[X] Politely decline Sung's offer and go get set up on your own. You think you need a little time to yourself. Or maybe a lot. If unpacking and setting up isn't distracting or therapeutic enough at least you'll have some privacy to lie down and hope your stomach stops feeling so tight. [+1 PP]
Gods and hells, why didn't I purchase this comic earlier?
Editor-san, you are da Great.
Anywho, to fishman, to koreaman, or to munchkinman, that is the question. I kind of want to try and be nice to Sung, because the poor guy is clearly the sane one here. It might be nice to (try) and be friendly with him.
[X] Accept Sung's offer. He seems nice enough and normal enough, and he's not visibly creeped out so that's another plus. Introduce yourself to him properly, maybe get to know him a little.
Part of me wants to be evil and tie the vote again.
[X] Accept Sung's offer. He seems nice enough and normal enough, and he's not visibly creeped out so that's another plus. Introduce yourself to him properly, maybe get to know him a little.
[X] Introduce yourself to 'Caio'. He seems to be one of two Lamplighters you haven't seen hide nor hair of yet, so you're kind of curious. Sung seems to think he won't be such a shock to the system as the girls, too.
Well I might as well throw my hat in the ring for this excellent story.
*looks in*
[X] Accept Sung's offer. He seems nice enough and normal enough, and he's not visibly creeped out so that's another plus. Introduce yourself to him properly, maybe get to know him a little.
"I um... yeah, you can help me unpack and stuff if you'd like," you reply at last. You drop the handle of your luggage again, hugging your computer-box close to your chest.
"Let's get you settled then!" Sung stoops and takes up the telescoped handle, pulling the suitcase full of carelessly-packed clothes along behind him on rumbling little wheels. He quickens his pace to hit the doors before you, pushing the right-hand one open to let you through.
"Thanks," you say quietly, slipping through. Florence doesn't say a word to you or even glance your way. You shake your head a little and follow Sung down the hallway, deeper into the heart of the strange prefab thing dropped into the middle of the warehouse. Third door on the left, just like he said - seems like there's a staircase further along for accessing the upper levels and more doors leading to the back half of the warehouse but there'll be time for that later. For now you sidle into your new home.
It's not... awful. Space is the one thing going cheap around here so it's certainly roomy, somewhere between half-again or twice as big as your old bedroom. The floor is faux-wood laminate, the walls a nice neutral white, the room lit by a single domed light set in the centre of the ceiling. You've been provided a single bed that looks comfortable enough, nice sheets, a closet, two power-points and... that's it. No nightstands, no desk, no bathroom.
"Is... is this refugee housing?" you ask Sung, turning to face him.
"Good eye," he replies. To his credit he doesn't even seem embarrassed. "I'm told the Lamplighters first acquired this land in favourable circumstances, on the cheap. So they were faced with the problem of filling all this space on a budget. Buying a kaiju relief prefab block as dormitories was cheaper than completely remodelling the interior into a proper liveable space. We manage."
"Guess I'll, heh, have to go buy a desk and stuff at some point," you say, mostly to yourself. You set your computer box down with almost exaggerated care, nudging it up against the wall beside the headboard and sitting down on the edge of the bed. You aren't fussy about beds, at least. You're sure you'll be able to sleep at night.
You sit there and sort of zone out for a moment, only coming back to your body once you realise that Sung hasn't said anything in a while. You turn and notice with a small start that he's unpacking and expertly folding your clothes for you.
"H-hey no I can do that!" you say quickly, bounding off the side of the bed and making to round the end of it. Sung almost seems as startled as you are, pausing mid-fold holding one of your shirts. It has a picture of a Dalek in front of a staircase saying "fuck" on it.
"From the way you packed I suspect that no, no you can't," Sung replies with a playful smile. You have no response for that. Instead you just slowly sink back down until you're sitting on the end of the bed, listening to the rustle of fabric as Sung folds your clothes and lays them all out in neat piles separated by type.
"So is this your first time with an agency?" he asks conversationally, folding another shirt. This one has a faded print of Anubis on the front. It was getting so tight you were thinking of throwing it out, but these days it might fit you again.
"Yeah," you reply. "My first time with um, powers too. I got them yesterday, or maybe technically the day before I dunno."
