Mercantile Violence 1.06

I cracked my neck as I pushed myself up from the small cot where I lay. Around me, a handful of other visibly homeless men were slowly stirring awake too. I trudged over to the communal showers and was pleasantly surprised to find them completely empty. After a quick, hot shower to scour away yesterday's accumulated layer of grime and blood, I pulled on a set of the clean, donated clothes provided by the facility.

I knew right then and there that this place wouldn't last another month. Not in Brockton Bay, and certainly not with this level of open generosity. Still, might as well enjoy it while it lasts. Or rather, if I still actually needed a charity cot by the time this joint inevitably went under, I might as well just do myself in anyway.

As I pulled up the stiff denim pants, my fingers brushed against something slipped into the back pocket. I pulled out a folded slip of paper bearing a phone number and a neat, handwritten note: Call me if you need something.

I blinked in mild confusion until I flipped the scrap over and spotted the signature on the reverse side: Ms. Brown.

Not Mrs.?

Well, not that it had anything to do with me. We had ended up having a surprisingly pleasant conversation yesterday, and I had her to thank for pointing me toward this roof in the first place—was she the one bankrolling it, maybe? But it was painfully obvious that there was nothing behind the gesture other than pure, unadulterated pity.

Unlike a lot of guys, I didn't find that kind of charity particularly chafing. A normal guy in my position was pitiful. There was no point in lying about it. Swallowing pity might feel emasculating to some, but how else was someone supposed to survive in a shithole situation like this while desperately clinging to their fragile pride?

You couldn't. That was just how it went.

Still, maybe that passive mindset was precisely what had led to my falling out with Skidmark in the first place. My willingness—or rather, my total unwillingness—to stand up, speak my mind, and make my opinions known.

"Squealer's a whore," I muttered aloud.

The two men sitting across from me, nursing their free bowls of hot breakfast, stopped mid-chew and stared at me with questioning looks.

Perhaps I was just tired of it all. Tired of holding my tongue. So when I overheard the two bums chatting about the local cape scene, I couldn't help but chime in.

"Everyone thinks she must be some poor, innocent flower just because she’s a big-titted blonde white girl, who maybe fell in with the wrong crowd, or that Skidmark kidnapped her after she got powers," I said, shoving another spoonful of oatmeal into my mouth as I ranted. "Bullshit. The prissy bitch was snorting rails long before she ever met Skidmark."

Her past wasn't all that different from mine, actually—which I suppose was what had drawn me to the woman in the beginning.

Back when Skidmark was still just Adam, we’d busted his buddies out of county lockup using a piece of tinkertech he'd somehow gotten his grubby hands on. After that, we spent months drifting from one flop house to the next. Even then, it was painfully clear I didn't belong in that world. But whenever I compared it to the life I left behind, it was still preferable.

Besides, I owed Adam for helping me stage my death. Some of the local rags called it a suicide, but the scene was messy enough—or so I hoped—that my parents could cling to the uncertainty just to make the grief bearable. Let them believe it was an accident. They weren't the greatest parents on Earth, but they were still mine, and I did like them. Plus, with me officially out of the picture, maybe they'd finally pay some proper attention to my sister.

A guy could hope, anyway.

"So... she wasn't kidnapped?" one of the men asked.

"Fuck no," I snorted. "The second that chick triggered, I—" I caught myself before I slipped. "—heard she went straight to her regular dealer to ask for an introduction. Even back then, she was the type to flash her tits just to get a discount on an eight-ball."

"Ha! I think you got the story backwards, bud," the older bum chuckled, showing off a mouth missing three front teeth. I narrowed my eyes. "I guarantee you she was doing a whole lot more than flashing some skin for that dealer!"

His hacking laughter grated on my nerves.

"The guy probably just told people that to save her face," the man continued, grinning. "What kind of dealer gives a discount just for a peek? He'd have to eat the difference out of his own pocket! Pure simp shit!"

The second man joined in, chuckling at the sheer absurdity.

A muscle in my jaw twitched.

"Maybe... the guy actually thought she liked him?" I muttered.

The toothless man made a sour face, shaking his head. "Come on, kid. You know how pathetic that sounds? That’s like believing the hooker you’re paying is genuinely in love with you. Ain't happening in this world. Shit just don't work like that."

I let out a dry, hollow bark of laughter. "Yeah. It really doesn't."

