41

Pulling up to a function with my arms wrapped around two cuties was a new experience, even for a former fuckboy like me. I couldn’t lie - the current teenage boy inside my soul was smacking his knees and laughing uproariously with contentment, but the former Jason, the jaded and mildly depressed adult, was only slightly amused by the situation. As a result, my face stayed in what I hoped was a small smile of satisfaction as I glanced around for a free booth-

“Grin even wider and you’ll split a lip, playboy.” Cass whispered in my ear, an amused lilt to her voice. “We’ll go grab a place to sit. Order me something that’ll fuck up my arteries for life!” 

“Uh-huh.” I glanced down, a bemused expression on my face, but she was already pulling out of my arms and reaching out for Amy. They’d been holding hands the entire way to the Market, initiated by one spunky little hacker, and at some point they’d even started playing a game of mid-air footsies - once again, started by Cass. 

My shortstack of a girlfriend was mercilessly teasing the poor healer, and Amy clearly had no fucking clue how to resist the subtle flirtations. Her freckled skin seemed to be constantly flushed, doe brown eyes wide and confused half the time, but there was a brightness to her expression - a light in her gaze that showed just how much her affection-starved spirit was absolutely eating the attention up. Cassie had been much the same way when I first met her, and I had a good feeling that she recognized that same loneliness inside of our date.

“Uh-” Amy mumbled, looking back at me as Cassie began to guide her towards a booth at the far back of the surprisingly packed restaurant, “I like my arteries unclogged, actually - just get me the Jr. Bacon Deluxe, no mayo. Please.”

Cass let out an obviously fake sigh of disappointment. “Weaaak.”

“That ain’t weak. It’s responsibility,” I smirked, waving them both away with an idle flick of the hand. “I can appreciate a girl who watches out for premature heart disease - those commercials scare the shit outta me too. I got the food though - go relax, keep my seat warm.”

The quirking of Amy’s lips - previously hesitant and unsure - blossomed into what had to be one of the purest little smiles I’d ever seen. I wasn’t attacked by an onslaught of sparkles and rainbows, but just the sight of her face lighting up before she waved and turned to continue walking with Cass… it was enough to make a man wanna slam his fist through a wall. Not because it infuriated me or made me upset, but because cute aggression was very much a thing and those freckles were really starting to get inside my head.

Not to mention, both Amy and Cass’ butts looked way too good moving beside one another. Like, criminally so. I could’ve bit my knuckle in appreciation.

“‘Scuse me, sir. You’re up next.” A black woman at the host podium narrowed her sunken brown eyes, a smirk on her lips that showed that she knew damn well what I’d been staring at.

Whoops. Not like I gave a shit.

“My fault, ma’am.” I grinned unrepentantly, making my way up to her with light footsteps. 

I hadn’t actually been to Fugly Bob’s before since Cass and I were a big fan of the fake Italian cuisine they sold Downtown, but it wasn’t as shitty as some of the fanfiction made it out to be. It was, quite literally, a rundown sports bar - the television above the bar area was already playing some embarrassing news story about two recently arrested villains, Uber and Leet. I only vaguely remembered glancing over their wiki pages.

“I’m guessing it’s gonna be an order for three,” she asked rhetorically, her attention roaming back down to the notebook sitting on the podium. “Y’know, I’m supposed to guide y’all to your seats. Helps with the dinner rush - the place gets crowded around this time.”

“Want me to go grab ‘em?” I asked, casually leaning down against the podium and looking Celia directly in her exhausted eyes. The silver name tag on her old school waitress uniform was smudged, but readable. “I know how stressful this shit can get. I don’t wanna-”

She cut me off quickly, a surprised look crossing her gaunt face. “No, no, it’s fine. Just wanted to let you know for next time.” A dry smile flitted across her lips, fading almost as quickly as it appeared. “Lord knows the other waitresses aren’t as nice.”

“I don’t know,” I smirked, lowering my voice a smidge and giving her a cheesy wink. “I’ve got a pretty good track record with seasoned women. I’ll prolly be fine.”

The surprised look returned, but it was immediately joined by amusement as Celia laughed quietly behind her hand. “Hah, I don’t doubt it. You an amateur model or something? Can’t say we get a lot of young men like you coming through the shack.”

There was a wistfulness there, behind her eyes - and she couldn’t lower her hand fast enough for me to not see the sores along her dry and cracked skin. Yellowing teeth, near jaundiced eyes, gauntness that hid what used to be a pretty face… I’d seen it with Sherrel to a worse extent, and I was seeing it again - drug abuse and addiction, a disease that seemed to infect way too much of the Brockton Bay population. 

Celia is embarrassed. Celia is ashamed. Celia is nervous.

I was glowering, and she was starting to pull back in on herself because of my silent stare. I mentally smacked myself upside the head.

