Mercantile Violence 1.05

"Burn: Straw Hat."

Ten seconds.

The world slowed to a crawl. I felt stronger. Faster. Better.

And above all else—freer.

I leaped, launching myself toward the high ceiling of the warehouse in an instant. Intellectually, I knew I was too far away to land a hit on him. My instincts, however, were telling my intellect fuck off and eat shit, so that was that.

I snapped my leg downward. To my delight, it elongated wildly, stretching out to hammer the steel beast deep into the concrete floor below. It didn’t deal much damage, I sensed, but that wasn’t the objective. I just needed the fucker out of the picture for a few seconds.

[Magician's Hat]

|Common Item (1.0)|

A classic showman magician's hat, whenever you reach into this hat, you are able to pull out a rabbit or a dove. But only one at a time, and you have to reach in to do it.

As gravity claimed me and I began to fall, I wound my arm far back behind me, feeling the muscle and bone stretch and coil. I felt a sudden, stupid urge to scream out a cool attack name.

"Stretch Handgun!"

...nah. That didn't sound right. Not that it mattered. A sickening, heavy crack echoed through the warehouse as my rubberized fist plowed directly into the giant woman's neck.

[Pepsi Man]

|Trash Familiar (0.9)|

Pepsi - Pepsi Man, gives Pepsi whenever he can! When summoned Pepsi arrives at your location through any means before delivering everyone in the location a fresh can of Pepsi before disappearing. 8-hour cooldown. Note: This familiar is not sponsored by the Pepsi Corporation.

You've slain one host of Scale Differential.

One? Fuck you mean one?

I quickly tapped one of the possible reward options just to clear the clutter from my field of vision—something about boosting the range of a Burning power or some such—just in time to see the steel beast hauling himself out of the crater I'd punted him into.

He looked completely deranged, his gaze flickering from the lifeless body of his giant partner over to me.

Well, the giant part was quickly regressing. It seemed capes like her returned to their normal baseline when they kicked the bucket.

Speaking of regressing—the ten-second Burn expired, and my body instantly snapped back, losing its seemingly endless elasticity. My bones solidified, physics began to matter again and the heavy chains of reality clamped down on my soul once more.

"Hm. Would you consider letting this whole matter slide in exchange for a fresh Pepsi?"

A rage-filled, metallic roar was the only answer I got.

Alright then, Plan B.

"BURN!" I yelled, thrusting my finger straight at him, watching with satisfaction as his mass of grinding blades tensed in expectation. "HOLY SHIT, WHAT IS THAT?!"

I shifted my finger to point wildly behind him—and the bastard actually turned to look. Holy shit, he actually looked.

I didn't waste a millisecond. I took off sprinting straight toward the bar.

"Burn: A Big Rat." Thirty seconds.

Holy crap, that is a huge fucking rat.

The creature materialized—a mutated monstrosity dripping with sizzling, acidic drool. I held no delusions that it could actually stop Hookwolf, but it didn't need to win. It just needed to buy me enough time to set up my next move.

"Burn: Drunk Driver." One hundred seconds.

I snatched a bottle of whatever was sitting on the counter—ah, fuck, it was the jalapeño-piss liquor that had made me cry earlier—and chugged it like it was ice-cold water. Normally, it would take a while to get proper wasted, even if you chugged three whole bottles in a row (unless you were doing it the butt chugging way, or so I'd been told), but my newly Burnt trait bypassed the waiting period entirely, directing the boost to give me the ability to instantly flood my brain with peak, functional inebriation.

A dull ping vibrated in my head—oh, the rat's dead.

It hadn't even survived twenty seconds, let alone the full thirty. Instinctually, I knew that a summoned entity would normally dissolve into ash once its Burn duration ended, but luck favored me. Because Hookwolf had slaughtered it mid-Burn, the carcass remained solid, forcing him to wade directly through a giant pile of acid-soaked rat entrails that entangled his spinning metal blades and bought me a few more precious seconds.

"Alright, what's the play?" I asked my newly enhanced mind, waiting for my booze-fueled tactical instinct to give me an answer.

The response echoed back in a slurred, supremely confident inner voice.

Employ the Joestar Technique.

"Huh?"

You have zero powers capable of stopping this guy right now, and at your current Roll parameters, you aren't gonna pull one in time.

Rolling (Min: 0; Average: 0.799; Max: 1.598)…

[Spray Water]

|Common Ability (1.2)|

Allows you to unleash a spray of water from your hands like a showerhead or a hose. Useful for putting out fires and dousing people.

Case in point. Also the feds are probably gonna come soon, if they aren't here already.

"So..."

Run, bitch! RUN!

"God fucking damn it!"

Along with those shameful orders came others, because there was no way in hell I was outrunning that wolf-looking asshole on my own two feet.