"Oh?" Sung looks at you, pinning a pair of sweats to his chest by his chin while he works. "A late bloomer?"
"Yeah. No. Kind of." You fidget in your lap, tugging your pant legs tight against your knees. "It's an alien. A symbiote, they called it. It came through a rift during the attack the other day, bonded with me. That's why I'm all..." you gesture in the general vicinity of your face "... this."
"Ah. I didn't want to ask, it seemed rude."
"It's alright," you reply. "Mean, I'll have to get used to it at some point, right?"
"That doesn't..." Sung trails off, pausing to think mid-fold. Sets down the last shirt and steps away from all your clean clothes, his energy renewed. "Would you like to join me in the training room? If we're going to be teammates it seems we should learn about each other's powers at some stage, yes? The exercise might do you some good."
Transforming (or whatever it is) in the bathroom all by yourself was one thing. Here, in front of someone you barely know? It makes you swallow nervously, so loud he must've heard you. But you can't just turn him down now, either. He's making the effort to welcome you and put you at ease, he deserves something more than not at all in return.
"I can do my best I suppose," you say haltingly.
Sung chuckles. "It's hardly some test that'll get you thrown out if you fail. We'll just figure out what you can do, and work on what you can't. No pressure. Is that alright?"
"Yeah yeah," you mumble. Then, louder and (in an attempt to be) more animated; "Where is it? Upstairs or anything?"
"Through the doors." He crosses your bedroom in a few brisk strides, pausing in the doorway and turning to beckon you. "Come on, I'll show you. Point out the laundry and bathrooms too."
You stand and make to follow him. Then, thinking ahead at the last minute, you back up and fumble your wallet and phone out of your pockets to stash them under the sheets next to your suitcase. You don't really want them lost or damaged if you're about to get punched. Sung waits patiently, waving off your muttered "sorry" as you hurry back over to his side.
The training room is about as budget and bare-bones as the bedrooms. It's been enclosed as well - barely - using the same prefab structures that make up the 'dormitory', lit by twin pairs of light strips running all the way along the length of the rectangular room. For the most part it just seems to be full of regular gym equipment, most of it worn or otherwise visibly second-hand; free-weights, bars, treadmills, punching bags, that sort of thing. All quite nice for regular people. All of dubious or no use at all to superheroes. It takes you a while to notice the few more modern pieces of workout tech, a row of four electronic punching bags reinforced to weather the blows of someone with enhanced strength and measure the psi. Two of them are busted.
"Well, yes, I know what you're thinking," says Sung unprompted. "But it isn't so bad. I'm the only one who exercises around here, and regimes for ordinary people suit me just fine. Refining technique helps anyone, no matter where they stand on the power scale."
You almost ask what his powers are. Then you remember he's just about to show you and bite your tongue for being dumb. Instead you try to impress him with trivia. "Yeah, that makes sense. I heard it's surprisingly common for people with enhanced strength to have insane muscle development. Weightlifting doesn't really challenge them but they just kinda naturally grow up looking like bodybuilders." He's giving you a suitably impressed look, eyebrows raised, so you press on. "I guess the alternative is wasting away to skin and bone unless you deadlift busses every day."
"Hah, well, you'd know more about that than me. Kate's never talked about her powers or anything." Sung gestures to the foam mats sketching out a square sparring area off to the right. He notices your dubious look. "Oh, we aren't sparring. I just want to get a look at your powers and reactions. Shall we?"
You nod, sinking down to untie your shoes as you notice him doing the same. You follow him onto the mat to square up, hopping along on one foot as you struggle to peel off your other sock. Sung, on the other hand, couldn't be more relaxed without doing yoga right in front of you. He hasn't even gone into a fighting stance yet. He's just nudging his shoes out of the way.
"Would you like me to break the ice?" he asks.
"Oh, um. Sure."
He nods, his gaze slowly sliding off your face and focusing on nothing at all. He breathes, slowly, deeply, gradually quickening as he shuts his eyes. He flexes his fingers, half curling them into fists but never quite getting there, slowly shifting his feet into a more grounded position.
"HA!"
