Phase 2: Production

Silvertongued

Silvertongued

Yes, this is dog
It was strange how things just seemed to stay the same way. Barely twenty four hours previously, I had been at my sisters funeral, clarified my recruitment into a parahuman black market organisation, engineered a battle dog, and recruited my best friend as my sidekick.


Now, I sat in Mr. McKay's chemistry class, desperately waiting for lunchbreak to come. Aside from the occasional small condolence I got from teachers as I walked into class, or the the quiet aura that fell when I approached classmates, there was barely any sign that anything out of the ordinary had even happened. It could have been literally any other day of the year.


Shorthand filled the margins of my notebook, jostling for space. Complex sigils, ones I'd deliberated myself, jostled for space between the lines. Each one represented countless unique proteins chains, blueprints for genetic alterations, or even entirely new lifeforms wholesale. Of course, to anyone else, they'd look like the kind of doodling someone did in class. Which in a way, I supposed they were.


Looking around the class, everyone else was dutifully taking notes, or at least, looked like they were. McKay was a pretty lazy teacher, who did one of two things; write notes on the board for others to take, or admonish students for not taking notes. He didn't particularly care if you did or not, so long as you were quiet, and looked like you were. While this left me free time to exercise my powers, it was also agonizingly boring to wait down the clock.


Finally, the bell rings.


OPTIONS:


  1. Bolt to lunch, meet with Kat.

  2. Stop by your locker, check on your "phone".

  3. Go to the library, pick up some maps of the area for "base planning".

  4. Write in~

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch@Shmuel
 
As soon as McKay gives the signal, I'm out of the room like a shot. Getting through the press of people during lunchtime is a bit of a pain, but eventually I find Kat hanging at the lunchline in the cafeteria.


"You getting anything?" she asks after waving me over.


I just scoff.


"Even if I could afford this stuff, I wouldn't. I'll stick with my PB and J,"


"Suit yourself," chimes Kat, gesturing to the suspect lineup behind the sneeze guard. "Today's mystery meat day,"


All I can do is shake my head.


"I don't know how you can eat that stuff,"


"It's easy, I put it in my mouth, chew, then swallow," she jokes.


"Ha, ha. Seriously, they should get you checked out. Pretty sure willful eating of that stuff is probably some sorta cape classification,"


Kat shrugs.


"Could be. Speaking of," she leans in, lowering her voice. "Got any current plans on that kinda thing?"


The question that had been following me since she had asked it last night made itself all the more apparent.


Why?


I try to shake it off. It was too big, too much for me to handle at the moment.


"Nah, I'm just... I'm taking a day off. Hard week, you know?"


"Oh," Kat replies, trying not to sound disappointed. Hurriedly, she beams at me. "Yeah, no, that's cool. Makes sense,"


OPTIONS:


  1. Ask her if she had anything planned.

  2. Ask what people have been saying about the funeral.

  3. Ask what she's doing after school.

  4. Write in~

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch@Shmuel
 
"Why, you got some ideas for that sort of thing?"


Immediately, a grin starts spreading across Kat's face, but I halt it with an upraised palm.


"Wait, don't tell me. After school, okay?"


"Aw,"


"Look, if you tell me now, I'm ruined for the rest of the day," I explain hurriedly.


"Oh alright. Spoilsport," says Kat, turning back to the queue.


She winds up picking up some sort of casserole. I wind up trying not to gag theatrically.


"So after school, huh?" she asks as we make our way to an empty table.


"Yeah, but just while we're getting ready. Hell, gimme some notes or something. It'll gimme something to think about when I'm stacking shelves,"


"Oh my god, you're going to work?" She gives me a wide eyed look.


I shrug.


"Well, yeah. We need the money, and I already used up a shitload of sick days,"


"You have the other thing Mar," Kats says, tilting her head with a grimace. "You know, the other thing that lets you make mad bank. Why are you going back to that crappy drugstore?"


OPTIONS:


  1. "Its normal. Normal is... refreshing, at least for the moment."

  2. "Be weird if I suddenly stopped going,"

  3. "I... I don't know,"

  4. Write in~

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch@Shmuel
 
"Be weird if I suddenly stopped going," I tell her around a mouthful of peanut butter and jelly. "Besides, the other thing makes me jack all right now. Actually costing me money,"


Kay just shrugs, eating a couple forkfulls of her lunch.


"Do you like the drugstore?"


