Chapter 32

February 4, 1:58 AM

The early morning darkness pressed firmly against the dreary, cloud-filled sky of Downtown Brockton Bay. The scent of petrichor permeated my senses, filling me with a familiar sense of dopamine and nostalgia that often followed after me in the wake of rain. The previous storm was now only a slight drizzle, barely even registering on my personal Aqshy field, but the ‘plip plip’ of water droplets falling against Overdrive’s truck managed to keep a steady rhythm. 

It blended rather well with the quiet grumble of the tinker’s souped-up engine, and both the scent and the sounds were doing their utmost to lull me into a well-needed sleep.

A wry grin found its way onto my face, and I pressed the button to roll the window up. ‘Too bad there truly ain’t no rest for the wicked…’

What did Kevin Gates say? I got six jobs, I don’t get tired?

Right now I only had one and I was already pretty fucking mentally exhausted, but the lyric helped bolster my spirit, if only a little bit.

Overdrive’s hushed, hoarse voice broke through my reverie. “Boss, we gonna keep patrolling this side of Downtown, or are we headin’ to the Docks? I’m pumped either way, but-”

She was rudely cut off by a jaw-cracking yawn - one that stretched on for a few seconds longer than normal. When she finally managed to close her mouth and smack her lips, there was a tint of pink on her perpetually oil-smeared cheeks. “Kinda runnin’ outta gas… me, not my baby. Heh.”

“Head back to the shipping container for now,” I replied quietly, glancing up towards the rearview mirror just in time to catch Sherrel’s tired, sheepish gaze. “I’ll put a lil’ illusion over the place, keep the truck safe ‘till we can get a proper garage that has more than a latch for security.”

I kept my voice low because the children were sleeping. 

In the passenger seat, Cass was slumped over and drooling on top of an inert Pod 084 like he was the softest pillow ever, and the less said about the bear-like snores rumbling from behind me the better. Fortunately there was some sort of hard plastic separating the backseat from the big ass trunk that housed Trainwreck - otherwise, his severe case of sleep apnea would’ve already ruined what little amount of z’s my cute little hacker was managing to get.

They had all worked hard tonight, and I was proud of every single one of ‘em. In a weird way, I felt… responsible? Not exactly in a fatherly way, but for all intents and purposes, I was their leader, their boss, and the one who was currently providing for them. Sherrel and Trainwreck were effectively homeless, and although Cass had her rainy day fund I knew that she was the type to rely on someone stronger - not because she needed to, but because she wanted to. She had to rely on herself for the past few years, after all.

Cassie was barely eighteen, Sherrel was probably getting ready to push thirty, and Trainwreck sounded like a bummy forty year old uncle, but I - the sixteen year old, multiversally-displaced teenager - was the one holding the reins.

Strangely enough, for someone who avoided responsibility and permanent connections like the plague… It wasn't too scary of a spot to be in.

“Aye aye, boss man!” Overdrive stage-whispered with a clumsy salute, her left hand smoothly twisting the steering wheel to pull the truck over into the left lane. 

I allowed the rain to pull me back into a relaxed lull, looking down at my smartphone to slide open my PHO profile. It had only been maybe fifteen minutes since I posted in the thread - something I’d done mainly on a whim - and already I was getting flooded with follows, users tagging me, and direct messages. That was my main hangup with social media in general - I fucking hated getting flooded by notifications. 

My eyebrow twitched. ‘Told you chuckle-fucks to DM Cassie for a reason.’ 

I was logged onto her account in a different tab so it wasn’t too different, but it wasn’t about all that - it was the thought that counted. Fuck logic.

“... Say, Jason, mind if I ask you a question?”

Sherrel is concerned.

I turned my gaze back up to the mirror, meeting her own unwavering stare once again. Hidden Intuition was like a serpent wrapped around my shoulders, flicking its tongue near my ear, but I kept it contained and minimized. Not everything required supernatural insights, and becoming too reliant on something that easy just rubbed me the wrong way. Sherrel was bothered by something, that much was obvious, and she was using my full first name… not the best start.