A sharp cry, a blur of violent movement. You flinch. No fist comes rocketing into your face. Sung only readied himself, shifted into a fighting stance as violently as any punch or kick. His sinews strain beneath the skin, every muscle tensed, his pulse racing with controlled adrenaline. Faint, translucent blue flames flicker and rise from his shoulders and upper arms, yet not a hair or thread on him is singed. The tension releases, a held breath exhaled. The flames die down, and Sung rises into a less threatening posture.
"Hah. Well, it's a little difficult to show off on command," he admits. "It gets more dramatic when my powers are actually called for, I assure you."
"What is it?" you ask, all other concerns momentarily suffocated by curiosity. "I mean I've heard of martial arts heroes before but they didn't, um, catch fire."
"It's not fire, but it is Heat."
Your brow furrows. "... beg pardon?"
He smirks to himself. Seems he just couldn't resist that. He tilts his head, scratching the back of his neck as he speaks. "The power is called Mousho. Literally translated it means 'Fierce Heat', or 'Heat Wave' I suppose but that sounds more like you're talking about the weather. It's, how do I put this. Fighting spirit? Determination? Just raw ganbatte-? No, no that's Japanese too, dummy." He chuckles, rolls his neck, then straightens out. "Essentially I power up depending on how committed I am to a given battle. I don't particularly want to fight you, so I'm at something of a disadvantage."
"It has its own name? Does that mean there are other users?" you ask.
He nods. "There are a few documented cases, mostly scattered around East Asia. At this point the only real connecting thread is that all users thus far have been male. It isn't quite 'big' enough to be common knowledge here in the West yet, but it was quite the local news when I was growing up." He trails off, then shrugs. "Not as flashy as some of the 'kaiju-buster' heroes out there, but I do well enough for myself. And you?"
"O-oh right. I'll..." you trail off, looking down at your chest. Specifically where your heart, and the black bloom of symbiote biomass, should be. You bite your lip. "I'll have to take my shirt off I think so uh, fair warning?"
Sung inclines his head. You instinctively turn around to peel off your shirt like you're preserving your modesty or something. It only occurs to you once your shirt is half over your head that the exit wound is just as big or bigger, right there on your back. The thought makes you miss a step, try to play it off and toss your shirt away like you're cool and calm and chill and not at all incredibly all sorts of feelings right now. You turn around again, clinging to the confidence your new muscles bring in a desperate attempt to ablate every other thought racing through your mind about having to go shirtless in front of a stranger. Then you notice Sung looking straight at the black bloom over your heart, and it all comes out in a quiet, involuntary 'hmmm' of anxiety through your nose.
Sung meets your gaze and smiles as warmly as he can manage. "I'm glad to see you recovered so quickly."
"... y-yeah." You stumble over your words, disarmed. You don't quite know where to put your hands, so after a few tries you just let them drop to your sides and try not to look so much like a zombie. "Apparently it's um, kinda like your power. In that other people have symbiotes too but they're not really common. And I really don't know the first thing about it beyond the fact that it's my blood now and it can cover parts of me if I tell it to. Everything else is kinda..." you gesture vaguely with both hands.
Sung nods. "I see. May I see it?"
"Um. Well yeah. Just try not to scream I guess, h-haha." In the way of all things, what you privately thought was incredibly cool is now the most worrying thing in the universe to show to another person. But this time the stakes are a tad higher than a movie with a slow start. You try to take some form of fighting or readied stance to look like you know what you're doing, and focus inward as clearly as you can.
"(Cover me again but please don't eat my pants.)"
Even though you're prepared for it this time, the abrupt fountain of black goo from both ends of your wound still makes you flinch. No amount of preparation makes the breathing tubes snaking into your mouth and nose any more pleasant either. You think you cough, blinking rapidly behind the blank bony helm when your senses return all at once just to get punched in the chest.
You topple like a tree, arms windmilling wildly. A wave of alien sensation washes over your brain as six new appendages abruptly shoot out of your back and push against the floor like tarry springs as it rushes up to meet you. You swing right back upright, stumbling and flailing in every direction.
"Whuh- I- bu- who!?"
Sung's right in front of you when you swear he had twenty feet of mat to cover in the split second the symbiote blinded you. He backs away a few paces, inclining his head in apology.
"It was a bit of a zealous test, but I wanted to see if it was a vulnerability," he explains. "I believe I conclusively proved that it was."