"Eh," I mumble as I take another bite. The drugstore was a nice enough place. Little mom and pop place. Paid on time, and the owner treated me well. Only problem was the occasional customer was an asshole, a gangbanger, or both. Stil, it was a nice routine, and I kinda wanted that feeling of normal. The added time to think would also be helpful, espeially with that question looming over me.


"So what are you doing after school?"


"Track," was Kat's answer. "Got practice. Don't think I'll get to regionals, but I don't think my parents'll live it down if I just quit,"


"I thought you liked track?"


"I do. I just don't like getting bitched at for not coming first,"


OPTIONS:


  1. Suggest that you could "help" her.

  2. Ask how much time she has before practice.

  3. Continue chatting, finish your lunch.

  4. Write in~

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch@Shmuel
 
"Well," I start, idly picking at the crumbs in front of me. "I could give you a litle hand with that..."


"What? No, I'm not going to cheat," scowls Kat, throwing me a dirty look.


"It's not cheating. If I change your genes within human parameters, move things around a little, it'd be fine,"


She shakes her head, waving her fork at me.


"Still cheating Mar,"


I give her a level look, dead in the eyes.


"By that logic, anyone who's naturally talented is cheating, because they got lucky with the whole family tree thing,"


Kat opens her mouth and frowns, pausing briefly.


"I- uh..."


"Besides, with you wanting do the whole sidekick thing, cashing in on those health benefits, it's probably gonna happen sooner or later. Can't just take on and off these kinda changes," I continue, popping the last chunk of crust into my mouth.


At this, she shuts her mouth and purses her lips, frown deepening.


"Still seems like it's cheating,"


"Only if I give you some non human genes to work with, or elevate your abilities beyond human capabilities," I tell her. "I won't, by the way. At least, not for track. I'll probably give you most of what I'm going to give myself... Though that's still a work in progress. I need a proper workshop to really get into that."


"Huh..."


Looking towards the ceiling, Kat's expression definitely grows a lot more thoughtful.


"I didn't think about a lot of that. There's a lot of baggage you gotta think about with this whole genetics thing, huh?"


"Welcome to the ethical mess that is my goddamn life," I deadpan.


"Speaking of, you figured out what to do about her?"


OPTIONS:


  1. "Probably talk to Toybox about helping with her memories,"

  2. "I... can we not? Like, just for today?"

  3. "I don't know. I really don't,"

  4. Write in~

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch@Shmuel
 
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"I..."


Images of Ashley in her tank, in her coffin, they flood my mind. I take a deep breath, to weather the deluge. Kat must have seen my expression change because her face falls.


"-can we not? Like, just for today," I ask her, with a strained smile. On one hand, I get that she's excited about the whole cape thing. Hell, I'd probably be excited about it too. On the other hand, fuck, I just want a little breathing room.


"Shit, yeah, sorry,"


She winces as she says this, dropping her gaze.


"It's okay Kat," One hand pats her on the shoulder. "It's just..."


Still avoiding my eyes, Kat nods.


"Yeah, no, I understand,"


Conversation doesn't really resume after that, and the pair of us eat in relative silence,"


Eventually, the bell rings, and we get up to go to our respective classes.


"Uh... you still wanna meet up before you go to work?" hazards Kat, slinging her bag over one shoulder.


OPTIONS:


  1. "Yeah sure. We can even go over what you'd like for those health benefits,"

  2. "I should probably head to work early. Gotta catch up on missed hours,"

  3. "Nah, I gotta set up some stuff for the other thing," (communicate with Toybox)

  4. Write in~

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch@Shmuel
 
"Yeah sure," I tell her. "You can even tell me about your ideas for 'that sort of thing',"


The smile Kat has as she leaves is pretty bright. With that though, it's time for me to get back to the drudgery of regular class.


They pass slower than I'd like. Instead of concentrating on the subjects at hand, I get caught up in daydreaming various projects.


Designing vat bred raccoons to have more dextrous hands (possibly more hands in general?) and finer nerve control, coupled with a more developed brain, with enlarged areas for logic planning. Basically, trash panda mechanics, though I'd still have to solve the problem of training and educating them in eletronics.


Then there was the thought of general bodyguards and minions, by way of growing japanese macaques, larger, with greater bone and muscle density, coupled with a variety of offensive and defensive genetic augments. Things like interlaced mesh protecting their vitals, limited regeneration, tougher and more resistant biology, increased range of sensory organs, that sort of thing.


Bio-engineered armor, growing my own organic tools and vats, terraforming species, the works. They just flitted through my head, seeming so simple and easy to do...


