Once the allotted thirty minutes have passed—precisely down to the second—427 tentatively undeafens Lucas. At first, all he can hear is a booklet’s pages being flipped through, followed by Lucas grumbling.Hesitantly removing the remaining sensory suppressions one at a time, 427 nearly sighs with relief upon discovering that Lucas is standing in the kitchenette by the new automatic drip coffee maker—thankfully dressed—in the midst of poorly attempting to demystify its instruction manual.‘How the hell is this so complicated?’[Ah, making good on your promise to Jonathan?]‘Oh, thank fuck; yer back. Took ya long enough.’[…Hello, again, to you, too.]‘Yeah, yeah, yeah. Welcome back. So, anywho, can ya scan through this or somethin’ and tell me how to use it?’[…I already looked up the instructions from everything’s model numbers earlier. First, measure out—]427 guides Lucas through measuring and grinding a serving’s worth of coffee beans and setting it up in the machine with such in-d
Lucas and Jonathan—dressed decently but nowhere near as fancy as yesterday—are most of the way to Cat’s Paw Cafe, pointedly not utilizing the stinky subway station to get there.‘Ya know, it’s been surprisingly peaceful, yeah? Though, not havin’ people gawk as much as yesterday is kinda nice. All that attention was gettin’ old fast.’[Ahem, well, fortunately, Boss System approved my long-term task priority filtering proposal.]‘Oh? Whassat?’[Compared to before, now it requires an opt-in before being bombarded with every single task in range. Before receiving alerts—and therefore penalties for ignoring them—we’ll run the calculations of the tasks’ estimated impact vs. potential unwanted attention. This effectively weeds out a majority of minor tasks—plus some moderate ones—by accounting for how suspicious it would be for you to know the event was taking place, let alone be believably compelled to interfere. I knew there was no need to ask if you were interested in activating it immedi
Let's get the exposition dump out of the way to avoid the hundreds of chapters it would take to smoothly 'show' it all before the real story even begins.It is roughly a decade after the final confrontation between superheroes and supervillains, which the villains had won in an undisputed victory. While only a small percentage of the population have superpowers, even a normal human can cause sufficient trouble, so one can imagine what disasters these powered individuals caused in the wake of the war.Over this past decade, the overall population and economy have finally reached a point of hero-free stability. Estimates place the world population somewhere between one-fourth and one-third of the pre-war population, not that anyone would dare attempt a census when you're mor
A gentle late-spring breeze blows past, stirring up a few dead leaves, and bringing along a tattered plastic shopping bag to dance in the wind. Its graceful performance is interrupted when it slams into the face of a casually dressed young man, who was observing an old woman in the nearby crosswalk.Slender lightly tanned hands reach up to remove the offending trash, exposing his clean-shaven face. His disgusted expression is punctuated by his brown eyes being narrowed into near slits. Tossing the trash back over his shoulder, the breeze changes direction and brings the filthy bag back to molest the back of his head in an aggressive assault upon his short brown hair. He stiffens briefly before defending himself, eventually managing to successfully swat his assailant away.
After a brief moment of disorientation, Lucas reflexively clutches his stomach and starts leaning forward, gasping for a deep breath. When his eyes snap open mid-motion, his face is enthusiastically greeted by a vaguely familiar tattered and soiled plastic bag. Freezing in this position for a few seconds before realizing he's not in any pain, he slowly reaches up to grab and hold the repeat offender bag. Lowering his gaze, he stares at the familiar hand holding the happily billowing scrap of plastic. Waiting a few moments more the direction of the wind shifts and he gently releases the bag, watching it float away in front of him with a blank expression.'This... Well then. I guess that's better than barely holding on while bleedin’ out. Hmm... knock knock super system, or whatever the hell you said you're called, ya still t
Coming back up into daylight from the gloom of the subway station, Lucas squints briefly as he adjusts to the change in brightness, shielding his eyes with a hand temporarily. Now in high spirits, he softly hums tunelessly to himself as he sets out for what was once upon a time his initial destination; his favorite pizza place.'Only had to elbow five people away, I'm impressed. I gotta say, that guy that tested my grip on the handle gettin’ completely knocked over when I shoved him with the suitcase was pretty great. That look on his face was priceless. It all bein’ followed up by that granny stuttering awkwardly before managing to say thank you was definitely the best part though, I could tell that she hasn't said it in... sheesh, years?'
Trigger Warning: This chapter features the first instance of real gore.After having mostly composed himself, Lucas now wields a cardboard box full of beer and garlic knots upon his left shoulder, with the treasured pizza box held before him. He is still making a conscious effort to stay calm, however, his mind keeps uncontrollably drifting back to the newly discovered knowledge of his... contractual obligations.Walking the few blocks back to his apartment, he does his best to project an aura of, 'want my pizza? Fuck around and find out.' Thankfully, every covetous look upon his illustrious cardboard is successfully glared away by him.Being fully aware of Lucas's foul mood, 427 has tacitly stayed silent throughout his journey home.
When Lucas makes it to the door of his apartment, he drops the knife on the ground. He shakily pulls his keys from his pocket, further smearing bloody debris on his clothes, and slowly fumbles through unlocking the four external locks. Once the door is open, he kicks the knife inside, then staggers in after it. Once inside, he hurriedly sets the boxes down on the floor by the doorway, closing the door behind him by kicking his shoes back at it. He dashes to his bathroom to wash his hands with hot water, not stopping until the third complete cycle of scrubbing them. With the sink still running, he braces himself against