I tilted my head. “You already did, champ… but go on.”

She rolled her eyes, and a fond smirk broke through the stoic frown on her face. “Haha, funny guy! Not. Anyways, it’s nothin’ too serious or anything, ain’t got enough juice in my tank for super deep conversation…”

“Mm, same. Gonna need at least six hours of sleep ‘fore I let you snot on my chest again.”

“Fuck you.” Sherrel’s fingers drummed on the steering wheel, her other hand dropping down to fiddle with the radio, but she didn’t turn it on. I watched on with a vague sense of curiosity. “... Shit, don’t know why I’m bein’ a pussy. Ugh! Us. Me, you, fuck face back there, kitty cat… what are we doin’? Like, for real.”

I raised an eyebrow, resisting the distant urge to cut straight to the heart of the matter and work for a solution. Part of growing up was realizing when some women simply wanted to vent, and I could tell that Sherrel had some things roiling in her mind, some weight that she wanted to get off of her chest. Instead of reading further into her question and hitting her with the hard, logical facts of exactly what we were doing, I took the illogical, vaguely non-autistic path of… feigning ignorance.

“Whaddya mean?”

The proverbial dam burst.

“This whole night! Me killin’ Alabaster, you doin’ your secret Star Wars voodoo shit to fuck up Stormtiger and pin him to the street with spears like- like some kinda dungeon raid boss-”

“You play MMOs?” My eyes lit up in interest.

“Huh? That ain’t- shush! I don’t give a shit about killin’, much less a fucking filthy nazi,” she spat the word out like poison, violently swerving sideways through a yellow light to hit a sudden U-Turn. Annoyed drivers honked their horns, and Sherrel tossed an errant middle finger out the window.

“But you haven’t been tellin’ me much, boss man. Ain’t been tellin’ us much of anything. Just how strong are you? What are you really tryna do here? ‘Cause I’ve been way too sober recently, and my boring ass, straight edged womanly instincts are tellin’ me that you’re after something higher than murking the Empire.”

She inhaled harshly through her nose, regaining the breath she lost in her rambling, and Cassie stirred.

We both froze.

“-you lov’ me... if I was a worm…? Hnnn..~” 

The sleepy hacker smacked her lips and snuggled closer to 084, and the little light on top of its head flashed a dim green. 

Sherrel and I both let out quiet, synchronized breaths of relief.

When she eyed me again in the rearview, a considering frown formed on my lips.

“Well? I deserve to know what I’m gettin’ into, Jason.”

“Yeah, you do.” I sighed, flicking my gaze up to the metal ceiling of the truck. The interior was surprisingly well-insulated and cozy, or as cozy as an armored death machine on  wheels could be, but the scent of oil and some sort of gasoline was cloying. “I wasn’t fuckin’ with you when I said what I said. My first day in Brockton Bay, I was attacked by a buncha skinhead assholes. Since I’m kinda vindictive, that sorta… solidified the Empire’s fate. I’m- nah, we’re gonna wipe ‘em out. That hasn’t changed.”

“And I’m all for the murder of neo-nazis, but that’s not all. You’re avoidin’ everything else.” Sherrel grunted, taking another turn. The truck was starting to chug a little, a testament to the change in road quality as we transitioned from Downtown to the Docks. 

There was the vitriolic scent of burning smoke in the air, and her nose crinkled. I glanced over our quickly decaying surroundings with bored, tired eyes. 

“Patience is a virtue, Sherr.”

“I’m the furthest thing from a fuckin’ monk, Jay.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” I snorted, crossing my arms over my chest. Even muted, my Hidden Insight was breathing minute observations into my ear, small things that weren’t even worth digging too deeply into. She wasn’t pissed at me - yet, but snubbing her wouldn’t help the situation. I didn’t really have much to hide. “‘Ight, let’s do it like this then, make it easier: You ask me one question, I answer truthfully. Then I ask you something, and you do the same. That fair?”