I didn't write any of it down. I wasn't trying to even think about this. It just seems to be an endless time of ideas, making it actually difficult to concentrate on anything else. By the time it was the end of school, I don't think I remembered a single thing from any of my classes.


OPTIONS:


  1. Head straight to the track.

  2. Pick up your stuff first, do some Toybox research on your phone on the way to the track.

  3. See if you can check out Ricard at his locker on the way to the track.

  4. Write in~

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch@Shmuel
 
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Once the bell rings, I head out to the track, stopping by Ricard's locker to see how he's doing. It's only when I've been waiting there at least ten minutes that I stop to ask one of the students with a nearby locker.


"Uh, say,"


Blinking sleepily, a guy maybe a year or two older than me wearing a striped beanie looks in my direction.


"Hm?"


"Have you seen Ricard using this locker today?"


He shrugs.


"Gonna have to be a bit more specific there dude,"


I raise my hand about a foot or so above my head.


"Uh... latino guy, this tall, short black hair, usually wears shirts?"


"He the guy who always looks kinda pissy about somethin'?" He rubs the back of his head, chewing on his bottom lip.


"Yeah, that sounds like Ricard. You seen him?"


Beanie just shakes his head.


"Nah man, haven't seen that guy in weeks. Why, you his girlfriend or something?" he asks, looking me over curiously.


I can barely keep the disgust from my voice.


"I'm his sister,"


Beanie simply shrugs again.


"Whatever man, I ain't judgin'. But like I said, that guy's a fuckin' ghost man. Fuckin' vanished weeks back, ain't seen him since,"


He raises his eyebrows and grins, propping his head up while leaning against the locker.


"'Course, if you're looking for some fun, I-"


"Not even if you paid me," I interrupt, rolling my eyes. "Thanks for the info, but no thanks to the offer,"


I start stalking away without even seeing his reaction. He hasn't seen him in weeks? I knew Ricard was having some trouble at school, but I didn't think he'd miss this many days. Dad'd kill him if he knew. A dark thought stirs in my stomach. It could explain the black eye...


I shake my head as I run to the track. Dad never hit any of us, not like that. Sure, there was the belt when we were young and bad, but he hadn't used it for years. Not since the time when I got caught shoplifting. Pangs of that remembered pain and embarrassment make my cheeks burn. Trying to push the old memory away, I increase my pace. With a little hurrying, I manage to get to the track before practice starts properly.


OPTIONS:


  1. Look around for Kat outside.

  2. Check the locker room.

  3. See if Kat is in the gym today.

  4. Write in~

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch@Shmuel
 
It takes a couple minutes looking around, but I find Kat on the bleachers next to the track. In the shorts, the shirt, and the shoes, with the tight pony tail, she looks the definition of a runner. Short, lithe, and built for sprinting.


Looking up from her shoelaces, she grins at me as I approach.


"What's up slowpoke? You were taking so long I almost figured you went straight to work,"


"Nah, just checking on Ricard and stuff on the way," I tell her, shaking my head.


"He okay?" She takes a deep swig of her water bottle, surveying the track behind me.


"He's not here. According to some beanie, he hasn't been here for a while,"


"Shit,"


"Yeah... that's probably going to cause some hassle eventually,"


Another thing for me to worry about. They seem to be piling up recently. Unealthy as it may be, I decide to focus on some else for the moment, and change the subject.


"Anyway, you have any ideas on your whole health benefits situation?" I ask.


"Oh! Yeah, here, lemme-"


Kat stoops over to her bag, and rummages around inside before producing a new looking notebook. Handing it over to me, I scan over the contents quickly, seeing that it's several pages of notes and suggestions, as well as out and out thoughts and wishful thinking.


OPTIONS:


  1. Read it now, talk about it now.

  2. Get the abridged version from Kat.

  3. Pledge to give it a proper lok over later, go to work.

  4. Write in~

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch@Shmuel
 
"Wow, you really thought this over, didn't you?" I say, briefly thumbing through the lists before slipping the notebook into my bag. "I'll give this a better look after work okay? I kinda gotta get going now,"


Kat nods, starting to hunker down and stretch out her legs.


"S'cool, I gotta start doing my warm ups anyway. Talk to you tonight?"


"Sure. Seeya Kat," I wave as I start heading off.


Some of the track girls give me a few funny looks as I walk past. I ignore them.


