The following contain adult themes and coarse language. Viewer discretion advised.

MINIMUM WAGE QUEST

1 - Introduction

ANOTHER HOUR TICKS BY as your fingers glide across your phone's keyboard. Chatting with randoms from the internet seems to be the only thing preventing you from sticking your face into the frying oil out of boredom. You check the clock on your phone: 12 PM. You can't help but sigh. You still have 5 HOURS until the end of your shift, but you have yet to TAKE YOUR LUNCH BREAK.You are TWENTY-ONE (21) YEARS OLD. You hold an ASSOCIATE'S DEGREE IN SOCIAL MEDIA MARKETING because a cute girl you liked during freshman orientation told you she was pursuing it. It is one of your biggest regrets. You are an EMPLOYEE at BIG M BURGER, off the corner of First and Market. You've enjoyed eating here as a kid for years, and now it's the only place in town that'll hire you with your degree. The food is subpar, but it's not the worst thing to eat for free during your lunch break.You would really like to see your life improve sometime soon, but for now, texting takes the edge off of how shitty your existence is.

What is your name?

You are MARCO ROHNI. You silently curse GOD for your lame ass parents choosing a name that would be the mockery of every school you attended. Your particular nickname took some time to get out of your classmates' mouths, but it also never really disappeared. You pray you never meet your fellow highschool alumni.Thankfully, no one online has to know your name. The name you use to chat on internet relay chat rooms is MQuester. You don't know why you chose it, but you forsee a swath of forced meta references.You have a variety of SKILLS. You have MODERATE LUCK currently, with a bonus in CHARISMA and VIGILANCE. You take a look at your STATBLOCK.

Ah, it looks like the old boy you were talking to is done arguing with his mother. Time for another riveting conversation...

Unfortunately, it also seems like you have a customer. Great. Now you have to actually DO YOUR JOB."Good afternoon, sir!" In front of you is a strange young fellow. The short teenager palms your nice disinfected counter with his sweaty, sweaty palms. You are not amused.

NEW QUEST! You have a new quest. Completing a quest grants you points to allocate onto your statblock.
NEW CUSTOMER - Satisfy the customer.

As unappealing as you find the guy, he basically just said hi. There's no real reason to get riled up about a clammy teen."Hi, thank you for choosing BIG M BURGER. What can I get started for you?" Silence follows your words for a good half-minute. You think back to what you last said, checking that you didn't forget to ask him what he wanted. He looks at you with the same blank smile."Hey, you weren't planning on being rude to me or anything, were you?" ...what?"What?""Yeah. For a moment, it looked like you were debating whether or not to be rude to me. Something else too, but I guess it doesn't matter. Am I right?"

This nerd... this nerd has no idea who you are, what you've been through, and he has the gall to talk about your customer service? What the hell is this guy's deal?? The spark of your indignation ignites the numbness inside you into a righteous anger! Suddenly, you've lost control of what comes out of your mouth."Dude, back the fuck off.""Oh, I didn't—""Shut up. Let me clue your dumb ass in on how I started my day today. Let me really give you my life's story since you're sooo fucking interested.""Look, I—" You can't even hear him."I woke up in my shitty apartment four hours after my double shift here just to get ready for another god damn double shift here. I've been working sixteen hours every day, earning $7.25 an hour because it's a week until my rent is due. And I'm short twice my normal paycheck.""I'm sorry—" The fool is interrupted again by your glorious yapping."Then, I decide to eat breakfast because I only have the one lunch break across sixteen hours, and I need the energy. After I microwaved an egg and half of a breakfast sausage, I realize that my trash has piled up too high for my taste. I diligently tie the bag up and expect a short, leisurely stroll to the dumpster and back only to be fighting for my life when not one, not two, but THREE raccoons assault me from all sides. I had Papa Raccoon, Mama Raccoon, and fucking Baby Raccoon on my ass, which makes me fucking Trash Goldilocks, I guess. When I managed to escape back to my own apartment, I discovered—to my horror—that I had overcooked my egg in the microwave in a non-microwave safe bowl. The whole thing imploded. When I get back home, I will have pieces of egg, ceramic, and microwave embedded in my wall. Goodbye security deposit.""Oh wow." To his credit, he looks genuinely sympathetic."And now I am right here, talking to you. And yes, fighting the urge to be rude. Are you satisfied?"

You try and end the sentence with a certain "are you feeling lucky, punk?" flair, but you end up sounding like you're just actually asking him. The adrenaline starts to wear off, and you realize you just had an enormously loud meltdown in front of a customer. A customer who is dripping with the saliva you spat at him. Panic swiftly replaces your rage. Fortunately(?), the bespectacled customer looks amused."You went on for a quite a while there.""Sorry.""You're not.""No, I'm not. How do you know that?" His face lights up as you ask."I'm a psychic, duh."

Yeah, right. Well, if he's not mad, then he should just order a goddamn burger."I'm going to!""Going to what?""Order a burger. A goddamn burger, as you put it." You start to believe that he is indeed, a psychic. Or at the very least, he can just figure out what you're thinking. Interestingly, the revelation that this freak can read your mind doesn't really frighten you. You have a very readable face; in fact, you once thought that if your face was comprised of only simple shapes and a mouth, Helen Keller could read your expression. You instead find yourself annoyed at this kid for wasting your time.Then DO IT ALREADY. Don't psychics have better places to be?"Sorry, yeah, you're right. I just find what people say versus what they think really funny. One Bigger M Burger, please."Okay. Side?"Mashed potatoes."Drink?"Could I have a medium chocolate shake instead?"Sure, it's a dollar twenty extra."Yeah, that's fine."Okay. ... That's a Bigger M Burger meal with a medium-sized shake and mashed potatoes. Anything else?"Nope."Your total is $12.22."Wow, that's a lot. Does that come with fries?"Yeah, a medium-sized fries."Okay then." He pulls out his phone from his butt pocket and taps it on the card reader. It accepts. You are a little surprised; you figured that he would trick you or something. You don't know, psychics are like, magicians, right?"We're... kind of like magicians."Does it pay well?"It can." Fuck this guy and his roundabout way of speaking.

You'll bite. He clearly wants to talk some more about his psychic powers, and you're pretty curious.I have a very important question."Oh boy. Lay it on me."Does being psychic get you any bitches? Better yet, are those bitches psychic? It's worth knowing. He smirks."It could."Fuck off. That causes him to laugh."Sorry. Yes, it totally could."Fuck off. Be specific, dude."I mean, yes, if I really tried to read the mind of someone I was interested in, I likely could get anyone I wanted. It's just not a priority of mine."Nah, I don't believe you anymore. He laughs again."That I'm a psychic? As I'm talking to you while you're just standing there mute?"Look, if I were a psychic, the first thing I'd do is pick a bad bitch up. End of story."Well, there's a whole lot more to life as a psychic than that. It's a lot heavier of an undertaking than you'd think. I shouldn't get too into it, but us psychics are chosen. Every so often, the Earth gifts a child with divine power, with the intent that the child will grow older to protect the Earth. Obviously not every psychic will want to do that, but I'm one of the ones who do. My psychic powers are solely for the purposes of defending this planet. It's a responsibility I'll have until I die."..."Sorry, was that a lot?"So there ARE psychic bitches! His smirk drops a bit."Yes."Nice. That rules.

For a moment, you contrast the grand design of this guy's life versus your own. You don't really do anything cool like that. You're actually likely a net negative to the people around you. This... sucks. A tidal wave of depression knocks you bitterly into reality. Your life is dogwater. Your LUCK drops to 4.

"Hey, cheer up. People do have worse lives."Okay, these are my private inside thoughts. Can you quit doing that?"Sorry. If it's any consolation, I didn't come here for a burger. I came here for you."

Why? Are you gonna make me a psychic too? His eyes widen, and a serious expression replaces his grin. Wait, are you for real?"Last night, I received a premonition. A vision from the Earth. A great being of destruction is fated to arrive here sometime soon, and the entire planet is at risk of being eliminated. Your friends and family, all gone. The vision went on to tell me that I would help stop it, but I would not be alone. I would have... an associate."And that's me?"It has to be. I was drawn here by some force that I could not recognize, but now I see that it was your psychic potential. You may not have discovered your powers as a child, but you can still awaken them now."Wait, wait. So if I accept, I'll get for real psychic powers?"Yes."Like what? Mind reading like you? He shrugs."I have no idea. As far as I know, I'm the only one who can read people's minds, which is a passive ability, mind you. I can't control when I read people's thoughts. But whatever powers you get, I'm sure they'll be great."Is it possible to get a really shitty psychic power? He gives you an awkward smile."Well... sure, I guess, technically."Have you seen someone with a ridiculous power?"Oh, sure. I knew this guy who could vomit fish at will. It was so strange, but really fascinating... uh, but don't let that discourage you." Right.What would I even do as your partner?"Associate," he corrects. "You would train with me as we prepare to face whatever threat is in store for us." Shit, you almost forgot about that last part.So, this would be... dangerous?"Unfortunately, yes. But when we get you trained, I bet there's nothing we can't handle."That's not very reassuring... whatever, I'll do it."Really?"The way I see it, I'm either dying broke on the streets or ripped apart by this destructive being or whatever. Both ways I'm dead. But this way I get powers. Hopefully not throwing-up-a-fish powers. He smiles. This one looks more earnest than amused."I'm glad. Alright, do you want to start now, or?"What, training? I'm at work. He shakes his head."No, silly. Awakening your powers."Oh. Can I do that here? How does that work?"Well, essentially you are not on the same wavelength as the Earth. If I manipulate your energy, I should be able to connect you to the Earth's frequency. That should evoke your hidden powers."Is it gonna hurt?"A little."...Okay.

He takes a step back, raising his right hand over his shoulder. You swear you can see his hand twitching right before his arm snaps forward, nailing you in the chest.You are suddenly reminded of the jackhammer. The first time you'd seen a jackhammer was when you were three and went to New Cork City. Your uncle was starring in a Broadway play, and your family had tickets. As you walked along the streets of the Square, you noticed a construction worker using a jackhammer to break up the concrete. You noticed the pulsing, crushing force of the machine, which itself kept a constant grating tempo. You imagine what it would be like to die for the first time.That pulsing, crushing feeling radiates from your chest to your extremities. You double up. Blood drips out of your mouth, staining your teeth red. You try to speak, but you cannot.

The world around you goes black. You feel that your eyes are open, but you cannot see. You try and grasp anything. The counter in front of you somehow feels forever away, so you try and grab something off your body. You grab your apron and accidentally rip it clean off your body, almost as if it were made of tissue paper. You collapse onto the cold linoleum floor, uncontrollably coughing up blood as you clutch your side helpelessly.Your mind turns to second-guessing itself to distract you from the agony. What if that kid was just some freak and not actually a psychic? Why did you believe him in the first place? You've never believed in spiritual mumbo gumbo, not since you were told you were baptised as a baby. What the fuck is up with that bullshit? Isn't that super dangerous?You really hope someone's getting help. You'd really hate for your final moment to be working at Big M Burger. Not like you would've been the first to have been killed at Big M Burger. These fast food places get scary.Scared... fear. You're afraid. Above all the pain and everything, you've been filled with fear since you were a child. You feel a vibration. It's strangely familiar, but you feel like you're hearing this for the first time. The pain in your chest starts to ease.

Suddenly, the black unfolds into a myriad of colors. You blast down a technicolor highway, and you can feel the vibration increasing in intensity. Alike the jackhammer, the tempo is eerily consistent, practically exact. Your body goes numb until all you can feel is the pulsing tone coursing through your body. Every vein, every crevice, every atom of your body cries out; a harmony of sound and energy fill your senses before it all stops. You reach clarity.You feel it. The Earth. You've heard it all your life, but you had no idea its voice was this distinct. You start to cry.WHAT DO YOU NEED?What? You heard what it said. I don't want to be afraid.WHAT DO YOU NEED TO DO?I don't know. But you do. I've got to make it through.The pain returns. Your ACROBATICS increases to 3! Your CHARISMA increases to 6! Your VIGILANCE increases to 8!

You feel as if you can ask it one more thing.How do I defeat the great being of destruction?YOU SEEK AN ANSWER FOR A QUESTION YOU HAVE READ INCORRECTLY. VAGUE DREAMS CAN BE INTERPRETED IN MANY WAYS. WHAT YOU BELIEVE NOW DOES NOT MATTER.I AM GRATEFUL. I HAVE CRIED OUT AND YET FEW HAVE ANSWERED. I CONSIDERED THEM MY CHILDREN. AND THEY LEAVE ME TO ROT.YOU ARE SPECIAL. PERHAPS NOT AS SPECIAL AS YOU HAVE BEEN TOLD. YOU CANNOT DEFEND ME ALONE. AND YOU CANNOT TRULY WIN IF YOU USE THE METHODS OF THE ENEMY, ELSE YOU BECOME LIKE HIM. REMEMBER BOTH OF THESE THINGS. YOU WILL UNDERSTAND FULLY WHEN THE TIME COMES.I MUST LEAVE YOU BE. IF I MEDDLE ANY FURTHER THAN I AM MEANT TO, THE FATES WILL BE ALTERED. BUT THAT IS NOT SO BAD. BEFORE I LEAVE, I WILL BESTOW UPON YOU A BOON. I WISH YOU WERE ABLE TO USE IT EARLIER. USE IT NOW AND THRIVE.DO WHAT YOU NEED TO DO, MARCO.You are now a psychic.

You cough up the last bits of blood in your throat as you suddenly regain consciousness. Your vision returns, and your first sight is the psychic kid getting cuffed by an officer. Your manager, Jared, is kneeling next to you, looking horrified at your state."Oh shit! He's awake!" Jared is a massive hypochondriac, and you imagine that seeing you hack up blood and twitch on the floor didn't help him very much. Psychic boy looks back at you, looking more than a little relieved."Hey pal! How was it?"