There was a pause for a few seconds as she mulled it over, and I took the momentary lapse in the conversation to do a sharp swipe through Cassie’s PHO DMs. Even without my Infused mask on, my ability to read and absorb information far surpassed that of an average human’s, and I breezed through the beginning blurbs of dozens of inane, nosy messages before one in particular caught my eye.

It was sent a few minutes ago, from one ‘Glory Girl’. My curiosity burned.

I had just clicked open the message when Sherrel’s low, purring voice pulled me away from the phone.

“Fuck it, fine,” she sighed, throwing me a small, self-conscious grin through the mirror. “Just… you won’t look at me any differently, right? That would fuckin’ suck.”

I peeled my eyes away from the message - a polite and well-structured invitation to patrol the Docks with New Wave, attached with an address - and offered her a crooked smile. “That your first question?”

“Hell no, asshole. Just promise me.”

Sherrel is serious.

“We both know who you were before I found you, Sherr.” I replied, my smile not shifting in the slightest. “You won’t say anything I hadn’t already thought about. My expectations are in the fuckin’ mud.” I tried to add a bit of levity to my tone, tossing her a little wink to lighten the very real and very blunt truth of my words, and the tension in her jaw eased, if only slightly.

She took one hand off the wheel to flip me off. “Spin on it.”

“Yeah right. The questions, woman.” I reminded her, typing up a quick ‘k be there soon’ message to Glory Girl.

Sherrel flinched, her eyes lighting up once again. “Shit, okay. Alright, first question, and don’t give me no half-assed crap either: How strong are you, Jason? ‘Cause that shit you pulled off today wasn’t some ‘grab bag’ bullshit.”

Glory Girl responded with a confirmation immediately. At the same time, my phone buzzed, Amy’s name popping up at the top alongside an incredibly blunt and foreboding ‘We need to talk’.

I wasn’t a stranger to having anxiety over cute girls, and that message… definitely kick-started a little bit of it. I swiped it away and returned my attention to Sherrel, ignoring the way that my left finger started a dull little rhythm on the screen of my phone.

Admittedly, I hadn’t even thought about Amy’s reaction to… everything. I wasn’t even completely sure how I felt about her in the first place.

Shit to take care of when I met up with ‘em, perhaps.

“... You want the condensed version? ‘Cause that’s all I really got in me right now.”

“Huh? Obviously the condensed version if that’s all you’re given’ me!”

I smirked. “Cool. I haven’t had time to do a lot of training, but I think I could 1v7 the Protectorate with prep time, no diff. I’d need to work on my Infusions, buffing spells, all’at. My biggest problem is people who can blitz me before I can react, but eye’ve been tryna shore up that weakness.” I closed an eyelid and tapped it a couple times, but it was clear that she either did not believe me or had no idea what I was referring to.

She stared, blank-faced with her eyebrows arched. An ember of embarrassment flared in my chest.

“... I don’t get it.”

“I can activate my powers through eyesight now. The pun was funny, you just need a higher IQ level to understand it.”

“Hey-! My IQ’s hella fuckin’ high, dumbass, and the joke was garbage. I still don’t understand anything - I know you’re strong and all, it’s why I asked, but taking out the Protectorate solo? Ain’t that gettin’ a little too cocky? And whaddya mean buffing spel-”

I cut her off before she could start rambling again. “Your next question is askin’ me if I’m a little too cocky? ‘Cause I’m guilty as charged, but I doubt you wanna use your resources like that.” 

She paused, eyes squinting as she glared lukewarm daggers at me. “... God. Smug lil’ shit.”

“Also very true. Keep your eyes on the road, Sherr.” 