“... Sir, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” I replied evenly, pushing myself off of the podium. More people were coming in now behind me - I could hear them, speaking in quiet tones and growing impatient as the seconds ticked by, and I didn’t want to get Celia in trouble at her job. “And no, I’m not a model. Listen, Ms. Celia...”

There must’ve been something in my voice that I couldn’t keep a good enough lid on, because she flinched at my voice, standing up straighter and regarding me with a wary gaze. “...”

I could heal with a glance now, with Evil Eye. There was no need for any loud incantations or flashing lights or dramatic gestures. All it would take was one blink, a flex of my will, and bam - if she had any diseases they’d probably still be gucking up her system, but I’d be able to take care of most of the issues. My connection to the Aethyr was stronger than it was a week ago, and I was more confident in my abilities. I could do it.

But would healing her solve her issues? Solve the reason why she was shooting up? Stop her from doing it all over again?

Probably not. I didn’t know her, didn’t know what she was going through. I couldn’t force healing on random people because I felt pity for them.

That’s what I wanted to think, at least. But I was stubborn, and something about that way of thinking didn’t sit right with me. I knew I would’ve fucking loved it if someone tried to get rid of my mom’s drug problems.

A heavy hand fell onto my shoulder, and I froze - not in shock or fear, but bemused annoyance. “Aye, boy, if you ain’t ordering then get mov-”

I glanced over my shoulder, simply looking at the pot-bellied man glaring at me, and raised one finger to my lips. “Shhh.” 

His jaw snapped shut, and he didn’t react outside of grimacing when I brushed his hand away.

Turning back to a wide-eyed Celia, I forced a smile onto my face. It didn’t reach my eyes, but that was fine. “Sorry ‘bout that. You can put me down for a Jr. Bacon Deluxe with no mayo, three large fries, three Cokes…” I tilted my head, glancing down at the laminated menu taped to the podium. “The Hideous Bob, and the Portobello-beef double-decker burger. God damn that’s a mouthful.”

The sudden lack of intensity in my voice and demeanor seemed to settle Celia’s nerves. She quickly scrawled my order down in the notebook, stopping only to turn around and crane her head in order to see what booth Cass and Amy wandered off to. When she was done, she offered me a close-lipped smile. “We’ll get your food out to you soon, sir. Can I help you with anything else?”

I didn’t need to think about it anymore. What the hell was the point of magic if I didn’t use it?

“Yeah, just one thing.” I said quietly, bringing my finger up to the ridge of my sunglasses. Hysh was thin here, overpowered by equal amounts of Aqshy and Ulgu, but I didn’t need much for a simple healing and cleansing spell. “Take care of yourself for me, ’ight?”

She stiffened, hackles raising again. “Wha-”

But the pressure behind my eyes increased, warmth exploding outward, and I could smell the lemony-clean scent of Hysh wash over her body. There was no golden glow, thankfully - Healing Light, the spell I used on Armsbeard, had a very obvious shine to it, but Healing of Hysh was much more subtle. Celia’s already stiff posture turned ramrod straight in an instant, her eyes widening and shining with radiant white light as pure healing magic washed through her pores.

I widened my stance, leaning over the podium just enough to block the smaller woman’s form with my own. I’d grown exponentially, shooting from 5’11” to a smooth 6’2” in the span of a few weeks, and although I wasn’t necessarily built like a linebacker, calling me ‘lanky’ would be straight up false at this point. My back made for decent cover.

The transformation was less spectacular than Sherrel’s, but the changes were noticeable. Celia’s skin cleared, scars and blemishes melting away into smooth, dark brown flesh. Her face and body filled out with healthy weight, malnutrition retreating in the face of Hysh’s cleansing touch. In one moment to the next, Celia went from haggard drug addict to recovering abuser, the shadow of her former beauty taking center stage once again.

Amy would’ve been able to do more detailed work, but for an on the spot, fix-it-all solution? The Winds were more than enough, and I was not going to spoil our dinner date by asking her to do more medic work for some random woman. 

“Wha-... what? I feel…”

The light of Hysh fading from her eyes, Celia gripped her notebook with an almost knuckle-popping intensity. Her gaze was clearer now when she looked at me, the whites of her eyes actually white instead of parchment paper yellow. Those clear eyes were now starting to sparkle with fresh tears.

Celia is overwhelmed. Celia is grateful. 

I didn’t see any recognition in her eyes, but she definitely knew that I was a cape. That… was fine, actually - I was pretty much done with hiding myself anyway. However, just because I held newfound confidence in my position in this city’s power structure didn’t mean I wanted to start some sort of riot in a fast food joint.

“Remember what I said, Miss Celia.” This time, the grin on my face was genuine - met by the older woman’s own warbling, unsure smile. “Thanks for takin’ my order.”

