… Elias Mercer
Three rolls for three capes taken down… finally a reward system that actually has an honest ratio between violence applied and benefits gained.
Now that is what I call a successful night.
As soon as we got back to my apartment, I dove headfirst into my newest addiction… because apparently fighting neonazis wasn't enough to satisfy my need for self-destruction.
⟶ [Sizing] – Rare Power
The user can increase the size of any object within a 150-meter radius. Affected objects double in size and gain equivalent mass. This effect is temporary and lasts only a few minutes.
I felt my brain stall before I even finished reading it. It was a pretty straightforward power in terms of function, but with a ton of possibilities… and the best part was that objects doubled in mass. Meaning they actually gain the weight and inertia to match.
"Boogie Woogie thanks you in advance for your cooperation," I muttered, already picturing a growing list of completely ridiculous and absurdly effective combos between the two powers.
"God of Rolls, let's go…" I murmured, starting the second roll like a devoted cultist.
It was always torture watching the wheel spin… but I endured until the result finally locked in.
⟶ [Healing] – Unique Power
By touching someone, you can drastically accelerate their physical recovery. Heals cuts, fractures, and puncture wounds quickly. Requires direct contact and concentration, and can be draining with repeated use.
I stared at the description in silence, waiting for some kind of hidden joke or at least an extra line saying "but with horrible side effects"… but there wasn't one.
So now the same cynical asshole who spent his nights provoking neonazis, who used violence as an emotional coping mechanism… also had a healing-by-touch power? The same kind of ability as fucking Panacea?
Sure, I already had the Legendary Perk for Accelerated Healing Factor, but Healing was far from useless. Not even close.
Taylor was fragile in the physical sense of the word… and maybe emotionally too, but my power couldn't help with that. Maki was basically muscle with legs, but even she wasn't invincible.
"Impressive," I muttered, running a hand over my face while trying to organize the growing pile of possibilities. "Looks like I'm turning into the world's best support cape…"
Pretty damn satisfied with my results so far, I let the God of Rolls take me to the next result too… because stopping in the middle of a hot streak was something only insane people did.
And the result came with a very particular taste of nostalgia.
⟶ Lightsaber – Rare Item
An advanced-technology lightsaber, adapted to the wielder. Capable of cutting through virtually any conventional material. Generates a plasma blade contained by a magnetic field.
I blinked once… then again, rereading the text.
"…You've got to be fucking kidding me."
The item appeared as a small metallic hilt in the palm of my hand, with a discreet button in the center that practically begged to be pressed.
There was nothing else that needed to be said…
Vrrm.
The sound vibrated through the air with absurd familiarity… almost identical to what I'd heard in recordings from the Original Trilogy. The blue plasma blade ignited in a clean line of contained light, stable and ridiculously beautiful.
It was gorgeous, lethal, and peak nerd iconography.
For a second… I wasn't in Brockton Bay anymore. It was just me, a lightsaber, and that childish realization that yeah… it really was exactly as awesome as I'd always imagined.
When I finally looked up, I noticed Maki standing right behind me, watching over my shoulder with an expression that was trying way too hard to look neutral.
"Is that what I think it is?" she asked, in a tone that did a terrible job pretending she didn't care.
"A lightsaber," I replied, a little surprised she even knew what it was.
Did Star Wars exist in her world too? I knew it existed in both Earth Bet and Earth Aleph… but I didn't think it reached that far. Star Wars really was some kind of inevitable multiversal constant…
"It cuts through basically anything that exists, and if you're asking whether I've always wanted one…" I looked at her with the most sincere expression of my life, "…the answer is a 'yes' so loud it echoes across the galaxy."
Maki didn't respond, trying to look away from the lightsaber like she didn't want to admit she thought it was cool… but the way her eyes drifted back gave everything away.
'This was a good night…' I thought, turning off the lightsaber and watching the blade vanish.
I kicked the shit out of some nazis, helped take down three Empire capes, survived without losing any limbs… and still walked away with three rolls from the Celestial Roulette.
One gave me the ability to double the size and weight of objects around me, another turned me into something dangerously close to a walking medical support unit… and the last one was an item straight out of an interplanetary war, more than capable of making half the internet, PHO in particular, lose its collective mind.
The part of me that still resisted the idea of being a "hero" pulled back a little, uncomfortable with how… convenient all of this felt. But then the cynical part, the one that survived Brockton Bay out of pure refusal to die, spoke louder.
