Chapter Text
Standing in my kitchen with one hand on the stove, I consider the quest I have yet to accept. The quest that I have no option to decline.
Parahuman Feudalism
Save the bay by taking it over
Eliminate or drive out all of the city’s major gangs
Empire Eighty-Eight
Azian Bad Boyz
PRT ENE
Coil’s Mercenaries
Archer Bridge Merchants
Accept?
As much as I want to say that one of these things is not like the other, is the local branch of the PRT really that different than the gangs? They control territory, aggressively recruit parahumans. I guess they don’t sell drugs, unless you count the fact that some of their funding come from taxes on alcohol and tobacco.
And what do they use that funding on? A big, shiny base, way out in the middle of the bay?
From my perspective, there are exactly two parahumans that have ever had a positive effect on Brockton Bay – Marquis and Panacea. Marquis’s ‘no fighting on public transit’ rule persists even now, and does more good for the people of this city than the PRT ever have. And Panacea? Well, people come to the bay just for the chance of being healed by Panacea. Medical tourism is one of the few things keeping the city’s economy afloat.
The thought of Panacea prompts me to pull up one of the quests I have accepted.
Spiritual Healing
Both you and Amy could use a friend. Are you picking up what I’m putting down?
Befriend Amy Dallon
My interaction with Panacea – with Amy – was brief, but enlightening. At first, she was brusque, but when she realized the doctor called her in not to heal me, but to cover up the fact that I didn’t need to be healed, she seemed to… soften.
She asked if I was planning on joining the Wards. When I said probably not, she gave me some insight on their recruitment tactics, and warned me that the doctor that tipped her off will probably have told them my identity.
Her account of the unwritten rules led me to believe that they’re only followed when it’s convenient, and that if the PRT suspects me of getting up to trouble, Taylor Hebert might end up getting a visit.
Fuck the PRT.
Quest: Parahuman Feudalism accepted
Following groups set to enemy status:
Brockton Bay Protectorate
Brocton Bay Wards
Shit. I… might not have thought that through.
Prior to this, the two groups had been labelled neutral. According to the brief tutorial that popped up when I was talking to Panacea, there are two ways I can acquire new powers. Either a friendly interaction with a neutral or allied parahuman, or a violent interaction with a neutral or enemy parahuman.
If I had waited to commit myself to Marquis-style supervillainy, could I have picked up some useful powers by going to a PR event and talking to the Wards and Protectorate members there? Or even by interacting with the Wards who allegedly go to Arcadia, the very school Dad managed to cajole Winslow into transferring me to?
Fuck.
Oh, well.
As much as I want to blame my power for pushing that quest on me, I’m almost positive it was my own subconscious that led to the quest being created in the first place.
I look down at my hand, merrily sizzling away on the stovetop. It really doesn’t do much for my fire resistance at this point, but diminishing returns are still returns, right?
Of course, it’s not the only thing I’m working on improving. My black widows are weaving away, working on the suit that I hope will provide some protection on top of my slowly developing natural resistances. Just having my bugs do things slowly provides my Mistress of the Swarm power with exp.
Having my bugs breed does the same thing for Shaper’s Grace, the power I got from interacting with Panacea. It’s an odd power, one that makes me think that healing is only one aspect of what Panacea can do. In fact, it seems to imply she could become the next Nilbog.
One more reason to get on her good side.
Sighing, I check the clock. It’s almost ten.
C’mon, Dad, call already.
While I’m glad that the locker seems to have galvanized my dad into action, a part of me can’t help but feel like it’s too little, too late.
Despite the fact I’m fully healed, it took way too long to convince him to let me stay home by myself for the two weeks until I’m officially enrolled at Arcadia. Even then, he insisted on calling me every day to check on me.
At least he’s consistent about it. One phone call a day, sometime between nine and ten. So far, besides making me feel like my dad thinks I’m twelve years old, it hasn’t been too much of an issue. Today, though, it’s a huge pain in my ass.
I’ve got plans today, plans that require me leaving the house.
The first thing on my agenda is to find more skill books. What exactly makes a skill book different from a regular book, I’m not sure. Out of the all the books in the house, only three of them were skill books.
A book on speedreading that gave me a level of Speedreading. A book on children’s magic tricks that gave me a level of Sleight of Hand and also increased my Deception skill by one. And a book whose title I really should’ve recognized gave me three whole levels… of Seduction.
When I checked my skills a few hours later, I noticed that the skill had been renamed to (Gay) Seduction. I’m pretty sure I can’t blame that on the skill book.
Gaining that last skill also taught me that of all the bodily functions Gamer’s Body has gotten rid of, blushing isn’t one of them. Which is weird, considering I don’t bleed. Maybe it’s to keep me out of the uncanny valley?
Finally, the phone rings. I snatch the landline out of its cradle.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Hey, kiddo. Everything alright?”
“I’m fine, Dad. A little bored. I can’t believe I’m actually looking forward to going back to school.” Even if school is mostly useless to me, considering I can just absorb knowledge from skill books. If only the process didn’t destroy them, I could just go to the public library. Instead, I’m planning on hitting up places that sell used books.
“Your mother would’ve been glad to hear that.”