“God bless you.” She was speaking quietly now, her voice practically lowered to a whisper. “I don’t know who you are. I- I don’t follow that sort of stuff, my daughter does. She- Oh god…” 

Celia is disgusted with herself. Celia is heartbroken. Celia is-

‘Ohhh shit.’ 

The tears were flowing now, and they definitely weren’t coming from a crocodile. I winced inwardly, tossing a glance over the crying woman’s head. A tall, broad-shouldered man in an apron was watching from the kitchen, concern clear on his face. He was muttering to a shorter woman with short-cropped black hair and piercings, wearing the same uniform Celia was wearing. Even without Hidden Intuition mumbling to me, it was easy to put together what was happening in the background. They were her coworkers, and they knew something was up.

At least they didn’t seem pissed.

I tilted my head, catching the eye of both of the workers, and gestured down to Celia with a sharp jerk of the head. Come do something, weirdos.

The man nodded, patted the woman on the shoulder, and she quickly made her way towards us. Thank God for social cues and body language, right?

“I… I need to go home. Shit, I need to go home. I’m sorry, thank you so much, but I can’t leave her-” Celia, hands shaking and tears finally slowing, dropped the notebook on the podium and turned on her heel to hurry away. The people behind me who hadn’t already left were murmuring and grumbling to themselves and each other, but I didn’t think it was very possible for me to give even less of a shit than I already did. 

‘Boo-hoo, wait an extra five minutes for your Big Mac pussies. Cry about it.’

“Celia! What’s wrong, sweetheart?” The black-haired woman intercepted Celia, gripping her gently by the forearms as the black woman gripped her in turn. They whispered to each other, heads close to one another in the way waitresses did when they wanted to gossip, and although I could have easily eavesdropped on their conversation - especially when the new woman looked over to me with a raised eyebrow…

This wasn’t any of my business. I made my decision, and it probably ended with me getting our order pushed back an extra ten minutes. Cassie wouldn’t appreciate that, but I hopefully helped a woman out… so yay?

The ravenette started leading Celia towards the broad-haired man near the kitchen, still whispering soft words in the woman’s ear, and Celia looked back towards me. Her tears were already dried, and although there was still sadness clear on her face, self-pity and disgust, she sent me one last, fleeting smile.

Celia is determined to fix her relationship with her daughter.

I had no fucking idea who her daughter was, but good for her - druggie moms were not it. I knew that shit from experience.

“What, they’re just gonna fuck off when they got payin’ customers here? What kinda service is that?!” The portly man behind me sounded pissed off to the extreme, and under normal circumstances, I could somewhat understand him. This was so clearly not a normal circumstance, though. He just saw the waitress get led away in tears after having a whisper conversation with a big black guy.

Honestly, not the best picture for me to be painted in. 

‘Shit, Cass is gonna get on my ass…’

Leaving behind the stares and grumbling of frustrated greasy food enjoyers, I headed for the back-end booth I’d seen Cassie and Amy make their way to.

.

.

.

The sight that greeted me when I finally found my way to our booth was one that gave me genuine pause. Them having a vanilla shake wasn’t anything surprising; Celia was hardly the only waitress in the restaurant/sports bar, and appetizers were a thing. No, what momentarily had me pausing mid-step and staring was the absolutely adorable sight of them drinking from the same large shake, rosy cheeked and - in Cassie’s case - wiggling excitedly in her seat. There were three straws, two obviously claimed by my dates, and I licked my lips.

Damn, a plain ass vanilla milkshake had never looked so delicious.

Amy was the first one to notice me as I walked up, a crooked, teasing smile pulling at my lips. Freckled face still burning with embarrassment but determined to fight through it, she detached herself from her straw with a quiet little ‘pop’ and squinted at me suspiciously. “Oh no... What did you do?”

“Whaaaat?” I drawled unconvincingly, “Innocent until proven guilty, Amy. Scooch over.”

“Nope, you definitely did something. It’s easier to tell when you don’t have sunglasses on, but the smile gives it away, Jay. Your poker face is garbo.” Cassie snorted, stirring around the vanilla milkshake with her straw and scanning me as I slid into the seat beside Amy. The booth was one of those crescent ones that was formed in a sort of half circle, so there was a bunch of shimmying and scooching until I was comfortably sat and the brunette was closed in between me and Cassie.

Not that she seemed to mind at all, judging by how quickly she moved to let me in.

“The eyes and smile, huh?” Amy murmured, looking between me and Cass with an adorably scrunched up expression on her face. “Good to know I guess. I figured he did something stupid because a waitress just ran by with dried tears on her cheeks.”

“That too!” Cassie nodded her head energetically, pointing a slim finger at Amy. “Oh my God, you also see people either crying or screaming in fear and assume it’s Jay’s fault?!” 

“Uh…” Amy paused, shooting a furtive glance over at my bemused face. When I winked at her, the hesitance slacked into a lidded, deadpan expression, “Yeah? Is that not normal for him?”