At the end of the day, it didn't matter how weird it was. Every result was just another tool to stack advantages. To make sure I was ready for whatever the hell this world decided to throw at me.
At this point… it was just a straight-up contest of results to see who came out on top.
My bet's on the guy with the fucking lightsaber.
… Lisa Wilbourn (Tattletale)
--
[Thread] — Three independent capes help capture Empire capes! — Brockton Bay (URGENT)
— Updated at 01:37 by Bagrat (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)
--
The notification for the new most commented thread blinked in the corner of the PHO tab, persistent enough to be annoying. Lisa realized she already knew who was responsible before she even opened it.
And she'd actually thought last night might be quiet…
Lisa clicked and watched the page load slowly, like it was mocking her. A quick scroll revealed exactly what she expected… but somehow it was worse, because now they were all identified: Chrysalis, Hoarder, and Scar.
Between the comments multiplying like a plague, she noticed something more important than the capture of Stormtiger, Rune, and Cricket… Lisa saw that the public narrative was starting to shift.
The old "Bug" and "Clap" weren't just two unknown capes who got lucky against Lung anymore… now they were turning into symbols of resistance.
Capes who had the guts, and apparently the power, to stand up to the city's villains.
An identity was being born… but Lisa wasn't the one holding the reins of that story.
"Fuck." The word slipped out like a thread between her teeth.
Lisa shoved her chair back, irritation written all over her. Outside, the muffled sounds of Bitch training the dogs filled the air. Regent was sprawled on the couch, asleep or faking it well enough to avoid being bothered. Grue was out… or probably checking on his rebellious little sister.
But Lisa didn't need them right now. Sitting alone with the hum of the fluorescent light, Lisa finally stopped to think.
All of this… everything was moving too fast, way beyond what she had planned.
It wasn't just the failed recruitment that bothered her… it was the loss of initiative she thought she had.
Bug would've been manageable… a textbook case Lisa had seen a hundred times before. The girl was just another invisible teenager, emotionally neglected and desperate for recognition... for somewhere she actually belonged.
Lisa even sympathized with her situation and thought it was admirable that Bug hadn't resorted to… more extreme measures… to end her suffering. But thinking logically, there couldn't have been a better foundation for the kind of subtle recruitment Lisa excelled at than Bug's situation.
All it would've taken was the right push, show her she was seen… and she would've chosen it on her own.
'That's how it was supposed to go.'
But now Bug had named herself and built her own identity. Not a label forced on her by others, but something she chose… and that was dangerous, because it meant change.
'Chrysalis…' she thought, turning over the possible meanings of the name.
Bug was becoming someone by her own will… and the reason was right there beside her name in Bagrat's thread.
Lisa frowned… again. That same crease between her brows kept coming back every time she tried to understand him.
She knew he was the catalyst for the change… and also the chaotic variable in the social experiment she'd tried to run.
Bug reacted to him, unconsciously shaping herself around the perspective he showed. Not because she liked him or believed in him, but because it was the first time she had a solid reference point to compare herself against.
Hoarder didn't ask anything, didn't demand anything, didn't manipulate her with promises of change. So Bug stopped seeking validation from others… and started forming her own convictions.
And that was the problem… how the hell was she supposed to break someone who refused to play the same game every other cape played?
Lisa had dealt with narcissistic monsters, paranoid leaders, obsessive tacticians…
But Hoarder was his own brand of problem… and one her power was still struggling to read.
Lisa ran a hand through her hair, tugging a few strands harder than necessary as she let out a long sigh. "Fuck… this should've been simple."
She looked again at the blurry images of the trio, also watching the growing frenzy on the forum and the bets about what their next move would be.
Lisa didn't like it one bit when she saw the Undersiders listed as one of the possibilities, but she recognized that Bug could have been a potential ally… but Chrysalis was a potential enemy.
And with the three of them gaining positive attention in a city that almost never handed that kind of credit out… it was only a matter of time before Coil started asking questions and pushing for results.
Lisa hated being pressured, but worse than that… she hated losing.
And maybe… just maybe… she had lost Bug for good.
Not to the clean-cut "good guys" of the Protectorate, with their rules and contracts and plastic morality… but to a boy who used cynicism as armor and conviction as ammunition, someone who actually seemed willing to turn this entire city upside down.
Lisa kept staring at the screen for a while longer, then closed the tab. The dark monitor reflected her face... her tired eyes, tense expression, the corners of her mouth pulled into something between frustration and calculation.
