1 Attempt 1. (1-5)
Chapter 1
I never thought this is what I'd end up doing. I don't know where it all went downhill. First, my parents died and I got stuck in this city, then the mob started "taxing" me—it all went to shit somewhere. What the hell is the point of life if you're just going to be used as a money battery for some low life grunts.
I can't move away, because I can't afford anywhere else, so here I am. Stuck here. Working at a fast-food restaurant during the day, and a logging company at night.
I flipped the burger, the stove sizzled as a little smoke drifted up.
"I needed those fries yesterday Mark!" My manager yelled across the kitchen. He stormed up to me, yanking his headset off. "Stayton, stop daydreaming and get those patties on a fucking bun!"
Before I could make a retort, he flew off to go harass another coworker.
You remember when you were a kid, and someone asked you what you wanted to be when you grew up. Oh, those were the days. "I'll be a firefighter; I'll be a sports star!" I quietly mocked myself at the grill.
No one ever said they wanted to be a fry cook—and nobody every said they wanted to be a nightshift lumberjack. But here we are, sitting at the bottom of the pyramid serving those at the top.
I slid the patties onto pieces of bread and rolled them up in paper and popped some more meat onto the grill.
My manager made another round of yelling 30 minutes after, and I just continued flipping burgers. I'd probably cook a few hundred a day. I've made so many hamburgers that I've seriously considered going vegan. I'm not joking—it's really starting to get on my damn nerves.
I remember getting up in the morning and going to the kitchen and seeing my mom making eggs, I'd just sit down on the couch and watch cartoons. I'd eat and then she would drive me to school. I would hang out with my friends and learn about addition and subtraction—then eventually I'd be back home watching cartoons again, that or playing video games.
I don't watch cartoons anymore. I don't have the time to enjoy myself these days. I glared at the clock, my shift was nearly over, I saw my manager clock out and another take his place. He waved over at me, "stop staring and flip those burgers!" He smiled at me.
My eyelid's cracked, "I'll fuckin flip these burgers, oh I'll flip them all right…" I grumbled and set my focus back towards the grill. Whilst I flipped said patties, I daydreamed about the multitude of ways I could burn and or sabotage the building. The managers cared not for safety code violations.
After another ten or so patties, I took off my apron and hung it up on the wall and clocked out. I smiled and waved goodbye, all the while suppressing my desire to burn the place to the ground.
It was 8 PM, my shift at the logging company started at 9:30. Like any other day, I walked to the gas station and got a bite to eat and a cold drink. I pulled out my flip phone, no messages. I got some snacks and another drink for the night and began walking to my next job.
The sun caressed the mountains and slowly dipped below them, pink, purple and orange cascading and bouncing across the open skies. The late walks were always the best—by far the most comforting. It felt good not being at home nor at work. Out here, there were no problems to deal with, just a few cars driving by and the occasional late-night walker.
I worked in the city in the day, then I would walk to the outskirts and eventually into the forest, and soon enough, I'd made my way to the job site.
"Bill, park the skidder over there!" I'd made my way far enough down the road, that I could now here them yelling at each other. I checked my watch; I was a few minutes early.
My boss was gulping down an energy drink, commanding the crew like he was an officer in the field. "Stayton! Good to see you! You'll be with Kade tonight!" He hollered at me. I put a thumbs up and headed over to do some work. Looks like it's going to be a long night.
Stepping next to a tree I nodded at Kade, motioned me to step away, he revved his chainsaw and began biting into it. The sound was loud—but a loudspeaker hanging out on one of the fella's trucks was blasting Merle Haggard. Nobody except the wildlife and homeless lived in the woods, so the boss didn't give a shit.
One tree, two four and eventually six. The night grew long, and my arms were sore. I wiped the sweat off my brow as I walked off to find another tree. It was a busy night, the boss wasn't taking any breaks, therefore none of us were.
I'd eaten my gas station food at lunch at around 2:45 AM, that would make it around 3:30, almost closing, I just needed to mark a few more tree's.
I kneeled down to the ground to quickly tie my boots; someone changed the music to Glen Campbell. Kade's chainsaw busted through a tree behind me. I finished the loop, and my boots were tied. Kade's chainsaw stopped making noise and I heard the telltale whoosh of a falling tree. I stood up and looked behind me. "Oh, god damn!" A ten-thousand-pound tree flying right down onto me.
Immediately, my heart dropped, and I heard the sweet voice of Virgin Mary calling down to me. "Fuck! Oh! Shit!" I blew out my lungs yelling, I raised my arms and braced myself for my untimely death. A flash of anger dawned on me, like someone pulled the curtain and sunlight basked my eyes.
The tree slammed down on me, my nerves exploded like fireworks fired through my body. Somehow the tree only glanced me, I was thrown to the ground. I groaned loudly, and Kade's chainsaw all but stopped.
[SUPERPOWER SYSTEM UNLOCKED]
[PATH AUTOMATICALLY SELECTED: PHYSICAL]
[POWER AUTOMATICALLY SELECTED: T1 DURABILITY]
I let loose an incoherent cry, I clenched my eyes shut and rode the wave of pain. I was in total shock, I felt numb—the pain was so strong.
Thank God, the tree didn't pin me down, Jesus balls. After a while I heard some of the boys yelling out my name. The boss was charging over. "Stayton---Stayton where are you damnit! Kade where is he!"
Glen Campbell stopped playing and I saw my boss flashing a light in my eyes. "You injured bud?" He saw my torn clothes and the blood on my arms and head, he pulled out his phone and started dialing a number.
I heaved a breath through my burning lungs. Ambulances are expensive, I had no money, I can take this, I'm okay.
An ambulance would be nice, sure, but just as I don't have time to watch cartoons, there is no way in hell my wallet will survive a trip to the hospital. Besides, seeing as I was working under the table, that meant I was not paying my income taxes—and it meant that I'd be going to jail… Besides, the company wouldn't tank the medical bill, and just to reiterate, neither would I.
I gripped my bosses' arm, "put the phone away." I rasped.
His eyes went wide-eyed, "what now? You're hurt, aren't you?"
I felt like yelling, I was so angry.I yanked the phone away from him and hung it up. "I'm fine, I'm fine… I just need to catch my breath."