“Hell yeah it is,” Cass grinned, offering the girl a small fist bump.

A small smile on her face, Amy lightly slammed her fist against Cassie’s, who made a quiet little ‘boom’ sound effect and wiggled her fingers away. “Yep, we’re keeping her Jay. I’m vetoing any declinations. This is no longer a democracy!”

The bonding was adorable - it was the only reason why I didn’t throw an illusion over the booth and gave Cass’ bratty ass a little spanking. That, and I wanted the staff to be able to bring us our food. Casually tossing an arm over the back of the booth and leaning more comfortably in the surprisingly soft cushion, I gave both girls a small, puckish grin. I was doing that a lot lately, I noticed - smiling. It was nice.

“Kidnapping’s for the bad guys, babe. What Amy wants to do is up to her.” I admonished coolly, my hand - the one casually thrown over the top of the booth and technically Amy’s shoulders - drifting down to lightly twirl one of the girl’s curly, frizzy locks of soft brown hair. 

“I’m-” 

She flinched at the sudden sensation of my fingers in her hair, eyes going wide as whatever she was going to say fizzled out like spellcasting failure. It was much too easy to see just how flustered she got whenever she was embarrassed with her naturally pale skin and freckles - almost unfair, honestly. Cheeks heating up and eyes turning lidded with satisfaction, Amy closed her mouth and leaned into my gentle ministrations. “Ahhh.”

Cassie pouted, sidling closer to Amy’s other side. “I mean, true, but look at her!”

“I’m right here, you know.” One tired eye opened fully, turning to Cass with a glare that seemed more amused than annoyed, and it was actually the hacker who became flustered.

“Sorry. I guess I can get a little too excited. Hard not to when you’re frickin’ surrounded by hotness. Assholes.” Sulking beneath both of our amusement, Cassie gripped the slowly melting milkshake with both of her hands and slid it over to her side of the table. How she managed to keep up her pout and drink from a straw was one of the world’s top mysteries. “Mm… sho ‘ghood…”

Amy snorted, watching the petulant pixie girl with growing fondness. “So… Jay.”

“Mm?” Tying my index and middle finger around one particularly stubborn curl, but not pulling or yanking on it, I glanced down at the relaxed-looking healer, meeting her lidded eyes with my own. If ‘free of stress’ had a picture on the back of a milk carton, it would be her; the stress furrows in her brows and frown lines in her cheeks were gone, replaced by a smoothness that actually made Amy look a little less tired.

She smiled, a mix of wry amusement and curiosity, and I noticed the small bit of foamy vanilla staining her soft-looking lower lip. Two different types of hunger reared their heads in my gut. “The crying woman… she was the lady at the front, right? The one you had to give our orders to.”

Well, I could see where this conversation was going from a mile away. Better to handle it like I handled most things - by digging straight to the core in one long, deep stroke. No pause.

“Yeah,” I began, resuming my soft twirling of her curly hair. She shifted in the booth, lidded eyes becoming darker with restrained intent. Having her hair played with probably felt good, then. Good to know. “Everything went pretty well ‘till the end. I noticed she had a buncha old scars - drug abuse marks, health issues. That sorta stuff. Don’t really like seeing black women her age suffer ‘cause I’m a momma’s boy, so… I healed her.”

That pulled Cass away from her milkshake binge. Disconnecting her lips from the straw with a pop, the girl leaned across the table with wide, colorful eyes. “You healed her?! In front of all those people?” There was no judgment in her tone, only shock - an emotion that quickly turned to pain as the ramifications of slurping a milkshake for a minute straight attacked her all at once. 

“Ack! Fuuu…”

“I cast it through eye contact,” I smirked, vindictively amused by the girl’s cold-brained plight. “Not too many outward effects. Not like the shit I used to heal your ankle, at least.”

“I thought you couldn’t heal stuff that ran that deep? You brought Sherrel to me, after all - though she did look a lot more messed up than that woman…” Amy’s brow furrowed, though the rest of her face stayed relaxed. Her inner pocket healer was starting to rear its head, but not enough to take over the enjoyment she was feeling from the date, thank god.

“Nah, see - I knew Sherrel had a buncha active diseases and shit. Stuff I wasn’t too confident I could fix up. Celia, the woman I healed… she was pretty messed up, but whatever she did, it wasn’t as bad as slummin’ it with the Merchants.” 

I glanced at a whimpering Cass, sending Hysh through her body, and she groaned in surprised relief against the table. “Quick and easy, just like that.”

“... Impressive,” Amy admitted, eyes slightly wide as she stared down at Cassie. When the hacker turned her head and offered her a dopey smirk and thumbs-up, Amy’s thoughtful frown flipped into another one of those small, genuine smiles. “I’m a little jealous, to be honest…” 

“Your powers are hella more versatile and badass when it comes to healing, though. C’mon now,” I chuckled, pausing midway when she shook her head slowly.