It takes roughly forty or minutes to walk to work. Taking the bus is a no-go, partially due to the time, partially due to the awkward placement of the drug store. It's one of those small mom and pop places, barely remodeled from the fifties when they used to serve shakes and stuff. The old fountains are still there, but they weren't used anymore. Business was dead, and the people who did visit weren't the sort you wanted to hang around. The only reason I was employed here was because the owner was old, and got tired watching over the place.


He's there when I walk in, sitting behind the checkout counter.


"Hey Mr. Garcia," I wave to him.


"Buenas tardes Ms. Rhodes," is his brisk reply. Garcia was an old army buddy of my Dad's. One of the reasons I got the job. He had crinkled skin the color and texture of sundried leather, with a figure that had long since withered away. I often thought of him as a sort of gnarled old tree. Hard, dry, and twisted.


I'm kind of glad he doesn't comment on the funeral, or Ashley.


"How're we doing today?"


"Same as every other day,"


His expressions barely change, and I can't help but wonder if they ever do.


"You have anything in mind for me to do, or you just want me to man the counter while you do your errands?"


Pursing those wrinkled lips in thought, he regards me with one beady eye.


"Counter," he says eventually, stepping out from behind. "I've got some extra stops today, so I'll be later than usual,"


"That's cool. I'll close up at ten then, put the keys in the usual spot?"


He nods as he slips on his coat.


"Shouldn't be that long, but if I am, that should be fine," says the old man, stepping out the door. "Adiós,"


With that, I'm all alone.


OPTIONS:


  1. Read those notes now.

  2. Do the basics of cleaning shop.

  3. See if there's anything on the tv.

  4. Write in~

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch@Shmuel
 
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I cast a glance around the empty storefront. Not really a lot to do. Most of everything was suitably stacked, and the floor rarely needed anything other than the most cursory of brushes. Rare customers meant little dust, after all.


With this in mind, Kat's notes start burning a hole in my pocket. It's not like I'd be shirking my duties or anything I reason. Even then, what does need to be done could be done in ten, maybe twenty minutes, and I'll be in here for the next few hours. Giving myself something to think about while I work couldn't hurt.


With only the slightest twinge of guilt, I open the note book and start reading. Kat scrawled not just ideas she had for herself, but for general genetics projects. Some of them were a little outlandish, and others kind of out of my purview, but a lot of them were solid.


With regards to Kat's own personal augmentations, powers were the be all and end all for her. Again, I wasn't sure if it would even be possible to grant her any sort of ability, as I had clarified that parahuman abilities weren't tied to genetics, but where there's a will. If powers weren't possible, things like durability, longevity, resilience, metabolism, physique, regeneration, all to be enhanced to near the limit of natural capability. That was just the basics. One of the big ones that she clarified would be flight. With wings, without wings, whatever, Kat wanted to be able to fly.


It was just as I was wracking my brain about how I'd go about granting that that the door bell chimed, announcing the entry of a customer.


Looking up from the neatly written lines, I see someone in a shirt, cap, and sunglasses, the bottom half of their face hidden behind a bandana. I almost ask why are they dressed like that, when I see the gun.


OPTIONS:


  1. Play peaceful, give them what they want.

  2. No, fuck that. Look for an opening, go for it.

  3. Not worth getting shot. Duck and run.

  4. Write in~

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch@Shmuel
 
Slowly, I raise my hands. There's nothing in this shop worth getting shot over.


"Open the register, gimme the fuckin' money!" yells the robber, gesturing with his pistol with every word. I can't tear my eyes from the end of the gun. The barrel eats up my vision, until it's the only thing I can really see.


"Fuckin' move bitch!"


With careful deliberate motions, I open the register. A single five, ten, and twenty line the drawer, along with a fistful of change. Gathering the notes, I pass the over the counter.


"What the fuck is this? I said gimme the fuckin' money! Gimme the fuckin' money bitch!"


"That is the money," I tell him, hands still upraised.


"Are you fuckin' serious? Well, get the fuckin' safe then!" he yells, getting more and more agitated. All I can focus on is the gun. He's moving it erratically, still aimed at me all the while.


"We don't have a safe. What I gave you is what we have,"


"No, no, you're fuckin' lying bitch! This is fuckin' bullshit! I ain't leavin' here empty fuckin' handed!"


OPTIONS:


  1. "The most expensive things we have in here are... the cigarettes?"

  2. "I don't know what to tell you man. It's a small place, with fuck all business,"

  3. -stay silent-

  4. Write in~

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch@Shmuel
 
"Uh... " I look arund, seeing if there's anything around that could possibly placate him.


"The most expensive things we have in here are... the cigarettes?" I offer. "You could take a good deal of those..."


