What age was he comfortable dying at? This was the question that he pondered on as he sat in the dark room. Because on the one hand, it would be nice to live long enough to see his grandkids be born, at the very least. And on the other hand…Armageddon was just two short years away if he didn't kill Jack Slash soon. And if he did kill Jack Slash soon(which was the plan), he would only have bought the world may be up to ten more years, or at least until Kevin Norton bit it.
…he should also probably tell someone about the fact that Scion's best friend was probably going to die soon.
Anyway, back to his powers: he figured that he was willing to give up at the most, twenty more years of his life. That meant that he would die when he was sixty-five years old. That… wasn't too bad, honestly. Sixty-five years was a long time. If he ended up having kids, at the very least, he'd be able to watch them grow up. And didn't old people start whining about things like arthritis and bad backs around that time? There was no need to spend the latter years of his life in pain(especially since he was pretty sure that there was a power that would negate that, like Eternal Youth, or something similar). So, yeah, he was willing to spend twenty years of life tonight.
That meant two god tiers, twenty high tiers, two hundred and forty mid tiers, and one thousand and forty-three low tiers, depending on what he decided to spend on. So now, all he had to do was think carefully about what he needed.
So, number one, defense: he needed powers that defended against mind control, body control, emotional control, and precognition. Human Masters like Cherish and Regent were some of the most dangerous people around, and DC and Marvel had shown how annoying it was to have a good guy get mind-controlled, so having weapons that counteracted those kinds of Master powers. Mind Control resistance would help him against opponents like Valefor and the Simurgh(though, he couldn't remember if her song was hypnotic, or if it just straight-up messed with your neurons). He was hoping that Resistance to Precognition would help him avoid Thinkers in Watchdog, as well as Contessa.
The last thing he needed was her hunting him down.
Oh, and maybe some kind of Cold Reading Resistance Power that made him immune to Tattletale as well. She would be a problem if she ever laid eyes on him.
Now, what else?
Continuing on with defense, he needed to have some way to avoid taking damage: either some kind of durability power that let him tank hits or some kind of intangibility power that made blows pass through him. A combat precog power wouldn't hurt either, and neither would a power that would actually show him how to fight back.
With offense, he had to ask himself what he truly needed: Overwhelming Power or Variety?
Both had their uses. Look at it from a Batman vs Superman scenario. Superman has super strength, speed, eyesight, ice breath, heat vision, and flight. All of them were formidable powers that made him a physical powerhouse. Even if he didn't buy the Superman power, he could easily buy a bunch of powers that could replicate his abilities. However, those powers became well-known and predictable, and people started to find workarounds for them. And he wasn't even sure if Scion's stilling beam wouldn't find a way to just destroy a Kryptonian's physiology.
Batman, on the other hand, had variety; he had different weapons, Batsuits, contingency plans, and weapons for several different situations. If you got him once, you couldn't do it the same way again. His bat suits had given him enhanced strength, invisibility, laser beams, nanite control, and whatever the hell it was that the Final Batsuit did. Plus, if you looked at Golden Morning, Alexandria had gotten torn apart by Scion. Literally. And she was the closest thing they had to a Kryptonian in this world. Eidolon and Valkyerie, however, had tag-teamed the Golden Bastard until he'd felt the need to take out Eidolon, and even then, it hadn't stopped him from becoming a nuisance when he became one of Valkyerie's shades.
So, for offense, he'd have to look for non-typical powers: dual element abilities, space-bending powers, things that controlled concepts like time and reality in one way or another. Esoteric powers, magic, even, if he could get his hands on some magical abilities(which he could definitely do since Apparition was a power he had found).
Trump powers were a necessity; being able to steal, enhance or weaken powers would almost certainly be a boon. How many parahumans actually knew how to fight without their powers? Hatchetface was seen as the Cape Boogeyman for a reason. A Danger Sense ability would be really cool too since it would allow him to dodge and anticipate attacks. If Tinker's powers were somehow on the table, then he definitely had to get some as well. Shaker powers would help him control the battlefield, and Stranger powers would help him avoid being detected.
