitu staggered back but not fast enough to avoid my next jab, each punch fuelled by rage and fire. Its purple lips split open, green ichor dribbling out. It swung a talon for my head.

My rage didn't blind me. I stepped in to its reach, arm raised to cover, loosing a right square between its eyes. That beetle shell that covered its head crunched under the blow. It groaned. My left hook took it off its feet.

I didn't let up. I pinned its shoulders with my knees, drove my fists down into its head, pounding its skull against the floorboards.

"Don't ever, don't ever," I ranted, spit flecking my lips, "Don't ever threaten her. Don't ever. Don't ever! Don't ever threaten my family!"

My fists didn't stop as its crunched and cracked, as green ichor bathed my knuckles, washed my hands to the wrist, black-green shell splinters flying as it and the bone beneath it gave way. The walls rocked, dust falling from the ceiling. Something soft became pulp beneath my knuckles.

"Don't, don't, don't ever!"

My fist struck wood. I punched again.

"Eric, Eric," Ivy had me by the shoulders, pulling me back, back into her arms, "Eric, stop."

I wrestled against her hold until her hands were holding my face and her face was in my hair, rocking me.

"I'm safe, Eric," she said, "I'm safe, you can stop." She kissed my neck. "Stop."

A horrible shudder ran out of me as I let go of the rage and fire. Then I grabbed her. Held her, held her tight. Getting its blood all over her as I clung to her, shaking. She kissed my cheek. I buried my nose into her neck. She was warm and alive.

"Eric," Jimmy said.

He stood over the cat. Serenäe. Red stained her white fur. No, something was worse, something hanging out of her belly across the kitchen floor.

"We need to get her to a...a vet or something."

Arash. Eric. Mangy. I slipped from Ivy over to her. My sister, no, not my sister. A fluffy white cat looking terribly small and feeble. A princess of a doomed people. My protector in the night.

"She's dying," Jimmy said. He was crying. I stroked that soft white fur. how many knights had she slept on my knee. How many afternoons had she spent on my lap. Not many, not enough. Mangy, my cat.

I liked being Mangy, before I awoke, and after, when you could not hear me.

"We can fix you," I said, my voice fractured as I stroked the soft, thick fur.

I will be something else, next. Do not fear. This body, she was only a vessel. When I came to this world. Already dying. But good. Such a good girl. I...I will find another. But I will be asleep. It will take me time to...to wake again. But when I do, I will find you. There is still so much to teach you.

Eric. You are...you are worthy of my brother's role. You are worthy of...

I will find you, my prince.

I will...

The soft white glow of her fur, it faded. And as it faded the pure white snow of her coat faded too. Lying now on my kitchen floor was a grey furred cat. Mangy, her mouth half open, her little pink tongue hanging out. Her eyes staring at nothing. Serenäe might live still, but my cat.

My cat. I picked her up and hugged her tight.

You were a good cat. The best cat. I'm sorry Mangy. Oh God.

Jimmy coughed. I looked up at him. Could he fucking wait?

"I don't mean to be rude, but you do have a dead body in your living room," he said.

The lilitu's corpse, its head now a pulped mess spread across the walls, floor boards, and my arms. It was too much to hope the fucking thing would just disappear like the monster in an rpg.

"This is going to need a lot of bleach," Ivy remarked at the new coat of paint across half my house.

Great. Just one more fucking thing to deal with. Getting rid of this body wasn't going to be easy.

>deal with it by taking it out to the hideout and burning it
>Jimmy was a wizard, let him deal with this weird shit
>write-in

>>6086594
>Jimmy was a wizard, let him deal with this weird shit

>>6086594
>Call Jimmy and ask if burning the bad thing is a good idea

>>6086594
>deal with it by taking it out to the hideout and burning it

>>6086593
>>Jimmy was a wizard, let him deal with this weird shit
We help of course but demon disposal is wizards work

>>6086594
>Check with Jimmy that we can burn it - if not, let him deal with it

>>6086602
>>6086623
>>6086654
>>6086675
writing it up

we'll be getting back to more typical super hero shenanigans soon.

"Can we burn the body?" I asked.

"Probably the best way to deal with it," he said, "Fire is a purifying agent. That's what my pop's books say, anyway."

"There's a place I know," I said. Which first meant rolling it up in something. We got an old carpet. It wasn't pleasant, for one thing it stank. Lilitu. Was that its name or what it was? I stared at the headless corpse. This clean up was not going to be fun.