I have a lot of words for you after this. You turn to the cop. "Hey, you don't have to do that," you say as you wipe the blood off of your face. You still have to clutch your heart as you stand up. "He was only doing what I asked him to."You have some time to admire the classy police uniform this guy has on as he slowly furrows his brows and looks at you. You're kinda freaked out, actually; it's like watching a human sloth."You're clearly injured. And you just woke up from being unconscious, so I would sit down." You ignore his condescending tone and look at your manager."Jared, did you call the cops?" He looks almost insulted you would ask him this."Are you joking? Fuck no. He was in the drive through when you started convulsing and spitting blood everywhere. He practically leaped through the window.""Okay, so you're not pressing charges?""You're not going to?""Like I said, I asked for it." He shrugs."I don't really have time to forward anything legal to corporate." You turn back to the cop."Okay, I'm not pressing charges and neither is my manager. Look, I'm totally fine. There's no need to make a big deal about this." This guy's eyebrows are like another animal entirely the way they wiggle and bend on his head."Are you sure?""Yes.""...positive?""Yes." His shoulders droop as he uncuffs the kid."And I was one away from my quota too. Alright, carry on. You, fat one, where's my Biggest Meal?" Jared, not even remotely fazed by the out-of-pocket comment, hands him his greasy bag. The cop promptly leaves. Everyone in the room breathes out a sigh of relief. Your attention turns to the now free psychic."I have a lot of questions.""Yeah, me too," your manager interrupts. You turn to face Jared.

"Oh, hey Jared.""'Hey Jared?' What the fuck happened? You got the shit knocked out of you on purpose? You scared me half to death!""Sorry, man. I wasn't expecting that to happen. You're not gonna count that as my break, are you? That didn't count." Jared's face scrunches up, clearly offended."Man, fuck you. I was actually worried about you, motherfucker," he spits as he turns to leave. "You're cleaning all that blood up. If we fail next week's inspection because of you, I'm gonna fuck you up."The restaurant is silent for a while."So?" The psychic kid suddenly makes his presence known again. "How did it go?"

I should beat you up right now, dick. The kid's smile drops, and he raises his eyebrows. We're getting a lot of eyebrow action today it seems."Hey, I told you it would hurt a little!"That was a little? I thought I was gonna die."I'm sorry. I've never tried to awaken another psychic before. Was it bad the whole time?"I don't know if it was really bad or good. It was just... I felt like everything was new but also everything was familiar. I could see ages of history fly past me like a straw in the wind. I could feel space around me disassemble itself and myself until every atom formed into a homogeneous mixture. It was like being on acid."You've tried acid?"That's not the point.You breathe in deeply, a newfound energy stirring within your chest. You're a psychic now. Or at least, you're pretty sure. That kid said something about you getting an ability, right? Did the Earth say that, too? You've gotta be able to do something freaky. Your target... a leftover plastic spoon on the counter! You strike a mystical pose and begin to undulate your body—you assume this is what you're supposed to do—as you try and focus energy into the spoon. What did that bald kid in the Matrix say? You are the spoon... there is no spoon...?!"What are you doing?"You are asking way too many questions. I'm trying to unlock my psychic powers."I... I don't think that's how you do it." You grit your teeth; you try to concentrate but this guy just really knows how to get under your skin.You wanna know what I think? I think you know a whole lot less than you're letting on."How do you mean?"I spoke to the Earth... or at least I'm pretty sure I did? It's... a little foggy. But I'm sure that I was told I didn't know the whole truth about the being of destruction. Something about dreams being misinterpreted. He looks past you with a thoughtful expression on his face."Interesting. I'd hoped I wasn't too off, but... were you told about anything else?"It's really hard to remember too many specifics. Something about an enemy...?"That sounds like my vision. I wonder what I misinterpreted."Wait, I do remember one more thing: What I believe now does not matter."What you believe now... doesn't matter?"Yeah."Woah."What? You know what that means?"No, that is just... super vague and unhelpful."I could say the same about you. You take your attention off of the nerd and start really focusing on the spoon. At first, you take note of its shape, its curvature, but soon you start noticing the weight, the material composition. The polymers in the spoon, while dissimilar to your organic compounds, make you take note of the way matter exists in the states you see it in. The chemical and physical changes to change them... willing them would take an incredible amount... of... energy!

You watch with expanded eyes as the spoon slightly crumples up by itself. You expend 1 ENERGY. Your ENERGY drops to 9."HOLY SHIT!"

You clear your throat, casually pick up the compressed plastic spoon, and lean on your arm on the counter. That was so smooth. Glasses seems excited too."That's awesome! You really are psychic now. How do you feel?" You give an uninterested shrug.Yeah, I mean, it's whatever. These things come easy to me."Uh-huh. Well, this is much faster than most psychics. I couldn't do anything to objects for about 10 months after I awakened my powers. I was a lot younger than you though."How young were you when you could do this?"Uh, 10 months old." Wow. You suddenly feel a lot less proud of yourself. However, you reason that you've only been a psychic for twenty minutes, and having the skill equivalent to a psychic infant is still better than what you had before all this. You feel a lot better. You can tell the imp in front of you is reading exactly what you're telling yourself and you grow frustrated.Quit it!"Sorry! I told you, I can't control it. It's passive. You should have a passive effect too."I can read people's minds?"It's different per psychic. Can you read my mind?"I don't think so. How can you tell?"Well, if you can't tell, I guess you can't. It's pretty obvious when you can read someone's thoughts."Then how do I know what I have? Nothing seems different. Was it maybe the spoon thing?"No, what you did to the spoon was just basic psychokinesis. You don't have an extra perception? No tingling feeling in your limbs? Anything?"Nothing."That's... weird. You should get a passive effect from the start."Damn. Wait, so you were able to read minds out the womb??"Something like that. I don't remember it at all, but my mom said I was very quiet when I was born."Weird. He smirks."What's weird is that you believed me and let me make you a psychic without knowing anything about me. I don't think I even told you my name yet." Oh... yeah. That's awkward. ... You should probably ask— "My name is Frederick. Or just Fred. Not Freddie. Only my parents and my older sister call me Freddie."I figured you'd have a more... out there name."Well, the first idea was Yevgeny after my uncle. But my parents are huge Scooby-Doo fans, so I became Fred. Guess what my older sister's name is."I dunno, Velma?"Scrappy."Your parents are evil, man."I know." You decide to get back on topic.

Seeing as how you're the expert here, how did you train your powers? Did you have to exercise it like a muscle or something? A nervous look slowly appears on his face."I've, uh... never trained my powers."Well, what does that mean? Are you powerless?"Well, no. But I never really needed to train. Things just kind of made sense for me instinctually. I haven't hardly used a fraction of it."Really."Yeah... I was hoping to figure out training the same way. It can't be too hard, right?"You're really underprepared here."Don't you think I know that? I came here on impulse; I have no idea how I'm supposed to go forward. I know I just have to." You sigh.Okay, then. Can we talk more later? I still have four more hours of my shift. And I'd like to get my manager less pissed at me."Okay, cool." You both quickly exchange phone numbers. "Are you off tomorrow?" You glare at him.What do you think?"Yeah, I really should have known better. Okay, so I'll see you here tomorrow on your break?" You guess you don't really have a choice. "Great! See you then," he says as turns to walk away."Wait!" You exclaim with your real voice. He looks back, eyebrow raised. "Are you satisfied?""What kind of question—""Just answer it! Are you satisfied?""Yes...?"YOU HAVE COMPLETED 'NEW CUSTOMER - Satisfy the customer.' Your BRAWN increases by 2! Your INTELLIGENCE increases by 1!

You watch as Fred leaves the restaurant. You suppose there's nothing else left to do but work. Somehow, you're grateful you're getting back to work. It's a perverse, uncomfortable feeling, but you guess a fast food job really doesn't match up against cosmic duty. You're also surprised by how désinvolte you've been about this whole psychic thing. You'd never have predicted this is how your day would have gone when you were battling three raccoons for your garbage.The rest of the day goes by almost too smoothly. Jared gives you a strange look as you both swap shifts with the overnight crew."Hey, I couldn't help but overhear you when you were shouting earlier." You turn to face Jared."Sorry about that," you reply a bit sheepishly. He shakes his head."No, I get it. I'm in a similar situation. Payday's only a few days away, so hang in there." With that, he speedwalks to his car, swiftly backs out of his manager parking spot—nestled nicely between the garbage dumpster and the recycling dumpster—and leaves you standing there. Similar spot your ass; you wish you had a car....An excrutiatingly long bus ride later, you're back in your apartment. You've never wondered what it would be like to be sandwiched between two incredibly old, incredibly fetid women who are yelling at each other. Now you know. You toss your backpack on your bed. Your STUDIO APARTMENT is the size of a hall closet, but after long hours at Big M, you find it rather cozy. You have maybe an hour of free time before you should probably go to sleep, so you can wake up in time for work tomorrow.

You are now CLEAN. That shower really hit the spot. You were having fun mindlessly daydreaming about some bitchin' hoes, but now the fun is over. You don a WELL-WORN BATHROBE as you squeeze your loofah dry. You wouldn't consider yourself a germophobe, but you're known for being clean and wanting your general surroundings to be clean. And right now, your poor loofah is filled with nasty gunk from—"BLOOD! BLOOD ON THE WALLS!!"Without warning, your spotless peace gets interrupted by a shriek. That's... no, you've had enough of a day to worry about this. You live in a rough neighborhood, people scream all the time. You quickly check your walls. Not bloody. Good. Just some crazy—But she keeps screaming. In fact, a few more join her. You try to recognize anyone, but none of the screams or voices sound familiar. This is truly haunted shit. It actually sounds like you live in a graveyard. Soon, more commotion ensues. Loud, damaging impacts crumble the building's walls above you. Directly above you. If you felt safe before, that feeling is gone now.

You've had quite enough of all this shaking and screaming. You head out of your apartment and venture inside the elevator. While you're quite hopeful this is just a textbook loud upstairs neighbor case, your gut is telling you the opposite. You really hate your stupid gut.You can hear a melody play. This surprises you; you've never heard music in this elevator before. The song is weird, too. There's no instrumental, just strange chanting. You mark this down as another reason to move out of this shithole.As the elevator doors open, you brace yourself for... nothing. There is no blood on the walls. The screaming has stopped. Not a goddamn sound. This isn't the first time your upstairs neighbors have been loud, though this one is a bit cryptic. Someone better not be playing a prank on you. You are not in the mood."It is too goddamn late for this!" You yell into the hall. "I can tolerate your get-togethers, but right now, I need my beauty sle—" Your ranting is interrupted by another loud smash; this one causes the door to swing open and slam against the adjacent door before it slowly creaks half-closed. This is MUCH too freaky.You INVESTIGATE the area. The hallway itself looks fine; nothing seems out of place. You've successfully confirmed that whatever is going on, it's going on in the unit directly in front of you. The unit that also happens to be directly above yours. This is concerning.

You wait for a moment, hoping that whoever is inside didn't get too offended by your shouting. If anyone did hear, no one seems to be leaving to confront you. You crouch and sneak towards the doors on your tippy-toes. Thinking on it, you've never really had to be very stealthy, so sneaking like this is very hard for you.As you reach the door, you can hear movement inside. Two, no, three sets of footsteps are audible. You think back to the layout of your apartment to try and figure out where people are walking....One in the main room and two in the bathroom. You build up the courage to peek through the agape door.You can barely see without opening the door. The layout is definitely the same as yours, with different furniture. The most obvious observation you can make is the giant bald man standing in the middle of the room. He wears a grey jumpsuit with the numbers "02" patched onto the back. The man presses two fingers to his temple, which obscures the rest of his face. He definitely should have heard you, but you suppose he looks busy. This night just gets weirder and weirder.

Out of a mixture of desperation and perhaps misplaced empathy, you decide to CALL YOUR MOM. You haven't talked to the ol' gal in a while, and that whip-smart noggin of hers could surely figure out a way out of this seemingly sticky situation. Within a minute of dialing her phone number, you realize your error."I thought I told you not to call here.""Hi, mom." You have to remind yourself you cannot raise your voice as you are directly next to the open room."Hi, good-for-nothing. If I were delusional, I would've have thought you had finally stopped shaming us, but unfortunately I am sane. Have you talked to your sister lately? If there's any chance that success is contagious, you should be hanging around her every day of the week." You nearly forgot the ROHNI CREED. While not a formally written rule, it has been practiced and proven for the century that your family has been in this country. When a Rohni child hits the wonderful age of 18, they are promptly kicked to the streets to make something of themself. You're pretty sure the minimum criteria is a six-figure salary. You'd love a five figure salary. Hell, you'd love a salary, but unfortunately, your performance has been much too lackluster to consider moving you to a salaried position. Asshats."I haven't talked to her, no. I don't really see much of a reason to." Your older sister is a pretentious thing. She started a business with her friends from college and struck gold. You can't remember exactly what she sells, but she sells a lot of it. You dislike your sister heavily."So nothing has changed?""Nothing has changed.""Nothing has changed, he says. And yet, he calls!" Here we go. "In the history of the Rohni name, not one child has called their parents before they're a success. I nearly had a heart attack and passed in peace, satisfied that my worthless deadbeat son has finally made the family name proud. But no, I survive to hear that you still have nothing but a meaningless fast food job and a useless degree. Thank you for calling, bambino." She promptly hangs up. Damn. You try not to dwell on this too hard, and instead direct your attention to the next person you're interested in calling.