I pushed back from the table, grabbed my plastic tray, and dumped it in the return slot. I walked toward the front exit, completely oblivious to the fact that the threshold I crossed concealed a spatial doorway to an entirely different dimension—where I had unknowingly just spent the last two and a half days of my life sleeping.

I stepped out into the crisp morning air, leaving behind all thoughts of the 'Fortunate Shelter' and setting my sights entirely on tracking down where Skidmark was currently hiding his dirty ass.

"You know," I muttered, staring down the cape standing a few yards ahead of me, "I'm starting to think there’s a legitimate fucking conspiracy keeping me from bashing Skidmark's face in."

Rolling (Minimum: 0.00; Average: 0.837; Maximum: 1.673)…

[More Eyes]|Common Ability (1.0)|You can manifest eyes anywhere on your body. You will not be disorientated by the multiple instances of vision you manifest.

I immediately manifested an eye on the bare skin at the back of my neck.

Ooh, freaky.

"You're... Oni Lee, right? Pretty sure I've heard your name dropped once or twice. You looking for something, man?"

The guy didn't really look dressed for battle, despite the gruesome scene I had walked into. I’d been snooping around the area, finding it bizarrely quiet—there were way fewer Merchants and average junkies roaming the street than usual, an absence you pick up on real quick once you’ve lived the life. When I ducked into an alleyway following a twitchy druggie, I walked straight into the ABB assassin standing over a fresh corpse leaking a thick puddle of crimson onto the cold asphalt, a bloody combat knife gripped in his hand.

Rolling…

[Mystic Eyes of Depth Perception]|Trash Ability (0.2)|These mystical eyes allow you to supernaturally gain awareness of the depth of an object or location in relation to something else.

I narrowed my... well, eyes.

Not because I'd rolled two ocular-themed abilities back-to-back—weird coincidences happened, I supposed. And not even at my own sheer stupidity for not realizing a single extra eye on my neck lacked binocular depth perception until the second power patched the blind spot.

No, what caught my attention was the fact that I had just Drawn two new Pages in rapid succession.

Oni Lee was undeniably dangerous, sure, but we hadn't even traded a single blow yet.

Are you trying to tell me something, power?

Whatever warning it was trying to scream at me, I didn't have time to ponder it. In the blink of an eye, Oni Lee lunged straight for my throat—and simultaneously manifested directly behind my back.

Motherfucker can clone himself?!

Surprisingly enough—or perhaps not surprising at all—I actually didn't know jack shit about the local cape scene. I’d been far too busy being permanently baked or chasing my next high to read the news. I knew Lung was an overgrown lizard, Kaiser ran the local Nazis, and Armsmaster carried around some high-tech spear, but that vague gossip was about the extent of my tactical intelligence.

"Burn: Magician's Hat. One hundred seconds."

I jammed my hand down into the conjured top hat, my fingers instantly wrapping around a chunk of cold, ridged metal.

Wait... is this a fucking grenade with the pin already missing?!

"FUCK FUCK FUCK—"

FLASH.

A blinding white flare seared through my retinas, followed instantly by a deafening, skull-rattling BANG that annihilated my hearing and blew me off my feet.

I hit the pavement, completely blinded, ears screaming with high-pitched agony.

I was about to panic, until a sudden realization hit my dazed brain: Wait a minute. I can literally just spawn fresh eyes.

[Ancient Fruit Wine]

|Common Item (1.0)|

Stardew Valley - A bottle of the finest Iridium Quality Wine made from a very rare Ancient fruit with excellent taste personally handcrafted and aged by a farmer with too much time, skill and money. Altough it does not have any supernatural effects, it's refined and refreshing taste is superb and has incredible artisan value. Restock Timer: 12 Hours

I blinked open a fresh pair of unblinded eyes across the bridge of my nose, instantly spotting Oni Lee groaning on the asphalt as he clutched his face. I also winced at the growing dark patch on my shirt where his blade had clipped me on his way in.

I reached back into the Magician's Hat, and this time my fingers closed around cold, blued steel. I yanked out a semi-automatic handgun.

"Now we're talking."

Taking quick aim at the asian gangbanger, I squeezed the trigger twice. The rounds tore through his torso, but I was already too late; his bullet-riddled body instantly dissolved into a swirl of white ash.

I swiveled around to catch the real Oni Lee, who was standing a few paces back, still fiercely rubbing at his stinging eyes.