I handed back his phone and tried to get off the ground. My legs gave out and i fell on my ass. That damn tree hurt me bad.
Some of the other boys ran up. "Shit! You look like hell." They had uncertain glint's about their faces.
I looked at Kade, he had a morbid embarrassment and regret plastered all over him. "Kade." I wiped away some blood that trickled down into my eye.
"Help me up, Kade." I reached a hand out towards him. He looked at me aghast and then to the other lumberjacks. It only took a moment until he was nudged forward to me. He clasped my hands and dragged me up off the ground. I wrapped my arm around his shoulder and balanced myself.
"I'm good, give me ten minutes and I'll be right as rain." I shook my head, life wanted me dead.
The boss had his eyebrows pinched in consternation, he nodded and looked to the boys. "You heard the man, take ten!"
A round of cheering went about and Kade alongside some of my coworkers helped me get back to the job site. The boys shared some food and drink with me, and the boss let me take an extended break. After work ended, Kade drove me home in his truck. We listened to some country music, no talking was needed, we both had a hell of a night.
I walked up the two flights of stairs with more than a little difficulty. I kept my apartment door unlocked, there was nothing valuable inside. The clock read 5:34. My shift at the fast-food place started in 8 hours.
By the grace of God, I managed to take a shower, I got a fresh change of underwear, and I was soon knocked out on the couch.
Morning—or rather afternoon came all to quickly. The alarm on my flip phone ringing out like a nuclear warhead was about to strike. My head felt like it was going to split in two, I grabbed my phone and called in sick to both of my jobs and promptly slept through the entire day again.
The day after that though, I felt hungry, thirsty, lethargic—basically dead. I lumbered to the fridge and popped some bread into the microwave. I got some milk into a plastic party cup, and I feasted on breakfast. I got second servings of both milk and bread. I would have gone for thirds, but somebody got to pay the damn bills.
When I went to the bathroom, I saw that my arms were purple and green. In the shower was the remnants of blood that had washed off me. I was hit by a tree. A multi-ton tree. How the hell am I alive—even if it barely brushed my arm, it should have torn away my limbs. People don't survive that stuff.
I looked at the clock, 12:15 AM. I had better get to work. I don't get paid to contemplate my existence.
Chapter 2
Perhaps it was any other day at work, but today felt a little different. As I flipped burgers and logged trees down at night, I couldn't help but feel… different. It was like my muscles hadn't grown bigger, but somehow stronger—not even my muscles, but my skin, even my hair was more… I suppose durable would be the word.
I found out when I accidentally touched the grill. Usually, the pain would flare up and I'd take my hand off immediately. Who the hell does not take their hand away from a burning stove? Every kid has touched the stove and regretted it soon after. Anyway, I had my hand on the grill for a few seconds, and the thing was on hot.
That's not all, at the logging company, I always come home with splinters and even a few cuts. Besides my horrible bruising, I had none. It was like I'd somehow transformed, and as the weeks passed, I grew more and more sure of it.
I took some time to see if I had grown stronger, but no, definitely not. But tougher---definitely yes. I could take some punches now. But as the month came to an end, guess who showed up at my doorstep.
"Open the fuckin door!" Someone with a Boston accent was assaulting my door.
I had just gotten done with my shift at the logging company, it was in the early morning and I hadn't gotten my beauty sleep. "What—Who the hell is at the door!"
I wanted to stay in bed. I looked at my watch, 10:42 AM… the 31st.
"Damn." I cursed not so under my breath. If there was one thing I abso-fucking-lutely hated—It would be those damn mobsters, after what they did… it was unforgivable.
The guy kicked the door. "You know who the fuck it fuckin is! Time to pay up you fuckin idiot!"
Who uses so many F-bombs in such a short amount of time. The mob sends a different guy every month, and they collect "taxes" from me. I tried calling the police once, but it ended up with me getting my arm broken—which made me lose my job.
"I'm coming damn it! Let me get the money!" I yelled at the door. That idiot started knocking harder.
"I don't give a rat's ass! Let. Me. IN!" the mobster seemed to be angry this morning. "I'll fucking break this door down damnit!"
I wouldn't expect my neighbors to step in and help, chances were high they were being taxed as well. I don't have anyone to call, no friends or family, certainly not the police—they were bought and sold. I stopped looking for money and I just went and opened the door.
Just as I cracked it open, the bastard kicked it, the door ended up clipping my jaw and sent me into the wall. I busted the drywall, that's expensive. I felt anger like none other flood me, like a pent-up dam being slowly pressured by the water.
I hissed in sleep-deprived annoyance. A heavyset man wearing a dirty suit and a fedora stepped into view. He side-eyed me with annoyance and opened my fridge. His glare was all I needed to know that he was not amused at my selection.
"What the fuck is this?" He left the door open and lunged at me, grabbing my shirt collar and pinning me against the wall. "Where's my fuckin breakfast?" He growled…
I started to tell him I wasn't expecting guests, but he cut me off. "Just give me the money kiddo. I don't want to hear it." He released his grip on me and I slumped back to the ground.
My vision went a shade of red, my hands were shaking. I started to breathe like I was about to lift a heavy weight and went to go find my wallet. I kept all my money in my wallet, I was paid weekly, in cash. I didn't have a bank account.
I pulled out 250 dollars and handed it over to the mobster. The fat bastard was digging through my bread. He shrugged and threw the entire loaf into the trashcan, shaking his head in disappointment. He turned and snagged the money from my hand.
"Alright, and uhh… you look like you've got some extra cash in there, hey sport, hand me a twenty, I'm damn hungry."
My eye twitched. "You're asking for roughly three hours of my time—for breakfast. The mob asked for two hundred and fifty U.S dollars. You got it, there you go, now go fuck yourself."
I turned around and waited for him to leave—which was not smart.
"Why you little shit." Before I turned around, I already knew he was going to hit me.
It was in the back of my head; my vision swam as I faceplanted on the cheaply carpeted floor.
The mobster cursed loudly, "you've got a hard head kid, ha!" He spat on me, "I'm going to need another fifty to cover my medical bills."
I turned so that my back was facing away from him, just in time to see him launch a kick at me. I managed to get an arm in the way. My bruises ached in pain. "Damn it!"