He groaned as he looked at the bookshelves. The giant bookshelves with hundreds of books on each shelf, each one containing a tantalizing power of its own. This was gonna take hours.
"Man, this would be easier if I could just ask for the damn books that I need."
The light flickered. He froze.
When the light became steady, Idris blinked in disbelief as he saw a veritable mound of books neatly arranged at the table. When he picked one up and opened it, his surprise grew even further.
Psychic Barrier: The user is able to conjure a barrier around his mind that stops Psychics from manipulating him, either emotionally or physically. However, an extremely powerful Phsycic will still be able to break through, albeit after enduring a psychic pain equal to that of the users, as the shield is defensive in nature, but offensive when provoked.
Cost: 1 Month
However, that surprise soon turned to annoyance and anger.
"Are you telling me, after all this time, this place has a f*cking search function? Motherf-"
******************************************************************************
When you looked up the type of criminals that resided in Brockton Bay, there were actually a lot more than canon had suggested. Of course, the Big Three were the Empire, The ABB, and Coil(he should probably take care of that guy really soon.), but there were a bunch of tiny gangs that sprung up every few weeks, trying to establish territory, before they became enough of a nuisance that the big gangs sent someone to take care of them. For the ABB side, there were the sons of Yang, the Black Monsoons, and the Kim Dragons. Those were the current gangs that were trying to usurp Lung, anyway. According to PHO, Oni Lee never let those gangs live for longer than a month, and it was already at the three-week mark.
On the E88 side, there was the Dark Anarchy, the Revolution, and the Kings of Prosper. Apparently, what the E88 liked to do was try and assimilate these smaller gangs, see if they were strong enough to join the current roster, and if they weren't, then they were shipped off to other cities where they needed an E88 outpost. Thankfully, the PRT was always vigilant about these capes and usually had them packed up within weeks of them being sighted. According to the rumors on PHO, the ones that refused to give in to the Empire were shipped over to their benefactors in Gelleschaft. Dark stuff, but not unexpected.
What was unexpected was that Lung had a much bigger influence than he'd thought. The man wasn't just limited to Brockton Bay; there were ABB sightings in places like Boston, New York, and even LA, Alexandria's Playground. The gang wasn't big enough to be the threat it was in other cities, but apparently every few months, Lung liked to travel to his satellite locations and give the locals there a reminder of who he was. And for some reason, the Triumvirate barely responded to his attacks, only showing up when he had finished his rampages.
Interesting, if you didn't know that Alexandria was probably the reason why Lung was given such off-hand treatment. She probably wanted to stay on his good side, in preparation for Golden Morning.
Coil, on the other hand, didn't have any competitors for his territory. His men were seen constantly patrolling, and the few parahumans that tried to start something were almost instantly taken care of. Same as it was in canon, people didn't know if Coil was a parahuman or just a really smart and rich guy, but the people who lived there said that it was one of the safest places in Brockton, and they always got warnings if someone like Hookwolf or Oni Lee was coming close. Something that he didn't remember from canon, but not that big of a deal. Skidmark and Squaler were often seen with henchmen, but they were considered independent villains rather than a fully-fledged gang.
An interesting fact he had run into was a major change to what he remembered: Uber and Leet weren't streamers or gamers here. If what PHO was telling him was true, they were this world version of Batman and Nightwing, Uber being the open-friendly badass that could kick anyone's butt in single combat, whilst Leet was considered the mysterious Tinker who only ever built megaprojects that were capable of dealing huge amounts of damage. Uber was often seen fighting street-level criminals, but Leet only deigned to show himself in Endbringer battles and major confrontations in the city. The last sighting of him had been in the Boston Games, where he had apparently effortlessly defeated the Teeth and incapacitated the Butcher, before killing Blasto's Woad Giant with some kind of laser weapon. So, definitely a major change.