"What!?" snaps the robber. "Do I fuckin' look like I want some fuckin' cigs? No, I fuckin' want money. Actually-"


He tilts his head, as if he was examining me. Paranoia immediately starts turning to the worst possible scenarios.


"What you got on you?"


"Uh-"


"That's not a fuckin' question! Empty your fuckin' pockets! Turn 'em inside out!"


Carefully, I take out my wallet and my phone and drop them on the counter, leaving my "phone" still nestled in my jeans.


"I said fuckin' empty them!" he yells, thrusting the gun further towards me.


OPTIONS:


  1. Lie.

  2. Give him the Toybox phone.

  3. Grab the gun.

  4. Write in~

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
"O-oh," I stammer, pulling out the Toybox phone. "Sorry, I forgot it's in there. It's just my emerge-"


"Shutup!" he yells, leaning even closer. "I don't fucking care! Just gimme the goddamn phone bitch!"


I'm not sure what'll happen if he takes the phone. It will set me back a couple days at least, and that's if I can get back in contact with them. As for what they'll say with a lose end like this out there... I don't think they'll be happy about it, that's for sure.


"Gimme the fuckin' phone!" screams the robber again. At this point, the gun is scant inches from my nose.


OPTIONS:


  1. Give him the Toybox phone.

  2. Tell him to fuck off.

  3. Grab the gun.

  4. Write in~

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
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No. The feeling wells up deep inside me. I'm not going to let go of the one thing that'll help me find my feet after all of this. Especially not to some thug who'll get no value out of it. Without thinking, I tilt my head back the barest fraction, then headbutt the gun.


Guns don't sound like they do in the films or tv. It's not a bang or a crack. It's a pop that you catch on the edge of your hearing, like a sound too loud for you to hear properly.


"Oh shit!"


Even behind his shades, I can see the guy's eyes widen. He doesn't stay. In one motion, he nearly leaps over the counter, snatching my wallet, my phone, and the cash in one rough fistful. The last thing I see of him is his departing back, throwing the door open as he flees.


It's weird. I expected it to hurt more. But really, it just felt like being poked really hard in the chest. Now, it just burns, sharper when I breath.


OPTIONS:


  1. Calmly call 911.

  2. Maybe you should head to Toybox.

  3. Sit down. Call Kat. Seems important.

  4. Write in~

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
I sit down on the chair behind the counter. Well, drop into it. The impact causes the burning in my chest to arc sharply, a pain so intense that I hold my breath until it dies down. The burning is growing now, spiking slightly with each inhale, painful enough that I'm forced to take short, shallow gulps of air.


I... should probably call someone.


...Kat. I should probably call Kat.


Flipping open the Toybox phone, I dial her number carefully. She answers on the third ring.


"...hello?"


"Hey Kat, it's me," My voice is eerily calm.


"...Mar? What-"


I miss whatever it is she says, as I notice a wet feeling starting to spread underneath my left breast. Dabbing my fingers at the fabric, I look at the blood on my fingertips. Fuck, it's soaking right through. I liked this shirt.


"Shit, I wonder if it stained my bra?" I think aloud.


"-calling- what?" Kat sounds confused.


"The blood," I clarify. "The blood soaking through my shirt,"


"What!?" Her tone goes from being disorientated to panic instantly.


"Yeah, there's blood seeping through my shirt. It's... shit, I think it did stain my bra,"


"Holy shit, Mar are you hurt?!"


"Uh..." My mind drifts, ideas of biology filling my thoughts. "Judging by the point where I'm shot-"


"You've been shot!?" Kat shrieks over the phone. Still, I continue wih my diagnosis, talking over her sudden chattering.


"-there's definitely some concussive damage to my thoraic cavity. Medium to severe contusions throughout and some internal haemoragging. Bullet went between the ribs two inches beneath my left breast, missing major arteries as well as my heart and diaphragm. Likely pierced the lower half of the lung twice, entry and exit, which leads to the inevitability of developing pneumothorax. If left without treatment, the lung will collapse, leading to hypoxia,"


"Why the fuck are you so calm? Where are you? Is there an ambulance coming?"


"Probably shock, work, and no," I answer promptly. Despite the pumping of my heart, the franticness of my breathing, and the burning in my chest, I find myself getting drowsy.


"Why haven't you called an ambulance!?"


OPTIONS:


  1. Maybe that would be a good idea.

  2. Nah, try and fix it yourself.

  3. Just go to Toybox.

  4. Write in~

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
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...why haven't I called an ambulance?