I crawled up off the ground, I was tired, hungry, and I was really starting to get pissed off. "I have work in two hours! I need to sleep!"
The scumbag of a human pulled out a switchblade, I saw him struggling to get the blade out. Everything went black and white in my mind as I dived at the mobster, tackling him to the ground. He wheezed as I flattened him.
Apparently, he had gotten the blade free. "Take this—you stupid son of a bitch!" He roared at me and thrust the blade into my side. It hurt bad, I felt it go in a few centimeters. He ripped the blade out and jammed it back in.
I cried out in agony and began wailing my fists onto him, blow after blow, strike after strike. My hands hit like they were a wooden 2x4 plank. I broke his jaw, then his nose. He stopped struggling then, arms falling to the floor. I hit his face, I broke his cheekbones and then, with the last of my anger, I slapped his face with all of my strength.
I should have killed him, for all that he and his organization did to me. The side of my body hurt like hell. Blood pooled out of me and onto him. He wasn't moving, maybe he was dead, his face was all bloody—bloody and broken. Good. I smiled through the pain.
Took his knife and threw it in the trash. Then, I took my money back, I looked at the bread in the trash, it would be just milk today. Bastard.
I dragged him to the stairwell and kicked him down. After that, I calmed down and drank some water from the tap. I looked around and decided to beautify the apartment—or tried. I mopped up the blood, but for the wall, I'd need to go to the store and get some drywall, mud, and paint. I cleaned myself up and soon I was back to work.
A few days later, on one of my days off, I spent my extra money on buying some tools and materials to fix up my apartment. I did just that. My parents would be proud, look at me! Being all grown up, fixing my walls, and using my money responsibly.
My dad was a salesman, so he didn't specialize in handiwork—but he taught me enough. Whether it was self-defense or repairing broken drywall, I had him to thanks.
Life had just about gotten normal, I was back to working my two jobs and sleeping in the morning. Paying bills, eating food—living life.
But life wouldn't deign to kiss me, it would rather slap me.
It was about two weeks following my last mob visit. I heard the distinct crack of my door being broken down. The shuffling of feet quickly revealed at least five stocky mobsters, they had all had handguns holstered on their belts. They were suited up in slick black and each of them sported that same fedora. These mobsters…
"Stayton Kanata." One of them spoke to me. I was still on the couch. "You've been causing us problems." I left my wallet on the counter, one of them picked it up and sifted through it.
"You put my boy in a grave. He had kids—he was family." They all had their hands on their guns. "You hurt us, you made a scene in the apartment, you're probably thinking you're a real tough guy, eh?" He pulled his handgun out and walked out in front of me, his lackeys surrounded the couch.
"You don't fuck with us. Everybody in this town is gonna remember why." He pointed the gun at me and shot my chest. "That was for Wally."
I saw a flash of light and then blinding pain. I looked down and saw a gaping hole the size of a thumb. I took in a ragged breath. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw… I saw a box, I looked up.
[TSS]
"Tee, es es?" I mumbled, looking up at the glowing letters.
The mobsters chuckled darkly. "Hey, boss, twenty-five hundred buckaroos in his wallet."
"He won't be needed it; he's going to be talking to God soon." The man who shot me nodded somberly. They all put away their guns and watched me die.
[THE SUPERPOWER SYSTEM]
[POINTS: 5]
[UNLOCKED: T1 DURABILITY]
[T1 SUPERPOWER AVAILABLE]
Oh my god, a system. Mine. My chest began leaking blood in copious amounts. I coughed. Someone was looking out for me, I will have my revenge now.
I focused on the last box, and options flooded my vision. Flight, super speed, x-ray vision… I thought of super strength.I wanted revenge. And I wanted to have it with my own hands.
[THE SUPERPOWER SYSTEM]
[UNLOCKED: T1 DURABILITY---T1 STRENGTH]
I felt my muscles tense, then expand and relax. My legs, arms, and core, my shoulders and chest. I let off a relaxed sigh. I was strong, I knew it. I looked down at my chest, perhaps the bullet wasn't as deep as I thought. Despite what I may feel, there was still a god damn bullet in my chest—and these assholes all had guns.
It seems my growth did not go unnoticed. "Aye, one second he was normal, but now he's jacked, fellas look at him? Am I goin crazy?" The boss, who had just about walked out of the apartment looked back at me, eyebrow raised.
Before they could make a move, I lurched up off the couch and began strangling the closest mobster. All the men shouted and drew their guns.
"Sha… Shoot him!" The man I was choking managed to say. I reached for his gun at his waist and drew it. At once, all the men in the room opened fire on both me and him.
The guy acted as a shield, he tanked the bullets and I popped a few rounds into the mobsters. I kept my head mostly shielded. I felt bullets lodge into my arm and legs. I could take the pain.
I shot wildly, I heard one mobster yell out and drop to the ground. The one I was holding wheezed out his last breath, I let him drop to the ground.
Apparently, the last three mobsters had expended all their ammunition. They pulled out switchblades and charged me. I met their charge with my own.
The amount of blood and viscera painting the carpet would have made my mother lose her mind. The first guy sent his knife straight into my chest, it made a hard thunk, and blood began dripping out of the freshly made hole. Another of them stabbed me in the side of the neck—I cried out and dropped to the ground.
One of them started kicking me, I caught his leg and dragged him down to me. I began strangling him. Within seconds he was dead, his windpipe no longer a pipe.
The other two men jumped on me, slashing and thrusting. It hurt like hell, "I can take it!" I yelled at them. I grabbed the knife out of my neck, blood spurting out in gouts of red. I jabbed the knife into one man's eye and then strangled the last man.
I felt my vision darken, I felt the bullet's in my chest, arms and legs. My neck. "I'm going to die." I thought.
Through sheer force of will, I got up and went to the dresser by the couch, and grabbed my flip phone. I dialed 911. I could afford an ambulance this time around. I felt warm, my clothes were soaked, the couch and carpet were being dyed red. So much for my home improvement.
"911 what is your emergency?"
"I'm bleeding to death."
"Where is your location sir?"
I gave the operator my address.
"There are five other dead men in my apartment." I hung up the phone before the operator could ask any more questions.
I was losing a lot of blood. I checked my watch, 12:49 AM. My last thought before passing out was that I wasn't going to make it to work today.