"Hi, who's this?" You raise an eyebrow.You didn't save my number?"Hello?" Guess he can't read your mind through the phone."You didn't save my number?""Marco! Hey man, what's up?""Hey Fred, I think I could use your help. There's something freaky going on.""What's going on?" You notice that his cheerful tone starts to slip. You explain...."And that's basically it." Silence follows your words."Marco, you need to get out of there." He sounds like he just pissed his pants."You know what's going on?""Weird sounds? Screaming about seeing things? That guy you saw? Totally a psychic! I bet anyone who's in there with him is a psychic too!""Damn. You're telling me to run?""Yes, I'm telling you to run! Those are natural born psychics. They've had all their life to use their powers. From what you've told me, they're probably using them right now. The difference in skill between you and them is like... like... oh what's a good metaphor here...?""Coughing baby and hydrogen bomb?""Coughing baby and— what? What are you talking about?""Nevermind. So I can't take them?""Are you stup— look. You bent a spoon; that's great! But that is literally child's play to these guys. If they're not nice psychics, they can turn your body inside out and dissolve you into tiny particles until you evaporate. And they don't sound like nice psychics." This is really boosting your confidence."So, run.""Yes.""You're not even going to help me out?" The phone clicks. Fuck everyone you know.

You realize that you haven't thought about your sister since she graduated college. Hmmm. You honestly can't see the greater purpose in fleeing to your sister's little store, but you remind yourself that 1) anywhere would be better than here and 2) it would be really funny. You mentally plot out a harebrained scheme that you will neither follow nor remember.As you're about to slink away, the apartment door swings open. The large gentleman pushes it open with one hand, and as he peers in, his face comes into view. Three very sloppy and painful looking stitches sew his eye closed, and his face is held in a grotesquely frustrated expression. You can't really seem to blame him.He silently growls as he listens to the hallway, somehow unaware of your presence next to him, just a few feet away. Your heart races away as you prepare to do the same.

You first steady your breathing. Big dude hasn't noticed you yet, and you're keen on maintaining the status quo. You very gracefully extend your fingers off the wall before gently lifting your foot up to move ever so slightly away from the door. The rest of your body follows through in a fluid motion, quietly making its escape. You're positive that the accompanying artistic piece will reflect your finesse.The giant oscillates his head as if he were some sort of turret, scanning the area. You enjoy this wonderful opportunity to examine his face as you try to make yourself scarce. His head looks as if it were carved from a wood block. Quite poorly at that. No other marks or scars are on his skin save for the eye stitches. Just pale taut skin curled into a mean frown.You realize that this guy is the second (possible) psychic you've seen. Are they all this weird? Fred was kind of normal, but this guy is perhaps the strangest character you've ever met. It's almost as if he isn't human, but you're not crazy enough to put too much stock into that train of thought. Not yet, at least. You really hope he actually cannot hear you and isn't just pretending to scare the shit out of you later.As you get closer to the elevator, it seems as if the man himself has lost interest in the area. He scans the hallway one more time before retreating into the room, closing the door behind him. Phew. You escape via elevator....your apartment complex should really have stairs. This is a dangerous fire hazard.

As you reach your floor, you make a run for your room. You've got to get out of here as soon as possible, so you just grab the essentials. Your KEYS, WEEK-OLD HAM SANDWICH, and TECH DECK COLLECTION go into your bag. There's not much time to lose. You zip up your bag, but not before stuffing two bricks inside: NOODLE and CLAY. You may never know when you might need these. This... this bag... fills you with nostalgia. This was your old college backpack. The things this bag has seen... and will see, you suppose.

It's time to go. You put your phone in your pocket (well-charged since you plugged it in while you were in the bathroom) and quickly head out. You keep a cautious eye on your surroundings, making sure that Mr. See No Evil isn't nearby. It looks like the coast is clear, so you make a beeline for the bus stop.
It's dark outside. Really dark. You look towards the city skyline, and it just seems to glow. You feel a clashing mix of peace and unease. According to the bus schedule, the next bus will come by in about 10 minutes. It's also the last bus, so when you get to the station, you'll have to continue on foot.As you wait, you take a moment to reflect on your day. This afternoon, you were turned into a psychic, threw up blood, talked to the Earth, and bent a spoon. This evening, you somehow narrowly escaped death (?) and are now headed towards your sister's strip mall store. Your mind is filled with disquiet as you try and imagine what is to happen. Before today, you had a pretty good idea what the next day was going to look like. Wake up, bus, Big M, bus, sleep. Now, the future is in your hands. LITERALLY. You're supposed to stop some big demon thing? Why would you agree to that?Your head hurts. Dozens of voices fill your head, each one of them calling out for a slightly different course of action. You look to the city again. You're bound to meet new people on your journey. You can't win on your own, apparently. You wonder what they'll be like. Suddenly, you're illuminated by a sharp light.The bus is here. You step inside.END OF CHAPTER ONE.

BOXED IN

2 - Assassins

"JESUS FUCK." A bit of spit leaves the girl's mouth with the utterance of the expletive. The thin blonde man shoots an annoyed look at his coworker as he leans on his broom, watching her wipe the spit from her chin."Hey, management said we couldn't curse. Get that side for me." The brunette gives him an indifferent glance, grabs a dustpan, and starts sweeping in various things: rose petals, scrapped, badly framed photos, a dust of cocaine that had slipped from some celebrity's torn pocket. She scoffs at the discovery of a used condom leaking all over the concrete."Just saying. You'd think that at a big event like this, people would be a bit more dignified." She turns to look at the big black block letters that burned boldly on the arena sign.

MILLER V HAWKE
FATHER V SON
TONIGHT

I WANT TO GO HOME. Beatrice sits uncomfortably in her very-comfortable VIP chair. She didn't hate boxing; she grew up with it, after all. But she hated what was happening in front of her. Mostly, she was angry. Angry at a great many things. She looks to her left.This is some guy her husband knows. He's a sponsor... or something. His face is... so greasy. It's almost plastic. He turns to her with a cardboard smile."Enjoying the match, Bee?" He gives her a thumbs up. She doesn't return the gesture. Just another disgusting businessman. They turn back to the bloodbath in front of them. She looks to her left.This face was immediately recognizable. With her wispy, Marilyn Monroe hair and her faux-refined demeanor. Bea grits her teeth. She was mostly mad at her husband. He was the one who initiated the affair... and gave her triplet bastards. She can't really blame Claire, she's a victim in this just as much as Bea was. She can, however, look into her eyes and watch the girl look dreamily at her husband and feel like blowing up a building. She turns back to the bloodbath in front of her.She watches as her husband and her father kill each other on the stage. The Nicest Boxer In The World and The Hawk.

THE CROWD WATCHED AS BOTH MEN DEMONSTRATED EXACTLY HOW WELL THEY COULD KILL EACH OTHER. David's technique was perfect. His rhythm kept him up and fighting, but The Hawk was too good at punishing his brash hooks. But after 2 rounds, TNBITW finally got a solid crack at his mentor's mandible.Seats could be heard creaking as nearly everyone leaned forward to get a better look. The hit reverberated throughout the theater, sweat flew out like tiny, salty bullets. The audience's faces feel cool as they watch The Hawk stumble a bit, then barely hold himself up. His face almost seems to swell as his nose erupts in blood, pouring down his rugged face like a fountain. He tumbles onto the ring floor on his belly.

Ian "The Hawk" Hawke was dead.

You are MARCO ROHNI, briefly awoken by the BUS HORN. The bus you are in, of course, to stakeout your SISTER'S PLACE OF BUSINESS while you hide from psychics who may or may not be trying to kill you. While you yourself, of course, are a psychic. A psychic newbie, you admit, but you're destined to save the world. Maybe, there was some confusion there. You're also VERY BROKE, and an EMPLOYEE at BIG M BURGER, off the corner of First and Market. You recall fighting raccoons also.You would really like to see your life improve sometime soon, but for now, messing with your sister will do you some good.You take a brief moment to look at your STATBLOCK.

You make your way to the front of the bus, and you happen to notice that you're completely alone as you pass by row after row of empty chairs. The driver's seat is similarly empty, and the adjacent door is cracked open. Through the windows you can see you're at a rather large truck stop. Ugh, just thinking about truck stops makes you groan. Turning back to the dashboard of the truck, the fuel gauge reads dead empty.There's nothing of note near the seat, door, or under the dash. The dashboard itself has a phone connected to a charger plugged into the cigarette lighter port. The phone has a cream/rose gold carrying case with a pearl bead charm attached. The phone lights up, detecting activity near it. You notice a new text was received a minute ago. Underneath the stereo on the dash is a photograph. It looks like it was printed today.

The photograph is of a young woman and man embracing for the photo. They seem similarly aged, and they look pretty close. You're not quite sure who these people are, of course. You decide not to take anything; there doesn't appear to be anything useful to you at the moment.

There doesn't seem to be much else to do inside the bus; it sure isn't going anywhere. You push through the doors and exit the vehicle. Man, this place is big. You're a little surprised. You're so sick of truck stops because you work next to a massive one. This one looks just as big. There's no way you're that far from home, it's maybe been an hour. You didn't know you lived by so many truck stops.

It takes you exactly one turn to your left to find a familiar face. It's the girl from the photo, minus her cool outfit. She wears a bright high visibility vest over a dark shirt and, just like the photo, accessorizes her outfit with stud earrings, a headband, spiked choker, and two rings on her left pinky and middle finger. She's making selections on the payment pad. You get her attention."Hey, you're the bus driver, right?" She turns to glance at you, raising an eyebrow."Sure, yeah. What's up?""Oh, I was on the bus. I fell asleep a little while ago—""You were on my bus?" She taps a Mousse County Transport Authority debit card against the card reader. It flashes four green lights and beeps, prompting her to input a PIN. She does so."Yeah." Her brows furrow at you as she inserts the nozzle into the fuel tank of the bus."I didn't see you in there." What?"What? I've been there since Burnham Road.""Going up to Collins?" Your sister's shop, Ms. Wiz is located on the corner of Collins and Shiloh."Yeah, Collins. Did we pass it already?" She shakes her head and gives you a sympathetic look."Sorry, buddy. You're about six stops too late." Your face falls. You were prepared for the possibility that you slept through a stop or two, but SIX STOPS? You were asleep for an hour, tops. There's no way you fell asleep for five or six."No way.""Way. After I fuel up, I'm headed back to the bus depot. Sorry to have to do this to you, but I can't have you back on again. I was supposed to kick you out at the last stop, but I guess you're not the most... um, noticeable guy in the world." You don't respond. Like, what are you supposed to say to that? She seems to have a similar train of thought as an apologetic look quickly replaces the expression on her face. "Sorry." She can't seem to find a less awkward way to end the conversation, so she just turns back to her endless refueling. She doesn't look interested in talking to you any longer at least.

This gives you the perfect opportunity to check out the bus. You inspect the sleek aluminum profile of the bus. Er— formerly sleek. Upon closer inspection, a collection of dents, scrapes, and various other road hazards litter the side of the bus. Aside from that, the pale mustard yellow bus (isn't it so great that I only have shades of red to work with?) seems to offer no other clues.As you walk around the far side of the bus, you notice other activity happening nearby. A bespectacled man is refueling his convertible in a fancy robe and pajamas, and two silhouetted men are smoking away from the light of the truck stop. Any other observations you could make briefly halt as you step in a puddle of something. You reflexively step back, looking down at your feet to see a small pool of gasoline. It seems to be leaking from behind the bus, but not from the bus itself. Gross.You're not the least bit satisfied with being awake so far.

You've got more than a few words for that bus driver, specifically to ask if there's another bus out of here. Ordering an Uber from god knows where you are would mean you're out of food money for a week. You'd rather use your ten-dollar annual bus pass. As you take a step to leave, you hear the sound of flowing liquid. You look down, watching the stream of gasoline start to reverse. The gas puddle gets drained out from under and behind the bus; you watch your relfection disappear as only a few drips of the pool are left in the end. What the fuck?

You quickly rush over to the other side of the bus, hoping to get an answer to what's going on. Instead, you are greeted with nothing. The bus driver is gone, and a quick glance inside the bus shows it's still empty. You guess she must've gone to the convenience store or something. This is too weird.

A flicker of motion catches your eye, and you look up to see what it is. It's one of the two men in shadow smoking waving you over. You can't identify who it is from this distance. Though you're likely not going to meet anyone you know all the way out here, you'd really love to see a familiar face.

You warily walk towards the two men, silently praying that walking towards two shady men won't be the— what the hell?"Marco?? Holy shit, man!""Jared??" You're completely bewildered. Of all the people you'd expect to see on a weird ass night like this, your manager was not it. "What the hell are you doing here?" He grins."I always come out here after work.""You— but you clocked out nearly the same time I did." He nods."They called me back in to cover. Susan got fired for beating a customer up." You suck in air through pursed lips in a display of instant understanding. Your coworker, uh, ex-coworker Susan was... interesting. She was a year older than you and used that information to make you bend to her whim. You had a brief fling with her for a few weeks before you both got bored. When you decided to call it quits, she made sure to threaten your life with a switchblade, making you promise to never tell anyone about the strange birthmark on her back. You've since kept your promise."Surprising," you say with sarcasm so thick it could be used as a maple syrup substitute. "Who's this?" You point to the nervous looking fellow next to Jared. He doesn't speak up and just stares at you bug-eyed. Freaky guy."This is Shane. Maddy said I had to find a new hire quick, and this guy was already here smoking. He needs a job too, so boom. Shane, this is Marco. If you wanna ask him any questions, go ahead." You all stand there in silence. "Guess he's got no other questions. You wanna smoke?" He extends a fresh cig out to you. You glance at it and shake your head."I-I'm okay, man." He raises an eyebrow."Really? I thought you smoked." A cool yet aching feeling crawls down your throat."I did. Now I don't." He seems to get it."No worries, sorry about that." Your manager is a lot nicer than you remember. Maybe you should start being nicer to him.