“Ugh, fine, ask your freakin’ question next. Do your worst.” And the tenseness was back. She returned her gaze back to the road, glaring stubbornly out into the empty, crater-filled road ahead of us. We were close to the Trainyard now, I could tell - Sherrel wasn’t a Sunday driver, and the cops had their hands too full with other shit to properly watch out for speeders.

Filled with a small burst of curiosity, I dialed Hidden Intuition up a little bit, studying the contours of the mechanic’s clenched jaw.

Sherrel is nervous. Sherrel is nervous because she is ashamed. Sherrel is ashamed because she has done bad things. Sherrel is nervous because she thinks you will judge her harshly for her answers.

… It was about what I’d already expected. Hidden Intuition was definitely a magical ability, but often times it simply extrapolated information that I already subconsciously knew or held knowledge of somewhere in my memory banks. Considering my memory was magically-enhanced as well, Hidden Intuition had a lot to play around with.

“Okay then, first question,” I finally spoke up, keeping my volume to the same level tone that we’d both unconsciously agreed to when Cass almost woke up.

“Just ask it already.”

I let the tension build for a few seconds longer, watching Sherrel’s face grow more and more tense as the moments ticked by.

“... Jason-”

“Is it pink?”

COUGH!

She almost swerved into a rusted-up mailbox. I lightly held the ‘oh shit’ handle above me, fighting desperately to keep the shit-eating grin from taking over my face. Her cheeks were starting to redden, though it was hard to say whether it was from the question or the violent choking fit she just went through.

Either way, it was entertaining.

“Ack! Fuck, Jason, what the fuck?” Sherrel cleared her throat, cheeks still rosy as a grin tore itself across her lips. She couldn’t keep it off, and I could tell that she was trying to - the corner of her mouth was twitching like hell. “What kinda virgin ass question is that?!”

“I didn’t judge your inquiries, ma’am.” I responded lightly, exaggerating a scowl. “Answer the question.”

Snort.

“Y-yeah, you freakin’ perv. My pussy is a very pretty and enticing pink,” she eked out through smoky giggles, giving up on her vain attempts at frowning. It was surprisingly wholesome to hear her low and husky voice doing something as girly and innocent as giggling at a shitty joke. “Wouldn’t have to waste your first question on that if you-”

She abruptly cut herself off, glancing down at Cass. A crease formed between her brow.

“Heh, nevermind. You sure that’s it?”

I filed that little interaction away for later. I’d been meaning to talk to Cass about it, but present-day Empire Culling activities made the timing awkward and unnecessary.

Plus, I was still a bit unsure about everything, and that made me hesitant to bring it up. Sue me.

“I’m satisfied… for now.” I responded, finally letting the grin pull through. Sherrel chuckled this time, the giggles apparently having left her body already. 

“If you say so, big guy. Guess it’s my turn now, then?”

“Yep,” I popped the P, leaning back into the soft leather of the seats and closing my tired eyes. She’d probably ask me more about my powers, or finally delve into exactly what my plans were past ‘kill off the Empire 88’, and I needed to figure out how much I wanted to share without exposing too much to her Shar-

“Sweet. How big’s your dick?”

…

It was my turn to choke on my saliva.

______________________________________

Our little game of 21 questions went about as good as you’d expect. After my little joke question to ease the tension and make her feel comfortable, Sherrel apparently decided that she was ‘too tired’ to delve more into my ambitions. Instead, we spent the rest of the car ride basically sharing little tidbits of sexual trivia with each other. She asked me how many inches I was packin’ (9, and 10 on a good day), and I asked her how deep her throat went - it was stupid shit, but I did learn a little bit more about her.

I felt closer to the woman now, oddly enough. Not necessarily in a romantic sense, but she was feeling more like a friend than a ‘minion’ as we were pulling into Trainwreck’s shipping container.

The spell 'Camouflage Area’ was a relatively simple one in comparison to some of the more active illusionary magic that the Grey Wind contained, and after doubling back on foot and making sure that we had no tails, I casted the spell over the container. The magic was effective - even if I didn’t hold the same instinctive, prodigal talent with manipulating the Winds as a high elf, Spellcaster made it so that any spell I casted was much more potent than normal.