For a start my hands hurt, a lot. I might have fractured a couple of bones in there. For another, I was exhausted. I had to eat. It didn't matter what. A loaf of bread found itself down my throat before we got far. Not anything on it, just bland untoasted white bread, followed by a couple gallons of milk. It was disgusting, it was unappetizing. I didn't care. It kept me going.

Ivy tucked a bath towel over Mangy. I couldn't look at the cat right now. I had to focus.

"Just so you now...your Dad will be back at like, 6AM," Ivy said as we rolled the headless night hag onto the carpet. "It was the earliest flight he could get out of Mexico. He was willing to drive back but Ms Flores convinced him to wait."

6AM. It was some time in the AM already, the sun still far off. We rolled up the dead body. I looked at Ivy, looking for signs of stress and fear. There were some, but she was composed. A fleck of green blood marked her cheek, and some beetle shell was in her hair.

"I got my car parked outside, but damn I do not need to be pulled over with that in my backseat," Jimmy said.

"There's a place you can do it," I said, "It isn't far."

"What do you mean, I can do it?" he said, "You want me to douse it in lighter fluid and spark a match?"

"You're the Red Wizard, figure it out!" I snapped.

Jimmy shook his head, hands up. "Fine, yeah, this is more wizard shit. Only...whatever this is, its not a spirit like the other ones we dealt with. This thing is physical, at least, mostly. It's why my spell didn't take. It's both a thing of our world, and of the gulfs." He shook his head harder. "This thing was born as much as made. Shit like this should not exist. It's a violation of both worlds."

The Druj and all its legions.

"I think these things have killed worlds," I said, "Whatever made it. It kills worlds. The Druj. Billions, maybe. Billions of worlds. An enemy of life."

My hands throbbed.

"The Great Filter," Jimmy said, "Not the answer to the Fermi Paradox I was expecting. Nuclear war, climate change? Nope, its Space Satan."

"It's something, I don't know what," I said, "I just hope its...its far away from here."

I picked up its feet. Jimmy picked up the other end. We carried it together downstairs to his shit box car. I told him where to go.

"Eric," he said, "Bed rest. You need it."

"Funny, that had been my plan," I said, "The city has other ideas."

His frown made him look like a particularly jowly dog. "I'll tell you if anything comes up."

The exhaust of the car coughed up when the engine started, and he peeled off.

Dad would be home soon, and I still had plenty to clean up.

When I got back upstairs, Ivy had already started with a bucket of soapy water and a sponge. She threw me a second, and I squatted down next to her. It wasn't fun. We didn't talk. The stains were stubborn as fuck. By the time we were done I was coated in sweat as well as filthy, and it was already hot before the sun came up.

"I need a shower," I said, slumping off.

In the bathroom I checked the water, got it warm before stepping in. The door opened behind me. I didn't turn around. Ivy's arms wrapped my waist, she pressed against my beck, hot water rushed over both of us as she held me. I held up shaking hands, the blood running off them to show the busted skin and bruised knuckles. I needed to do something with my hands. Something good.

I looked back to Ivy.

Water had slicked her hair dark against her neck and shoulders, her skin wet and vibrant. Her eyes wide. Lips half parted. Steam rose up around us. I gripped her shoulders with my aching hands. She pulled herself against my chest. Wet and slippery, hungry for each other's comfort. Something good.

When we were done and dressed, there was still one thing left to deal with.

Mangy's body. Small beneath the towel. No longer some strange prophetess from beyond the stars. Just a cat, plan and ordinary and wonderful.

"She was a good girl," Ivy said, holding my hand.

I had no where to bury her. My cat. We put her in a shoe box. Then we took her. We buried her out by the hideout. And I thought, maybe she could still protect me from there. Maybe. Maybe she could play in the field. Chase the mice. Maybe she was gone, and there was no coming back.

But it was a nice thought. My big dumb stray cat, a ghost hunting mice in the field.

When we got home we sat at the kitchen table, and waited for Dad to get home.

We had a lot to talk about.

I'll be back tomorrow with the next update

meanwhile, thoughts on the return so far? I feel rusty as fuck, both in terms of writing and running a quest.

a few plot points got triggered early thanks to those nat 1s, it really derailed my plans into a different direction

>>6086747
Fantastic quest as always
You haven't missed a beat since the last one
Those two Nat 1s in a row would've thrown anybody off their game but you pulled it off brilliantly

>>6086747
RIP Mangy :'(

Writing is great

>>6086747
Great stuff, and it's one of the few quests that run daily AND with multiple posts per session. Looking forward to more standard stuff later. Not sure how I feel about the whole space angle, might just need time to adjust from my assumption that the fire was an ancient mysticisme earth thing and not ancient aliens.