There was something going on here that he didn't quite get yet; The descriptions of the powers of certain parahumans were a bit different than he remembered, and it made him suspect that canon events would be different here, especially with the change in Uber and Leet's modus operandi. Could he even rely on his future knowledge anymore?
He was engrossed in his research, but not to the point that he didn't notice Taylor quietly pulling up a chair and sitting down next to him. He had come to the local library to come and use the Wifi, but meeting Taylor here was a welcome surprise
"Hi," she said softly. In lieu of a response, he reached over and brought her into a one-handed hug. After an awkwardly stiff minute, she relaxed slightly and leaned into it, laying her head on his shoulder.
Another thing he had discovered: Taylor was touch starved. Something he should have expected, considering the only touch she had received were pushes and shoves at school, and he didn't know enough about the Hebert household to know if she and her dad were comfortable showing physical affection. So he was once again starting small; little half hugs that she could easily back out of, gentle hand squeezes of assurance, and even light shoulder touches. All things that she could easily back out of if she got spooked, but easy enough to reciprocate if she wanted. And whilst she had been stiff and unmoving at first, now, she was at least returning the gestures of light affection.
He didn't know exactly why he was doing this; He was fairly sure that just introducing Taylor to Lisa in some capacity would just solve this problem. Maybe she wouldn't get involved with the Undersiders, but Lisa would probably try and befriend her, if only because Taylor reminded her of her brother. And yet…he wanted to help her. He wanted to see her smile. He wanted to keep Taylor safe from the parahuman bullsh*t that had encompassed her canon self's life.
Which was hilarious, becuase if anyone could actually handle the life of a parahuman, it was Skitter. Just three months with the Undersiders had turned them from a group of escape artists to a group that could contend with organizations like Accord and the Protectorate. But what it had cost her had been enormous. And he wanted to help this Taylor keep some of her innocence and naivete of the world she lived in, to let her avoid paying those kinds of costs.
"What are you doing?" she asked, her eyes on his laptop.
"Checking out the gang's situations. I never knew that Lung had that kind of reach, or that the Empire had this many parahumans. To beat them all, the PRT would have to field the Protectorate and the Wards just to have an even fight."
"If they'd even bother to do it in the first place," Taylor muttered, a sliver of bitterness creeping into her voice.
"What, you don't believe the Protectorate is gonna eventually roust these guys?"
He knew, and he knew the real reasons why, but he wanted to see what the average Brocktonite thought of the situation.
"I'm not blind. I know the Protectorate is the only reason why there isn't open gang warfare in the streets, and that they've kept the city standing for years now. But I also know that rich areas are what they defend first and that the places near the docks aren't even a priority. Meanwhile, the agents take over those areas and make everyone suffer. And the worst part about it is, a lot of people join them becuase they need money to feed their families, not because they believe in the f*cked up ideologies of the E88 and the ABB. My dad, he's the Head of Hiring at the Dockworkers Association, and he's met Empire gun runners who hate the E88 ideology but need money to pay for their kid's tuition and school uniforms, and he's met ABB drug dealers who do it because a lot of people in this city assume all Asians are ABB, and don't want to get caught up in Lung's business."
"Legend could probably clean this place up in a day."
"He already tried," Taylor explained, surprising him. "Back in 2005, Legend went on TV and announced that he was sick of the E88 persecuting minority groups and that he was gonna take care of them. He ended up spending an entire week in Brockton, but the E88 went to ground, and let him capture a handful of foot soldiers and the few members of the Empire that were acting out and ignoring Kaiser's orders. Then he had to go back to New York because the Butcher started making trouble, and his team couldn't handle it without him. How did you forget that? It was on the news for months; people kept calling it the most inefficient form of grandstanding ever."