Only 084, with his scanning software, was able to see the shipping container once I ushered everyone, sans Trainwreck himself, out of the area. To everyone else, it simply looked like the rest of the Trainyard - scattered trash, overgrown grass, and dirty concrete.

In other words, perfect.

Afterwards, I took the women (and Pod) back to the Sanctum, gently refused Cassie’s sleepy, half-assed requests to accompany on my early morning patrol with New Wave, and swiftly took to the air to rendezvous with the hero group at ‘Cypress Avenue’ - the warehouse district where Purity did the majority of the damage.

Just in case, I brought my potions and magic mirror with me. I doubted I would need them, but with my Satchel of Holding, there was no reason not to keep my arcane artifacts with me. Only the best and most efficient tools for my magical satchel, after all.

…

Alright, I may have taken some leftover pizza as well.

I was just biting into my second slice of piping hot, Aqshy-heated pepperoni when I finally made it to the warehouse district, and the pure amount of destruction momentarily shocked me. 

From hundreds of feet in the air, looking down and over the Docks, the damage was extremely obvious. Despite being a part of the ‘warehouse district’, the reality was that Cypress Avenue also contained normal and occupied residential buildings - tall, blocky, and in the heart of the urban decay that seemed to plague this side of Brockton Bay, but still lived-in.

Now, though? Maybe not so much.

Rubble and refuse littered the melted street, whole buildings turned to crumbling, scorched mockeries of what they once were. It looked like a burning hurricane had ripped through the whole block and even a couple more besides, tearing through warehouses and turning metal into ugly black slag that clung to the dirty sidewalks and the burned out husks of abandoned vehicles. Through the gaping holes in some of the apartments, due to my unnaturally good vision, I could see movement - people, possibly former tenants or squatters, huddling together in the remnants. In the broken remains. 

If I actually listened, I could hear gunshots and screams cutting through the night sky. After being on Earth Bet for a few weeks, things like a distant person screaming incoherently or weapons firing miles away had started to become a bit like ambient noise to me. Something I subconsciously filed away as background noise because I was always busy doing something else.

At that moment, it didn’t feel much like ‘background noise’. Seeing a whole portion of a neighborhood turned to hell for such a stupid fucking reason… It pissed me off. It pissed me off a lot, actually. Warmth flowed through the gaps in my fingers, and a quick glance down revealed the fact that I had actually punctured the skin of my palms by clenching my fists.

The dull soreness didn’t do much to cool my anger.

‘Purity did this,’ I thought to myself, distantly, as I began lowering myself back down to one of the few intact rooftops. ‘Her, Lung, Night & Fog… those motherfuckers iced a whole fuckin’ street.’

For what? Territorial disputes? To free a fucking murderer? 

Bullshit. The thought ruined my flagging appetite.

And I was mad at myself too. 

What had we been doing in those couple hours after successfully fighting off the Empire ambush? Cruising through Downtown, taking care of a few muggings and assaults with casual ease, making sure the residential racists didn’t band together and pull a fucking flash mob after we went viral on PHO. What we should’ve been doing was hunting down Purity, or grabbing some ABB goon to grill for Lung’s main base. I felt pretty fucking confident in my ability to draw upon Azyr - dropping a meteor while the dragon was sleeping was well within my capabilities.

I had all this power. Common sense dictated that I don’t rush things, that I take my time and plan things out properly, but wasn’t that wasting time? Wouldn’t that hurt more people in the long run?

‘God, I’m being a fuckin’ idiot. The fuck happened to Mr. Cool and Logical, Jay-’

“Avalon! Holy shit, holy shit! You actually showed up!”

“Woah, Vi- Glory Girl! Slow the hell down before you drop me!”