Chapter 3
"His family is dead, no emergency contacts or known friends. Kid's a loner through and through." I heard a hand tapping on a screen. "His body sustained multiple bullet penetrations and small blade punctures and lacerations. To top it off, it would seem that his arms have sustained a prior, also undocumented, massive blunt trauma." The person speaking exhaled slowly. "I don't know how he's alive, police say he was just barely breathing when they got to him… by all means, he should be dead."
I felt wires and bandages covering my body, I was in a hospital gown and otherwise buck naked. My bones and muscles ached, I opened my eyes. The walls of the hospital were a shade of bright white. In contrast to the whiteness of the walls, three officers, dressed in navy blue, armed, and armored, stood watch over me, alongside a few doctors.
"Good to see that you're awake, Mr. Kanata." One of the doctors smiled at me and drew closer to my bedside. "We'll have to run a few tests, but—"
One of the officers butted in and placed a hand on the doctor's chest, pushing him away from me. "Don't stand too close doctor, he murdered five men with his bare hands."
A wave of annoyance passed over the doctor. "We don't know that yet, the whole situation is unclear."
The officer tapped on his badge. "We need to ask the suspect some questions, privately."
"But I have a legal responsib—"
"No buts Doc, shut the door behind you." The officer's voice audibly darkened. One of the officers followed the doctor out, presumably to guard the entrance. The second policeman closed the blinds, obfuscating the entire room from prying eyes.
There was a pause as both pairs of eyes locked onto me. "You know you can't leave this hospital alive." The officer stated. "You've killed some people with close connections to mob's Numero Uno. You're a dead man, you'll be pursued forever, even if you go to Canada—hell even if you go to China, your dead."
I already suspected that the majority of the police force in the city was under the Mob's payroll—but to see it with my own eyes, I felt betrayed. I paid their wages with my fucking taxes, and yet they were no different from the criminals! Fuck. You.
I had power now, and it was high time someone makes some changes around here.
If I was going to die, I wouldn't be laying down. I shifted up off the bed into a sitting position. The officer placed his hand on his sidearm. "You're with the mob?" I asked.
The officer gave me a smirk. "Use your head kiddo."
"Who else is under the mob?" I pondered; my fists clenched.
"More people than you could count—anyway. Let's get down to brass tacks. You're either leaving here in a body bag." He gestured grandly. "Or. You can wait till your in the local jail, and then we'll kill you there." The man looked at his gun, "Chose option 2, and I'll make sure some of your money is donated to a good cause."
Oh, how very generous.
I've got to give it to him, that was quite the shitty deal. I could go to prison, extend my life by a few weeks—or I could murder these mobster sacks of shit right here and now.
I brought up the TSS System. I had 6 points. I believe I got 1 point for every gangster I killed, if that's correct, then I'd need to kill 4 more to get 10 points total.
While the doctors were talking, I had taken some time to get to know the TSS System. It had tiers of superpowers ranging from 1 to something. A tier one power cost 5 points, and a tier 2 power cost 10 points. Maybe a tier three power would cost 20 points—I'm unsure.
Anyways, whilst I could get myself another Tier 1 power, I believe it would be more beneficial to get a tier two powerup. It wouldn't be that hard to get points, I never liked mobsters, they rubbed me the wrong way.
"You've got yourself a deal, mister." I got out of bed and extended my hand.
The Officer looked hesitant for only a second, he reached forward and gave me a firm shake. "Good to hear it buddy. I think I'll give your money to the charity for—"
I pulled him in and pulled on his gun. He yelped, his partner cursed and unholstered his pistol. "Let him go!"
The man was desperately trying to tie my hands away, he headbutted me—that didn't work. I slipped the gun free from his belt and turned the safety off.
"Shit! Gun! We need help in here!" The other officer yelled, the door opened and the third officer came in with his gun pointed at me.
I shoved the Glock into the man's stomach and pulled the trigger, then I moved to his neck and did the same. He gurgled out blood and began slipping to the ground. The other two officers began unloading their clips on me. It might have done serious damage to me, but I had a body shield.
In the background, I could hear a roar of terror as the hospital all but erupted in pandemonium. No matter how many voices I heard, no one dared walk past the doorway.
Quickly, I pointed the gun and shot the other two officers. Their body armor caught some of the bullets—but I didn't only shoot at the torso. It wasn't pretty, but I killed them as well.
My body had gained a few more bullets, it hurt, but I'd gone through worse.
I had nine points, one left to go. I retrieved the gun of another officer and some magazines. I peeked out the door and saw another officer standing around the corner aiming at me. He might not be in the mob, but let's be honest. All the authorities in this city were rotten degenerates, one way or another.
I leveraged one of the dead bodies to act as a shield for me. I peeked the door once again and the officer hesitated. I shot him and ducked back inside the room. I closed the door, locked and barricaded the windows with whatever furniture was in the room. My T1 strength allowing me to lift the furniture and bodies with relative ease.
I unstripped one of the officer's vests and put it on. I also took his pants, socks, and shoes (which fit!).
I brought up the TSS. I could upgrade my strength or durability to T2, or I could grab two T1's. What will get me out of this hospital alive? Damn.
I was in the room for a rough 16 minutes. I could hear more and more policemen massing at the door, they had a man trying to negotiate with me. Strength would do me no good if they could just kill me, and I'm already weakened by the bullets, durability can't heal me… But perhaps it could stop future bullets.
I willed Durability to upgrade. The change was immediate, I felt solid, heavy almost, I grabbed a knife from one of the officers and pressed it down on my palm. Only a scratch, no cuts. I jabbed it into my palm and it seemed to chip away at my skin and just barely touch my flesh. Just to be sure I was safe, I discharged the officer's gun into the bottom of my arm.
There was some surprising shouting outside the room, but they didn't enter. Looking at my arm, I could quickly tell it still hurt badly. The skin and a little patch of my flesh had chipped away onto the bed, but I was relatively unharmed. That's my queue.
I topped off the magazine and made sure I was ready to reload it, I could hear heavy footsteps in the hallway outside. Time to see how tough this city was. Without fanfare, I unblocked the door and opened it. I peeked the corner and sure enough, an entire SWAT team was waiting outside.
