Mercantile Violence 1.04

Not understanding other humans was pretty much Rachel’s default state.

This time, however, the confusion seemed to be worse than usual.

"Hey, have you noticed how there’s only white people around?" The man asked, looking to the left and right. "I didn't know dog fighting rings drew such an overwhelmingly white audience."

Of course it has only white people, Rachel thought. She wasn't sure if he was being sarcastic, ironic, or using some other useless verbal code instead of just speaking directly and succinctly. Like she did. Like everyone should.

"It's an Empire Eighty-Eight bar," she said simply.

He looked at her, his brow furrowing as if he didn't quite get it. Rachel figured she must have misunderstood something; maybe he had been telling a joke she didn't grasp.

"Oh. That explains the weird-ass tattoo on the door guy, then... Triple E. Yeah, makes sense." He grinned. "You think there are parahumans in here?"

And that was the exact reason she hadn't immediately spooked him off, growled at him, or ordered Brutus to do so in her stead. Rachel might not understand human speech very well, but she understood dogs well enough. Right now, the man's posture was animalistic enough that even she could understand it. He was excited. Feral.

Dangerous.

Over the speakers, the announcer yelled that the next fight was about to begin. Normally, she would have already attacked by now, but...

"Look, kid. Two choices." The young man turned to face her fully, his eyes obscured by those cheap sunglasses. "Either fuck off... or," he waved his fat, likely stolen wallet right in her face, "you get everything inside of this if you help the dogs escape after I blow their cages open. You can say I threatened you into doing it if you want an excuse later."

Rachel didn't actually need the money—not since she had started working for her new boss—but it would take far too long to explain that. It was much easier to just take the cash and do what she had already intended to do anyway.

Besides, she didn't feel like talking anymore.

The man smiled, revealing a row of straight white teeth, and Rachel found herself instinctively recoiling from the expression.

"Alright then," he said, reaching up and pulling his sunglasses off.

Rachel’s heart stopped for half a second.

She had seen those eyes. Everyone had seen them, projected from that dreadful, towering black helmet. There was no mistaking it. Those glowing, crimson eyes—

"Let's play."

They were the exact same.

"Oh God!"

"My eyes! My eyes!"

"Water! Something, somebody, please—oh God, it burns so much!"

"AAAAARGH!"

...Huh. That was a bit more of a reaction than I had expected. All I did was force them to cry tears that were twenty times saltier than normal. Was it really supposed to have this much of an impact? The baseline, double-saltiness hadn't affected me much beyond a mild sting, so I hadn't anticipated... well, better for me, I guess.

Rolling…

[Bear Manipulation]

|Trash Ability (0.9)|

Allows you to take control of all bears within a 50-meter radius around yourself. Good luck finding that many bears.

[The Straw Hat]

|Trash Item (0.7)|

One Piece — Holds a lot of sentimental value to a certain sun god, but not much material value.

Yeah, no shot there aren't any parahumans here. There was absolutely no way the Grind bar would have instantly filled to the brim twice in a row otherwise.

My suspicion was confirmed a second later. Through the chaotic crowd, I spotted a woman roaring in fury as she tripled in size, towering over the screaming mob while frantically clawing at her streaming eyes. "It's not stopping! FUCK, the pain is still here!"

Nearby, a man was rapidly engulfing himself in jagged steel plates, his only remaining human feature being... ironically enough, his wide, bloodshot eyes peering out from the gaps in his armor. "You're dead meat once I catch you! DEAD MEAT!"

Damn, that's unlucky... for them.

"Lol," I muttered. "Lmao, even."

I glanced over at the hoodie girl. She was busy doing... something to her dogs. Under her touch, the mutts were rapidly swelling in size, growing grotesque bone-spurs and raw, heavy muscle. Neat.

"You a parahuman too?" I asked.

She stiffened, her glare hardening, but I didn't waste time entertaining the thought of fighting her. "Don't worry, they won't attack you."

"...Wha—?"

"Burn: Bear Manipulation. One minute."

...

I coughed awkwardly as absolutely nothing happened. I had been expecting some bears to magically summon themselves out of thin air, but it seemed the upgrade didn't quite work that way. Oh well. We work with what we have.

My arm lashed out to the side, my fingers clamping hard onto the shoulder of a passing, screaming skinhead.

Almost instantly, his flesh warped. His bones cracked and expanded, coarse dark fur erupting from his skin as his shrieks dissolved into a guttural, terrifying roar. Within seconds, I was holding a massive grizzly bear by the scruff of its neck. It immediately lunged forward, mauling every E88 thug in its path. Even after the minute-long Burn inevitably ran out, the beast would keep following the last order I’d hammered into its brain.

"I recommend you hurry up," I told the dog girl.

She didn't need to be told twice. She gave me a curt nod, scrambled onto the back of her newly mutated, monster-sized dog, and rode it crashing through the gates toward the back room to free the other animals.

I suppose I had promised her I'd blow the cages open myself, but...

"RAAAAAAAHHH!!"

The large and growing steel-plated bastard seemed to have noticed me. I had much bigger fish to fry at the moment.

[A Big Rat]

|Trash Familiar (0.3)|

This rat is especially large, like, the size of an entire forearm. I wouldn't want to find that one around my house.

I shook my head to clear the notification, physically swatting the prompt away. I highly doubted a oversized rat was going to be much help against the metal-plated powerhouse currently tearing up through the fuckload of bears I was throwing in his general direction. I tried to take a page out of the dog-girl's book and boost my creations beyond their initial form, but while I technically possessed the power to do so, the process was way too time-consuming to be of any real use in a chaotic brawl.