Two feminine voices, one boisterous and awed and the other, more familiar one flat and annoyed, had me turning away from the dilapidated street below. I saw only a blurring glimpse of them with my Second Sight before I peeled my divided focus away from the eyes at the back of my head, not exactly wanting to look at the sad sight below me for any longer than I necessarily had to.

Victoria Dallon, otherwise known as Glory Girl, came to a jerking halt a dozen or so feet above the rooftop that I was standing on, and my eyes widened slightly.

She was quite possibly the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on in this world.

That wasn’t even her aura talking, either - I could sense her excitement and elation trying, in vain, to rouse something out of me, but Immutable Form wasn’t just something you could bypass with a funky alien supercomputer. No, Glory Girl was objectively just an incredibly gorgeous girl - full, pouty pink lips freshly moistened with some sort of sparkly gloss, long blonde hair that reached right above her tailbone, a heart-shaped face with flawlessly clear white skin, and her voluptuous body…

Yee fuckin’ haw. No wonder Cassie used to have a girl crush on her. Combined with the tiara and white costume, the chick looked like an actual superheroine sent from Heaven.

In spite of all that, my eyes instinctively sought out the tired-eyed, freckle-dusted, infinitely more plain brunette hanging over her shoulder and scowling at me over her large red scarf.

She was kinda cute when she frowned.

“Relax, you already know I won’t drop you,” Glory Girl chided her little sister as she continued to slowly hover down towards me. Despite talking to Amy, her crystal blue eyes were practically boring into mine, and I could tell by the wide smile on her shiny lips that she was absolutely loving what she was seeing.

I cracked a lazy smile and raised two fingers to my brow.

“Yo, Glory Girl. Iris got your message, but the rest of the team had to head back.” I dropped my hand into my pocket and gave a casual shrug. “Looks like y’all are stuck with little ol’ me. Wassup Panny?” 

The healer gave me a stiff wave from over Glory Girl’s shoulders, and I fought the urge to frown. 

Amy is upset. Amy is upset because you worried her. Amy is torn. Amy is torn because you killed-

‘Yeah, yeah, tell me something I don’t know.’

As soon as her feet landed on the roof top and Amy dropped off her back, Glory Girl was immediately in front of my face. My body tensed for the smallest fraction of a second, fighting instincts from last night’s battle still warm in my veins in spite of the passing hours, but she didn’t seem to notice. 

I could practically taste the Aqshy rolling off of her grinning form.

“Holy shit!” she repeated, extending her hand out to shake mine. I obliged, a more natural smirk forming on my lips as she squeezed me tightly and jerked my arm up and down. “I know you’ve already said my name and all, but I sorta envisioned floating down all cool-like and saying ‘sup, I’m Glory Girl’. Thaaaat kinda failed so… ‘sup, I’m Glory… Girl?”

In the back, slowly walking up, I could see Amy’s face.

She was cringing violently.

My smirk widened into an amused grin. “You still looked pretty badass, no worries. Very… Warrior Princess-chic vibes. Like a real life She-Ra.” I didn’t know if that old cartoon was a thing on Earth Bet, but there was a small chance that Earth Aleph ported it over.

Her eyes widened, the smallest sparkle of pink dusting her nose as she let out a girlish-sounding giggle. Her soft hand, I noticed, was still holding mine despite me already letting go. “You’ve watched She-Ra?! She was actually the main inspiration for my costume. Minus the, uh, sword I guess.”

“She tried to use a sword,” Amy spoke up, injecting herself right into the conversation. She held her hands in the draping sleeves of her white robe, face tucked into her scarf and sleep-deprived eyes staring balefully at the two of us. “A wooden one. Carol threw it away after her first patrol, saying there’d be too many lawsuits. She’s a smart woman.”

Her eyes drifted down to where Glory Girl was still gripping my hand, and something flickered through them. I couldn’t tell because of the fucking scarf, but that was all I needed to see to pull my hand away.