"Hands!"
"Show your hands!"
I pointed the gun at them, they shot at me, and I shot at them. It became quickly apparent that the SWAT officers didn't use pistols. I managed to get my clip off into their crowd—but they had hit me hard. My chest was sprinkled with miniature craters, blood pooled at the bottom of my feet.
It's my life or theirs.
I loaded up another magazine and peeked the doorway again. This time they weren't as ready.
"Fuck, he's not down! Open fire! Open—"
I unloaded another round of bullets and they had less time to respond, they were licking their wounds. I checked the system, I had 3 more points. The pain was biting away at my will to continue this fight. I quickly loaded another magazine—the last magazine. I peeked through the door one last time.
They responded in force.
"Open fire!"
"Engage the target!"
The remaining SWAT officers unloaded their clips onto me with reckless abandon, they chipped away at my skin like one would jackhammer away at concrete. I shot the last chamber of my gun and ducked back into the room.
What was once a nice secure room, was now a pincushion of holes. There were holes in the walls, the door itself was about to fall off its hinges—and I could see a red laser tracing through the window. Cliché sniper is outside waiting for me.
I checked my system, I had 6 points. I needed something powerful, an end-all… But how far would a T1 power go? Damn it!
"Regeneration, camouflage, flight, heat vision, telepathy—what the hell…" The list was cluttered with non-combat options. If I chose T1 flight, what's the chances of that sniper hitting me, would regeneration be quick enough, the camouflage subtle enough???
Regeneration, it would have to be regeneration. My wounds were bad, maybe even life-threatening. My entire body was seeping blood onto the floor, segments of flesh pasted on the walls. I chose regeneration.
[THE SUPERPOWER SYSTEM]
[POINTS: 1]
[UNLOCKED: T2 DURABILITY---T1 STRENGTH---T1 REGENERATION]
A minute passed as I tried to collect myself. I heard the SWAT team shuffling around, they were loud. "Shooter is still active! We have 9 men down, 6 of which are unmoving! We're falling back to a safe position."
By the sound of it, they were dragging the wounded and dead away from the hallway. If there was ever a time to strike, it was now.
I checked the room for ammunition, the three cop-mobsters didn't have any, I certainly didn't have any, but… I knew who had some. They were right outside.
I wish I could say I was all right; I wish I could say the regeneration was all I could have hoped for—but it wasn't. I was still bleeding, I felt tired, dizzy almost. But I couldn't stop now… Could I?
I could swear, the police used speakers instead of handheld radios. "Lieutenant, the governor has authorized deployment of the National Guard. Evacuate the injured and fall back to the safety point."
I thought I heard the men sigh in relief. I could only imagine the hell they were going through. I still felt like shit, but damnit, this was my only shot. I crept closer to the entryway, but one of the men outside was paying close attention and shot at the door.
It was all or nothing. I yanked the door open again, tanking at least 3 lines of fire. I looked to the right and saw a man crouched down shooting me. I sprinted towards him and tore the rifle out of his hands.
Some of the men in front of me had been in the process of dragging away bodies, quickly I ran them down with a hail of bullets. Behind me, someone had been going full auto but had to reload. "Gagh!" One of those bullets scraped a rib. Resisting the desire to fall down and surrender, I turned around and tackled the offending man.
Between my sheer durability and strength, he stood no chance, he was dead in seconds. My hands dyed red in velvety gore. I paused and looked around, some of the men were struggling to breathe. A sense of dread settled in me as I made my way to the injured. They were the reason life was bad, it was all their fault. My life was ruined, and now I would take theirs. I shot all of them, collecting the points like I was the grim reaper.
"Lieutenant, do you copy?" The voice on the other end sounded anxious, "Be advised, team two…" A large pause, the radio operator probably knew the guys. "Team two is down." I rushed over to the body and pocketed the radio. I could hear shouting in the not-so-far distance. I crept down the hallway and entered a different room.
There were two beds, both unmade. A tray of food spilled on the floor, just to be safe, I checked in the bathroom, wouldn't want an officer to be hiding in their--"Oh my god…" I was breathless.
Someone had totally left the toilet unflushed. Among the things that should have grossed me out today, strangely enough, it was this moment… Not the blood and gore of my despised enemies, but rather, this.
I quickly closed the curtain leading to the bathroom, then I barricaded the entrance from the room. There were no windows. I saw a camera in the corner, I got a chair and ripped it off, and threw it into the bathroom. I tipped over one of the beds and took a seat on the same chair. I propped my gun on the bed. I had a direct view of the door. I was going to wait this one out, at least for tonight.
Chapter 4
Turn's out I had fallen asleep at some point, thank God for taking out the cameras.
Someone was trying to speak to me on the other side of the wall. "I understand your name is Stayton Kanata?"
I jolted awake at the abrupt voice. I checked my watch. 3 PM, I had only slept for an hour and a half. I checked the system, I had 6 points again.
"I also understand that you have sustained multiple, if not numerous bullet wounds." it sounded like he was reading off a paper. "How are you holding up?"
I looked down at my arms and legs, I wasn't bleeding, but it wasn't pretty. Good thing there wasn't a mirror in this room, if there had been, there was no doubt I would have thrown up.
I was more flesh than skin.
I double-checked the magazine in the rifle. Good to go.
"Well…" I began speaking to the guy. "I don't know how to use medical supplies—but don't you mind that I'm in good shape over here." I lied. I wasn't dizzy, but damn was I fatigued.
"I can't say I'm particularly happy to hear you're okay. You've murdered 15 officers and six others. You have no prior criminal record. Do you have a reason for doing this?"
A quick flash of anger burned through me. "It's the mob damn it! Those 'people', were coming over to kill me. So, yeah, I killed them. I woke up in this hospital, I'm sure you know what room I was staying in. There were three officers there—they were mobsters." I paused to catch my breath.
"I wasn't feeling cute this morning, so I killed them too." The ever-present anger that seemed to be expressing itself more and more in my life started to sprout.
I could hear muffled voices outside the wall, the "negotiator", was not alone… of course he wasn't.
"What about the SWAT team you massacred, what about all the patients you endangered, Stayton, it's time to surrender. You're going to turn in your guns, and you're going to let us into that room, and we're going to put handcuffs onto your wrists. If you agree to do this peacefully, I will personally make sure the police department is investigated for corruption. We'll sweep the city clean."