“Sure. But you can just wave your hand and perform a cure-all freaking healing spell, like some videogame character. It gets… tiring, doing it the way I do. Having to see everything, have it all beneath your fingertips like some macabre mental operating table, and be able to just… fuck it all up.” 

At some point during the increasingly depressing mini-tirade, Cassie had taken ahold of Amy’s right hand and was running small, comforting little circles against the back of it. It didn’t seem to do much to help the dull, apathetic tone of disgust in Amy’s voice, but her pinched-up face seemed to soften somewhat. The girl was constantly proving to be a lot more empathetic than I thought she was when I first met her on that park bench.

“But you don’t, right?” Cassie asked softly, her energetic attitude replaced by what I was starting to recognize as ‘caring gf mode’.

Amy frowned. “Don’t what?”

“You don’t ‘fuck it all up’. Even after healing all of these people, and not just normal civilians either. Villains, criminals, rapists, pedos - you’ve healed all of ‘em up because it’s what you decided to do, and you could have easily screwed them over. Would’ve been warranted, too.”

“No!” The vehemence in her denial spooked Cassie, who flinched and instinctively drew away from the brunette. “I- I wouldn’t have. I can’t. You don’t understand, neither of you do. The shit I can do with my powers… it scares me. And I get so tired of doing the same shit everyday, over and over again. It drives me crazy. I just…”

I already knew it.

“You’re scared that you’re gonna fuck someone up ‘cause your powers are pushing for you to use ‘em for more than healing, and there’s a lot you can do with ‘em. Is that right?”

I met her gaze evenly when her head shot up to glare at me, all relaxation faded from her features. Fortunately they chose a booth close to the back end of the restaurant, and no one was nearby other than some balding guy and his daughter eating awkwardly a few booths away. They hadn’t glanced over, though, so I figured we were safe. So long as no one started screaming.

“It’s not that simple, Jason. I-... I don’t want to become a villain. Helping those girls the other day, on patrol… it felt good. Knocking that old asshole out felt good, and my powers - they enjoyed it. Being used like that. And at the time, I felt so fucking happy using them like that too, even if it was through a shitty pack of Marlboros.” A smile, empty and fleeting, passed over her face, almost immediately overthrown by another scowl. 

“But then- then, later on when I went to work and started healing people again, and started thinking of all the ways I could make them better instead… it fucking scared me. I’m a freaking coward.”

As Amy went silent, breathless after the impromptu venting session, and Cass stared at her with a myriad of emotions that I didn’t even bother to sift through flitting through her eyes, the black-haired waitress with the piercings padded over to our table. A fairly large platter of food was balanced easily in one hand, and a carrier with drinks was lugged in the other. 

“Hey-o, my name’s Shannon and I’ll be your server for this evening. We’ve got the Jr. Bacon Deluxe, three large fries, three Coca Colas, a-”

I really didn’t wanna be a dick, but this was truly horrible timing. “Thanks, Shannon - we ‘preciate it,” I cut her off with an internal cringe, reaching out to take the platter and carrier from her. They were surprisingly heavy - heavy enough for me to side-eye our server with a bite more curiosity than before. I didn’t recognize her off the top of my head, but there were undoubtedly capes in the Bay that I hadn’t actually read up on. 

She seemed capable of reading the room, thankfully. Instead of replying, she sent me a thin-lipped smile, saluted, and wandered over to another booth to take their order.

“You didn’t have to rush her for my sake,” Amy commented drily in the silence afterwards, her scrunched up visage easing ever so slightly as she yoinked a greasy fry off of the platter.

“You’ll get used to it,” Cassie smiled, doing the exact same thing as Amy was reaching for her second one. “Jay’s a white knight, and I love him for it.”

What was with females and their love for fries? And why a white knight?!

“Anyways,” I groused, being the responsible one and doling out the portions. The platter came equipped with three large paper plates, so we weren’t eating out of grease-stained bags. “One Hideous Bob for the doomscroller…”

“Hey!” Cassie huffed, but didn’t deny anything as I laid the large, sauce-covered monstrosity of a burger in front of her. “I only doomscroll sometimes…”

“A porto-potty something something for me…” I frowned, staring down at the lumpy tower of meat and mushroom that I’d ordered on the very skim off chance that it was actually good. I wasn’t a fan of fungi in my mouth, but I also wasn’t a fan of killing and I’d done it multiple times at this point, so… maybe I’d be able to tolerate the taste?

“And finally…” Placing Amy’s plate in front of the withdrawn girl, I smiled thinly. “Jr. Bacon Deluxe, hold the mayo, and an unwanted speech about morality from yours truly. Enjoy.”

“Jason, you-”

Force of Spirit came rushing through my body like molten gold, cascading around my tongue, and I held up my hand. 