Because I can fix the problem myself, came the unbidden answer. I consider it for a moment, and agreed. I could fix this myself. It was only a small hole, and if I acted intelligently enough, it would take a considerable length of time to collapse my lung and kill me. Hours even.


"It's cool. Kat. I got. This," I tell her, standing up from the chair. The motion sent a fresh throb of agony through my chest, an ever growing, incessant pain, that limited my breathing to short, shallow gasps.


"Wh-,"


"I'll call. You back. In twenty,"


With the call hung up, I set about slowing the progression of the wound. Luckily, this being a general drug store, they had a little bit of everything, and lot of what would be useful. Firstly, something about the pain, which was likely to get worse in the coming time. A pair of Ibuprofen do just fine. For the wound itself, a vaseline patch sealed on three sides. A bit of a pain in the ass to slide it up my shirt and over the hole, but better than bleeding to death or allowing more air to seep into my chest cavity. As for the existing pocket of air and fluid pressing up against my lung, a makeshift syringe and valve allows it out, at least for the time being.


As for dealing with the central problem... I have ideas. I can see them, just there, real enough to reach out and touch. And with an impromptu drug store at my fingertips, I have the materials to make them a reality.


OPTIONS:


  1. Implement just superfast regeneration on yourself

  2. Regeneration and denser bone and muscular structure. (Offensive option)

  3. Regeneration and subdermal toughening. (Defensive option)

  4. All three.

  5. Write in~

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
As I work on solving the problem, I can feel the pain becoming more intense. Not getting worse, per se, just... bothering me more. The sense of being far away from myself, fom everything being ever so slightly dreamlike, it fades. I barely have time to wonder why, when my inbuilt knowledge of biology comes to the forefront of my mind. Shock. That, and adrenaline. And now, both are disappearing from my system.


I suddenly feel very very tired. Still, I continue with what I'm doing, despite the combination of drowsiness and fatigue.


A thought strikes me as I near the end of whipping up the necessary augmentation. Regeneration would fix the problem but... it wouldn't prevent the problem. I could still get hurt again. Shot. Stabbed. Beaten. Even with the sluggishness of bloodloss and the weird disassociation of the last vestiges of shock, it's not hard to imagine getting into this kind of situation again. That sense of vigilence I have to keep up whenever I'm in public alone. That creeping anxiety about the streets when it gets dark, or when there's a group of men. That paranoia that the next guy I see is going to want something, want it enough to take it. Next time it might not be me that gets hurt. Kat. Mom. Even Ricard. All possible targets.


No, I wasn't about to let that happen.


I'll make sure I'm tough enough to take it. And strong enough to dish it out.


I'm only after applying the last of the tonics when Kat bursts in the door. She's sweaty, her hair is lank, and she's breathing in ragged gasps.


"Mar!" she shouts as she stumbles inside, head lolling to and fro as she looks for me.


"Kat?"


Homing in on the sound of my voice, she beelines for me, looking me up and down frantically.


"Are you okay!? Are you hurt!?" she demands, grabbing my hands, searching my face.


"Y-yeah, don't worry, I fixed it," I croak out.


Her eyes wander to the red stain on my shirt, the hole in the fabric, and the girl goes pale.


Hastily, I lift the shirt, revealing a half healed divot in the center of dark yellow patch of flesh.


"See? Mostly healed. Should be good in another ten minutes,"


With that, the strength, the tension, it all goes out of Kat and she practically falls to the ground. Sitting spread out, she tilts her head up, eyes closed her breathing gradually starting to settle.


"Jesus fucking Christ Mar," she wheezes softly, moving her head down to look at me.


"Did you-"


"Yes, I fucking ran all the way here. The only reason, the only reason, I didn't call an ambulance myself, is 'cause I didn't want to out your dumb ass to the fucking world,"


I squeeze my fingers.


"..,are you okay?"


Brows knitted, Kat levels a death glare in my direction.


"First of all, that's my fucking line, and secondly, no, I'm fucking not! You gave me a goddamn heart attack you dumbass!"


At this point, I'm full on wringing my hands.


"How would you like it if I called you, drop the bomb that I've been fucking shot, say I haven't called an ambulance, then hang up?"


She slumps backwards, lying flat on the floor.


"Jesus Christ, you bitch. My heart is going to explode from either the shock or the running, coach is gonna kick my ass for running out of the middle of practice, and now I'm probably gonna have nightmares about you getting shot..."


OPTIONS:


  1. "....you wanna go get icecream?"