>>6086755
>>6086831
Also degrees kelvin was fun too bad, he probably won't be grabbing a returning role.

>>6086747
Its like you never left m8, but yeeeeah, Nat 1s fresh out the gate are wild.

>>6086747
New reader and I am enjoying it

>>6086994
always grateful for a new face, thanks for checking it out

>>6086747
I'm having a blast, after a while I wasn't convinced this quest would be ever picked up (mostly because of the regular trend of someone making a new Quest that's interesting and it never pass the first or second thread thanks to the Qm flaking).

But man, seeing you come back, one of the first few quest I started reading is so fucking awesome. I really missed Eric and all those awesome concepts you brought with the magic and all those great characters, I wish I could find the Jimmy one shot because your quest is one of my inspirations for my magic system, or at least the vague idea that I have of it.

I was planning on running today but it turns out I have to be somewhere. I'll try to get an update in later, but keep an eye out for tomorrow.

>>6087550
that's very kind of you to say, and I appreciate it

>>6086747
NGL, I'd completely forgotten about the quest but the hype came back the instant I saw the thread.
And let me say I'm not disappointed!
Also, thank you for doing interesting critfails that don't just result in Eric eating shit and failing at life, it's great that you can move the plot forward with those even if it's not the way you intended.

>>6087562
Yo, Bullpen, you good?

>>6088905
yeah! sorry the weekend got away from me. should have posted something yesterday about it. working on the next update now.

It was more awkward than I expected, Dad getting home. We didn't really hug or even say anything. He came home, put his bags away, came back and sat at the kitchen table. I thought he might be mad at me. I didn't know why.

He finally said, "You look okay."

It was weird. Carmen busied herself in another room. Ivy fell asleep on the couch. We sat at the kitchen table, lost for words.

"We saw the pictures," he said, "The ice guy, what he did to you. I didn't want to see them but they popped up on my feed."

"Mmm."

"This superhero thing, Eric. It's getting out of hand."

"Mmm."

"Your intestines were hanging out."

I rubbed my stomach. It was a surreal thing to hear. There was nothing good about your entrails becoming extrails, even if I didn't remember it.

"We were terrified, I was..."

We didn't look at each other. I stared off into the middle distance while Dad inspected the door of the fridge.

"You look okay, but next time?"

"Are you asking me to stop?" I said.

He took his time replying.

"I'm asking you," he said, picking his words carefully, "To slow down. Could you do that for me, slow down? At least until you're out of school."

"Mmm."

Dad was scared. He was more than scared. Dad was terrified. And he had every right to be, but...

But I didn't even know if my gifts, if everything that came with them, would let me slow down. And maybe, maybe I didn't want to. But was really me that didn't want to, or the space prince in my head driving me forward into action? I didn't know. I don't know. I don't know the difference between him and me and where one of us started and the other ended or if the gift of this fire alone was what compelled me into diving head first into danger and loving it every time.

But I had been chosen, and that had been from my choices. So maybe.

Maybe I just don't know, and maybe it doesn't matter, and maybe I should just listen to Dad.

"Please," he said, breaking my heart with how small and terrified he was.

God, I'm tired.

>Okay, I'll slow down (truth)
>Okay, I'll slow down (lie)
>No, I can't slow down. Not now, not yet
>(write-in)

sorry that took so long to get up

>>6089109
>"I am gonna be honest, pretty sure whatever is going on has to do with some kind of Space Satan...or thee Satan, I'm not to sure."
>"I don't think I got a actual choice."
>"Not one I can sleep at night about."

>>6089111
Trips declare you are clear

>>6089109
>No, I can't slow down. Not now, not yet

>>6089109
>No, I can't slow down. Not now, not yet

The corporation still has the stone, and the necromancer is still at large. On top of secret agency's backing anti-parafreak terrorism so that they can capture guinea pigs in the aftermath.

If we slow down the problems are just going to show up on our doorstep, like that lilitu did.

>>6089109
>No, I can't slow down. Not now, not yet

Just found out about the Druj who have killed billions of worlds and ours is next. We gotta live as fast as possible.

>>6089167
>>6089164
>>6089117
okay, these seems like a clear consensus. starting the write up

"I, I can't," I said, "I can't slow down. Not now, not yet."

"Not ever?" Dad snapped.

We stared at each other, front on this time. Dad's clenched jaw. He was angry, but under the anger was fear.

He choked out the words.

"Son, he ripped your insides out."

My mind buzzed with my own kind of anger, hot thoughts ripping through me. Memories and thoughts and all my fear for the future swarming me, cracking my voice when I let them out.