The massive, wolf-like storm of blades and steel hooks barreled in my direction, shredding both my bears and whatever unfortunate Nazi stood in its path. Fortunately, the metal bastard clearly still couldn't see very well; he lost track of my position the second I started moving. The giant woman seemed to be having similar vision issues, though the bears that managed to latch onto her legs were dealing far less damage than I would have liked.

"Burn: Roentgenium Manipulation. Ten seconds."

"...Shit."

This was the problem with low burn times. You never knew how the power was going to mutate.

I sprinted toward the towering, still-growing woman. She seemed to have recovered from the eye-burning salt tears just enough to start squashing any bear that dared to claw at her ankles. I seriously doubted I'd be able to hold onto her long enough to turn her into a bear myself without getting crushed like a bug, so this was my best shot.

I leaped, scrambling up her massive frame, and slammed my hand against her head—damn, those were some giant tits—and double fuck. I was whatever-its-name-was-limited.

Two seconds left.

No time to think. I could only materialize the super-dense, highly radioactive substance within a tight ten-centimeter radius of my body, or else it would simply break down. Manifesting it inside her head and shredding her brains was unfortunately not an option.

I shoved my hand straight toward her eye and—

"AAAAAAAAAAAHHH!"

The agonizing shriek nearly blew my eardrums out. I barely managed to dodge her massive, flailing hand by the skin of my teeth, dropping back down to the floor.

Fuck, that was almost useless, I cursed, watching her clutch her bleeding face. I hadn't managed to pierce anything vital enough to scramble her brain, so I was going to have to find another way to bring her down.

Rolling…

[Lactation]

|Common Trait (1.2)|

You are capable of lactating; the quality of the milk you produce scales with your physical stats and possesses unique properties depending on your active traits.

Surely you jest.

My utter dumbfoundment was so absolute that I almost missed the screeching mass of metal hooks barreling right toward me, likely due to hearing the cry of its companion. I probably would have lost an arm if a massive, bone-armored monster of a dog hadn't slammed directly into the wolf's side, knocking the metal beast off course.

"Brutus, back!" the girl barked.

The massive beast immediately scrambled back to her side. She was now surrounded by a small pack of terrified, scarred dogs that had been freed from their cages, all of them instinctively lowering their heads as Brutus approached.

She looked over at me and gave me a firm nod. I nodded back, hoping I looked as cool and radical as I had in my daydreams, before casually turning my back and waving a hand over my shoulder as I walked away.

God, I've always wanted to do that.

"Burn: Lactation. One hundred seconds."

At first, I had briefly considered a one-second Burn, but I had absolutely no intention of getting stuck with leaky, dripping nipples for the rest of my life if I got unlucky. One hundred seconds was a safe bet.

"Whaat the f-fuuuck—!"

Behind me, the giant woman let out a pathetic sniffle. I turned my head slightly. Was she crying? Holy shit, she was crying! She was frantically pawing at her rapidly leaking breasts, sobbing in sheer, bewildered shock. Theoretically, the trick was working. I had guided the Burn's boost so that the milk would possess restorative properties, which in turn drained the life force and energy of the one producing it. I would have attempted to drink some of it myself—if not for the physical boost, then purely for the sheer novelty of the experience—but alas, time was pressing.

In between blinks, the image of another buxom blond woman superimposed itself upon the giant one. For a moment—and only for a moment—a hint of hesitation gripped my heart. It died due to the same circumstances that gave it birth. Similarity. The physical similarity between Sherrel and this giant woman brought forth the pity. The situational similarity—Sherrel's chest covered with a white liquid, her face dripping, though not with tears and snot as the woman in front of me was, surrounded by bottom-tier trash, trash she had invited, for that woman had been no victim—it brought only repulsion.

Today, the giant woman would die. Tomorrow, Sherrel Bailey—Squealer, I remembered the name with disgust—would follow. I would have peace then, find Heaven then, surely. Because if not, if not—

"Say your prayers," a metallic rasp grated, unaware of the irony its words carried.

The beast crashed down directly in front of me, his vision problems seemingly resolved. I welcomed him with open arms. Welcomed the Violence that he brought with him, that would let me move from the dark Hell my mind was drifting towards into the bright light of Heaven.

"Burn: Straw Hat."

I grinned at the wolf.

Ten seconds.

I felt... free.

Burning Traits

When a Trait is Burnt, its baseline benefits are typically increased proportionally in accordance with standard Burning rules.

Under specific circumstances, the user can choose to project the Trait onto opponents to produce detrimental effects. In these scenarios, the Trait’s innate characteristics do not transform into something inherently negative; rather, they are simply applied in a harmful manner. The precision and success of this hostile application are heavily dependent on the chosen Burn Time and the level of Control it grants.

Example 1: A speed-boosting Trait can be targeted to accelerate only an opponent's cognitive processing speed, possibly driving them insane.

Example 2: The [Salty Tears] Trait can be projected outward to force adversaries to cry torrents of highly concentrated, blinding saline.

Trait Cinders are generally straightforward, leaving behind a permanent, minor boost related to the burnt Trait's domain.

When sub-10 second Burnings result in Cinders with negative side effects (demerits), these biological complications are significantly harder to resolve when compared to equivalent penalties left behind by Burning an Item. A Trait Cinder that permanently enhances the user's sight is tied to the self, meaning the enhancement would likely persist even if the user's physical eyes were completely replaced. Conversely, an Item Cinder (such as the glowing red eyes left by the [Dread Helm]) is tied to the physical vessel; replacing the eyes entirely would render the glowing effect irrelevant and remove it.