The negotiator whispered something intelligible. "Stayton, if what you said is true, you could very well walk out of this hospital a free man—albeit a free man who's had a couple of years of jail time under bars, but a free man in due time nonetheless."
The man coughed. "But, if you do not come out in the next 30 minutes, I'm going to hand over control to the National Guard, they won't be so patient. So for God's sake, kid, give it up already. It's time for justice, and I promise you: I will go to the end of the earth to ensure the criminals are brought to bear before the law."
It was a good offer, I'd done some bad things, killed a few men. But I'd gotten so far already, would there be mercy for me? Was this the move to make, It could very well be the only way out. I was angry, I wanted to fight till the end—but I was weak and tired. Perhaps my duty would finally be fulfilled, after all, the man said he was with the FBI, surely the mob hadn't expanded into the federal government.
It was decided. "I want a guarantee. I want protection. I want my case to be held in federal court, I want to see proof that the mob is taken down. If you can promise this, I will surrender."
"Deal." The man simply stated. "Just stand back, we're going to breach the room, have you're on your knees, hands in the air."
Just for the sake of convenience, I moved the hospital bed out of the way. I had to explain that to the negotiator, he wasn't amused. I laid the gun down on the other side of the room. I kept the body armor on, you know, just in case.
After about two minutes, they rammed the door down and tossed in a flash grenade. I resisted the urge to cover my eyes.
In seconds 6 men had rifles and shotguns pointed at my head and torso. My hands got cuffed, as did my ankles. One of the men put a cotton sack over my head and cinched it tight.
Two men grabbed my arms and walked by my side. I heard boots marching behind and in front of me.
The walk through the hospital was not fun, on more than one instance, I heard crying, pained groaning… I could feel the stares of people, their eyes burned through the cotton mask like it wasn't there. I could feel the hate, from the men holding me, to even the children. Is this what It feels like to be a monster? An outcast.
I could hear shouting, it grew louder, I knew I was coming closer to the outside. "—Look, the crazed gunman has been captured by police, the number of casualties is not yet known. Motive's unknown—" The reporter was drowned out by the crowd.
Worried parents, friends, and family had based at the hospital, I could hear heavy trucks moving and harsh voices making orders. The blare of sirens was almost woundingly loud.
Suddenly I was lifted and dumped down onto a seat, I heard the rest of the men around me also get in—it must have been a truck/van. The drive was terribly long. Hours passed, it felt like day's past. As soon as I'd fall asleep, the men would shout at me and shake me awake.
Why the long ride? Didn't they see that I was injured, didn't they see that I was absolutely riddled with bullet holes. Bastards were probably hoping "I wouldn't make the ride".
"Bastards." I spat, I seemed to forget I was wearing a mask. The infraction resulted in me being kicked in the legs a few times—I pretended it hurt.
Finally, we left the van or truck. Whatever. I hadn't eaten for some time, and they left me no choice but to piss myself in the van. Today just wasn't my day.
At least they didn't want to hold me anymore, they took off the sack. What lay before me was a veritable brick fortress lined with a barbed-wire fence. In other words, it looked like any other prison.
I was marched into a processing room, they uncuffed me, stripped me, bandaged me up, lastly, they stuffed me in a small cell, no window, no bed, solid metal door, only a toilet, and perhaps 10 feet of space. To and from the door. It was dark and quiet.
There was a drain in the middle of the cell. They brought a hose over and began spraying me down, after they had their fun, they threw an orange jumpsuit with a set of numbers on the back.
They fed me once every 12 hours. The meals consisted of a 16-ounce plastic cup of water, and a 32-ounce slab of oatmeal, ground beef, various fruits, and vegetables—all of it was packed into a giant brick, it tasted like shit. It was the worst thing I've ever set my sights on. I mean… that thing in the hospital bathroom was one thing, but this… God help me, this was torture.
There was no day, there was no night. The cold concrete floor was giving me back problems. I felt like I was losing my mind. That damn negotiator, he never said I'd be going into an isolation cell. "Fuck!" I cursed loudly, my voice echoing and dying at the metal door.
I checked my system, it was all I did now. I scrolled through the list of powers. I had six points, tier three powers cost 50 points.
Once a week they came by the cell and showered me, once a month they would change my clothes, every day they would feed me the same thing.
Days passed. I felt a little guilty about killing all those men. Perhaps I was too hasty to act—too greedy for strength, maybe all I needed to do was involve a higher authority in the city.
I can't describe how bad the loaf of food they gave me was. Every bite made me want to vomit. They didn't give me nearly as much water and when they showered me, I quickly learned opening my mouth was a terrible idea. The pressure of the water could tear the skin if focused on one spot for more than a few seconds. I'll leave it at that.
Days turned into months and my hope for justice turned into disappointment, I only ate half the loaf now, I threw the rest back at the guards. I was given no time outside the cell, I'd been stuck in this god's forsaken room for weeks. I felt my mind wander to my childhood, to my parents… The hospital, those screaming—those eyes… It was the only thing that kept me sane—the only thing that kept me angry.
Months turned to years. My mind eroded away as I waited day after day, staring into the darkness, I tried to escape my cell, but the door was solid metal. Justice had been denied, my revenge had been denied… My freedom and life were being denied of me! I heard them let prisoners out, I had to be patient, when the time came, I would be ready. Time became an irrelevant thing, I sat in my cell, and I just waited and waited.
My wounds were completely healed, I had an Olympic strength and an even more impressive toughness, I never got sick, my back would hurt in the morning and heal up before bed. I was a god damn cockroach.
Finally, the time came, it was like any other.
"10-A, it's time for your psychological evaluation. Put your hand's through the cell." A latch in the door opened.
I flinched, but got up and did as the guard asked. The door opened. The light blinded me. Fury ran through my veins as I was transported down the cell block.
If I went back in that cell, it would be years, maybe even decades before they let me out again. I had surrendered once, and it cost me dearly, I would never let myself be fooled again—I would never give up without a fight. I dishonored myself, I dishonored the legacy I was destined to leave.