The blondie didn’t even notice, too busy turning red with embarrassment and glaring at Amy. “I told you to stop telling that story to people! Besides, no one got hurt!”

“Yeah, because you broke it over some nazi’s clavicle instead of the back of their head.” 

Glory Girl rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well a fractured clavicle is light compared to what they get away with.” She looked at me, and the embarrassment faded, replaced by a surprisingly sudden look of respect and seriousness. “Speaking of, Avalon… we-”

“You.”

“Most of us in New Wave appreciate what you did last night. It was bloody, and most people turn their nose up at it because of laws and societal pressure, but… the Empire is trash. They’re scum, and they-” Her voice cracked, and I felt my chest warm with empathy. “They deserve whatever happens to them. Every single one.” There was hatred there. Genuine hatred.

The atmosphere felt still. I didn’t look away from Victoria’s eyes, absorbing the burning passion and scarred-over pain that filled those beautiful blue orbs, and felt satisfaction. Not because a pretty girl was thanking me, but because my actions had a tangibly good effect on someone that I could actually see and touch. I personally didn’t give a shit about my reputation or how the PRT viewed me. I used to, a couple weeks ago when I was weaker and less confident, but now? They could go kick fucking rocks.

Still, though… being treated like some sort of murderer had stung, even just a little. Heroic Aptitude allowed me to ride the wave of animosity, maintain my fearlessness and spunk in the face of opposition, but Glory Girl’s words felt… nice. Like a soothing balm.

Just as I was about to respond, a quiet voice spoke up.

“... I don’t like fighting. Or killing. Or any of that stuff,” Amy said, sounding incredibly small and unsure of herself. I glanced over, but she was looking down at her feet, gripping the insides of her robes. “But, yeah… those assholes kind of had it coming. Just wish they’d… poof, y’know? Leave everyone else the fuck alone. Be sent to the Birdcage. Not be…”

“Nazis?” I offered wryly, and to my surprise, the frizzy-haired brunette snorted.

“Yeah,” she replied, looking up at me with her big, doe brown eyes. “In an ideal world I guess.”

“They’re prolly a couple hard R’s too deep in their cups for that, Panny,” I shrugged, glancing back over to an introspective Glory Girl. “You mentioned patrolling. Do I get to meet your parents before I take you two out?”

That cut through the heavy atmosphere. Amy reddened immediately, looking between the two of us with a vaguely panicked expression, and Glory Girl’s stoic mask cracked.

“Hah! Crazy way to have a first date,” she giggled, looking down at her smartwatch. Her smile promptly dropped. “Shit, I told them I’d come get ‘em when we spotted you. They went to circle the West end of the Docks, make sure Lung’s actually done for the night.”

“I-”

“We’ll be here!” Amy interrupted me for the second time. I gave her a deadpan stare as she stepped in front of me, bundling her robes in her hands. “I- I want to speak to Avalon for a little bit, Vic. Alone.”

The flash of hurt and envy that flashed over Glory Girl’s face surprised the fuck out of me, although I really should have expected it - Cass had already told me that she’d been fangirling on the forums about Avalon, so some attraction there was obvious. Still, the chick was an 11/10 on a bad day. Selfishly, I felt a little bit of warmth and pride at the notion that she was physically attracted to me.

“Fine,” Glory Girl said, masking her true feelings with a faux teasing smile. “I knew I would end up being the third wheel. Serves me right, making you hang out with me and Gallant so much.” She began rising off of the rooftop, hands on her shapely hips.

“It’s not like that,” Amy weakly replied, her face practically volcanic now.

I further weakened her argument by tossing an arm over her shoulder, causing her entire body to lock up like a scared possum. “Exactly. Just two friends, hangin’ out on a rooftop in a destroyed neighborhood.” I weakened the Aqshy field around me, moving it to encompass both me and Amy in its snuggly warmth, and she practically melted into my side. Shivers that I hadn’t even noticed ceased in an instant.