"Yeah kinda," you pant, pulse still settling from the shock and whiplash. It didn't actually hurt, but that's rather beside the point now. You unconsciously cup your chest, glancing down as you feel razor claws raking over an exoskeletal breastplate.
"Well, we've seen you on the defensive. Now try the offensive."
You raise your hand, clawed fingers half-curled, turning it this way and that in the light. Dropping it slightly to look at Sung - not that you can make eye contact any more with the helmet in the way. "Erm... I don't really want to scratch you, so..."
"Oh no. No need to worry," Sung says, his smile as pleasant as his tone as he takes his fighting stance. "Please don't go easy on me."
You're terrified and it's very much not of the possibility of clawing him. But you square up anyway, heart in mouth, hands vaguely raised like you're about to do something deliberate with them. Bony tail curling and twitching behind you, anticipating the fall it'll have to try and save you from.
You aim a swipe at his cheek and oh look you're on the floor.
Sung stands over you, his foot on your chest, your right arm securely in his hands and all the time in the world to break it. Or try to, but honestly you wouldn't want to trust the symbiote armour that much. A pregnant pause passes.
"... are you alright?" he asks. "I can't tell, the eyes and all."
"M'fine," you reply, pride hurting more than any physical part of you. Sung shifts his grip, grasping your hand firmly in his and tugging at your forearm with his free hand to hoist you back to your feet. The tip of you tail skitters across the mat in annoyance. You carefully extricate your hand so you don't scratch up his.
He comes in closer, resting his hand on your shoulder as if about to let you in on some sort of conspiracy. "Now tell- actually could you please take the helmet off? I'm sorry, but it's distracting me a little."
"Sorry yeah um (take the helmet off?)" You make a few embarrassing noises as you try and fail to endure the removal of the breathing tubes stoically, all tapering off into a frustrated 'mmmgh'. The armoured bone helm comes apart in sections like ceramic plating only to lose cohesion and collapse into tar, absorbed by the rest of the suit. All that remains is a form-fitting collar of ridged biomass around your throat. You try to look very interested and unconcerned with Sung's next words.
"Thank you," he says. "Now, tell me honestly. Could you see me?"
A moment's pause to think back, examine the flurry of movement in those few seconds with as much clarity as you can muster. Your eyebrows meet, then slowly raise.
"I-I did, actually," you reply, just as surprised as he is. "It was just... honestly kind of terrifying seeing you lunge at me like that and I froze up."
Sung takes a moment to look you up and down, taking in the sight of the suit of alien armour bonded to your skin. Even taking a quick glance at your back, as if searching for some sign of where the tentacles shot out from. "The symbiote protected you from falling over, but not from me punching you?"
You shrug helplessly. "I guess it knew I didn't want to hurt you."
"Hah." Sung smiles. "Very well-behaved and pacifist for an alien. We may have to muster up some anger for each other at some point if we want to push ourselves. But not quite yet, of course. We should move on to the fundamentals next."
"Like what?" you ask, in the tone of a tortoise cautiously peeking out of its shell. "Like... teaching me kung fu or something?"
Sung pats your shoulder. "Oh no, no no no no. Now we exercise. Come on, I'll take you through some stretches to warm up. "
You make a noise something like a dog being told it's time for the vet.
It starts off simply enough. Stretches you know from school what feels like a thousand years ago - really the most trying part of the arrangement is Sung's insistence you stay in your symbiote suit to get used to it. You understand his reasoning, but that doesn't change the fact that basically every thought in your head swiftly turns into 'lord I must look like a complete idiot someone just put a coat over my face so nobody has to see my shame'. Which the symbiote translates into actually putting the bone helm back on, making it halfway before Sung dissuades it as one would a cat found on the kitchen counter.
You're actually flexible now. That's what you soon learn once you're able to actually focus on Sung's instruction. Where once it felt like every muscle was tight as a steel spring and it sometimes hurt to twist all the way around scrubbing yourself down in the shower, now you can copy every single one of his stretches and poses. You actually get your feet behind your head at one point which feels extremely weird and mildly terrifying so that doesn't last long. Thoroughly satisfied that you won't pull something (and you finally remember to mention your healing factor), he makes a note in his phone and sends you to the exercise machines and weights.