"Pepsi Man!"

For basically the first time since this whole thing was dropped on me, I was actually using a power the way it was originally intended.

I burst through the side door into the cool night air, my body moving with a fluid, liquid grace it had no right possessing. At any other point in my life, I would’ve been exhilarated by the sheer physical skill, but considering I was being actively pursued by a metallic abomination—and that, just seconds ago, I had been made of literal rubber—it felt comparatively underwhelming.

Now, where the fuck are you, Pepsi Man?! Buy me a few seconds at least!

"Hello there!"

The brick wall beside me violently exploded outward as a different (thank fuck) metallic figure smashed through the masonry. He was humanoid with a lean, athletic build, wearing a smooth, fishbowl-like helmet that was completely opaque, hiding his face entirely. His full-body suit was divided asymmetrically into shiny silver and deep blue, split right down the middle by the iconic Pepsi globe. A thick, heavy metallic chain dangled around his neck.

"Now then! Who here is in need of a Pepsi?!"

"HIM!" I yelled, pointing wildly back at Hookwolf, and went back to running—or tried to, at least. With a grip that defied all physical logic, the mascot clutched my arm and yanked me to a dead halt.

MOTHERFUCKER?!

"Your altruism is outstanding!" the mascot boomed, laughing heartily. "I must not let it go unrewarded!"

An ice-cold can of Pepsi materialized in his hand, which he promptly shoved into my grip. I glanced back nervously, only to see Hookwolf charging out of the rubble. He was caked in viscera and gore, thick blood sliding slowly over his jagged, vibrating blades. Somewhere in the background, I heard someone retch, but I couldn't be arsed to see who it was. Not like they were the ones that thing was mad at.

Clutching the soda can, I began to slowly step backward.

"Ah! The final customer of this trip!"

Hookwolf didn't wait to hear another word, lunging forward with a mighty, reverberating roar—only to instantly freeze dead mid-air.

"What a bothersome customer!"

I turned on my heel and sprinted for my life.

What the hell, Pepsi Man can stop time? How is this Trash Tier?!

My breath hit my throat in ragged gasps as I burst into hysterical laughter, my heart hammering like a war drum against my ribs.

Yeah, fuck drugs. This right here HAS to be how a man reaches Heaven.

[Tax Evasion]

|Common Skill (1.0)|

You are a master of tax evasion. If you desire it, the government will not see a single particle of your money beyond what you choose to let them see. Grants full mastery over money laundering, asset obfuscation, and loophole navigation.

A sharp mental ping informed me that Pepsi Man had vanished—presumably after placing a fresh can of Pepsi into Hookwolf's frozen hands or something equally absurd. Holy fuck, what is this guy capable of if I—

"Burn: Pep—blrgh."

My tongue tied itself into a knot, preventing me from finishing the command.

Pepsi Man is on cooldown and cannot be Burnt until the timer expires.

Cooldown remaining: 7 hours, 59 minutes, 52 seconds.

...Fuck.

Wait, shouldn't I be hearing Hookwolf tearing down the street after me?

I slowed my sprint to a heavy trot, taking long, greedy gulps of air. There were sounds of conflict echoing through the afternoon, but they were far further away than I would have predicted—more like the chaotic racket of a full-scale cape fight than a single cape giving chase.

A strange wave of disappointment settled over me. Sure, I didn't actually have a reliable way to beat the Nazi blender right now, but as the adrenaline evaporated, taking my violent high with it, the world seemed to drain of its color.

God, I want a cigarette. That shouldn't count against my 'no drugs' vow, right?

I wandered aimlessly through the darkening streets, only realizing how much time had passed when I noticed the night sky settling in completely.

"Fuck." I pursed my lips. It was a habit I wouldn't have minded leaving behind alongside my chemical dependency. Dissociating to the point where hours bled away without notice was a useful survival mechanism when waiting for the next fix. It was far less so now.

"Thank your gods, Skidmark. Heaven has granted you another day on this cursed earth," I muttered to the empty air, though I couldn't fight the smirk tugging at my lips. The guy was a funny fucker when he wasn't being a complete asshole. I had made some half decent memories with the man in the past. Shame about how it would all be ending.

I kept walking until the bright, greasy neon lights of a fast-food joint caught my eye, and I slipped inside. The cashier cast a deeply suspicious look at my clothes—oh, right. I hadn't bothered cleaning off the dirt, blood, and sweat after the fight. I probably smelled like a walking trash can too.

I called out a few combo numbers, patted my pockets, and... ah. Right. I had given my entire wallet to the dog girl.

The girl behind the register grew visibly more tense with every second I spent frantically searching my empty pockets. Did she think I was reaching for a gun to stick the place up?

Suddenly, a soft hand tapped me on the shoulder and—

Holy shit. It's HER.