“Uh-huh,” she smirked, shooting me a knowing look. Before either of us could wave or say anything else, Glory Girl pointed her fist at the sky and shot off at blurring speeds, sending dust and pebbles flying through the air. Within moments she was completely gone, a mere speck in the dark sky.

I let out a low whistle.

“Huh. You were right… she is faster than m- OOF!”

Amy slamming her head into my chest probably hurt her more than it hurt me, but the abruptness and speed of the movement took me off guard. I staggered back half a step, instinctively wrapping my arms around the shorter girl to support her weight. She wasn’t sniffling or anything, and her arms were still in the pockets of her robes, but I couldn’t see her face to gauge any emotions.

Slowly, I raised one hand to pat her comfortingly on the head. We were friends, sure, but we weren’t necessarily close. This whole thing was sort of throwing me for a loop.

“... So, is this a hug or did you knock yourself out tryna headbutt assassinate me?”

“Mmfffadmah.”

“What about the muffin man?” 

Her foot stomped on my toe, but it felt more like a gentle massage than anything else. When she peeled her face away from my chest, raising her hand to grip and remove mine from her head, I was finally privy to the light pink cheeks, the frustrated glare, the scary scowl that definitely wasn’t a pout in disguise. She looked like a grumpy red panda.

“I said that I’m mad at-”

Warm skin pressed against my hand - the punctured one that I’d clenched too hard - and Amy froze again. Her eyes widened to an almost comical degree, cheeks shifting from pink to crimson, and her body shuddered. Violently.

Maybe it was the sleepiness that was plaguing my mind, or the fact that I’d just been distracted by how cute she looked with her freckles, but I did not understand what the fuck was going on until I realized that my hand was hurting just a little bit from her squeezing it in a damned vice grip.

She shuddered again, eyes glazing over and soft lips parting.

I blinked, and realization dawned.

“... Oh. Ohhhh. Fuck, Amy, you good? Uhhh, how many fingers am I holding up?” I shoved four fingers in her flushed face, noting dully that her breathing was coming out in short pants. I didn’t want to cast a healing spell on her unless she actually needed it, but, at the same time, I had no idea what she was seeing in my body. It was why I’d originally tried to keep my hands away from her back at the hospital.

Fortunately, a few seconds later, she blinked and licked her dry lips. I tried to pull my hand away, but she kept it on her head, clenching it even tighter. Her cloudy eyes, tired and compounded by dark circles, found mine.

Pure, unadulterated amazement, confusion, and something else I was not expecting greeted me.

Lust. Whether she knew it or not, she was staring at me with lust in her wide-eyed gaze.

Amy is aroused. Amy is amazed. Amy is curious. Amy is scared. Amy is-

“Amazing…” she murmured, eyes glazing over again as she went half-limp in my arms. “You… Jason, holy fuck. Your body, your cells, your entire genetic structure…it’s beautiful. Perfect. Almost alien. How…”

I forced a crooked grin, resisting the urge to tap my finger against her skull.

“Long story, and I doubt we got that much time, so I’ll just tell ya what I tell everyone who goes diving into my meatsuit: … I’m just built different, babe.”

The deadpanned glare that she shot me was probably one of the most sardonic looks I’d ever received in my life.

______________________________________

OOC:

No rolls this chapter, but we are at 700 CP now!

Apologies if the formatting is a bit off, Patreon's formatting looks weird as fuck on my computer so it's hard to accurate gauge how it's supposed to look.

Amy finally gets a look at Avalon's biology, and... has a mini-orgasm? Her Shard is sending her so many 'he's a green flag' signals right now. Superior Form puts him at the absolute peak, and a little over, what a human being could ever achieve, and then you have so much mana coursing through his body. I can't even imagine what his insides would look like to someone like her.

We'll see the results of that next chapter, along with Avalon meeting Brandish, Laserdream, and Lady Photon! See you guys soon!