26 New Power #26

Lounging on my bed and delving into the digital aisles of the shop, a mischievous grin stretched across my face.

The points tally displayed on the screen boasted a satisfying 1130. Gizmo's contributions alone were over 400, thanks to his apparent sensitivity to his pint-sized stature and his irrationally intense fear of insects – a quirk I exploited to my advantage.

And then there was Beast Boy, generously dishing out points as his curiosity about me grew. I mused on my apparent jackpot, half-confirming that the system had been tailor-made for a DC comics enthusiast like myself indeed.

Pushing aside such musings, I refocused on my shopping priorities. Originally, my plan involved hoarding points until my meet-up with Ted Kord, harvesting a few points from him and using the total sum expecting to make a strategic purchase that would seal the deal with him.

However, with my current surplus, a new dilemma presented itself.

The internal debate raged on: stick to the original plan or invest in a more sustainable option? A healing factor, to be precise.

Sure, my invisible barrier offered protection, but recovery from potential injuries required an extra layer of oomph. Those Gotham-induced wounds were only just beginning to mend, and dragging them along like unwanted baggage wasn't my idea of a good time. Time to make a call – play the long game or tackle immediate concerns? Decisions, decisions.

As I delved into the system's shop, the array of healing factors presented itself. The first on the list was the basic healing factor, a modest upgrade offering a slightly improved healing speed.

It felt like the kind of thing an athlete might invest in—pouring money into medical experts and cutting-edge technology to trim down recovery time. Not exactly my cup of tea.

Next up was the enhanced healing factor, a significant boost in the realm of injury recovery. It reminded me of Deathstroke's regenerative prowess, turning a month-long healing process into a mere hour or so.

Now, that was more in line with what I needed-- rapid recovery without the hassle of extended downtime.

Then, there was the superhuman healing factor, the cream of the crop. Promising near-instantaneous healing for most injuries, with the caveat that regrowing a lost limb would still take some time.

A tempting prospect, but the cost was staggering—2225 points. My budget wasn't laughing at all, considering even this middle-tier option was out of reach.

The shop had a few other, more potent choices, but they might as well have been in a different galaxy given their exorbitant prices.

Lingering over the decision for a brief moment, I finally went ahead and invested in the enhanced healing factor. Priced at a more wallet-friendly 650 points, it left me with a decent 480. A bit of a splurge, but certainly not breaking the bank.

The essential thing I needed to seal the deal with Ted Kord was around 600 points, but I could always resort to my original plan of racking up some points from him before the big purchase.

Maybe I'd just have to up my game, impress him a bit more, or go for the classic trolling approach. Either way, it sounded like a solid plan.

Shifting gears back to my newly acquired healing prowess, unlike the skills I'd bought before, this one had an instant impact.

I could feel the itchiness signaling the regeneration of various minor wounds on my body. After the whole missile debacle in Gotham, the nurse had painted a grim picture, warning me it would take close to a month for everything to fully heal.

Now, a good night's sleep seemed like it would do the trick, so that's exactly what I'd do.

Glancing at Rattigan, who was already snoozing away, he looked more like an oversized pet rat than some haughty cosmic being. "He'll be back to being a pain in the ass by tomorrow, though..."

With that, I hit the hay, closed my eyes, and prepared for the wonders of my upgraded health.

...

Lounging on a bench, hands cradling the back of my head and Rattigan sitting beside me, I gazed up at the sky—or whatever fraction of it was visible between the towering skyscrapers of New York.

Time had slipped away since acquiring my healing factor, and the moment had arrived to finally meet Ted's mysterious acquaintance, the gateway to the elusive Ted Kord.

My time had been a mix of training with Ted and wandering the bustling streets of the city, though unfortunately, I didn't encounter any more brawls between heroes and villains so my points remained as they were.

Believe it or not, Ted had initiated me into the art of throwing an actual punch. Turns out, my healing factor came with a nifty perk—it boosted my stamina to levels beyond human capacity. Ted, ever perceptive, naturally caught on.

He also noticed my magically disappearing wounds, but to his credit, he refrained from diving into a full-fledged discussion. While I wasn't secretive about my powers, I appreciated Ted's decision to meddle in my affairs.

Since he already knew about my invisible barrier, it was just a matter of time before everyone else discovered there was more to me than my big mouth, hence why I was so willing to show off during the Gizmo situation.

Following that train of thought, I figured there was no need to stress about keeping every detail of my powers under wraps. I wasn't planning on parading my abilities and showing them off to every Tom, Dick, Harry, and their mothers, but if the situation called for it, I wouldn't hesitate to unleash my bag of tricks.

Basking in the anticipation of future surprises, I couldn't help but relish the thought of continually expanding my arsenal of powers and tools through the system, so I'm not sacrificing anything or exposing my full potential.

The element of surprise would always be on my side, and I could already picture a scenario where an adversary, armed with what they believed to be exhaustive knowledge of my abilities, would find themselves blindsided by something new and unimaginable.

It would be a glorious moment, dismantling all their meticulously laid-out plans and countermeasures. For this epic scenario, I'd need to find a new nemesis—someone a bit more challenging than the lame Gizmo.

The trolling potential in such a situation was, undoubtedly, immeasurable, and the mere thought brought a grin to my face.

However, my daydreams of epic trolling were cut short as Rattigan began poking my thigh incessantly, emitting a series of chitters and pointing toward an approaching figure.

Following his paw, I spotted a young woman with long blonde hair, clad in a black leather jacket, boots, jeans, and a white tank top. If I had to put words to her facial features, I'd go with unrealistically pretty, almost like a character straight out of a comic book.

She was someone any self-respecting comic-book fan would recognize from a mile away, none other than Dinah Friggen Lance, also known as Black Canary.

A quick mental flashback reminded me of her ties with Wildcat, who had trained her in her earlier days, making her the likely candidate for Ted's mysterious acquaintance.

As Dinah approached, she flashed a warm smile, and her voice cut through the city's ambient noise. "Hey there! You must be the one Ted's been talking about...." She extended her hand for a friendly shake. "I'm Dinah Lance."

I flashed a grin and got to my feet, extending my hand for a handshake. "Micah Foster. Did the big fur ball spill the beans?" I quipped, releasing her hand and nodding toward Rattigan, who eyed her curiously.

Dinah chuckled in response. "More or less... Rattigan, huh?" She said, extending her hand to pet the cheeky rodent.

I wanted to give her a heads-up about Rattigan's unsocial demeanor, but her hand reached him before I could utter a word.

To my surprise, instead of a bite, the rascal rodent decided to show a rare moment of friendliness by rubbing his cheeks against her palms. He then scurried up her arm and nestled on her shoulder.

'So not only are you a pain in the ass but also a pervert...' I thought, barely holding back the twitch in my eyes as I watched Rattigan make himself right at home on Dinah's shoulder.

Certainly, by no means was I jealous of the damned rat! Absolutely not—well, maybe just a tiny bit.