On a whim, you decide to pull your phone out. You haven't checked it all night. You look hopefully at the screen as it turns on, but your heart starts to race as the numbers and text on your phone are completely unintelligible. You rub your eyes, but nothing changes.What is happening to you?"Marco!" You look up. Jared's giving you a concerned look. Shane just stares."Huh? What?""Nothing, man. I said your name like twice. You spacing out?""Oh. Sorry, yeah. I think it might just be too late." Jared smirks."Too late, or too early?""Too early?""Well, yeah. Your morning shift starts in a few minutes." Huh?"My— my what?""Your morning shift. Wow, you're usually on top of this.""I— sorry. It's... been a long night. God, how am I going to get there in time?" Your manager places a hand on your shoulder."Marco. Take a deep breath." You don't respond. You just inhale until you can't, then exhale it all out. "Feel a bit better?""Yeah." He nods."This job sucks. It messes with your head all the time. Just try and keep your head on straight, yeah?" You don't really know how to feel. On one hand, you're a little grateful to have Jared as a manager. You were never on the greatest of terms, but these past two times you've interacted with him have been rather swell. On the other, he's completely missing what's messing with your head. You give him a small smile and a nod."Thanks, Jared.""No problem. Just walk on down when it gets close to clock-in."

"W-Walk on down?" He points behind you."Yeah, we're right next to Big M. I figured you knew that. Why else would you be here?" Your horrified visage turns around to see your long-despised workplace staring right back at you through the badly trimmed foliage. This is the truck stop next to your workplace! God damn it, you're right back where you started!

You pull out your phone and do what you should've done the first time you saw anything strange: talk to the strangest guy you know. It may only have been less than a day that you've known this kid, but right now, he might be the only one who can help. You click his contact card, dial the number, and wait."...but no wonder it sucked. The budget for the season was pennies compared to—""Fred?" He stops speaking. "Fred, are you there?""Marco??? Where— how are you talking to me?""What? I just called you on the phone. I'm at a truck stop.""That's impossible.""That I'm at a truck stop? I left the apartment hours ago.""One, no you didn't, you left maybe an hour ago tops.""Wha—""And two, you're not calling me with your phone. You're speaking directly to my thoughts. You're in my head, Marco. How did you maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa—" His voice trails off suddenly, and it's replaced by an ear-piercing screech. Your phone starts to vibrate in your hand, but your whole body feels like it's shaking.This is too weird. This is too weird. You look up as your phone flies slowly out of your hands and glides through the air to sit in front of your face. The world starts to fade out as the screen cracks and splinters, sucking you into a white void.You float for a while. You feel like you're falling, but everything looks rather still. Well, there aren't really any landmarks for you to discern your positioning, either. You open your eyes and look to your right. Nothing. You gulp. The thought of this being some sort of prison comes to you, and your fears are stoked as you turn to the right to bear witness to corpses hanging from infinite chains that seem to disappear into the void above.You barely have time to process this as your surroundings change again; screaming and cheering invade your eardrums as you sit in the VIP section of the boxing arena. You watch as the large bespectacled man falls to the ground. The cheering stops. You look around. The crowd and the stadium are gone, leaving only you and the two men in the ring.Without warning, the ring disappears and so does the mustached man, replaced with what seems to be some sort of business man. His blood seeps into the black void while papers from a briefcase litter the ground behind him. The large boxer remains, looking intensely at the body. Then he turns. He turns and looks at you. You want to say something, you want to run so desperately. Yet you freeze as he glares at you.You feel your upper lip moisten. You touch your face only for your hand to be stained with your blood. Your nose bleeds as your head spins. The ringing dutifully returns, exacerbating your dizzying vision; you're going to die. You're going to die, right here, right now, and there's nothing you can do about it. You fall unconscious, vulnerable to whatever comes next.When you wake up, you cough up phlegm that was stuck in your throat. Your nose is still bleeding, but as you adjust to the light, you realize you're back in the bus. You're no longer at the truck stop, however, and as you look out the window, you're again confused. The bus is floating in mid-air, suspended in a translucent red bubble. Above you is a disastrous traffic accident, where three figures stand watching the bubble adjacent to a white van.

You take a look around. There's three people inside the bus aside from you: at the back a young woman around your age wearing sleek trapezoidal frames, directly behind you a man approaching his forties with a bad haircut and rosacea-ridden cheeks, and at the front, the driver. All three are fast asleep. You wonder how on earth these people could fall asleep through all— no, no you don't.Enough weirdness has occured that you're no longer looking around going "what? what?". Damn it, you're in danger. If not right now, then in general. What were you thinking getting wrapped up in this psychic garbage? Who was that man? How did you get in a bubble floating over the ocean? These are the important questions to wonder about. You've got to lock in, no joke.You give everyone another once over. Although asleep, they're not injured at all. No bruises, cuts, and certainly no bloody noses to match your own. You gently prod everyone in their sides, but they do not wake up. Weird. Why aren't you asleep right now? You guess you were before, but that begs the next question: why are you the only one awake?

You give yourself a wellness patdown. Bones... seemingly not broken. Face... presumably still handsome. Everything seems right as rain. You wipe the blood from your nose and exhale. You're alright.

Ha... you were almost scared that something was terribly wrong. Looks like everything is alright. You wipe the sweat from your brow.

Hang on a tick.

You very slowly pull yourself away from your arm and examine the bus sign closely. You've seen this so many times; this is the bus stop sign next to your apartments. Actually, you were looking at it quite intensely when you were waiting for the bus an hour ago. You're not quite sure why. It might have been the hundredth time you've seen it, but little things stood out to you about it. The scuff along the side, the rust on the pole, the sticker patch over some vulgar graffiti. Despite all of it, it's still standing there as a beacon for you to get to town.It was inspiring. Very inspiring.Now it's replaced your hand. You're not exactly sure what to do with it. It doesn't hurt at all. You attempt to wiggle your fingers. You can feel yourself doing it, but the sign does nothing. You even try flipping the bird, but there is no bird to flip. That kind of pisses you off more. You're a strange person. Even stranger now that you have a sign for a hand, you suppose. You try to move your hand as a whole, and thankfully, the sign articulates like a hand does, bending the metal in a way that certainly does not follow the laws of physics. That's good for now.

You get up and shuffle over to the left window seat to get a better look at the highway above you. The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the pile of crashed cars trailing a parked, perfectly intact, nondescript white van. They're still there, but you don't see anyone leaving their cars. You can hear distant sirens from the city; the police are on their way. You're unsure what the police would even do in this situation.Adjacent to the van... is one figure... fighting with a disembodied arm. An arm attached... to a rusty pole. You briefly look at your sign-hand, then back at the scuffle. Jesus Christ. You take another look at the figure. It's the fucking giant from your apartment. JESUS CHRIST. He really IS out to kill you.You briefly recall that there were two other figures on the bridge as two thuds land above you, shaking the bus. Two other strange sounds follow: strange chanting and the reload click of a gun. Oh no.

You steady your breathing as the footsteps above you get closer and closer to the emergency exit above you. Whatever this bubble is, it's not keeping them out. You swiftly slide behind a seat panel hiding you from the exit yet with a good view of the bus past the hatch."God. Are your legs broken? Okay, good." The chanting continues. "Sy. Sy, they're already asleep." The chanting continues. "Sy! You did it! Congratulations! Everyone is going sleepy bye-bye now. Is that getting to you?" The chanting continues. "SY I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DON'T SHUT THE HELL UP RIGHT THIS SECOND I WILL FLUSH YOUR ANIMAL CRACKERS DOWN THE TOILET." The chanting hiccups for a moment, then continues quieter. "Yeah, I'll go right back to our old cell and dump the whole tin in there." The chanting completely stops. "Thank you."You steady yourself. You're not all the way there, but you're starting to figure yourself out. This sign-hand... it's gotta be all you. The arm on the road above you must be yours too. Somehow, after studying the sign, you managed to... swap them? None of this psychic shit makes sense. Nothing here makes any sense.Except your plan out of this mess. If you can just manage to replicate what you managed to do with the sign with that gun... You hear more shuffling above you."Alright man, don't just stand there, help me with this thing." The exit creaks as inhuman strength pulls it out of its alcove and launches it into the ocean.A round, bald head slowly lowers itself through the roof cavity. Dripping blood from the ear, it telescopes around like a reverse submarine before revealing its massive attached body as he lands inside with a thud. He wears a grey jumpsuit with the numbers "01" patched onto the back. He looks exactly like the giant from your apartment, and you'd bet your fifth hair spike that his bloody ear is a product of removing stitches.His friend, Sy, joins him soon enough. He limbers up and dives gracefully down the exit in a stunning display that would make an Olympic diver blush. Unfortunately, the guy is 300-something pounds and lands with an even bigger slam that makes the bus shake. He grins a big bloody smile at his partner, who groans. He also wears a similar jumpsuit with "03" on the back. Real subtle guys. Anyway, they're both here... it's now or never!

It dawns on you that you have no fucking earthly idea how to do what you planned to do. You guess you can't even call it an "earthly idea" considering how heavily it required using your psychic powers. Which you got less than a day ago. Genius! You decide to try anyway and squint through your hiding place to look for the gun. ...you don't see it. Instead, you see Ear Giant pull a walkie talkie... out of his ear canal. It is as disgusting as it sounds; the grey device distends his skin as it escapes out the side of his head. You notice the lack or blood or earwax on it as he brings it close to his mouth and clicks the push-to-talk button."Theo, I need you to look our way." The receiver crinkles."I would really like to, but this thing won't. Sit. STILL! Get— fucking get over here!""Language!""Fuck you.""Theo!""Okay. He's hiding behind the seat next to you." What!? WHAT!!??? Faster than you can think, Sy grabs your collar and lifts you out of your hiding place. You swat at him with your sign-hand on instinct, and WHAM! You carve a gash into his forehead, blood spilling out in a vomit-inducing stream. He looks unfazed and bloodily beams at you before bestowing on you, a black eye. Your HP drops by 1 point.

"Finally." Ear Giant steps towards you and chuckles evilly like a villain in a kid's cartoon. "I don't know why you're not fast asleep right, but no matter. Sevs always win in the end. Guess you're dead now." He reaches into his ear again (gross!) and pulls out a semi-automatic pistol. Oh God, you're dead now.

You don't have much time to think. You lock eyes with the gun in front of you, staring right down its vacuous socket. This isn't the first time you've been held at gunpoint, but at least then you could exchange the slightly understocked cash register for your life. You doubt the gun was loaded anyway. Though the barrel looks as if it were a black void, you know for sure that a bullet is in there, and it's aimed directly for your head.You've never cared too much about guns in general. Sure, you enjoy the occasional action flick and can appreciate a well choreographed fight scene with squibbed gunfire, but they were always too messy for you. As well as too expensive. You think back to the pepper spray that you left in your apartment. Damn, that would really help right now. Focus. You have to help yourself.The entire thing seems to be made of glistening metal, save the textured plastic on the handle. You imagine what it would feel like if you ran your index finger across the bumps and grooves, moving to the frame and sharply sensing the cold steel. The trigger rests against the giant's hooked finger, the weight of it being the only thing preventing your brains from splattering all over the bus.Now that you give it some thought, this weapon is pretty... inspiring.

You feel your arm start to shake as your sign-hand grotesquely morphs its letters and frame into the hand you've always remembered having. You can faintly hear a clatter as Ear Giant's radio sputters."Finally! Stay down, fucking thing.""Theodore! What have I told you about cursing on the job!" Both giants turn to look at their friend on the bridge through the windows. This is your chance!You brace yourself, concentrating hard on the gun again. Plastic grip... steel frame... innerworkings you have no idea about... loaded. Bullets. A full clip. On instinct, your hand makes a finger gun, and it starts to feel cool. You can feel the blood draining from your hand as it tenses up; you watch in fascination and horror as your fingers start to form the barrel, your bones hardening and expanding to match the heft of the weapon in your face. You notice the safety is already off while your fingernails pop up to become the muzzle and your ring and pinky finger tear apart from each other to form the trigger guard. You can feel the trigger tense as you try and move your index forward. How's that for a trigger finger?You expend 5 ENERGY. Your ENERGY drops to 3.You feel the grip on your shirt tighten. Jerking your head to the left, you see that Sy has taken notice of your gun hand, his smile gone and his eyes widening. You reward his alertness with a pistol whip, swinging your arm to slam the butt of your pistol-hand into his gash. Miraculously, he doesn't scream, but he lets out a pained exhale as the force of your hit knocks him out. He falls backwards, shaking the bus again as you're finally freed from his grip.Ear Giant notices too late, and he fires the gun while you've crouched down, dodging the shot. Your ears ring like a bomb went off, and your adrenaline kicks in as you aim your gun-hand at his gun-holding-hand. You tense your index finger and squeeze. The trigger moves backwards like a machine, the slide racking back to eject a casing. You watch as the gun recoils a little to the right, missing his hand, but knocking his pistol out of his hands and underneath a bus seat. He turns to discover you holding him at direct gunpoint.

"HANDS UP!!" You scream at Ear Giant as loudly as you did those raccoons yesterday morning. Surprisingly, the massive man's face pales, and he shivers slightly as he slowly raises his arms."H-Hey, wait a second. Wait. I'm sorry." He's apologizing. This is confusing. You give him a glare that says confusion makes you angry. He understands. "Look, I'm completely helpless right now. I don't have any offense attacks, at least not psychically.""You could fight back physically.""Your hand is an obviously loaded gun. I'm not insane like you.""Good observation." You move the gun slightly closer. "Who are you, and why do you want me dead?" He groans as if he were hoping you wouldn't interrogate him."We're the Brothers Seville, hitmen for hire. You've never heard of us?" He looks genuinely surprised."I didn't say you could ask any questions.""I was only—""Can it. If you're hitmen, who sent you to kill me?""God, let me speak. I was only asking because whoever paid us to kill you certainly knew about us. Or they just knew who to talk to. They gave us your name and address and said it should be done as soon as possible." The radio crinkles. Theodore's angered voice comes over it."What is taking you guys so fucking long!? The cops are here, there are too many for me to concentrate on." You see Ear Giant start to sweat. Time to get his attention back."You don't know their name?""Obviously not. These things are anonymous.""Did they tell you why?""We don't ask why. We just set a price. Which was WAY too damn low for what you put us through. Damn it, if I had known you were a psychic—" He pauses, thinking better about opening his mouth more than he was asked to.