Brow furrowed, Amy shut her mouth.

With relative silence around me, I finally allowed Hidden Intuition to open its flood gates.

Amy is upset. Amy is upset because she thinks she ruined the date by venting. Amy doesn’t like to vent. Amy doesn’t like to vent because she is neurotic and holds every bad thing inside, locked away and unresolved. Amy vented because it is getting harder to hold everything inside. Amy is close to cracking. Amy wants to feel at peace with herself. Amy is tired of being scared. Amy is tired of working at the hospital. Amy wants to be free. Amy wants you.

Hidden Intuition was like the world’s best and worst gossiper. It was the best because it was accurate and on point ninety-nine percent of the time, and it gained its information by so many different cues and memories that even I’d be hard-pressed to remember and put together. It was almost like a fucking Sherlock Holmes AI program, but magical and stuffed in my cerebral cortex. 

It was the worst because of the exact same reason. Although I couldn’t figure out wildly out of context shit, it still let me delve into other people’s innermost feelings if I let it run wild for a little bit. It was why I usually kept it turned to its lowest setting when around those I loved or respected too much. It was an honor thing.

Not this time, though.

“... I get that I can’t heal years of trauma and self-gaslighting with a smile and a wink. And that’s fine, Cass and I have all the time in the world to help you through all of your fucked up problems. ‘Cause we’re fucked up too.” I began slowly, my brain working overtime as it ran through different ways to say what I wanted to say.

Cass nodded seriously. “We are fucked up, that is true.”

“But what’s pissin’ me off is the whole ‘Don’t wanna be a villain’ crap. Am I a villain for skewering Stormtiger a hundred and seven times with golden energy? For turning Crusader into a desiccated corpse with laser beams? For what I’m boutta do to the rest of the Empire?”

Amy’s face slackened, and a desperation entered her eyes. “It’s not the freaking same, Jason.”

Amy believes that you are a good person. Amy believes she is a bad person. Thusly, you hurting others is a hero’s justice. Her hurting others is a villain’s origin story.

“Amy, yes it fucking is. I’m not any better than you ‘cause I look pretty and call myself a hero. You’re not some shitty person because you have urges to hurt people or do bad things. Some people needa be fucking hurt, some people need to be killed, and a bad thought’s just a fuckin’ thought until that thought is acted upon. You get me?”

Cass’ hand was gripping Amy’s again, but she hadn’t been the one to reach out - Amy had. I didn’t raise my voice, but the fervor in my tone seemed to have some effect on the girl, compounded by Force of Spirit and Superior Form making her more susceptible to my words and my logic. 

Tears beaded her eyes now, large and wet, but they refused to fall.

Cassie frowned uncertainly. “Jay, maybe we should…-”

“Boom,” I continued, gesturing towards the sight of a familiar pot-bellied man finally making his way to the bar. “He touched me on my shoulder earlier, some racist piece of shit, and called me ‘boy’. I have too many powers to name right now, and one of ‘em lets me control fire and heat. Scary shit. I have a field of heat around my body at all times now, to stay all toasty. Wanna know what I thought about, for a briefest second, when that racist asshole patronized me and touched me without consent?”

Amy’s face was paler than normal, her lips quivering at the corners, but there was a gleam in her wide eyes as she stared at me. Transfixed. “... What?”

“Burnin’ him to cinders and ash. Dude’s bald, white, and racist - he probably supports the Empire. Maybe. But killin’ him would knock another asshole out of the running, and I probably wouldn’t even feel too bad about it.” And I wouldn’t have - not really. I would’ve felt remorse, sure, but I wasn’t the most emotional person in the first place. Give me some time and it would’ve literally been just another shit memory in a sea of shit memories.

“And you’re-... you’re just okay with that?” Amy gaped, wiping furiously at her eyes with a rough brown napkin.

“Intrusive thoughts,” Cassie spoke up softly, grabbing the healer’s attention. Still tracing gentle circles on the back of Amy’s hand, she offered up a cold smile. “Everyone gets them. ‘Specially capes. I’m a programming tinker, and I can make a lot of shit - most of it autonomous with a few more lines of code. Straight up murking people isn’t something I specialize in, but there’s ways to ruin people worse than killing them. Ways to push them to the edge all on their own. Been there, done that.” Her eyes darkened, and the smile slipped away. 

Interesting. I made a mental note to revisit that with her at a later date.

“Point is, everyone’s a little bit bad, but not everyone is good. It’s what you choose to do with these thoughts and feelings that actually matter in the end. Life ain’t black and white, Amy.” I grabbed my large glass of coke, ignoring the straw and taking a big, satisfying gulp of the acidic brown liquid. “Ahh. Best get used to it now.”