It's all specced for regular humans so you know you're cheating but it feels very good to blitz right past every weight level you might've been able to manage a week ago and more besides. In fact it's only at basically the maximum weight that you have to put genuine effort into it, which Sung is quick to note down. You can't help but smile, which is a fucking miracle if you ever saw one. When was the last time you were happy within 500 feet of a gym, let alone inside one? Sung tempers your growing enthusiasm somewhat by pointing out your shit bench-press technique, but you smooth out the rough edges in no time.
He asks you if you need a break before the next set, but to the disbelief of both of you the answer is 'no'. Still not quite convinced he starts you off fairly slow on the treadmill, watching you intently as he gradually dials up the speed. It doesn't bother you at all. You just jog and jog and break into a run as the speed setting hits that bracket just below 'flat-out sprinting' and stays there. It's almost zen, to experience the sensation of rigorous exercise without actually having to work very hard. It makes your mind wander so much it's like being woken up once Sung tells you it's time to stop, gradually dialling the speed back down so you don't go flying off.
"Didn't you want a mile or something?" you ask.
"Mhm," he replies, making a note in his phone.
"But it's only been like five minutes."
"Mhm." He gestures to the punching bags. "Shall we?"
You head towards the two electronic ones that still work. Sung takes you by the shoulders and smoothly pilots you around to one of the regular ones instead.
"No use trying to gauge the power in your punch when you don't know how to actually throw one," he says wryly. "Here, try and copy my form."
You never knew throwing a punch could be so complicated. It's kind of the most basic tool someone has, right? Make fist, launch at someone very fast. But no, you have to be thinking about a dozen different things at once and it makes you feel like an awkward large toddler. You find your claws neatly slotting into the natural grooves in your symbiote-armoured palms, so at least making a fist doesn't require stabbing your own hands. He tells you to keep it light, basically just love-taps. Focus on the technique and the power will come to you. Focus on power and you won't learn anything. For a while the only sound in the gym is the thump-thump of your punches landing, the soft hiss of breath past your lips, and Sung's murmured words of encouragement and advice.
Eventually, after a longer silence, he speaks. "If you don't mind me prying, John - may I call you John?"
Thump-thump, thump-thump. "Yeah John's fine," you reply automatically, busy with the bag.
"John. What do you want out of all this?" He lifts one hand, gestures in an all-encompassing fashion, not just at the gym but the world at large. "Why did you join the Lamplighters?"
Thump-thump, thump-thump. Your brow furrows. You glance at him quizzically over your shoulder, a brief break in the routine before you remember to keep punching. "What d'you mean? The Lamplighters were the agency that'd take me without experience."
Sung breaks eye contact for a moment to focus on how he wants to phrase his next words. Maybe it's an English thing, maybe he's just trying not to offend you. He composes himself quickly, slipping his hands into his pockets. "Yes, but why did you join one at all? What do you want out of all this? The fame of getting to the top? Because you seem smart enough and well-informed enough to already know that that's not as simple as training hard. You'll need to actively hunt that glory. Make yourself desirable, get your name in the news, cultivate your own fanbase, maybe even hunt yourself a rival so you can ride their coattails. Because if you do, I'm sorry but you're going to have to figure out how for yourself."
You pause, half-turn towards Sung. "I know all that," you say. "I just, I don't know." Back to the bag, focus on that. Thump-thump, thump-thump. "Did I upset you? Say something wrong?"
He shakes his head. "No, no I didn't mean it like that. All I meant was that the Lamplighters aren't the sort of agency that... does that. We don't have a professional agent and Garrett doesn't try to fill the space at all. We're here because it's a place to live and we get paid, and sometimes if we're lucky we still manage to do something good."
Oh. No wonder someone like you got in sight unseen.
"And, to be perfectly honest..." a rueful frown crosses his face. "I wonder if you might do better in the Cinder Circle."
Thump- "What?" You drop your fists and whirl around to face Sung properly, bewildered and more than a touch angry. "Them? Why? What's that supposed to mean?"
His frown deepens. He takes one hand out of his pocket to pat at the air, try to assuage you. "I'm not trying to say... what I mean to say is..." Sung sighs softly, letting his hand drop. "I apologise, I never meant to infer anything or upset you."