"How about I pay, and you keep me company for a bit?" she offered, her voice smooth and even. "I don't particularly enjoy eating alone."

The absolute best response my brain could construct was a muted, unmanly "Uh-huh," accompanied by a desperate nod.

She was dressed in sportier attire this time, a fine sheen of sweat glistening on her skin that smelled... strangely, unnaturally good.

We waited for our food in heavy, agonizing silence—or at least, I felt it was agonizing. She looked completely relaxed, leaning back against a stone pillar with effortless composure.

Once the food arrived, we carried the trays to an isolated booth near the back.

If she actively approached me, that has to mean she's interested, right? Or am I being way too desperate? Maybe this is just normal polite human interaction and my socially stunted brain is making shit up where there is nothing.

Gods, I just fought Hookwolf today! Why the fuck am I this nervous about talking to a woman? I literally killed a woman earlier tonight! What the hell is wrong with me?!

"You know, if you don't talk, it kind of defeats the purpose of me buying your food," she said, though her tone sounded far more amused than annoyed.

"Sorry," I blinked, forcing my brain to reboot. "What was it you were saying?"

"I was asking for your name," she said, casually popping a golden fry into her mouth. I swallowed hard, trying very desperately not to stare at her lips.

I gave her my name. "You?"

"Hm?"

"Ah—your name, I mean. Like... what's your name? Yeah."

She let out a soft laugh that made my stomach flip three times over.

"Brown."

So the stunning, athletic, dark-haired woman with the effortless tomboy vibe was named Brown?

Who would've thought? The universe actually did have a working sense of humor.

Burning Familiars

When a standard Familiar is Burnt, its abilities are boosted relative to the chosen Burn Time, evaporating into shards of light once the timer expires. Shorter Burn Times—especially when applied to lower-tiered Familiars—are more likely to grant distinct, though usually on-theme sub-abilities rather than simple, flat increases to power.

If a Familiar possesses a sufficient level of intellect (typically marked by the capacity for coherent, average human speech), Burning it may transform the Familiar Page into a Familiar Card rather than consuming it outright. Familiars with a Restock Timer are exempt from that. These Cards are categorized by three distinct Burning tiers:

Immolation (Maximum Burn): Grants the one equipping the card access to the full, appropriately boosted breadth of the Familiar’s abilities, alongside absolute, instinctual mastery of their hypothetical peak usage.

Limit: 10 seconds of usage per day (accumulates up to a maximum bank of 60 seconds).

Incineration (Moderate Burn): Grants the one equipping the card the Familiar's full base powers, paired with complete knowledge of how to utilize them.

Limit: 1,000 seconds of usage per day (accumulates up to a maximum bank of 1 hour).

Cremation (Low Burn): Grants theoretical access to the Familiar's full power set, though instinctual practical application is not provided; the one equipping the card must learn to wield the abilities from scratch, aided only by occasional flashes of inspiration during training.

Limit: 100,000 seconds of usage per day (effectively allowing for permanent, indefinite activation).

The higher the intensity of the Burn, the more aggressively the Familiar’s personality traits, habits, memories, and innate traits (including the built-in compulsion that makes Familiars Loyal and Obedient to the User) will bleed into the one equipping the card. The User may not equip these cards.

While lower-tier Burns carry far less immediate influence, the fact that a Cremated Familiar's card can be equipped indefinitely means that even a minor trickle of influence may cause significant changes over extended periods of time (especially through 24/7 exposure). The user's innate willpower affects their resistance to these effects.

Familiars do not leave behind Cinders upon expiration. However, unlike Items, any supernatural buffs or power enhancements a Familiar directly applies to an outside target will persist even after the Familiar has faded or died. (Note: Targets had better hope the applied boost does not require active, continuous maintenance from the original host though).

Author's Note

I know some people were expecting more Toon Force, but The Straw Hat was a Trash Tier Item. Like, while Burning does boost the Page's power, it's default value still influences how high it can grow. Maybe if it had been a 1 second Burn instead of a 10 second one.

As it was, he had the potential to unlock Gear 5, if the situation was right, but it wasn't enough. Even if it was, 10 seconds is not a lot of time to do so and make use of it anyways.

Onto other matters, I'm not so much as placing Checkov's Guns as I'm attempting to juggle a multitude of them them until one decides to load itself so I can shoot it. As the Rolls are random, I don't really know what the MC will get in the future, so the best I can do is set up the System so it allows for the maximum amount of possible cool stuff to make use of if the opportunity arises. (All this to say, all Glossary entries are canon, I just don't know if their effects will ever actually be featured in the fic or not lol).

Hope everyone has been enjoying it. The reception has been pretty nice, so thank you all for that. See you next chapter. If you have any questions don't hesitate to shoot.

Godspeed.