  2. "Shit, I'm... I'm really sorry Kat..."

  3. Remain silent, but look tormented.

  4. Write in~

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
With the last of the adrenaline souring in my veins, my sense of self is fully at the fore, and it brings guilt with it.


"Shit, I'm... I'm really sorry Kat..."


She sighes from her place on the ground.


"It's okay Mar. I'm pissed, but you're okay, so fuck it, we're all okay," she responds grudgingly. "But I am gonna hold your ass to it,"


"You want a hand?" I ask, extending mine to help her up. Kat glances up at me with one eye and shakes her head, folding her arms behind it.


"Actually, I'm... I'm gonna just like... rest here for a minute. I wasn't kidding about the heart exploding thing. My legs feel like jello. On the bright side, if I'd ran that fast during practice, I might have actually set a new record,"


I'm tempted to joke with her about it, but something tells me the joke would be in poor taste all things considered. Instead, I opt to loook around me, at the store. Things lie half opened, scattered about where I had grabbed and used them in my rampage of self preseration. Some of the goods were knocked from shelves, others mulched together, and some components of the microwave and freezer were pulled out. In particular, a considerable mess was present on the counter where I had done the majority of my work.


I wince. In terms of damaged merchandise, I was definitely looking at a lost paycheck or two.


To add insult to injury, my stomach rumbles, accompanied by a pang of hunger so sharp it was physically painful.


OPTIONS:


  1. Food, now.

  2. Clean up first.

  3. Call 911.

  4. Write in~

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
The thought of cleaning up nags at me, but the gnawing hunger takes precedence.


"Fuck it," I mumble. Within several minutes, I've assembled a meaty ham, cheese, and mayo on rye, as well as adding several more products to the store's "damaged" inventory.


"A sandwich Mar? Really?" comments Kat, still lying on the floor. Her criticism is palpable.


"What?" I answer through a mouthful of bread and meat. "I'm really hungry,"


"You've been robbed and shot, and your first thought is to eat a sandwich,"


"The store has been robbed, and I'm healing from a bullet wound. I need the nutrition," I tell her, brushing the last of the crumbs from my fingers. No good. The meal is just a drop in the bucket. My guts gurgle as if to comment, and the pain redoubles, enough for me to early double over.


"Ow shit," I grunt, cluching at my belly.


Kat immediately jerks up.


"Shit, Mar, you okay?" she asks, sitting up, eyes full of wary concern.


The information comes to me regardless. Perks of an always on power it seems.


"Yeah, just... fuck, help me make some more food. Seems like I might have underestimated the amount of material it takes to regenerate like this. Or the added biological density,"


Picking herself off the ground on shaky legs, Kat furrows her brow.


"Wait, what?"


"Uh... I figured I'd rather not get shot again, so I made myself... more difficult to shoot,"


Her voice is careful as she speaks.


"How,"


A statement, not a question. Offering a quick and easily dismissed smile to try and placate my tiny friend, I give her the explanation.


"By increasing my bone and muscle density as well as toughening my subdermal layers to be similar to kevlar,"


"You made yourself bullet proof," she replies flatly, gathering ingredients from the shelves.


"I made myself bullet resistant, at the expense of making me as heavy as a mack truck," I correct, hastily adding. "As well as apparently requiring a metric fuckton of food immediately, rather than over the course of a couple days like I intended. Must be interacting with the regeneration..."


"So are we paying for all this?"


OPTIONS:


  1. Yeah.

  2. No, blame the robber.

  3. Screw it, rob the place further.

  4. Write in~

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
This place has treated me right but... things are tight. And I'm sure that Mr Garcia has some sort of theft insurance. Another pained whine from my belly settles my choice.


"Screw it," I tell Kat, shaking my head as I reach for a block of cheese. "Take what I need, blame the robber. Helps take care of the explanation for the mess, and I owe the guy a little hardship for the bullet,"


Kat's expression tightens, a ghost of a frown haunting her face. It's obvious that she doesn't particularly like this course of action, but then again, what am I supposed to do? Admit to Mr Garcia that I'm a cape and I ate through a good deal of his merchandise? Somehow explain everything without giving away my secret, and pay for this with funds I don't have?


"Okay," is all she says, turning away.


I almost reach out to her. Almost. But my hand hangs as she walks off, drifting down to rest by my side. No, she... she just won't understand.


It takes what I'd guess to be nearly an entire shopping trolley full of food to sate my hunger, and even then, I can feel that I'll probably be starving later. Kat's quiet the entire ordeal, not quite sullen, but clearly lost on an unpleasant train of thought. I try to break the silence a few times, but she rebuffs me with curt, monosyllabic answers.