You're about to continue your questioning, but a flash outside catches your attention. For a moment, you could've sworn— oh there it is again. The bubble starts to rapidly blink. Both you and Ear Giant are looking around to see what is causing this."Wait, is that bubble not yours?" He looks at you, bewildered."It's not one of you three?" Ear Giant shakes his head. What the fuck? You hear groaning from behind you. Panicked, you check your feet. Nope, Sy is still out cold. It's... the bus driver. The man and woman at the other end start to wake up too. You almost forgot that they were asleep. And now that Sy's knocked out... wait, wait!The bubble dissipates. You feel the bus slowly fall victim to gravity. In one second, you will be in freefall.

With a quick spring off your heels, you turn and sprint towards the bus driver. You mentally apologize to the rest of the bus riders as you try to save the one person you've actually interacted with, even if it was in your head. One second passes. The bus croaks with the same anguished ferocity of a dying bullfrog as it falls, your perceived gravity reducing as you slightly float in the air.You hook your arms under the bus driver's chest, plant your foot on the edge of her seat, and push off, praying that the door is unlocked. Graciously, the doors part as your combined weight push them open. As you fall outside of the bus, you realize that while you might be out of the doomed bus, you are still falling from an incredible height at an alarming rate. The young woman in your arms blinks into consciousness."Ugh... huh- wh-" She takes stock of her surroundings and your very close presence. "W-What the hell? Sign guy? What are you trying to do?!!"" You try to look disarming, but you can't seem to make a calm face. You realize that having little control of your facial muscles is the unfortunate cost of freefalling. Suddenly, the bus splashes into the water first, large waves radiating from its impact. No one surfaces after.You're having a tough time figuring out exactly what it is you're trying to do. In seconds, you're both going to hit the water. That is an assuredly lethal fall. You try to imagine something that can swim; maybe the webbed feet of a duck or platypus. You think... webbed toes... uh, the uh, um... Two things occur to you. The first being that your powers seem to work from being inspired by direct observation, not imagination. The second being that even if you did get inspired by something with webbed feet or gills, that would not stop your spine from shattering the second you land on water's surface like a china doll.Your passenger comes to the realization that you also have no idea what you're trying to do, but instead of panicking, closes her eyes, inhales, then exhales into her cheeks, blowing them up. You watch as the world around you turns a translucent red once again, and the rate which you're falling slows to a stop, just above the edge of the water. You're encased in a bubble with her. She exhales.

"Phew." The bus driver slumps into the curvature of the bubble, and you can't help but do the same. You both sit there in silence for a few seconds, taking in everything that just happened. You look at her. She looks at you, warily. You figure you should probably thank this woman that's saved your life. Twice."Thanks." She nods, her wary look disappearing."You're welcome, sign guy. Or gun guy now, I guess. If you didn't save us earlier, I'd be smacking you upside your head for what you did just now. So, thank you too." You grimace. She looks pretty strong, and you already have the one black eye."Saving you earlier?" She definitely isn't talking about jumping off the battled bus."Yeah, before I passed out and flew off the bridge." She points to the van. "That thing was chasing and shooting at us for a mile, but then you got up, opened the window, and turned your right hand into a sign. You were blocking those bullets like a ninja or something. Guy behind you was screaming his ass off and had to pull you inside and knock you out to get you to stay put. Thought you were crazy." She squirms a little. "Guess that'd make me crazy too.""You're a psychic too." She perks up."A psychic? Is that what we are?""From what I've heard, yeah. Is this new to you?" She nods."I only found out I could do this just yesterday," she admits as she motions to the bubble you're both in. "I didn't know that there were others like me.""Quite a few others. The guys shooting at us were psychic too." Her eyes widen."Really? Wait, so did they want something with you? Something with me??" Oh man. What do you even tell her?

She deserves to hear the truth, if not partly because you feel a little responsible for her bus ending up submerged underwater. You shake your head."No, they were definitely after me. Somehow I was able to pin one of them down, and the guy said that someone anonymously hired him and his assassin buddies to kill me," you admit. She raises her eyebrows, giving you a simultaneously wary and intrigued look."What did you do that would make someone put a hit out on you?" You glance at her, frazzled."You have about as much clue as I do right now. None of this psychic stuff makes any sense to me either; I'm just some minimum wage schmo that became a psychic yesterday. I work at a burger joint for crying out loud." Your voice wavers a bit. It might seem a little crazy, but you really miss your job all of a sudden. The pay sucks, the people suck, the entire job sucks, but at least you're not constantly fighting for your life. You're briefly taken out of your depressed stupor as you lurch back, stumbling as the bubble starts to float higher and higher. On the bridge, Theodore looks up at you angrily as he fades away in the haze of the clouds. Looking back up at your bubble buddy, you notice she's puffed up her cheeks again, eyes closed. She slowly lets out her breath as the globule settles and gently stops in place."Phew. Sorry about that. Just thought it would be a good idea to stay out of sight for a second." You nod, glad that someone else is on it for once. You can't help but enjoy your surroundings though. You've never been on a plane before, but you're convinced that it can't replicate relaxing in the frothy cotton blanket you're currently sitting in. Interestingly, the clouds can't seem to penetrate the bubble. Your attention goes back to the bus driver as she clears her throat. "So, should I continue calling you sign guy or gun guy?""Marco is fine." She beams."That's a good name. I'm a sucker for cool names. Mine's Ellie. I know, I know, it's a little kid-sounding, but I prefer the nickname to Eleanor.""No, that's a nice name. It's a much better nickname than what I ended up with." Ellie grins at you as she takes off her hi-vis vest and tosses it away from her within the bubble, getting more comfortable. You lean back and try to follow her example."Now you have to tell me.""Cheesehead." She snorts."Yeah, that's not real. How did anyone get to that?""Okay, follow this. My full name is Marco Rohni. Marco Rohni quickly became Macaroni. Macaroni became Mac. It should've stopped there. I liked Mac, but then this moron named Bruce Johnson came around and started bullying me. Mac became Mac n' Cheese. And that became, well..." Ellie starts to giggle, patting her knee a few times."Wow. That must've sucked as a kid, but that's a great story." She repositions herself so she's sitting with her legs criss-crossed.

"You've got an awesome power, by the way. Shapeshifting, right?" You glance at your gun-hand, unsure if you want to turn it back to your hand just yet."I think it's a little more involved than that, but essentially, yeah." You motion around yourself. "This bubble is dope too. Again, I cannot tell you enough how grateful I am that you saved me." She smiles."Hey, don't mention it. This psychic stuff really makes you feel like a superhero. You actually looked like a superhero out on the road, blocking those bullets like that. But that was crazy. You're a crazy superhero.""You know what's crazier? I'm pretty sure I was fully unconscious the whole time. I don't remember a single thing before the bus was in the bubble. I can't recall even making my hand into the sign.""Really? Were you unconscious when you made that gun?" You shake your head."Nope. That time I had to figure out how my powers worked.""And that's how you got that black eye?""Bingo.""That rocks. Like a battle scar, except a little lamer." This girl has an... interesting way of saying things.

"Hey, so." You get precisely two words out before Ellie lets out a pfft. You scrunch your face. "What?""Sorry, you're okay. It's just that nothing good ever starts with 'hey so'. At the station, a few of us drivers have a 'hey so' tally of stupid shit that customers would ask us or let us know. Like, 'hey so someone is peeing down the aisle' or 'hey so have you seen my phone? I think someone stole it'. It's never anything good, like 'hey so you drove so good' or 'hey so I'm naming my child after you'. Keep going, ignore me.""So... I'll be honest. Remember when I was unconscious?" Ellie nods. "That entire time, I think I was dreaming. Like, I woke up after you'd been driving for hours, and I was talking to you while you were filling up the bus." Her eyes go wide again, her expression unreadable."You had... a dream—psychic dream—about me?""Well, I don't know if I would say it was completely about you, but you were a significant part of it. And... well, it was a dream, so I guess it's not the worst thing, but I was kinda snooping around your seat during the dream.""What did you see?""You had a new text message and there was a photograph. It was you with another guy, just a little bit taller than me? He had your skin tone, curly hair faded down...""Did he have a shirt with five circles overlapping?""Yeah. Is that someone you know?" She exhales."That's— why would you see that photograph?" You shrug."There was a lot of imagery in my dream I still don't really get. Reversing gas, disappearing people... I got sucked into my cell phone and I think I watched some boxer kill someone." Her indistinct expression is replaced by one of surprise."Well, do you have any ideas? Is it telling you that there's something bad about him?""I... I don't think so. I really don't have any ideas about it; I just thought he was your boyfriend or something." Surprise turns to mirth, and Ellie starts to laugh."I don't think that's true. Pretty sure you saw my half brother. I don't have a boyfriend.""Ah. Good to know." Good to know? What are you doing? "But that is weird. Do you have that photo on you?" She shakes her head, frowning."No, but I knew exactly what you were talking about when you brought it up. That's what scared me." She gives the moon a sad glance. You feel it best to change the subject."Do you happen to remember exactly what happened when I was unconscious, you know, when I was bashing bullets?" Your hands whiff at imaginary bullets as you ask. She smiles, but the smile fades a bit as she recalls the prior moment.
"I think it's a little more involved than that, but essentially, yeah." You motion around yourself. "This bubble is dope too. Again, I cannot tell you enough how grateful I am that you saved me." She smiles."Hey, don't mention it. This psychic stuff really makes you feel like a superhero. You actually looked like a superhero out on the road, blocking those bullets like that. But that was crazy. You're a crazy superhero.""You know what's crazier? I'm pretty sure I was fully unconscious the whole time. I don't remember a single thing before the bus was in the bubble. I can't recall even making my hand into the sign.""Really? Were you unconscious when you made that gun?" You shake your head."Nope. That time I had to figure out how my powers worked.""And that's how you got that black eye?""Bingo.""That rocks. Like a battle scar, except a little lamer." This girl has an... interesting way of saying things.

"Well. We had just gotten on the bridge when suddenly the cars behind us started to swerve and crash. Then that van emerged from behind and started to shoot at the bus. I immediately slammed the pedal and tried to lose them. I'm freaking out since they're catching up, and I'm scanning every mirror like it's gonna offer me a new clue. That's when I see you getting up and opening the window. And I'm screaming at you, 'get the hell down! you're gonna get yourself killed!'" She giggles. "I guess you couldn't hear that. Then your hand started to change into that sign. I'm actually shocked that I managed to not crash into anyone in front of me, because my eyes were locked onto your hand. I said your power was cool, but it's gross as hell. Then I guess they started aiming at you instead of at the bus. I couldn't really see it, but I could hear the shots riccocheting off your sign-hand. And here you are, bullet hole free. Then that guy pulled you in. At this point, they managed to catch up, and they had this... this loud chanting." Her eyes flutter a bit from reminiscing the sound. "I could tell I was about to pass out. So I panicked and blew a bubble around the bus before I did. That's about it. Then I wake up and you grab me and we jump to our deaths." She gives you a sideways smile. You can't help but let out an embarassed chuckle. If you hadn't been LUCKY..."Uh, yeah. Sorry I caused you so much trouble. Superhero is a really uh, glass-half-full way of looking at it." She just looks at you, her smile unmoving."I can't really explain it, but ever since I found out I could do this bubble thing... I started to realize things. About the future. It's like I could see that there was danger ahead. But I wasn't scared, y'know? Like it was just a fact. Just a few minutes ago, I was looking down at my bus that I'd driven for a year, sunken in the water. I felt like I should be mad or upset or something, but I'd already gotten over it. Isn't that weird?" You're not really sure what to say."That is definitely weird. But... I think I get it? Like, it's almost like nothing matters as long as you're alive?" Ellie's eyes widen."Y-Yeah. God, that is terrifying. So is that a psychic thing?""I don't know. I guess.""Man. Imagine having this but not having any morals. You'd just do whatever cruel thing popped into your head." This thought is apparently scary to you both, and you sit there in silence for a second. It quickly becomes too awkward for her to keep up. "I should probably answer for my bus. Can I drop you off somewhere nearby?"

"Is Collins nearby? Collins and Shiloh?" Ellie scans the city rooftops for landmarks that would let her know where she is. You marvel at her navigational capabilities; you've never owned a car or anything but you walk with Voogol Maps like it's nobody's business. She doesn't even reach for her phone before she points to an intersection."Collins and Shiloh," she states. "I'll fly us over." The bubble suddenly soars backwards, and you fly headfirst into Ellie's arms as the bubble skids to a stop in the air. You hastily pull yourself off her, your face flushed. She stares back at you apologetically with bright cheeks, her foundation now slightly off-color to her red face. "Sorry... still figuring some of this stuff out." The bubble slowly builds up speed and flies to your destination....It's quiet when you get to the street. You have Ellie drop you off a ways off Collins, just to avoid attracting attention. The bubble gingerly lands on the ground and starts to fade away as you get up. Ellie stretches, her back popping a few times before she reaches for her cellphone."We should stay in touch for... psychic... purposes..." She smiles at you and keeps eye contact. You offer a nervous smile and reach for your own phone, exchanging it with hers. She quickly types her number into your phone and personalizes her contact info. She even set the name to her full name and added "Ellie" as a nickname. Finally, she holds your phone in the air, taking a selfie and setting it as the photo. You almost forget you have to put your number in her phone and hastily do so. You try to match her energy and take a picture of yourself, but the exposure to the night air causes you to sneeze at an inopportune time. You're about to correct it when she snatches the phone from you, grinning ear to ear. "No, no. That's perfect."