"Must've slipped my mind," he said, confused. Wasn't Brockton under the Feudalism Project? And whilst he did remember something about Legend coming to town from his variant's memory, it was incredibly fuzzy, and he didn't remember the details in full.
What was going on here?
"Do you think anyone can fix Brockton?"
She snorted at that. "Fixing Brockton is going to take more than some guys in spandex beating each other up. We need more jobs that don't end with signing away your soul to a gang. Getting rid of the Boat Graveyard would mean that Brockton Bay could be a shipping port again, and we could get the ferry going like it used to. I mean, Dad said that the water used to be clean enough that you could swim in it, and there used to be people fishing there on Saturdays. Cleaning the beach would also be nice; people don't go there anymore after a bunch of kids got stuck with drug needles one day. It's sort of turned into a place where people can go shoot up with a nice view," she said. "Parahuman isn't responsible for every one of Brockton's problems, but they certainly aren't helping."
"Well, they help with the gang situation, at least," he argued.
"There hasn't been a single parahuman who's actually helped against the gang situation for more than a month, hero or villain," Taylor shot back. Then she blinked. "Well, except Halogen."
"Halogen?"
"You know, Halogen, the vigilante a few years back?"
The name rang a bell inside his head, and blurry images of a tv screen and a picture of someone in bright yellow power armor flashed through his mind.
"The Tinker?" he said hesitantly.
"Yeah. My dad actually talked to them a few times. They scared the crap out of all the villains for about six months. Their power was really cool, they were able to make these little holographic traps in certain places, and they used images of horror monsters. So if you were an E88 member, and you went into a well-known white supremacist bar, as soon as you walked through the threshold, and boom, Jason Vorhees was standing in front of you, about to chop you down. I think the reason she lasted so long was the fact that she scared the crap out of the foot soldiers, and they didn't have Victor back then. Six months is the longest that I'd heard an independent hero lasting, and she still scared a lot of people, even after the Empire caught her."
They moved on to other things, but Idris couldn't stop thinking about it.
Fear, huh? Well, it worked for Batman, didn't it?
******************************************************************************
You know, he was actually a bit embarrassed at how long it took him to realize that the bullying had shifted to him, but in his defense, he had thought the guys at school were getting pissy becuase of gang tensions, not because of a targeted attack on him. So what if he got shoved in the hall? He was way stronger than the average teenager, so a shove back often sent someone flying on their ass and had the hallway laughing at them, not him. So what if someone knocked his lunch out of his hand? The school food was sh*t anyway, and a nice knuckle sandwich meant that at least somebody got fed in the encounter. The best thing about Winslow boys was that they operated on a simple code of honor: Anyone who cried to the teachers was a bitch. That meant all fights were kept strictly between the students. It was only when his clothes kept going missing after gym class, and his bag kept getting filled with juice that he realized what was happening. That was such a Trio move that it was as timeless as it was stupid. And it was an easy fix, too; All he had to do was go to the bathroom with his bag, Apparate back home, change before PE, leave his back, apparate back, finish the increasingly physical contact sports that nearly divulged into assault, go back to the bathroom, apparate back home for a quick shower and a change of clothes, and voila! No harassment. Madison only tried putting pencil shavings in his hair once, and he put an end to that bullsh*t when he tripped her up in the halls and broke her nose.
He was a heavy believer in equality, and he made sure that Emma's little girl-boss crew knew it.
Somehow, Taylor seemed to think that this was her fault.
"I'm sorry," she said one day when they were eating lunch on the roof. "I knew this would happen, but I thought they would take more time, and focus on me. If you just stopped helping me-"
"Taylor, the last thing I am going to do is admit defeat to a bunch of witches whose worst enemy is a makeup wipe and a hangnail," he said flatly. "Besides, I like spending time with you. You're worth it."