"No, it's..." Now it's your turn to sigh. You feel queasy somehow, like you had too much cereal for breakfast and now the milk is curdling into something foul in your gut. You knead your brow with the heel of your symbiote-skinned palm with almost exaggerated care. "I know that by all legal definitions of the term the Cinder Circle is a genuine B-class agency but, come on. You know the kind of stuff they do. The kind of stuff they hire lawyers to deny they did with the money they got for doing it."
Sung drops his gaze, chewing on his bottom lip. "It's a large organisation. It employs all sorts of people for all sorts of roles. It isn't glamorous, but it is work. Work that pays better, more reliably, than trying and failing to see your name in lights. Work for people who... aren't quite so marketable as some of their competitors in the hero industry."
Oh. You get it now. You feel like an idiot for taking so long but you finally get it. All this rush and blur of the past forty-odd hours and you didn't stop to think about the fact that maybe people wouldn't want to sell plushies of you. Mr. Hero Industry Expert, forgetting that even the likes of Baron Blackflame get by on being lovably inoffensive tryhards. You don't recall the last time you saw a hero that looked like one of H.R. Giger's lost sketches land a primetime interview.
"You seem like a nice person," Sung says gently. "Please understand that I mean none of this in an offensive way. All I ask is that, well. You examine your expectations and perhaps temper them into something more realistic."
[ ] Tell Sung that you want it all. You want to be in the news, be on TV, rub shoulders with the guys that Made It and climb even higher. You want the entire city to know your name. [-1PP]
[ ] Tell Sung that you just want to do your best. The symbiote came to you when it could have saved so many others. You can't just throw that away. You have to at least try.
[ ] Tell Sung that you don't really know why you joined up. You're just a fanboy, an armchair hero, you don't know how to walk the walk or talk the talk and you don't have the wherewithal to learn. You're just in too deep. [+1PP]
[ ] Tell Sung that you probably would or should just join the Cinder Circle. He's right that you don't have what it takes to make it anywhere else, especially... 'handicapped'. If they have a place for anyone maybe they really do have one for you. That'd be nice. [+1PP]
+1 XP [Hybrid Hero]
+1 XP [Star-Struck]
Adhoc vote count started by ZerbanDaGreat on Jul 1, 2017 at 9:39 AM, finished with 74 posts and 35 votes.
[X] Tell Sung that you don't really know why you joined up. You're just a fanboy, an armchair hero, you don't know how to walk the walk or talk the talk and you don't have the wherewithal to learn. You're just in too deep. [+1PP]
[X] Accept Sung's offer. He seems nice enough and normal enough, and he's not visibly creeped out so that's another plus. Introduce yourself to him properly, maybe get to know him a little.
[X] Tell Sung that you just want to do your best. The symbiote came to you when it could have saved so many others. You can't just throw that away. You have to at least try.
[X] Tell Sung that you probably would or should just join the Cinder Circle. He's right that you don't have what it takes to make it anywhere else, especially... 'handicapped'. If they have a place for anyone maybe they really do have one for you. That'd be nice. [+1PP]
[X] Introduce yourself to 'Caio'. He seems to be one of two Lamplighters you haven't seen hide nor hair of yet, so you're kind of curious. Sung seems to think he won't be such a shock to the system as the girls, too.
[X] Introduce yourself to Florence. Surely you can get past the initial standoffish phase and build a healthy working relationship, right? All you have to do is stroll over there and politely introduce yourself. Dirt-simple. Ahaha... ha... [-1 PP]
Adhoc vote count started by ZerbanDaGreat on Jul 1, 2017 at 9:40 AM, finished with 39 posts and 25 votes.
[X] Tell Sung that you don't really know why you joined up. You're just a fanboy, an armchair hero, you don't know how to walk the walk or talk the talk and you don't have the wherewithal to learn. You're just in too deep. [+1PP]
[X] Tell Sung that you just want to do your best. The symbiote came to you when it could have saved so many others. You can't just throw that away. You have to at least try.
[X] Tell Sung that you probably would or should just join the Cinder Circle. He's right that you don't have what it takes to make it anywhere else, especially... 'handicapped'. If they have a place for anyone maybe they really do have one for you. That'd be nice. [+1PP]
Any true fan would know that Daleks have been able to ascend stairs since Seventh Doctor's "Remembrance of the Daleks" in 1988. Sad fake geek boy is sad.