The sight made me think of a guy who'd just rolled out of bed—and looking closely at him now, he actually kind of did. His clothes were rumpled and haphazard, like he'd been yanked mid-routine and dumped straight onto the street. Had his power misfired or something?

The familiar ping echoed in my head, signaling a new Page being Drawn. Almost in unison, a sharp chime went off in Oni Lee's pocket.

He dug out a burner phone, glanced down at the screen, and paused. He fixed me a parting glare, turned on his heel, and vanished in a puff of ash.

"Ha! Yeah, you better run, bitch boy!" I yelled at the empty alley. "The power I just pulled would've ended you!"

Well... if I were into dudes, maybe.

[Doyens Virility Pills]

|Common Item (1.4)|

Hunter x Hunter - A vial of 100 pills that give you endurance and fertility in bed, taking more than one at a time may have unintended effects. Restock Timer: 168 Hours

Shaking my head, I looked down at the Magician’s Hat still gripped in my hand. I had a little over thirty seconds left on the Burn.

From what I’d pieced together so far—and the faint, instinctual intuition that came packaged in—the hat seemed to be attempting to provide me with whatever it thought would be most useful for the situation at hand. Well, not that I thought it could, uh, think... right? Could the hat actually think? How did it even decide—

No, forget it. Don't care.

"Might as well," I muttered, reaching in again.

Out came... a smartphone? A damn nice one, too, by the looks of it. Useful, I suppose.

Next came an ID card, tucked neatly inside a sleek leather wallet. (Was it actually valid? How did official documentation from a magic hat work?)

Followed by a fresh bottle of water—which I chugged on the spot—and a pack of bubblegum.

Then, a very sharp pair of sunglasses that settled onto my face with a perfect, custom fit.

"Ah, now we're talking."

Grenades. A whole row of them, clipped to a tactical bandolier. Then an honest-to-God assault rifle, loaded and paired with spare magazines.

I could practically feel the pure, unadulterated American Spirit pumping straight into my bloodstream.

With only a few seconds left on the countdown, I jammed my hand into the hat one final time—

"Fuck you, power."

My fingers gripped the glossy photograph tightly as the Magician's Hat dissolved into wisps of fading ash.

Printed on the paper was a younger version of me. A genuinely happy, bright-eyed kid, his arm slung casually around Sarah's shoulders. Behind us stood our parents, hands resting on our shoulders, smiling warmly at the camera.

I thought about tossing it aside into the gutter, but found I couldn't. I thought about burning it, but realized I didn't want to destroy it. I thought about tucking it into my new wallet or slipping it into my back pocket... but I knew I couldn't handle having the ghost of that memory riding on my hip all day.

So, I did the only logical thing. I shoved the photo into my mouth and ate it.

Huh. It’s wafer paper. What the actual fuck, power?

Shaking my head with a strange, fond smirk, I racked the rifle and strapped the heavy bandolier across my chest.

A bit heavier than I thought. Trudging all the way across the city to track down this Merchant meetup is gonna be a royal pain in the—hm?

I glanced down at the pavement. A small slip of paper was taped to the concrete. Had it fallen out of the hat at the last second?

Two words were scrawled across it:

"Door me?" I read aloud.

There was no warning sound, no electric crackle. Just the silent, instantaneous tearing of reality as a shimmering doorway snapped open right beside me—leading directly into what was very clearly a crowded Merchant gathering.

"Huh. Neat." I raised the rifle to my shoulder. "Let's get this party started, then."

[Horse Electrolytes]|Trash Item (0.5)|A full container of powdered horse electrolytes. Drink it. Restock Timer: 1 hour.

"Sure, why the fuck not."

Burning Abilities

Abilities serve as the default baseline for the Burning mechanic.

As with standard rules, potency scales inversely with duration: the shorter the Burn Time, the more powerful the upgraded ability becomes.

Abilities maintain a standard, moderate baseline chance of leaving behind Ashes upon expiration.

Any atypical abilities with unique restrictions, external mediums, or specialized mechanics are resolved on a case-by-case basis.

Author's Note

Enough fucking around, time for the Violence that Reggie has been looking for since the beginning.

Surely this one will get him to Heaven.

For sure.

He'd be kinda depressed if it didn't, and everyone knows Worm protagonists are usually bundles of joy and happiness so that couldn't possibly happen.