“Yeah.” As usual, the mention of Mom kills our conversation. We exchange a few platitudes before my dad hangs up.
Fuck.
Shouldn’t I be getting some sort of mental resistance from these calls?
I grab my jacket and head out, immediately turning around and going back inside when I realize I left the stove on. That delay almost causes me to miss the bus.
I’m barely able to make it to a seat before collapsing into it. I’m still getting used to the fact that don’t get winded anymore. Instead, I’m fine all the way up until the point that I’m exhausted. It’s not as big a deal as it could be, since I recover my stamina quickly. Plus, the more I exert myself, the faster my stamina grows.
I pass the time by playing with a deck of cards I brought, hoping to level up my Sleight of Hand. As I practice, I can feel my skill slowly increasing. Unfortunately, it seems the rate at which my skills improve is closer to that of my resistances, as opposed to my powers. Maybe it’s because I can gain new skills a lot faster than I can gain new powers.
Jogging for three days in a row unlocked the first level of Running, and it only took a few hours of googling to unlock the first level of Entomology.
The bus rolls to a stop, letting on a pair of skinheads. I grit my teeth, trying not to think about how much I want to kick their asses. God, look at them swaggering around like they own the place. The worst part is, they kind of do. Our neighborhood is on the edge of Empire territory. Seeing Empire tags on the way to school every day…
A new quest pops up.
Acquire funds
Even with the birthday money from your grandmother, you’re still a little light on cash. And those Nazis are looking awful flush…
Follow the skinheads off the bus and relieve them of their wallets
Accept? Decline?
Reluctantly, I decline the quest. Maybe if my Sleight of Hand was a few levels higher, I’d risk it. For now, I’d better to play it safe. As if to validate my decision, the next card trick I try ends up with half the deck spilled across my lap.
The rest of the bus ride passes without incident. I get off at my stop.
A few minutes of walking and I’m in front of a small used bookstore. I step inside. A bell rings. The older man behind the counter doesn’t look up.
I quickly realize that browsing for skill books is going to be a lot harder than browsing for normal books. Instead of looking for an eye-catching title or an interesting back cover blurb, I’m looking for any kind of sign that the book isn’t normal.
Every skill book is different, you see. The book on Speedreading seemed to draw my eye, no matter where in the room I was in relation to it. The magic book had a faint glow. The book about S–E–X felt warm to the touch.
I have sinking feeling that some skill books will only be detectable by smell or taste.
After nearly half an hour of looking, I’ve only managed to find two skill books. One of them is a book about martial arts that feels like it’s made out of corrugated metal, the other is a book about gardening that’s slightly damp to the touch. I put the book on gardening back. First of all, I’m not entirely certain it’s not just a wet book. Secondly, I don’t have the cash to buy skill books willy-nilly. It might be cool to know about plants, but at what cost? Wait, when I think about that way, I wonder if it’ll teach me about poisonous plants? There might be some plant-based poisons that affect humans, but not bugs.
That sounds more like botany, but I have no clue what exact skill the book would give me.
Wait a minute. Bugs. Of course!
While I still haven’t gotten the hang of seeing or hearing through my bugs, its fairly easy to tap into their senses of touch, taste, and smell.
Using my bugs, I’m quickly able to find three more skill books. And they all look useful!
A book on cooking techniques that I’m hoping will do double duty, since it seems to focus heavily on how to properly use a knife, a book on lockpicking, and a wilderness survival guide.
I take my books up the counter. The man rings me up in dead silence. He taps the display on the register that shows my total. I wince. Damn sales tax. 6.25% really hurts when you’re as broke as I am.
Once I’ve forked over a chunk of my grandmother’s hard-earned money, I take my books and go. Stepping outside, I turn and walk directly into the nearest alley. A quick check with my bugs confirms that there’s no one watching me.
I grab the top book from the pile and focus on it. After about ten seconds, it just sort of stops existing. I quickly make my way through the four books.
It’s a pretty good haul. Three levels of Unarmed Combat. Two levels of Cooking, and one of Weapon Skill (Knifes). Four levels of Survival and one of First Aid. Two levels of Lockpicking, which is unfortunately just enough for me to realize it wasn’t worth buying the book.
With my bugs and the silk cords my widows are making, there are very few common locks I won’t be able to bypass. Oh well. Hindsight’s 20-20, or so they say.
Speaking of 20-20, I still need to buy lenses for my mask. I was pretty agnostic to the fact that Gamer’s Body fixed my eyesight – until I realized how much cash it saved me, not having to get prescription lenses for my cape outfit. Then, I was ecstatic. And lying to my dad about switching to contacts even helped level my Deception skill! Why, when I look at it like that, I don’t even feel bad about it!
Fuck. Is my relationship with my dad really that trashed? (The answer is yes).
Checking how much cash I have left, I decide that I should also spend some of it on a new wardrobe. As much as I’d like to go wild on skill books, I’m starting to wonder if it might be more economical to get the first one or two levels of my skills the old-fashioned way, and then using skill books to boost the ones that are immediately useful.
Since unlike normal people, my skills don’t decline when I’m not using them, I can afford to take my time and shop around.
With that decision made, I head back for the bus stop. Time to go clothes shopping. And I know exactly where I’m going first.