When she didn’t immediately respond, instead taking a slow, robotic bite of her Jr. Bacon Deluxe, a tense silence took over the booth. In some ways I felt bad for the shift the date turned, but at the same time… she needed to hear this. Badly. I couldn’t even begin to imagine her inner turmoil, and for Hidden Intuition to state that she was close to cracking - I just knew it had to be a fucking dumpster fire in there. I cared for the girl. Hell, I liked her, and Cassie clearly liked her too.

Thus, she’d be taken care of. That’s just how it was for me. Maybe I was possessive, maybe it was toxic, I didn’t really give a shit. What was mine was mine was mine, and that was that.

“I don’t…” Amy’s voice was monotonous. It crackled at the edges, teetering on the precipice of broken and stable. Her eyes were focused on the table, moving around as if she was actively debating things in her head as she spoke to us. “I don’t think I want to work at the hospital anymore. At least, not nearly as often.”

Cassie gaped, and I had to admit - it threw me off too. I’d support her however way she wanted to go, but a decision like that would ruffle more than a few feathers. It’d blow up the whole fucking chicken coop. 

“Yeah?” I egged Amy on, paying her my full attention. 

“Yeah. I still want to help people. I still want to heal them, but there has to be more… There is more to life now. More that I want to experience.” Her eyes wandered up to me, and then to Cassie, and I was floored by the affection in her glimmering brown orbs. “If- if having these thoughts and urges don’t make me a bad person. If I’m not evil, and my power’s not evil… then I think I want to explore them more.”

A dry, humorless smirk formed on her lips. “Hopefully away from dying and diseased bodies.”

Morbid humor. I dug it.

“Ooh!” Cassie gasped, letting go of Amy’s hand to slam her fist into her palm. “You can experiment on me and Jay! It would be like that one meme!”

“Meme?” Amy parroted hesitantly, raising an eyebrow.

I snorted, stuffing a handful of fries in my mouth. After chewing through and swallowing the lukewarm mass of fried potato, I let out an entertained sigh. “The one where the witch is kneeling beside her husband, and it says-”

“‘My hot witch wife, and me doing whatever the hell she wants’! Yeah, that one! Holy shit, it’ll be so frickin’ awesome,” Cass giggled, beaming at us with so much nerdy glee that I was genuinely surprised I didn’t go blind. “N-not that you’re a witch or anything, or our wife - don’t think that’s even legal in the US- but…”

“I get the joke. It’s a shitty one, but cute I guess,” Amy smirked, shaking her head with a mystified look on her face. Her eyes were still slightly red from the rough napkin treatment, and she still seemed kinda shaky, but the storm of spiraling emotions that had Hidden Intuition in a tizzy had already calmed down and solidified into a sort of brittle resolve. 

There were still cracks, sure, but I had every intention of filling them in.

“Well, we-”

I cut myself off because my soul suddenly warmed up, Grimmy sluggishly kicking a new mote of light towards what I now knew was a veritable cosmos of magic instead of a mere ocean. It was small, especially compared to the huge charge I’d collected over the past day or two, but I figured I’d give it a fair shot.

Clever Craft (The Elder Scrolls - 100CP): Having been trained as a mage, you know basic spells from each of the schools of magic, and can easily learn new spells.

It only took me the briefest of glimpses to greedily wheel the perk into my soul. The description was extremely brief and stilted, not giving much information outside of ‘you know basic spells’, but that wasn’t the important thing here. No, the fact that it opened me up to magic from the fucking Elder Scrolls series was the real golden egg. Truthfully, I’d only ever played Skyrim and never really delved too deep into the lore, but the perk didn’t say anything about limiting its scope to just Skyrim…

This was good fucking soup. This was some shit I could actually teach to people, starting from the basics. The Winds were not something I wanted to put in the hands of others without my Omni-Disciplinary Mage perk, and Weapon Magic was difficult to teach because it was an innate, species-based magic made for monsters.

A grin, slow and devious, began to make its way across my face. Yeah, I could do a lot with this…

Yoink.

When I finally zoned back into the conversation, it was to the sight of Cassie leaning against a lightly flushed Amy, cupping her hand to her mouth as she whispered into the brunette’s ear.

“See how he’s smiling like the cheshire cat? Now that’s pure evil, I’m fucking telling you. He does it whenever he gets another power.”

“Does it happen often?” Amy whispered back, eyes wide with mock horror. The small smirk on her face sold it.

“Every. Frickin’. Day.” 

“Keep talkin’ shit and I won’t tell you what I got,” I cut in teasingly, taking my sunglasses off to rub the bridge of my nose. Being force-fed knowledge wasn’t the most comfortable sensation, and The Elder Scrolls had several schools of magic that I was just forcibly attuned to. Eight, to be specific, two of which I hadn’t been expecting.

“Jay! No blue-balling, asshole.” Cassie gasped, leaning across the table and gripping my hand. “At this point I’m living and thriving through you vicariously, like- like osmosis.”