You sit there and sort of zone out for a moment, only coming back to your body once you realise that Sung hasn't said anything in a while. You turn and notice with a small start that he's unpacking and expertly folding your clothes for you.
"H-hey no I can do that!" you say quickly, bounding off the side of the bed and making to round the end of it. Sung almost seems as startled as you are, pausing mid-fold holding one of your shirts. It has a picture of a Dalek in front of a staircase saying "fuck" on it.
"From the way you packed I suspect that no, no you can't," Sung replies with a playful smile. You have no response for that. Instead you just slowly sink back down until you're sitting on the end of the bed, listening to the rustle of fabric as Sung folds your clothes and lays them all out in neat piles separated by type.
A sharp cry, a blur of violent movement. You flinch. No fist comes rocketing into your face. Sung only readied himself, shifted into a fighting stance as violently as any punch or kick. His sinews strain beneath the skin, every muscle tensed, his pulse racing with controlled adrenaline. Faint, translucent blue flames flicker and rise from his shoulders and upper arms, yet not a hair or thread on him is singed. The tension releases, a held breath exhaled. The flames die down, and Sung rises into a less threatening posture.
"What is it?" you ask, all other concerns momentarily suffocated by curiosity. "I mean I've heard of martial arts heroes before but they didn't, um, catch fire."
Even though you're prepared for it this time, the abrupt fountain of black goo from both ends of your wound still makes you flinch. No amount of preparation makes the breathing tubes snaking into your mouth and nose any more pleasant either. You think you cough, blinking rapidly behind the blank bony helm when your senses return all at once just to get punched in the chest.
You topple like a tree, arms windmilling wildly. A wave of alien sensation washes over your brain as six new appendages abruptly shoot out of your back and push against the floor like tarry springs as it rushes up to meet you. You swing right back upright, stumbling and flailing in every direction.
Yes, that is certainly the sound of a punching bag getting punched, and has nothing to do with John talking to a hot muscular guy he previously displayed his bare chest to.
[X] Tell Sung that you just want to do your best. The symbiote came to you when it could have saved so many others. You can't just throw that away. You have to at least try.
Let's do it for our pet symbiote, the closest friend we have!
[X] Tell Sung that you don't really know why you joined up. You're just a fanboy, an armchair hero, you don't know how to walk the walk or talk the talk and you don't have the wherewithal to learn. You're just in too deep. [+1PP]
This seems to be most accurate. We're in way too deep and that's a fact, and honesty may be the best policy.
Of course, every option could be easily justified IC, but even so.
[X] Tell Sung that you don't really know why you joined up. You're just a fanboy, an armchair hero, you don't know how to walk the walk or talk the talk and you don't have the wherewithal to learn. You're just in too deep. [+1PP]
Makes the most sense, honestly. John is hardly in the headspace for heroics right now.
Honesty ho.
[X] Tell Sung that you don't really know why you joined up. You're just a fanboy, an armchair hero, you don't know how to walk the walk or talk the talk and you don't have the wherewithal to learn. You're just in too deep. [+1PP]
[X] Tell Sung that you just want to do your best. The symbiote came to you when it could have saved so many others. You can't just throw that away. You have to at least try.
as tempting as the PP is, I think this is another one of those moments where we need to reach above where we are. This isn't just how our relationship starts, but how we view our power and our role. That we have the desire to at least try is a critical foundation to establish, screw ups can come later but we need to establish that we are at least dedicated to making the attempt.
[X] Tell Sung that you don't really know why you joined up. You're just a fanboy, an armchair hero, you don't know how to walk the walk or talk the talk and you don't have the wherewithal to learn. You're just in too deep. [+1PP]
We kinda are in this because someone went "yo okay you got powers, so what do you wan-" "WANNABEAHERO" "Alright!" and it's natural for John to start freaking out when faced with all the very real, very practical nuts 'n bolts of the situation. He hasn't had any real responsibilities in a very long time and has kinda just been drifting along. Like learning how to fight and getting in combat condition and all that jazz, making it in the industry is going to be a lot of hard, grueling, work which is something he's just straight up not used to.