I tested the cuffs, they were solid, they wouldn't break. The guard behind me would. Without notice, I turned around. Of course, he shouted, he pulled out his taser and shot me. The prods barely broke the skin, I shrugged off the effect and grabbed the officer's neck. With pent-up rage and frustration, I strangled him. Seven points.
I grabbed his set of keys, I had memorized which one he used to uncuff me. It took me 4 seconds. He had nothing that would otherwise help me. Nothing except those keys would help me. I didn't bother unlocking the cells. I didn't want to deal with those poor bastards. They had been here longer than me—and if they had done anything close to what I committed, then they too were monsters.
I sprinted to the end of the hall and unlocked the door. There was shouting coming down the hallway, a contingent of guards was running down towards me.
"On the floor!" They had guns out and pointed at me.
There was another gate, I lifted my hands into the air and got on my knees. "Alright, alright."
Hurriedly, but carefully, they got the gate open and walked forward, guns trained on me.
"Stay still you fucker." Like hell. I rolled forward, trying to keep my head away from their gunfire. They were close, they didn't back up fast enough. I grabbed ankles and ripped them to the ground.
"Gun!"
"Gun!"
"Need backup at cellblock A, Gun!"
They couldn't shoot me, I was hugging one of the bastards close to my chest, I squeezed him hard, he cried in pain. I reached up for his neck, but the guards began throwing their pistols away from the fight, they dog piled me.
It was a lot of weight, but it wouldn't crush me. Immediately I threw punches, I bit ears and bucked my legs--anything and everything I could do to win. They grabbed at me, hit me, and did all they could—but I was tough, I could take it.
I landed a deadly undertook on one of the guards, and then gouged out another's eyes. My fists were hard as stones, they broke the skin whilst leaving me unscathed.
The guy I squeezed was still laying on me, I had some room with my hands, I moved them up and readjusted his neck.
Suddenly, it felt like the tides were quickly turning. I raised myself from the ground, hitting and kicking like a trapped animal—which I was.
Some of the guards backed off, going to retrieve their weapons. Quickly, I finished a few of the guards on the ground. Ten points. I left the rest of the unconscious wounded guards and charged towards the few running towards their weapons.
I was fast, sure, but they beat me to it. Unfortunately, they believed bullets would kill me. 13 points. I picked up a gun and scavenged some ammunition. I went back to the dogpile and finished them off. 14 points.
An alarm was blaring through the cellblock.
"Attention, Active shooter protocol. This is not a drill. I repeat, this. Is. Not. A. Drill."
I needed more points, I needed more, I wanted out, I needed to get the fuck out of here. A lightbulb went off in my head—a terribly dark lightbulb. I was stuck in a facility, with humanity's worst men and women. I would end their suffering. They were trapped here, and I would let them free—from this life.
Quickly, I used the keys to unlock the small latch they used to handcuff people. It was very dark inside the cells, but bright orange is quite visible. The prisoner was skinny, eyes dull and lost.
I took aim and fired at the poor fella. Two shots. 15 points. I went down and did the same. 16. Some prison guards began to shoot at me at one end of the block. I returned fire, I sustained multiple hits. They backed up, I unlocked another cell, returning fire at the same time. 18. I ducked into the cell.
Immediately, as I had planned, I upgraded strength to T2. Lastly, I got the power I had always wanted—that everyone on the planet always wanted. Flight. T1.
I could feel energy ripple through my body, I felt a little bigger, scarier, stronger.
I could hear them closing the distance. Time to see If I could trick the bastards.
I willed myself into flight, it kicked in. It felt like I was using an innate sense that had always been a part of me. Just as we didn't know how to breathe, I didn't know how to fly—there is no knowledge, only action.
I slowly levitated upwards, I tried to go faster, but the pace seemed to break at a casual walking speed. Perhaps if I had used my T2 strength to jump first, it would have been faster? Maybe. Nonetheless, I touched the ceiling and I laid still, reining in my ragged breath.
"Shooter has entered cell 23, we have men down, we have prisoners down."
"Open the door with your hands visible!" Someone shouted towards the room I was in.
It was dark in the room, and the ceiling went above the door—so good luck finding me without coming inside! Bastards! I grinned an evil sort of grin.
A few minutes passed and I heard heavier footsteps running down the hall. A SWAT Team?
"Clear the area!" The sounds outside the door have the hustle comparable to that of a football team practicing runs. Equipment and the screeches of rubber on tile were very obnoxious.
"Set!" a pause, some shuffling. "Go!"
The door opened, there was preemptive shouting, but it died down. Flashlights lit up the entire room. The only thing in here was a dead prisoner, and his toilet—unflushed of course.
The silence was quite telling, it said "we are so fucked."
"Oh shit." One of the officers broke the silence.
Radio's started going off, voices shouting at each other. "Johnson said he was watching on the camera the whole time. Says he has a recording of him entering the cell!"
I could see a hand waving through the door. "But did I forget to tell you? Johnson's a fucking retard! Fuck! Search the whole god damn cell block! I want this whole building on lockdown. No one goes in, no one goes out!"
"You start down there, no one searches alone, buddy up!"
The man shooed away all the officers, he walked into the cell and kicked the dead prisoner. "Fuck me." It looked like he was about to burst a vein.
"Indeed." His face snapped up and a look of horror spread across him.
3 points.
Chapter 5
I let the man fall to the ground, he had a nice rifle. I picked that up. I closed the cell door. I went back and put his body armor on. I took the helmet, the boots (which fit!) and I made sure I got all the ammo. For good measure, I took the radio.
I was still dressed in my bright orange, but this time I was decked out in this prison's version of SWAT equipment.
I opened the cell door. I looked around and saw roves of guards going through each cell, checking the prisoner's face and crossing off names and cells from a list. Radio's had a constant stream of conversation going through them.
I stepped out of the cell, gun pointed up. More than one officer saw me. I shot the entire magazine into the hallway, I aimed for those without body armor. The rifle was fully automatic, in a matter of seconds, the entire clip had been emptied.
TSS notified me that I had 8 points. The entire block erupted in weapons fire and pained shouting. My body armor was taking a pounding. I stepped back into the cell and reloaded. Then I blindly fired the weapon out the door. I did this a few times until I was out of ammo.