“That’s not what osmosis is,” Amy supplied dryly, though she was staring at me with abject curiosity as well. “But she’s right, Jay. I don’t know a lot about how your powers work, but if it’s something else that changes your biology…”

“Like his hentai saliva!”

“Yeah, like your- … wait, what?”

“Anyways,” I opened my eyes and sent the innocently smiling Cassie a glare. “Magical superpowers can wait until later, yeah? The food’s gettin’ cold, we just had a super bleak heart-to-heart, and we haven’t even gotten to the main point of a first date.”

The girls shared twin bemused glances, Amy with her brow furrowed and Cassie with her nose wrinkled, before they turned back to me. 

“... The main point?” Cassie hedged awkwardly, nabbing a limp fry from the massive pile on the platter. “What, like making kissy faces and drinking from the same glass? ‘Cause I’m already ahead of you, bucko! Er, with the second part.”

“No, dumbass,” I snickered, leaning back and crossing my arms over my chest. “Getting to know each other better. Askin’ each other questions unrelated to our trauma and superpowers.” I allowed a small moment to pass, before helpfully adding, “Kissin’ comes later.”

“Heck yes!” 

“Ahem!” Amy intervened, her red face similar amounts mortified and excited. “How about you go first then, Jay? How did you and Cassie meet?” 

“Ooh, that’s a good one,” Cassie gasped excitedly, still chewing on that one limp fry like a strand of wheat. Wiggling closer to Amy, plopping her elbows on the table, and nestling her chin in the palm of her hands, the hacker fluttered her long eyelashes at me. “This has to be romantic. I’ll riot if it’s not.”

“Right,” I said, a fond smile forming on my lips. It hadn’t even been a full month since we’d met each other, but it already felt like years. The memory, however, came back to me like clockwork, as picture perfect and clear as an HD movie in my brain. “Let’s see… it was back in 1987, and Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria-”

SNORT.

“Y-you’re so unfunny it fucking hurts,” Amy deadpanned, her voice quivering with barely restrained amusement. “Heh… I hate it.”

Cassie glowered, though she was clearly struggling to hold back her own grin. “Don’t you dare ruin such a beautiful origin story with that bullshit.”

“True, true - my bad,” I chuckled, holding both hands up in surrender. The fact that they even knew about Five Nights at Freddy’s showed just how little I understood about the timeline here compared to my original world. 

Wrestling down  my snickers, I cleared my throat and tried again.

“It was… about three weeks ago now, maybe a lil’ bit more. I’d just gotten to Brockton Bay, nothing on me except the clothes on my back and a shitty wallet, and was taking shelter at a bus station. There, I saw this cute girl playing some loud ass game on her phone…”

Telling the story to such an enraptured and captivated audience felt nice, even if parts were interrupted and embellished by a giggling Cassie, or picked apart by an observant and doubtful Amy. What should’ve been a short introduction to our first meeting quickly turned into a thirty minute retelling of our life together on Earth Bet, and once that story reached its conclusion Amy tentatively began speaking about her own life. Though it was a somber one, only broken up by the occasional highlight of Victoria making things better, Cass and I listened intently.

At some point, the food was polished off and we were practically pressing against each other on all sides, the post-grease coma threatening to lull us into a premature slumber. The stories eased up, replaced by less personal questions.

What’s your favorite color? (Gold or black)

Favorite genre of music? (Hip-Hop)

Celebrity crush? (Emma Watson)

It was such a relaxing time, comfortable and exposed and healing, that I only barely heard the alarm bells ring quietly in my ear at around the hour and a half mark. It was accompanied by the vague scent of smoke and flesh, like charred meat, and my brain took a few seconds to figure out just what the fuck was going on whilst Cass and Amy discussed their favorite childhood cartoons.

That was, of course, when the front of the restaurant exploded, and everything went to fucking Hell.

_________________________________

Perks Accepted:

Clever Craft (The Elder Scrolls - 100CP): Having been trained as a mage, you know basic spells from each of the schools of magic, and can easily learn new spells.

1100 CP remaining.

A/N:

Last part had to be expected, right? C'mon guys. It'll be fun though, I promise!!!

Grilled Dragon, anyone?

There was a lot of character development here. I want to say this: Amy isn't saying she's gonna stop healing people. That would be wildly OOC for her. She's saying that she doesn't want to do it as her main job anymore, because her mental is steadily spiraling and she wants to explore her powers with Cass and Jay. Preferably not around a bunch of defenseless and/or weak bodies.

Celia's part just randomly came at me while I was writing, but I like it. Shows a bit more of Jay's character, and will have good ripples moving forward. I think most of you know who she is. Jason doesn't, though - he barely read over Aisha's wiki page.

Next chapter will be the official Lung fight. I think most of you already have your bets drawn, but I gotta ask: Who do you think will win?