Ellie stands there a moment, smiling down at her phone, but you watch as the smile wanes into one of confusion."You said someone sent me a text in your dream?" You nod. She turns her phone screen to you. One text message was received a few minutes ago. It's from an unknown number."What's it say?" She clicks the notification. The text simply reads: "hi is this eleanor". It's kind of anticlimactic. You glance over at Ellie; her face is expressionless save for surprise. It's almost like she knows something you don't, or at least feels something that you don't."I'm debating if I should respond or not." You're thinking the same thing. On one hand, you DID have a psychic dream about her and she did have one text. But on the other, you never did see what the text said in your dream. You'd hate to make her worry about something that could in all honesty just be an innocuous text. But then again... She looks over at you and forces a smile. "I'll figure this out later. You've got more on your plate than I do right now." You nod."We can talk about it later," you offer. A genuine smile replaces the forced one."I'll hold you to that. See you later, Marco." With one last look at you (longer than you would've expected), she puffs her cheeks, the bubble appearing around her once again, and takes off, waving at you from the sky until she disappears into the clouds. You feel your heart quiver in that weird way it does sometimes, though it hasn't really done that since college. You clear your throat and look back to her contact photo.

"Oh my God, give me a moment. Hello?? Marco??""Fred?""Marco, I am so sorry. I've been beating myself up over this all night, but I am so so sorry.""Calm down. What are you sorry for?""I should've helped you the second you called me from your apartment. It's just... well, it's date night, and I was hoping you could... kinda sorta handle it on your own? I'm sorry, I don't know what I was thinking. You're my associate, I'm responsible for you—""Fred, chill out. I am fine. I'm alive.""Yes, that is such a relief to hear. You scared me when you were talking in my head earlier, I dropped my pasta directly on my— not important. How did you even do that?""I was dreaming, and I called you. I'm pretty sure it was a psychic dream.""That makes sense. This happens a lot with new psychics; you'll probably get a few of those until you learn to control it." You groan."Fuck me. Those suck." You really don't want to sit through another one of them. It's much too confusing and you're already on page 3."Can you catch me up?"..."Wow. It's hard to believe all that happened over the course of an hour. Brothers Seville, huh? Haven't heard of them. But great that you met a new psychic!""Yeah. She's cool; I wouldn't be alive right now if it weren't for her. She's got some stuff to deal with, so she left a while ago." Your neck feels warm."So where are you now?""Well, I thought it would be a good idea to go to my sister's business.""Why? Are you gonna ask your sister for help?""Uh, well... not exactly. I was kinda just gonna snoop around and hide from the Three Stooges for a second." A brief silence."Is that... really a good idea? Marco, you just had someone place a psychic hit on you. I don't know who you can or cannot trust right now. I'm glad you're okay, but I think it might be for the best if you stayed the night at my place."

"Freddie—""Watch it.""Fred, I'm bound and determined to get to my sister's shop. You might not get it, but this is something I have to do. This is important.""...you just said that you were just gonna— Marco, are you sure?""Yep.""Okay. Please stay alive.""Will do." You end the call. Even if Fred isn't very confident in your choice, you find yourself even more determined to continue onwards. After walking for a bit, the strange Ms. Wiz logo enters your field of vision. You've made it to your sister's shop. The street is empty, save your sister's car in front of the store. Ms. Wiz is closed, but there's a light on in the second floor window. Someone's definitely home. Meanwhile, you have nothing on you besides your phone and wallet, seeing as your bag got left in the bus. How should you play this?

Your mom always kept a spare key under the mat at home. Seeing as your sister wanted to be so much like your mother, you don't doubt if— aha!

You slowly turn the key in the lock, pins shifting to allow entry through the dark oak door. As you make your way in, a cacophony of flowery and fruity scents flood your nostrils. Your eyes water a little; you nearly forgot that Ms. Wiz is a soap shop. You start to recollect how this whole thing started.About 6 years ago, your sister was attending Portston University, one of the nicer ivy league colleges on the East Coast. She'd gotten into making soaps for fun, and she got really into it. Joy was not an emotion that you remember your sister often expressing, but when she came back home and started showing off her soaps to your parents, she looked so incredibly happy. That was the happiest you'd ever seen her. Your parents weren't so sure, but after she graduated, she and two of her friends (that you've never had the pleasure of meeting) started up a small custom soap business. That became Ms. Wiz.You take in just how big and fancy this place looks. If BANE didn't have to go to work in 3 minutes, you'd have expected a nice long shot of the store. You need to focus. What's the plan?

You slowly turn the key in the lock, pins shifting to allow entry through the dark oak door. As you make your way in, a cacophony of flowery and fruity scents flood your nostrils. Your eyes water a little; you nearly forgot that Ms. Wiz is a soap shop. You start to recollect how this whole thing started.About 6 years ago, your sister was attending Portston University, one of the nicer ivy league colleges on the East Coast. She'd gotten into making soaps for fun, and she got really into it. Joy was not an emotion that you remember your sister often expressing, but when she came back home and started showing off her soaps to your parents, she looked so incredibly happy. That was the happiest you'd ever seen her. Your parents weren't so sure, but after she graduated, she and two of her friends (that you've never had the pleasure of meeting) started up a small custom soap business. That became Ms. Wiz.

You are sort of captivated by the sheer amount of soaps, shampoos, body washes, and cleaning supplies this store has. The marketing materials on the shelves boast of Ms. Wiz's dedication to a cleaner world, and every product is made with recycled materials and environmentally friendly chemicals. Some of this plastic packaging is biodegradable too. You guess you just never know how deep into the soap business your sister is. Maybe it's just the propaganda, but you actually believe all this. Or at least, you have no reason to believe this stuff isn't true.What baffles you is that everyone who shops here only has good things to say about it. The last time you bothered to check her Voogol business page, Ms. Wiz was an unshakeable five stars. Every review was five stars. Specific reviews aren't coming to mind, but you recall nothing but glowing, almost reverent reviews. Ms. Wiz products were so good that people were buying tons. You know that's nothing new, but you found the lack of even one four star review suspicious. And upon looking and smelling these soaps, you can deduce no difference from a $1 bar of soap at a supermarket.You feel personally weirded out by this. You're not a Wiz-head, but you like soap more than the average person; you're a mild clean freak after all. Nothing here is screaming premium soap at all. You can definitely smell the coconut oils and the lye; this is real soap for sure. But everything is... just so basic. No one gave this a 3 star thinking this was more premium? NO ONE was unsatisfied? You feel like leaving a 1 star just for fun.With your suspicions raised, you continue to explore the rest of the store. You even deodorize yourself with one of the display soaps. Take that, big sister. You really needed that though, you can still smell the gunpowder on your hand and the saltwater that had flecked onto your skin. You smell like Tropical Delight. Meh... you're more of a baked goods scent guy.

You check out the cash register. Hmm. POS pin... uh.... 2 0 0 0. Ka ching. Of course it's her birth year. Your sister was never very creative. You're pretty sure that's the biggest reason her success is so surprising to you. She was crazy smart, crazy talented, but not a creative bone in her body. Even her soaps were basic— still basic! Anyway, money! Or lack of it. There's nothing in the register. The cash tray is already out. You guess that whoever's on the top floor is counting the till. You don't see any stairs anywhere in this room, so you imagine the only way to get up there is through the backroom. As you peer through the ajar backroom door, you suddenly hear muffled conversation. Maybe there's more than one person in here?

You slowly make your way into the backroom. You're greeted by dozens of steel machines, big and small, all for different soapmaking purposes. It's pretty clean back here, but you don't let her have the credit; she makes SOAP after all. Looking up, there doesn't SEEM to be a second floor. The backroom has a two-story high ceiling. It's not until you turn around that you notice the stairs to your left and realize that the manager's office is situated directly above the sales floor. You try your best to walk carefully on the metal steps and manage to get to the top without making too much noise (your phone decided to fall out of your pocket when you got to the top, but you caught it before it bounced all the way down the stairs).There are two doors: the office and the bathroom. A young woman's shivering voice eminates from the office. You swiftly tip-toe closer to the door."B-B-Babe, I don't know about t-this. Maybe I should've—""Look, just focus on warming up. Wrap that towel tighter." Another woman. You'd know that authoratative voice anywhere."T-Thank you..." She sniffles. "Do you think Mikey's—""Mikey will be fine, love." Your sister exhales. "What a mess. How are you feeling?""A lot better. Your clothes don't really fit me very well though.""Well, I'm liking what I'm seeing anyway. Gives me a few more ideas on how to warm you up.""Babe..." The voice is dismissive, but not disapproving."Just a suggestion." There's a brief silence. "I didn't think there would be that many cops at the hospital. Thank God they didn't question us.""I mean, we didn't do anything wrong. What would've been the harm?""Well... I just don't think it's a good idea to involve ourselves with the police. From a business point of view.""I g-guess so. Hang on, I have to pee." FUCK. You can't get to a hiding place in time, so you suppose this is the time to make an entrance!

"What the hell is going on here?" In the split second that you burst into the room, staring at your sister's freckled face for the first time in years while the door swings open in slow motion, you quickly take in a few key things. The missing till from earlier sits perpendicular to the keyboard attached to the All-In-One Personal Computer on a cheap faux-oak desk. The off-white walls are clean, no thumbtack holes or anything. For a moment, you're surprised. You've never had a job where the office wasn't wall to wall with old workplace graphics, calendars, notices, and the like. There's nothing on the wall, save a framed printout of an article. It reads "Peppa Rohni Knows Soap: 'Everyone Deserves Luxury'" You feel the corners of your mouth extend downward. The brief period of slow-mo ends as your sister's annoyingly shrill shriek shatters your poor eardrums."MARCO??? What the fuck are you--" Peppa's face starts out a familiar tomato red (many nights were spent fighting each other and yelling bitch and bastard; you can't ever forget that face), but it instantly pales. Her eyes dart to whom you assume is her girlfriend, then back to you with a sharp glare. "Don't you DARE try and kill me Marco, I don't give a FUCK what--""Kill you?? What the hell are y--""STOP TALKING!!! I swear to God, Marco--""Don't tell me to stop talking, you bitch, let me explain--""And DO NOT call your sister a bitch, you bastard!""Bitch.""Bastard.""Bitch!""Bastard!" Okay, this isn't going anywhere. You tilt your head to get a better look at her girlfriend, who is still shivering and gripping Peppa's side. You squint. Is... is that..? You point your index at her, recollecting. The tomato red face returns as your sister swings her arms out to her sides in attempt to block her four-eyed partner. "NOT A FUCKING CHANCE! If you take one more fucking step--""W-Wait, you're the guy from the bus!" You all look at the girl in glasses. "I didn't-- this is your brother? You're Marco?" It is the same girl from the bus. Holy shit, no wonder she's shivering. You're surprised she's still alive after that. From the sound of it, that guy with rosacea is alive too, but in the hospital."Yeah." Your sister worriedly looks back and forth between you and her girlfriend."What guy? The crazy guy that jumped out the window?""He just op-p-pened the window. His sign was a hand." Peppa looks at your hands. They're both normal. Woah. You didn't actually turn your gun-hand back into your hand-hand. You imagine there is some limit to your power that you haven't figured out yet, but you're kind of glad that you didn't force your way into the room with a gun-hand. "I t-think he was trying to defend us from the attack."

"Your hand was a sign?" You've never seen this look on your sister's face before. You can't even begin to describe what emotion it is. It's kind of funny."Yeah.""It's not a sign now.""Nope.""Turn it into a sign." Bossy as ever. You're terrified that one day this girl will become president."Not how that works. Are you going to introduce me?" She squints her eyes at you."Honey, this is my baby brother Gianmarco. Marco, Jeannie." Jeannie and you nod at each other simultaneously. "Okay, if you're not here to kill us, what are you doing here?""Why do you think I'm trying to kill you?""You broke into my store. My LOCKED store.""Maybe don't leave your key under the mat if you don't want--" Peppa winces as Jeannie groans."I t-told you not to do that anymore!" Your sibling gives you the I'm-going-to-kill-you-later look before sheepishly turning to her girlfriend."It's just force of habit! Nothing bad happened, he's just dicking around! I'm sorry babe, are you mad at me?" Jeannie crosses her arms. You're now acutely aware of who wears the pants in the relationship."We can talk about it l-later. I really do need to um, go. Nice to meet you, Marco." You step out of the way so she can go to the restroom."She's nice.""What the fuck do you want, Marco?"

"Well, first I have a few questions about what I just overheard." You didn't think that Peppa could squint even more than she already was, but she proves you wrong."You're asking me questions.""Yeah, what exactly happened to you guys? Someone's in the hospital?" She sighs and turns to sit back at her desk, grabbing the till."The only reason I'm going to answer your question is because I know you were there. You'd better answer mine after." You resist the urge to roll your eyes. You actually take a second to ponder how that would have been portrayed. But you resist—you're planning on asking her if you can crash here, so you imagine keeping a cool head would be beneficial to you."Sure, Pep," you say."Nope." Peppa scoffs and shakes her head in that way only big sisters can do. She's not even looking at you; she's turning on the currency counter machine."What?""I'm your older sister. Call me by my full name." You fail to resist the urge to roll your eyes."Sure, Peppa," you say."Better." She clears her throat and grabs a coin bin from the till, placing it on the currency scale. "I'm at home waiting for my girlfriend to get back from our mutual friend's apartment when she calls me. After an attack, their bus crashed off a bridge into the ocean, and by some miracle, she had managed to save our friend and swam to safety. I rushed over to pick her up, and we get our friend into the emergency room. I forgot to bring towels, and Jeannie was freezing. I knew we had some in the store, and it was down the street from the hospital. Now, I want to know why you were on the same bus." This more or less lines up with everything you've heard so far. Bus gets attacked, everyone falls asleep, everyone wakes up, bus falls. However, you feel a familiar feeling."I was headed here, actually." You watch Peppa draw herself up and fumble the bundle of bills in her hand, dropping a few onto the table."Here— Ms. Wiz?" She clears her throat, picks up the fallen cash, straightens it up, places it on the scale, and turns to stare at you."Yeah.""Why?""I'm being hunted down." You pause for dramatic effect. You wait for her to react in any way, but she does not. "I'm a psychic. It's how I was able to turn my hand into a sign earlier. It's one of my powers. But earlier tonight, three men broke into my apartment complex to try and kill me." No reaction. "They were psychic assassins. Three brothers. I didn't wait there for long when I found out. So I headed here." No reaction. You could swear her eyes widened for a moment there."Marco.""Peppa.""Are you doing drugs again?" Your pupils dilate. You clench your fist."No.""So that attack, that was from the men coming after you?""Yes.""So basically, from what I'm hearing, you're the reason that my girlfriend is risking hypothermia and our mutual friend is in the hospital.""Well—""How did you get off the bus?""I jumped off."