Flip side: Sung's actually been really nice and friendly with us in a way that doesn't even trigger our "OH GOD PLEASE STOP" reflexes. And more than that he's practical, for all that he's got the hotblooded shounen power he's very good at working through the necessary steps to make X Possibility become Y Reality. I don't think it's likely that he'll be "oh lol, u loser, kill urself", more that he'll try and sketch out a rough path for where we'd need to go and what we'd need to do. I mean us being absurdly out of our depth isn't exactly going to be a huge surprise y'know?
In the way of all things, what you privately thought was incredibly cool is now the most worrying thing in the universe to show to another person. But this time the stakes are a tad higher than a movie with a slow start.
I kinda do like how the symbiote didn't make us a combat god, we've got reflexes and raw ability and reactive stuff but we've still got to actually learn and train and practice at shit to get any good.
"I know that by all legal definitions of the term the Cinder Circle is a genuine B-class agency but, come on. You know the kind of stuff they do. The kind of stuff they hire lawyers to deny they did with the money they got for doing it."
Ahhh...so a B-Class agency that's effectively independent of SERAPH and has a shady ass mercenary-rep. Well, I'm sure they won't figure into things in a big way.
Nah, currently we're rocking about 0/5 for Plot Points and all things considered this is a very very low-risk situation. The worst that can happen here is Sung is a bit judgy or gently tells us we're not cut out for this (again). We need to start accruing them if we want to be able to more reliably take other options in more dangerous situations.
This is almost worth not getting a handsome merman. Almost.
Oh my, this is kinda hot.
Literally.
Attacking during a transformation sequence? Verboten.
Attacking right after a transformation sequence? Totally allowed!
I like this guy.
Yes, that is certainly the sound of a punching bag getting punched, and has nothing to do with John talking to a hot muscular guy he previously displayed his bare chest to.
[X] Tell Sung that you just want to do your best. The symbiote came to you when it could have saved so many others. You can't just throw that away. You have to at least try.
Let's do it for our pet symbiote, the closest friend we have!
[X] Tell Sung that you don't really know why you joined up. You're just a fanboy, an armchair hero, you don't know how to walk the walk or talk the talk and you don't have the wherewithal to learn. You're just in too deep. [+1PP]
As much as I like the symbiote option because the symbiote is the true BEST BOY ALIEN LIFEFORM, this is a decent opportunity to start building up points.
[X] Tell Sung that you don't really know why you joined up. You're just a fanboy, an armchair hero, you don't know how to walk the walk or talk the talk and you don't have the wherewithal to learn. You're just in too deep. [+1PP]
[X] Tell Sung that you don't really know why you joined up. You're just a fanboy, an armchair hero, you don't know how to walk the walk or talk the talk and you don't have the wherewithal to learn. You're just in too deep. [+1PP]
Ahhh...so a B-Class agency that's effectively independent of SERAPH and has a shady ass mercenary-rep. Well, I'm sure they won't figure into things in a big way.
[X] Tell Sung that you don't really know why you joined up. You're just a fanboy, an armchair hero, you don't know how to walk the walk or talk the talk and you don't have the wherewithal to learn. You're just in too deep. [+1PP]
[X] Tell Sung that you don't really know why you joined up. You're just a fanboy, an armchair hero, you don't know how to walk the walk or talk the talk and you don't have the wherewithal to learn. You're just in too deep. [+1PP]
[X] Tell Sung that you don't really know why you joined up. You're just a fanboy, an armchair hero, you don't know how to walk the walk or talk the talk and you don't have the wherewithal to learn. You're just in too deep. [+1PP]
also
>Heat
>Blue flame stuff
Sung you are not a comic book man you are a Yakuza man, I look forward to all of the horrible things you can do with pliers.
Well I was mostly thinking 'cause Zerbs mentioned that most "villains" tend to either be Jekyll and Hyde one and dones who vanish off to Australian Supermax after their crime spree or mercenary organizations with loose morals. So my mind mostly went to the latter. That and the sorta superpowered Desperado LLC vibes I got off of them (disapproved of but not necessarily outlawed) but I'll freely admit to that being personal projection and shit.
[X] Tell Sung that you don't really know why you joined up. You're just a fanboy, an armchair hero, you don't know how to walk the walk or talk the talk and you don't have the wherewithal to learn. You're just in too deep. [+1PP]