The guilty smile that crossed her face was confirmation enough for him that he should continue. And yet as fun as it was punking out the local Hitler Youth group, it was starting to get dangerous. On one occasion, someone tried to push him down a flight of stairs, and if it wasn't for his Peak Human body, he would have been hurt. Another occasion saw him nearly getting jumped after school, with Mr. Gladly's presence, bizarrely enough, being the thing that scared them off.
Guys couldn't take being beaten so many times in a row, especially by someone they viewed as weaker than them. It was doubly worse when it was in public, and in front of girls. Things were reaching a breaking point in school, and if it got to the point that it would involve weapons(and let's be honest, it would), then he'd be forced to use powers.
It looked like he'd have to deal with the Trio sooner rather than later.
**********************************************************************
He was back in the room, this time to ponder something that he had idly wondered about ever since he had come here the first time.
There was a power missing.
An ability that a lot of the physiologies from the God Tier bookshelf should have had, or should have been a God Tier ability of its own.
Where was Immortality?
And if not Immortality, what about Longetitivty or Increased Life Span? There were powers like Life Force Drain, but all it did was take years off of people's lives and convert them into energy that he could use to make himself faster and stronger. It didn't increase the number of years he had. When he had come for his selections of powers earlier, he had been focused on looking for the powers he had described but had kept an eye out for anything that could give him more years, and had seen nothing.
So now, he was here to finally find the answer.
If it weren't for the forbidding feeling in the air, he'd almost be excited.
"I'd like a book on Immortality," he said to the empty room.
He waited for the light to flicker, and for a pile of books to appear on the table.
Nothing.
"Uh, I'd like a book on Immortality, please?"
Silence.
"Okay, maybe not the right one. Um, I'd like a book on Life Extension Powers."
Still nothing.
"Um, can I get a book on Eternal Youth, Semi Immortality, Temporal Aging, hell, anything about Immortality?"
The light flickered, and a small book with a ragged cover appeared on the table.
"Only one? Well, I'm not going to complain. Let's see what you got in here," he said eagerly, opening the book.
Only to frown in confusion as he realized that the pages were empty.
"Wait, what? Why is the book empty-"
He paused, nearly dropping the book as he saw words suddenly appear on the page in a splash of red ink.
The User already possesses a form of Immortality.
…what?
"I do?" he asked curiously. In response, more words flowed onto the page.
The User was granted Contracted Immortality. The User is allowed to sell portions of his life in return for powers. That means that until the User is at their destined death date, they are functionally Immortal. No weapon can kill you. No man can end you. No god can smite you. No matter what happens to your physical shell, you will still be alive. You are destined to die on a certain date and only on that date. The date may be changed as the User purchases more powers, but your destiny remains unchanged.
"Isn't there anything I can do to extend my lifespan?"
Most powers featured a way to munchkin their abilities, so this one should too, right?
Desist from this. Any more attempts to break the contract will result in a penalty.
That sounded ominous.
"What kind of penalty?" he asked curiously. If he could endure whatever this punishment was, then maybe-
Deduction of a random number of years. Further violations will result in the removal of a decade.
His heart nearly stopped. A deduction of years? The removal of a decade? Losing that much time just to find a way to break whatever this contract was…no. No, it wasn't worth it.
Are you satisfied with your answers? The book wrote, almost mockingly.
"Yeah, I get it. No voiding of the contract. I promise I won't try and get more years."
And despite his earnest answer, he couldn't help but feel that he had just lied.
****************************************************************************
Dozu was late. He wasn't exactly sure what he was late for, but he was late for it.
He was a guard for Lung. Well, not literally. He guarded Lung's things, like his drugs, his guns, and very occasionally, his money. He was paid to look tough and hold a gun, but he'd never actually been in a gunfight. The most he'd been in was fisticuffs with some Empire members, and being that he was six feet tall and almost as muscled as Lung, he usually won in those fights. The main thing was that he looked big and threatening, and that was enough for Lung.
The fact that he got enough money from this job to support his family was also something that couldn't be sneezed at.