"Saved by your psychic powers, I'm sure." You get the feeling she does not believe you're psychic. "How did you get here? On foot?" You're unsure she will be very responsive to a cute bus driver bubbling you up and floating you over. How can you package this information in a way that a) makes you look good, and b) doesn't make her think you're crazy than you already are?"A cute girl dropped me off." Peppa starts to laugh."Okay Marco. Let me get this: you're a psychic, psychic assassins are after you, and oh! A cute girl ends up dropping you off. Guess what I believe least now." Peppa rifles through the hundred dollar bills like an expert, counting without even using the scale. Just because she can. "I'm not surprised in the least, Marco. Obsessed with girls, no goals in life." She shakes her head."Wh-What the fuck?""Mm. Here's what I think, Marco. I think perhaps you did get in trouble with some men. From the sound of it, very violent men. And you carelessly let innocent people get harmed because you were too cowardly to handle it on your own. This is what you always do, Marco. You can't do anything.""Peppa, I am serious." She shakes her head. "Your girlfriend just said I turned my hand into a sign.""Jeannie just swam in freezing water a few minutes ago. I am taking everything she says with a grain of salt.""I don't know how else to say this, but I am not lying. I have done nothing, and I'm fighting for my life. I barely escaped the last attempt on my life. I don't have anyone else, Peppa. I even called Mom—""You called Mom?" Now her eyes are wide. She stands and grabs a plastic deposit bag from the desk drawer. She places the cash inside and writes some information on a slip of paper."Yes and she didn't give a fuck.""You called her.""Yes and she didn't give a fuck.""You remember the Rohni Creed?""Yes.""And you called her.""And she didn't give a fuck. Peppa, you are the only family I have right now. I need your help." Peppa kinda gives you a bewildered look as she seals the bag and shoves it gently down a slit in the safe. She looks down at the safe for a few moments. Silence fills the room again, and it's somehow worse than your conversation."No.""No?""No. Barring the fact that I just do not want you to sleep over here, you are too much of a liability. Get out of my store."

"Peppa, you've got to believe me on this," you implore as Peppa's face hardens."It's not a matter of—""Look, let me prove it to you," you interrupt. "If I demonstrate—""I don't want you to turn your hand into a sign.""I'm not planning to. I was gonna—" Peppa crosses her arms,"What, Marco? Are you going to predict the future? Try and read my mind?""Can you let me finish? No, I can't read minds. That's someone else. Here, let me..." Your eyes fall on a display soap sitting on the table. You neither have history with the bar of soap, nor do you find it very appealing—it's a mundane object. Still, you can't help but find some satisfaction in the silky-smooth surface of the soap, the curved ridges catching the light and light shadows accentuating the embossed Ms. Wiz logo.Your curiosity grows deeper; you imagine what sort of wash you'd have with the pearlescent bar. It smells faintly of honey and chamomile, and you bet there are traces of both ingredients within the soap. You're more of a clean scent kind of guy, but you have to admit that the warmth of the soap is quite compelling. In fact, the more you think about it, the more inspiring this soap bar is.

You tilt your arm back, taking a wild stance. You exude sheer smugness, wiggling your eyebrows as you tense your left hand up. You make a conscious decision to change your non-dominant hand instead of your right, just in case."Watch this." Your hand starts to bubble up, foaming slightly as your fingers start to melt. The magma-like viscosity of your drooping fingers causes them to coagulate with the rest of your wilting palm. Your sister looks at you with disgust before a warm, honeyed scent starts eminating from your lump of hand flesh, its color darkening. As the lump starts to form the familiar shape of her flagship soaps, her face pales. Your soap-hand has become indistinguishable from the real thing."You— You—" she sputters, her eyes wide. You smirk, admiring your work."Told you."For a brief moment, between your satisfaction at successfully transforming your hand yet again and your sister's reaction, you take note of something. Back at your apartment, when you first heard screaming, you were surprised to go up to the next floor to find nothing. Back on the bus, you heard the chanting like everyone else, but you didn't fall asleep. Being disappointed over nothing happening rather than what you expected is nothing new, but these past few times have felt strange. You can't pinpoint exactly what it is, but you're certain you're missing a part of the truth. At your apartment, on the bus... and now, here. You take a look at your soap-hand, then back at the original bar.You try to not let this interrupt your celebration.You expend 3 ENERGY. Your ENERGY drops to 0. You will not be able to actively use any of your psychic powers with your energy at 0.You've improved! ACTIVE ABILITY 1 - Inspiration improves from WORST to ACUTE. The more successful attempts you have at using your abilities, the more you will improve at it. This will allow you to do more with your one ability as well as reduce the amount of energy needed to perform the ability.

You turn your attention back to your sister. You watch as her pale face slowly but surely goes back to the familiar tomato shade from earlier."Get out.""What?""GET OUT!!!" She screams at the top of her lungs as she launches herself at you. Your arms instinctively spring up to block her clumsy blows."Jesus, Peppa, what the fuck?""GET OUT OF MY STORE! GET THE FUCK OUT!" You slowly back out the office door as she follows, yelling at you. Jeannie steps out of the bathroom door, with a bewilderment you've seen in frightened bunnies. Your shoes squeak on the metal flooring of the stair unit, your heels tracing the edge of the top stair. Before you can realize what a precarious position you're in, your sister cranks back her leg and jettisons it towards your chest. You fly down the steps, landing cranium-first against an empty aluminum candle making vat."Babe, calm down!" Jeannie implores as your sister quickly dismounts the bottom step to approach your hunched body. You rub the back of your head as you try not to look at your sister or move suddenly or do anything that would cause any more undue violence."I am warning you for the last time. You will leave this store and me alone. If I see you in here again, I will show them the footage of you breaking in to my shop and sic so many lawyers on your pathetic ass you won't see daylight again. Do you understand me?" You decide prolonging this isn't worth it any longer. You believe her threats, but you're more upset over how this has all played out. Not to mention that this isn't helping your current marked-for-death situation. You additionally make a mental note to look out for security cameras the next time you sneak around someplace.You slowly get up. Then, you get out.

You exit Ms. Wiz. You suppose this ends your investigation of Ms. Wiz.YOU HAVE COMPLETED 'MS. WIZ - Check out your sister's shop.' Based on your actions, YOU HAVE EARNED 5 POINTS.Your BRAWN increases to 5! Your CHARISMA increases to 7! Your VIGILANCE increases to 10!

You're not exactly sure what to do now. Your phone suddenly returns to your memory.

"Marco!" Your chubby associate greets you on the video call. You didn't mean to start a video call, but a cracked phone screen doesn't really register touch very well."I didn't think you'd be awake. It's nearly 2 in the morning." He sardonically crosses his arms and taps his chin as if he were the new lead in a period detective piece. Teenagers aren't very subtle these days."Oh, I don't know. My associate has a hit on him and is running alone out there. I am coming to terms with destiny that isn't very clear. This is all very conducive to a good night's sleep." He smiles. "I'm just happy you're safe. How was your sister's shop?""Enlightening.""How very vague.""You're one to talk.""Fair enough. Why the call? Just checking in?" You look away and sigh."No, I think I might need to take you up on your offer." His eyes widen."You're gonna come over?""My plan was a bust. You were right. I really don't know who to trust.""What all happened?""I'll tell you later. Can you come get me? Do you have a car?" He nods, already putting a coat on."Sure do. Where are you?""The bus stop on the corner of Collins and Shiloh." He looks at the camera with a sideways smile."Could you give me a specific address?""Is that not specific enough?""I don't know streets like that. I can't type 'corner of Collins and Shiloh' into Banana Maps." You scoff."You use Banana Maps? You can type 'corner of Collins and Shiloh' into Voogol." Fred fakes retching."Voogol Maps suck.""Wow.""Hey, you can love trash all you like. I'm not gonna get blasted with fifteen road notifications when I'm just trying to get somewhere new.""Okay, whatever. 526 Shiloh.""Thank you." His fingers work quick. "Oh my God, are you at Ms. Wiz? Does your sister own Ms. Wiz??""...Yes.""Wow. My mom loves that place. She brings the best soaps back home. And they have good deals.""I'm aware.""Okay, it'll take me 15 minutes to get there." He exits his house, locking the front door to enter his car. You can't tell what kind of car it is, but it's bright yellow. "This'll be great. You'll lay low, and we can train your psychic powers in the morning." As soon as he says this, realization strikes."Oh fuck," you blurt out. Fred starts his car. His phone camera cuts to black, detecting that he's driving."What?""I have a shift that starts in like, five hours.""Oh. Can you call off?""I mean, I guess. But if I miss any of my shifts, I'm not going to be able to afford rent.""Oh.""Yeah.""Well, what do you want to do?"

..."You know, I can change the station if you want me to." Fred taps his thumb against the thin, sleek steering wheel. His eyes are on the road, but you know his attention is focused on you. Weirdly, you feel comforted by this. You slump in your seat, trying to relax for the first time since your shower. Oh, how you miss your bathroom. You grimace at Fred. You were just thinking about how this station sucks.See, I keep forgetting you can do that. He flips the station to a classical one."To be fair, we spent a good amount of time actually talking on the phone."Even when I spoke to you in my dream, I was still calling you on my phone. Fred clicks his tongue."That is still so unbelievable. Even masters can only psychically transmit a little bit of information at a time."As much as I'd like to, I can't really take any credit for it. I was dreaming. Fred nods."You get a lot of those random ones when you first awaken your powers. Imagine me as an infant," he says with a chuckle. The glare on his glasses blocks your attempt to read his expression. You focus your attention back onto the road, appreciating this small yellow classic car you're in. You were a little scared he'd try and fly you over. You're done with that sort of thing for the night.Right."Past that, if you're not specialized in visions or prophecy, you rarely get any. Only when the Earth speaks directly to you."Wait, so that could have been the Earth warning me? Fred makes a so-so hand gesture."I mean, maybe. I don't know if I would go that far, you're still new. Would you say your dream felt more bizarre or scary?"Is that actually a differentiating quality? I... well. I was really confused at first, but then that boxer guy showed up. It was nothing but fear from that point until I woke up."Hmm." He thinks for a moment as he turns right at an intersection. "I don't really know."Wow."I just don't want to eliminate any possibilities unless I'm sure. Believe me, I'm taking this all very seriously. But I don't know what to make of it. I just don't have the full picture."Yeah well, that's pretty much where I'm at, too. I was hoping you'd see something I don't. He smirks."If it does turn out to be something serious, you'll know. We always end up following our destinies one way or another."Vague and lame."Get used to it." His smile turns serious. "You're really going to go to work?"I'm really going to go to work.NEW QUEST!
AS YOU LIKE IT - Manage to survive during your shift AND satisfy three customers. Bonus points awarded for additional customers past three.

Fred turns to the road."Okay. Then you're not sleeping tonight."What?"I mean it. If those Brothers Seville come back, you need to be able to defend yourself. We'll train through the night in my backyard." It's at this time you take in your surroundings. Large, ancient looking trees border the road on both sides. You marvel at nature's presence in this city. You can't imagine living in a massive metroplex with nothing but concrete all over. Fred pulls up to a quaint house in a distantly situated neighborhood. The next house has got to be a block down.Is the entire forest your backyard or something?"Something like that. I'll put on some coffee, then we can start in an hour. Give yourself some time to rest for now." He gets out of the car. You follow....When you think about it, you haven't actually stepped inside of a proper house for a while. It's been a lot of apartment-hopping for you ever since you moved out. Cream-colored walls welcome you into a rustic den, covered wall to wall with animal furs and iconography you're pretty sure counts as appropriation to display proudly. As you take a seat on the very-comfortable couch and take in the smell of pine and wax candles, you exhale, letting the night's events pass over you.Listening to the kettle boil on the stove, you pull out your phone. You have some time to yourself; you may as well put it to some good use.

A quick Google on "bald boxer who killed mustache boxer and businessman" gets it right on the money. You're greeted by the scowling face you saw in your dream, and as you peruse the Quikipedia article and its various sources, a picture begins to form of this man's life.From Quikipedia:
David Seville Miller (née Seville, born October 4, 1965; disappeared March 28, 2000; declared dead November 21, 2002) was a USC former professional boxer who competed between 1986 and 2000. Nicknamed "The Nicest Boxer in the World", Miller is regarded as one of the greatest heavyweight boxers of all time.From Great Fighters Magazine (1986):
Seville Cleans House by Oakson Burrell
While most journalists will try and convince you that every Glass Joe is a natural-born fighter, this one is convinced that his rookie is, in fact, a fighting machine. As Jameson was the amateur fighter for the '60s, it becomes clearer and clearer with each fight that David Seville is on his way to becoming just the same for the '80s. Gone are the entertaining storylines that make a fight exciting these days. Seville is clean, calculating, and precise. Watching this 21-year-old giant dance circles in the ring while every blow manages to be brutal and punishing is an inspiring thing. Seville remains undefeated in his amateur career, marking this victory off at a clean 5-0.I was able to get Seville for a quick interview. He was all smiles, joined by his mentor, the great Ian Hawke, or John Miller. Miller and Seville looked close, which isn't surprising, given all the praise Seville gives his mentor. I wouldn't be surprised if Miller being there made Seville happier than the victory did."I owe it all to him. If it wasn't for John, I'd have rotted in that orphanage. It makes me cry sometimes," said Seville as he turned to face his mentor. "You really saved my life. I can't ever repay you back for that."From Wow! Boxing (1987):
MULDER V SEVILLE ENDS IN EXPECTED VICTORY FOR SEVILLE
Surprisingly, Mulder was excited to comment following his brutal loss by Seville."That f***er was out to kill me. I was doing all I could in there and still ended up a wreck. You know we were in the locker room together after the fight? Guy was asking me if I was okay and if I needed any help paying hospital bills or anything. He's just such a nice guy. You wouldn't even know he beats guys up for fun, the way he talks."From Boxers Illustrated (1988):
SEVILLE DOMINATES PROFESSIONAL DEBUT
Hardly a year after his professional debut, Seville still remains undefeated in his career. In an interview with The Mousse Post, Seville admits that the only individuals to have ever beaten him in a fight are his mentor, Ian Hawke, and his girlfriend.