"You don't get it!" I said, "You don't get it! I can't stop. Not while...not while Ixion is doing what it's doing with the stone. Not while there's a necromancer at large causing problems. Not when there's some psychotic group of government agents rounding up my people to experiment on. Not while there are terrorists recruiting my friends to blow up innocent people. Not while the Druj is out there! Out there waiting, waiting for me! A world killer coming for me! Coming for all of us!"

"If we slow down the problems are just going to show up at our door and break it down!"

"I've got to live, Dad. Live as fast as possible because I don't know how much time I've got left!"

Dad looked caught between wanting to shout at me or maybe grab me and cry. "This isn't living, Eric," he said, "Can't...can't someone else deal with it?"

He really didn't understand. "There isn't anyone else," I said, "There's me, there's my friends, and there's no one else."

"It'll kill you," he said, "It'll cut you to pieces." He put his face in his hands. "It already has. I don't even know you anymore, Eric. I don't. I look in your face and I don't know who that is. It's not my son, not the boy who cried watching Land Before Time. Not the one who begged us for an X-Box for Christmas. The one who wanted a dog more than anything else in the world. Everything about you. The way you laugh, the way you walk. It's all different."

The hurt surprised me. His and mine, his words a spike through my heart.

The me he was talking about had died way before I'd got my powers. He'd died in the same hospital bed as Mom. Dad had been drinking even before Mom died. The first night she'd had to stay in the hospital for treatment he'd crawled into a bottle. And there were times he looked a bad day away from crawling back in. Days like today.

"Why can't I protect you?" he said, so soft and pathetic. A heart broken question neither of us wanted to ask though we both knew the answer.

An ashavan protects. An ashavan holds the fire, burning himself to protect his people, and we burn brightest in the dark.

I barely knew what those words meant. How could I say them? The dead prince's thoughts were bleeding into mine. Another problem I didn't need.

"We both need sleep," I said.

"We'll talk about this later," he said. We both agreed, though I knew we wouldn't talk about it any time soon. We'd both said what we'd said, and would need to live with it. At least for a while.

And I really did need sleep.

It had been a couple of days and we still hadn't talked. If anything Dad had pulled back some, barely exchanging a word. Not angry, just defeated. I was okay with it. It was hard talking to someone who didn't understand.

"-could I be anymore-"

"-not the only thing here that's fruity and preco-"

"-record heat throughout-"

"-yippe-kay-yay mister f-"

"-the whole system is out of-"

Dad was flipping through channels the way he did while Carmen leaned over the back of the couch, annoyed. "You're the only guy I know still watches free-to-air tv," she said, "Just throw on Netflix or something."

"Too much of our lives these days is curated," Dad said, "Playlists, podcasts, streaming services. We only see what we want to see. It's bad. Our lives are losing their spontaneity. Life's better with pleasant surprises." He stopped surfing on a scene of Clint Eastwood getting out of a Cadillac. "You ever see a Dirty Harry movie?"

"No," Carmen said.

"Me neither, come sit and we'll figure out if we like it."

She climbed over the back of the couch to cuddle up next to him.

I ate my breakfast. Ivy had gone home yesterday, her parent's as furious as Ayesha's. I'd be lucky to see either of them before school was back. It bugged me some. I liked Ayesha's parents as much as I hated Ivy's.

Ms Grant still hadn't contacted me about Zeke. Misfit and Thunderchild had checked in on the group chat, kept me up to date on what was going on with the para community and if anything bad had really popped off.

"-expecting to make an announcement later tonight," something about the tv screen caught my eye. A picture of Julian Dodd smiling while pretty Priscilla Takanawa read the news. "Ixion CEO Julian Dodd has signed a major deal with the city council, promising to provide 'next generation' aid to help contain the growing threat of super powered criminals. The details however have been scant, with the controversial CEO promising to 'reveal all' at a gala tonight hosted by Governor Tuttle, where he's expected to throw his support behind CCV mayoral candidate Rebecca Byron in the upcoming-"

Dad hit the mute button, muttering 'politics'.

Everything about that news made my knuckles itch. Unfortunately, Dodd wasn't a problem I could just punch in the face to make go away.

But maybe punching my way through problems wasn't the only way to win a fight.

>check out this gala tonight, but go as Eric
>check out this gala tonight, but go as Hotspur
>check out this gala tonight, but don't go alone (write-in a companion)
>ignore the plot hook from the QM and do something else

>>6089289
>check out this gala tonight, but go as Eric
>Bring Pratfall along and notify Ms. Grant
Might as well get the only employee we know to give us an in. Do we have our Uncle's contact info, or do we not really talk that much to try.