"What do we do with the empties?" she asks eventually, brows still knitted in that look of far off thought. "And should we dial 911 now?"


OPTIONS:


  1. a) Throw them out.
    b) Hide them.

  2. a) Dial 911.
    b) Call Mr Garcia instead.

  3. Write in~

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
Last edited by a moderator:
"Uh..."


Putting them in the trash was a paper trail I didn't want to leave behind. I couldn't just take them with me...


"Can you take them?"


Kat raises her eyebrows, a flat, unamused expression etched across her face.


"Wait, look, before you say anything, if I put them out, Mr Garcia might catch on, and I can't hide them here. Best bet is if you take them,"


Staring at the ceiling with an exaggerated groan, she grumbles a curt "fine".


While she stuffs the packaging into a plastic bag, I head over to the phone.


"While you're doing that, I'm going to call Mr Garcia, see what he wants me to do. I'll see you later tonight?"


Kat just glares at me, a definite roughness to the way she's shoving paper and plastic into the bag.


"I'll call you," she grunts after a long, uncomfortable silence.


"Uh... house phone please? I uh... my regular phone got taken..."


"...sure, whatever,"


"Thanks Kat, you're literally a lifesafer," I say, punching in the number for Mr Garcia. She doesn't respond.


"Yes, hello?" answers Garcia after a pair of rings.


"Uh... hey, Mr Garcia, it's me. Maria,"


"...Miss Rhodes?"


"Yeah. Look, I know you're probably busy, but this is important, so I'll get to the point. The store just got robbed by some cholo with a gun. I'm fine, but he took the money from the register, my phone, wallet, and a bunch of other stuff, so-"


"I'll be right over. Stay put,"


He hangs up.


"Uh Kat-"


"I'm going, seeya," she snaps, heading out the door. I wince. It's going to be hard to make this up to her.


OPTIONS:


  1. Try to clean up

  2. Clarify your cover story.

  3. Call 911.

  4. Write in~

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
I'm left standing amidst the cluttered aisles, briefly wondering what to do. Seeing the splayed merchandise around me makes up my mind, and I start cleaning the place up. It's less to make the place presentable and more to give myself something to do. Just standing around after... after all of this, it seems... it doesn't seem right. I have to do something. I need to do something, something to keep my hands busy, if not my mind.


By the time that Mr. Garcia has arrived back, I'm just finishing mopping up the floor.


"Are you okay?" is the first thing he asks. It's brusquely inquired, sounding less of genuine concern, and more in the same way someone would give a passive hello. Still, his eyes widen when he spots the now rusty looking stain on my chest. Dammit. I probably should have done something about that.


"Maria, are you okay?" he asks again, a touch more emotion to it.


"I'm fine..."


OPTIONS:

  1. "It's tomato juice. He... caught me while I was snacking..."

  2. "It's... It's not my blood..."

  3. "It's fine. Don't worry about it,"

  4. Write in~

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
"It's fine," I add hurriedly. "Don't worry about it,"


Garcia throws me a wary glance.


"Ms. Rhodes, that looks suspiciously similar to blood. You have said that you, and the store itself, were just robbed. Things here can be replaced. You, less so. So let me ask again, are you okay?"


I raise my hands almost defensively, as if to ward award his inquiries.


"Seriously Mr. Garcia, I'm okay. If I was hurt or anything, you think I could hold a conversation here with you like this?"


He narrows his eyes.


"What happened?"


OPTIONS:

  1. Mostly truth; One robber, held up, took more stuff.

  2. Something of a lie; Two robbers, one held up, the other took stuff.

  3. Blatant fibbing; A gang took stuff, got spooked and left midway.

  4. Write in~

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
"Some guy came in with a gun. His face was covered with a bandana, his eyes with shades. He swore a lot, pointed a gun at me, yelled for the money in the register. I gave it to him, all seventy odd bucks of it. He got pissed that it was so little, demanded whatever was in my pockets. I gave him my phone and my wallet. Still not enough. She he took whatever he could grab, tried to trash what he couldn't and ran," I explain slowly. "I've tried cleaning up since..."


Mr. Garcia's face was inscrutable.


"I see. Why did you call me and not 911 then?"


"I-..."


OPTIONS:

  1. "I don't know,"

  2. "I thought you'd know what to do..."

  3. "It seemed like the smart thing to do,"

  4. Write in~

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
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