12 points. I was sick and tired of being trodden on, I wanted my freedom, and I would take it, even if it came at the cost of a thousand men! The blood of those who would stand in my way will nourish the earth below me. A new world will be born from the fruits of my labor.
[THE SUPERPOWER SYSTEM]
[POINTS: 2]
[UNLOCKED: T2 DURABILITY---T2 STRENGTH---T1 REGENERATION---T2 FLIGHT]
I purchased T2 flight. Time to see if strength, durability, and flight was a good combo. I opened the door and sprinted out. Immediately, I was being pelted by bullets. Strips of flesh chipping away from my body.
I jumped off the ground and began to fly. The speed had increased to about 30 miles per hour, just above the record for the fastest sprint. Some officers and inmates yelled out in surprise, most of them in fear. A few cowards even turned around and began to run away.
It wasn't even seconds before I got to the first man. Using both speed, mass, and strength, my punch either blasted through the skin and body—or ruptured organs and bones when hitting body armor. Either way, the combination was deadly, and neigh unstoppable. I felt the rush of wind in between life taking blows. My body was painted in red viscera, eyes set in a wild stupor, my fists unrelenting and my assault unstoppable.
I killed until no one was left, I pulled the innards out of an officer's stomach, he looked up at me, I threw his guts down at his feet and pushed him down. I didn't feel squeamish. I clenched my fists and looked around. I wanted more. I stormed down the cell block, bloodlusted.
I heard inmates crying, praying, some even cheering. I shook my head, and I began clearing out the cells of Cellblock A. With each visit, I painted the cell bright red. My fists plunged through chests, stomachs—even heads.
Sometimes, some guards would approach at the end of the block, it only happened a few times before they got the lesson. Cross me, and you'll die. My flight was faster than any human could travel on foot, my physical strength enough to blow down-solid iron doors with only a few hits.
About halfway through my point exodus, a loud buzz sounded out through the entire cell block. The prison had opened all the doors. The prisoners took this as their queue not to fight, but to run, that or beg. I would not be fooled. All the lives here were forfeit, and I would have them, for power.
When I pulled my fist free of the last standing inmate, I stopped. I stood before the gates, no one was there. I would free myself soon. Nothing mattered now, no one could possibly stop me, not the mob, not the police, no one. I checked my system.
73 points. This was enough to make a tier-three power. There was little debate, I upgraded endurance to T3. It cost 50 points.
I grabbed a rifle from one of many dead guards, pressed the barrel to my chest, and shot. I felt the bullet pinch me and then settle back in the barrel. I pulled the gun back and tilted it. A flattened bullet fell to the floor. "Oh yeah," I muttered darkly.
I walked up to the brick wall and struck it with all my strength, it crumbled as if I had only punched drywall. I smirked. I could break free of any prison now, I was uncontainable.
This... does put a smile on my face.
I began walking towards the gate, I upgraded regeneration to T2 without a second thought. I won my freedom, now it was time to take my revenge. I flew up and punched through the ceiling, then the one after that, and within literal moments, I was free.
Sunlight, fresh air. Freedom never felt so good!
I could see a line of armored trucks approaching the prison. Looks like the military had been called in, maybe there was a base nearby? Either way, free points. I flew away from the prison, right above the convoy. I dropped to the ground and flew at the truck, I hit it with all my might. Fragments of glass exploded, both driver and passenger were saved by the airbags. But it wouldn't matter. I flew inside the truck through the window, killing the two, then I went to the back cargo area. 24 national guardsmen were scattered around the bed of the truck. I grabbed two machine guns from the ground and turned the safety off. They were loaded. I unloaded the clip onto all the soldiers, then I dispatched the rest personally.
I flew out of the truck and went to the next, I lifted it up at its side and flipped it over, then I brutalized the soldiers. There were so many trucks, I had to leave some alive, I had to be quick, lest they get away. The scum who would see me waste away behind bars whilst the criminals lived high and mighty. I would correct their ways, I would make them see reason.
51 points. I upgraded flight to T3. I took off the ground and flew towards the next truck. I was fast, I was going 60 per hour, the road blurred past me, the wind burning my eyes, I plowed into the next truck, my momentum, durability, and strength driving me straight through the window all the way to the back. Shrapnel and my outstretched arms killing the majority of the men on board.
At this point, the soldiers began exiting their trucks and began getting in defensive formations. I was unkillable! "Bastards! Stop me now!" I roared and obliterated the next truck in the same fashion.
I sped through the next truck, and another after that. I readied for the next truck but instead, I met thin air. The convoy had ended. Total destruction. I looked behind me and saw smoke rising into the air, a metallic hint of blood-tinged the atmosphere. The cries of wounded soldiers were music to my ears. Freedom at last.
I rose in the air, a fist clenched in victory. I surveyed the sight of my battle. A feeling in my heart made me grin. With this power, I could rule the world.
A bullet pelted off my chest, I scanned the area and found the offender. I flew down like wind incarnate. The desperate soldier dropped his weapon and began to flee. I was behind him in a flash, I reached towards his spine and ripped it free. The soldier grasped at the air, eyes wide and, his mouth moved like a fish out of water. He fell to his knees, he looked up at the clouds, as if he truly understood something that had been hidden from him all his life. Blood spurted out his back and he dropped to the ground.
I looked around and saw no one pointing their weapons at me. They were dropped to the ground, dull haunted looks spread across the entire convoy. They were survivors, they would live to see another day—if they didn't resist.
It started as a trickle, but soon enough, many of the national guardsmen were running away, they left behind the dead, some carried their wounded brothers. They knew they were outmatched. Perhaps there were some who would see reason after all…
I nodded and rose back into the air and looked back at the federal prison. "Six long years." I looked back at the carnage, "that's what six fucking years looks like." I flew into the air, just below the clouds. I was covered in red blood and charcoal black. None of the orange jumpsuits was visible, not even my skin.
I felt better, it was like I'd gotten a massive weight on my chest. Who would have known that slaughtering a company of soldiers could be so therapeutic? I felt years Kanataer…
I looked at my wounds, only to find fresh patches of skin where numerous bullets had struck. I was both the unmovable object and the unstoppable force.
For as long as those criminals stood, I would never rest, I would never consort with them, I will not negotiate any longer, the time for words has ended. Now is the time for action.