From Quikipedia:
CEO Benny Hill announced that his company, Sexycola, would sponsor Miller in March of 1991. This would begin a years-long partnership with Miller and Hill. Miller would star in commercials with Sexycola products, and in 1992, he would attempt to market his own soda under the brand name Miller Fight Soda. However, after several lawsuits, the product was never released.From Blueme (2021):
Anyone know where the rest of this article is? - u/MMAobsessed
I found [u]this scrap of newspaper[/u] under the stand at the grocery store I work at, anyone know where I can find the full article? I know it's about TNBITW, but I can't find the original anywhere.[Attached is an image of an old, wrinkled scrap of paper, reading: at least... Miller a few questions about... more than happy to answer."The truth is, I've always seen [Seville] as my son," mused Miller as he drew from his cigar. I was excitedly writing on my notepad, but... of seeing THE HAWK smoke one of his signature cigars.."]u/SmokyEyez replied to u/MMAobsessed:
That's from a piece Oakson Burrell did on TNBITW when he got married to Ian Hawke's daughter in 1992! AFAIK it was printed on a pamphlet so I doubt it's been archived anywhere.From Zeke Press (1992):
In 1992, after a crushing defeat by the hands of Dave Miller (he's married now, folks), Eric Jameson, Todd Rolfe, and Gary Mulder were found dead on Newark Street. Their faces were bloodied, but the cause of death is yet unknown, says the forensic pathologist.From Quikipedia:
The combination of the only matching clues being a common abrasion to the chest and a bloodied face preceding death, in addition to Miller having fought Jameson a few hours earlier spurred conspiracy online that Miller had killed all three men. There is still no evidence that Miller had anything to do with the murder aside a witness that placed him around Newark Street at the time of death.From Blueme (2021) u/MMAobsessed:
Okay, I've been getting into the whole TNBITW/Hawk era and incident and I'm still so confused as to why they keep calling him The Nicest Boxer in the World? Most clips of him are just him snarling at the camera.u/GimmeSome replied to u/MMAobsessed:
I mean before the marriage, every boxer he fought was always saying what a nice dude he was. After he got married, he got way meaner. I think he had a whole drug scandal? People were saying his aggression was due to drugs, but everything came out clear. He was just that fucked up.
[u]https||:www.hornetmedia.com|boxing|articles|02-06-2000[/u]From Hornet Media (2000):
His former friend and later competitor Igan Dravo had this to say, "That godd*** b*****d had better be on drugs. I can't imagine if that was him naturally. He's terrifying, man. I couldn't stop sweating in that locker room."Unfortunately for Dravo, his results DID come out negative. He was just that fucked up.

From The Mousse Post (2000):
The crowd watched as both men demonstrated exactly how well they could kill each other. David's technique was perfect. His rhythm kept him up and fighting, but The Hawk was too good at punishing his brash hooks. But after 2 rounds, TNBITW finally got a solid crack at his mentor's mandible.Seats could be heard creaking as nearly everyone leaned forward to get a better look. The hit reverberated throughout the theater, sweat flew out like tiny, salty bullets. The audience's faces felt cool as they watched The Hawk stumble a bit, then barely hold himself up. His face almost seemed to swell as his nose erupted in blood, pouring down his rugged face like a fountain. He tumbled onto the ring floor on his belly.Immediately, everyone was ushered out. The audience roared, but they could do nothing but wait. Eventually, a man came out after a few minutes. He hung his head low. And we all knew.Ian "The Hawk" Hawke was dead.From Quikipedia:
D. Miller was last seen being ushered away by Hill. A few minutes after J. Miller was pronounced dead on the scene, Hill was found clutching his head, claiming that D. Miller had blamed him for what went wrong in his life and attacked him before escaping through the emergency exit. Cameras on the scene were disabled, and during the following investigation, it was discovered they were turned off only a minute after J. Miller was found to be deceased.Several investigations began at the behest of Beatrice Miller. Nothing was found, but Bluewater management had to force a few private detectives out of the grounds. After two weeks, Beatrice was found dead alongside Claire Wilson, D. Miller's longtime girlfriend. The investigations slowed to a crawl then on until the shelving of the case in November of 2002.

Jesus, what a depressing read. Still, there's nothing in here about a businessman dying. You didn't get a great look at the guy's face in your dream, but you're pretty certain he was d-e-a-d dead. It was a younger guy too; this Benny Hill guy would be too old. You gulp. You really hope these visions go away."Hey, feeling rested?""Jesus!" You jolt upright, turning to face your associate. He grins at you, his eyes crinkling behind his glasses."Nope, just Fred. Coffee's hot and ready. You ready to train 'til you drop?" You place your phone back in your pocket, raising an eyebrow at his tank top and fingerless gloves.What's the plan?"Well, I want to figure out what the deal is with your shapeshifting powers first. Then, I want you to figure out at least one general psychic ability to defend yourself. Something simple, but effective. Why don't you choose? I think the easiest to figure out would be like, basic levitation or healing."

Why would I ever choose anything but healing? You cross your arms as Fred smirks at you."Healing is a neat trick, but it's a tough one to master. I can show you the method, but if you want to heal more than a small flesh wound, you'll need a lot of practice." He finishes getting dressed for the training occasion and opens the door, motioning towards his yard as he steps outside. You follow.Honestly, I just want to learn enough to get rid of this black eye."What black eye?"My black eye. Do you not see my black eye?"Assuredly, I say unto you, you do not have a black eye."I could've sworn I had one before. You didn't see it in the car? I promise I'm not fucking with you.He thinks for a moment. "Well, you can't lie to me anyway. But I think I do remember. It was... pretty faint."No way. I could tell it was bad when I got it. There's no way it healed up that fast. Now the kid smiles wide."That's psychic healing! The energy from the Earth heals you by default. It's pretty slow though. Bruises and small cuts can get healed in an hour or so, but more serious injuries will take much longer. What you’re going to learn is how to focus that process. At least as much as you can," says Fred as he paces the yard as he talks. The tall wildgrass parts around him as if it knows better than to touch him.Uh, alright. So what do I—"First of all," Fred cuts in. "I want to check out your active power." He stops pacing and sits down on the grass. "How many times have you used it now?"Three times now. I turned my hand into a bus sign in my sleep then a pistol and a bar of soap."By getting inspired," Fred adds, obviously reading your mind. You're really put off by how casually he pokes around in there, but you let it slide. "So this is more of a unique power than an amplification."What does that mean?"From what I've seen, active and passive psychic powers usually fall into one of two categories: unique and amplified. As a psychic, you can't choose what powers you get, but they are influenced by who you are as a person. Some people just aren't fit to have a crazy weird power, so their active power could be a typical ability that they have a greater affinity towards."And I'm fit to have a crazy weird power?"Evidently. You did say you'd protect the Earth."I'm really starting to regret everything I said yesterday."Too late now!" Fred chuckles before pursing his lips in thought. "What's confusing me is why I can't figure out what your passive is. Your passive should be obvious since it can never turn off, but I don't sense anything from you."You shrug, then hesitate. Back when I was on the bus, one of those Brothers Seville, I think his name was Sy, he could make people fall asleep by chanting. Everyone passed out except me. I'm pretty sure I've heard him chanting two or three times now, but it still had no effect.Fred squints at you, studying your face. "Let me try something." He hops to his feet, and rushing over to you, he clamps his hands on either side of your head. You lock eyes for a moment, gazing into his intense stare before he pulls away from you. "That's so weird."What?"I just tried three different things. First, I tried to hypnotize you. That failed. Second, I tried to control your mind. That failed. Third, I tried to destroy your brain."You what??"It was to test a theory!"Don't test theories by destroying my brain, you psycho fuck!Fred waves you off, stroking his chin. "It didn't work. It should have."So? An uncomfortable silence stretches between the two of you for about a minute."I think I've figured it out."What?"Let me explain this first. Pyschic attacks can either be something physical or something mental. Your INSPIRATION is physical, obviously. Something like hypnosis would be mental. Everything I tried was a mental attack. None of them worked."So I'm immune to mental abilities? That doesn't make sense, you can read my mind just fine."I think you're immune to mental ATTACKS specifically. My ABSOLUTE TELEPATHY is an inoffensive power. That Sy guy's chanting sounds like it's meant to incapacitate people, so you were unaffected."Is that... that's a good thing?"Marco, that is quite literally one of the best passive abilities I think I've ever seen. Passive powers are often one of the biggest sources of grief to a psychic since you can't turn it off. It is a good thing. I guess you can't get psychically high, though."You can't— I can't what? Fred is about to explain when the fucker reads your mind. He looks uneasy and stiffens up."Um, maybe you shouldn't worry about it."I wasn't worried about it in the first place, asshole. You could at least make it less obvious when you learn something about me."Sorry. You have a great power."

"Stay here for a second, I'll be right back." Fred rushes into the house and returns after 15 seconds with a steaming mug of coffee. "Here, drink."You take hold of the mug, the ceramic warming your hands. Bringing it up to your lips, you take a sip. The drink scalds your mouth, sizzling your tongue like braised beef. Your eyes widen and water, and you desperately want to spit it out. Something prevents you from doing so. You shake slightly as molten lava trickles down your throat, setting your entire body aflame. At the same time, you tilt the mug to drink more coffee. You're chugging the entire cup at this point, your senses on fire. As the last drop of coffee leaves its pale container, you feel a cooling sensation replace the heat.You gain 20 ENERGY! Your ENERGY raises to 20.What the fuck was in that?"Regular coffee. Feeling energized?"More than I thought I'd be."The unfortunate downside with using psychic powers is that you lose a lot of energy really quickly. The only reliable way to re-energize yourself is to meditate, but thankfully, there are a few natural compounds that also give some psychic energy. Caffeine is one of them."How about an energy drink?Fred nods. "That would also work. Not as well as my coffee, but it would work. I think Belgium chocolate also works. Don't forget that meditation still is the only real way to completely re-energize. You can try staving it off with food and drinks, but eventually both will get less effective until you meditate. Since we're low on time, I'll save that for later. How are you feeling?"Fine."Any pain at all? Any other wounds on you?"Uh, I don't think s— Before you can finish, Fred launches his left fist directly into your left eye. "FUCK!! What the f—" With a grin, he slams the other against your kisser. You stumble away from him, the left side of your face now harboring two painful bruises."Now you've got something to heal! Now, place your hand over—""Fred, if you ever do that again without telling me, I'm going to kill you.""Sorry!" He remains smiling. "Put your hand over where I hit you." You do so. It stings, bad. "Good. Now concentrate. How did you get inspired?"I thought about what I was looking at and what it meant to me."Try and think about your eye like that. What makes up your eye? What does it do? What does it feel like fully healed? What—"I think I get it. Hang on. You breathe deep. You think about how you've taken more deep breaths tonight than the past six months. As your chest raises, so does your head. Your face feels tight from the pain. Before you can start to think, a memory from your childhood comes to the surface. A broken vase... a resounding slap. You've never forgotten that slap. You wished that the pain from the slap would go away, but it was almost like your guilt aggravated the ache even further. You try and let go of the guilt. Your eyelids twitch. Not like a real eye twitch, but like a budding flower about to bloom. As you exhale, you feel the coolness settle in your face, the raised flesh pulsing and squirming before draining of a viscous liquid. It runs down your face as your cheek deforms, pressing against your eye socket. You bring your hand down to your side, tears streaming down your newly healed face.You expend 5 ENERGY. Your ENERGY drops to 15."Wow! That was really fast!"For a beginner?"For a psychic! Good job, Marco!"Thanks. You feel... fine. You thought figuring more of this psychic junk out would make you a little happier."Don't worry. Let's keep practicing using your active ability and healing until it's time for you to go to work."

...Fred checks his watch. "Aww, we're out of time. How are you feeling?" You glare at him. For the past few hours, he's been beating you up and giving you items to replicate before giving you more coffee. You can now heal bruises and small cuts pretty effectively, and you were able to transform your hand into a stapler, the coffee mug, and a blade of grass. Your ENERGY is now at 25.I feel fine. I definitely feel a lot safer going to work now. Thanks."Thanking people really isn't your forte, huh?"Hard to be too thankful to someone who's been beating the shit out of me. He grins."You should be even more thankful. Let's get back on the road."...You watch batches of mighty firs whiz past you as Fred drives you back to your place of employment. The moon peeks through the panning branches, heightening your feeling of being watched even more. You slump your head against your shoulder, a deep sigh escaping your chest. You're tired of reflecting on the past, but you simply can't help it. You had a strange dream, discovered a hit on you, met a new psychic, got kicked out of Ms. Wiz, and learned some new tricks. All while the threats to Earth and your living situation still loom overhead. You really need to get some sleep, you think. This has all been very exhausting, but you've got to keep going.Refusing to let your eyelids close, you anticipate what is yet to come. You wonder if you can manage to defend yourself against all three brothers at the same time, and you wonder if you'll see Ellie again. You hope so. You wonder about her half-brother. You wonder about Dave Seville. You wonder about the dead businessman.You wonder about your minimum wage job.END OF CHAPTER TWO.