He didn't know that he'd be running toward the worst night of his life.
When he reached the abandoned apartment complex(a pretty good hiding place for drugs, and guns, rather than random warehouses like the Empire did. Which cop was gonna have the balls to raid a place this deep in ABB territory?), he noticed something...odd.
The lights were off. All of them.
There was supposed to be one single lantern on the fifth window to the left on the highest floor. That was the sign that had been agreed upon, to show that everyone was there and ready.
…but Dae-Jun was the one in charge of the lamp, and he was a lazy bastard. The f*cker had probably forgotten. With a chuckle, he shook his head and opened the door-
And froze. Not in fear, shock, or anything like that.
He froze because his body would not let him move.
Even as his breath caught and his heart began to speed up, his body moved through the threshold, awkwardly and woodenly. It was like a child, slowly learning how to puppet a new toy, going through the motions to see what worked. And it hurt. His blood rushed through his body, writhing beneath his skin like a snake beneath the grass, forcing him forward as his bones protested.
And yet, with every step, his body began to move smoother and smoother. By the time he had reached the staircase, he was no longer walking like a crab, and when he reached the second floor, he walked like a man, albeit a man with a limp on both legs.
Upon reaching the fifth landing, you would not have realized that he was being piloted by another being. And that's what this had to be: a parahuman
He walked towards an open door, the apartment where the lamp was supposed to be. Beneath his panic, he noticed that as his body entered the apartment, what little control he had over his body disappeared completely. His heart began to calm despite his wishes, and the dull rush of blood was a roar in his mind.
There was a man in the living room, sitting in the dilapidated armchair like a king. He wore a dark mask with glowing green eyes and a hoody with electric blue lines covering it. That was all he could see. Around him, bowing like servants before their master, were his friends. Dae-Jun, Chozen, Kai, and Natalie, all of them frozen like statues, their eyes wide and moving back and forth frantically.
So they were trapped as he was.
"So, you are Dozu, correct?" the man said softly. "It's nice to meet you."
Oh, god. The cape knew his name.
Suddenly., his jaw fell loose, and he realized that he had been given control of his mouth.
"P-please, d-don't kill me-"
And then his teeth clicked as the control was taken from him.
"Kill you? No, no, Dozu, no one is dying tonight, I can promise you that," the man said, his voice like silk. "I won't touch a single hair on your heads. I will, of course, be liberating you of all these nasty drugs. You can't be bringing such filth into my city. You understand that, right?"
He was forced to nod, and a tear left his eye.
He honestly couldn't tell if it was because he was crying, or the man had forced him to.
"Good, good. For me, this is your first offense. I won't kill you. I just wanted to bring you all here for one reason; I need you to send a message, and then I'll go."
There was a grunt next to him, and he realized that Dae-Jun had been given control of his mouth.
Dont bestupiddontbestupiddontbestupid.
"f*ck your message and f*ck you, you eerie prick," Dea-Jun spat, a manic tone in his voice.
He's killed us all.
"When the Dragon hears about this-ack!"
A choking noise came from Dae-Jun, and Dozu watched in shock as indents began to appear on his friend's throat, as his face turned red, then blue, before reaching a dangerous purple, all in the span of a few seconds.
"Careful," the man said, his voice like silk. "I can only take so much disrespect. But I'm sure the rest of you know that, right?"
As one, they nodded.
"Good, good. Now, the message itself is simple; it's the person you're delivering it to that is the problem."
He and the others were made to look directly at the mask, and he could see how the glow from the eyes seemed to increase.
"I want you to tell Lung that I am coming for him. And that nothing will stop me from ending the ABB."
A piercing pain drilled through his head, and the last thing he saw, was the man getting up from the chair.
And as he did so, a sliver of moonlight from the closed curtains fell upon his mask, and Dozu could see it clearly. But rather than clarify things, it only made them even more confusing.
Eidolon?