There was a lot to rethink and very little time to do it without losing even more ground.
She leaned back in her chair, letting her body sink into it while her eyes stayed fixed on a point beyond the wall. Lisa needed a new plan… but for that, she needed to figure out where she'd failed the first time.
Scar… the girl with burn scars that her power insisted came from "somewhere else", muscles coiled with constant tension, and a look that didn't need threats to be intimidating. Someone who didn't seem to act out of any greater morality… but out of loyalty to Hoarder.
'Seriously… where the hell did he even find a girl like that?'
She was the reason Lisa had frozen in a game she normally controlled with ease.
Lisa had way more cards to play than just an emotional speech and a half-assed bribe. She knew Bug's real name, knew about her school, her absent family, her history of isolation… knew almost every emotional fracture that shaped her. With a few well-placed words, she could've planted those details like invisible landmines and watched Bug's confidence collapse.
But then… there was Scar. Unlike Hoarder, her power worked just fine on her… and that didn't reassure Lisa at all.
Probable Mover/Brute level 6… maybe even higher. A compact package of strength, speed, and lethality, something dangerously close to a small version of Alexandria… just without the institutional leash and the flight.
Lisa could read people… that was her power and her curse. So she knew with absolute certainty that if she had hinted anything about Bug… if she had even said her name out loud in that moment… if she had crossed even a single line in that conversation…
Scar would've broken her faster than Lisa could even process what was happening. And if Hoarder wanted Scar to kill her… and every Undersider there… she would've done it without a shred of hesitation.
That's why Lisa didn't escalate, even when she had more cards to play. She couldn't guarantee the Undersiders would win against Scar… and she couldn't figure out where Hoarder's limits actually were.
"…" Lisa clenched her teeth, holding back a curse that wanted to tear its way out.
This whole situation had turned into a problem… and she hated problems that couldn't be solved with a well-executed bluff and a convincing smile.
'But it's not impossible yet…'
There was still room to observe and adapt. If they kept developing at this pace… there were only two possible outcomes: they'd crash spectacularly, crushed by their own uncontrolled growth… or they'd become too big for anyone to ignore.
'And in either scenario… there's a chance.'
Lisa started drumming her fingers against the keyboard, the steady rhythm matching the speed of her thoughts as she re-evaluated every detail of the Undersiders' next move.
She already had Bay Central's maps ready, with entrances, evacuation routes, and even security patterns laid out. Lisa had even scripted the civilians' panic movement, estimated police response times, and anticipated possible radio communications based on previous incidents.
Everything was mapped out for Thursday in a plan Lisa wanted to run perfectly… but then there was Coil, the same man who had put her there with a revolver pointed at her head and a steady paycheck to make up for the threat.
For this job, he decided to bring in Circus, who was about as reliable as a loaded die rolling across a casino table.
Circus was a dangerous cape, unstable, and fundamentally incompatible with anything that relied on consistency. Lisa had already read her profile before. Basically a performative narcissist, powerful even, but suicidally reckless.
A teleporting illusionist who treated life like a stage and death like a final applause. The kind of cape perfect for destabilizing any solid plan.
Lisa pressed her fingers into her temples hard enough to almost hurt more than the headache itself, trying to contain the pressure building behind her eyes before it turned into a full-blown migraine. She knew exactly how situations like this ended when too many people were pulling the reins in different directions.
Coil was moving pieces without consulting her, and Lisa wasn't even sure anymore if she was still part of the equation.
But she could use this— she had to use it.
If the Bay Central heist spiraled into chaos, and it very likely would, someone was bound to show up.
Lisa already knew the chances of getting Bug's cooperation were basically nonexistent. The taste of heroism, the spotlight of public attention, the indirect validation… all of that was probably starting to take root in the girl. On top of that, Hoarder's presence made any attempt at emotional manipulation practically useless.
Still… Lisa had a hypothesis worth risking.
If the chaos of the heist hit all at once… civilians caught in the middle, inexperienced Wards trying to contain it, Bitch with her out-of-control dogs, Circus putting on her show… if everything happened simultaneously, maybe that would be enough to draw Bug in.
She was still young, still at the most fragile stage of forming her identity. If she saw people in danger, maybe she'd push past the limits the "good guys" considered acceptable… and if she witnessed the failures of the system she was trying to be part of… maybe her new convictions would start to crack.
And if that happened… Bug would need someone to help her reorient herself. That someone could be Lisa… or maybe it would still be him.
But if it was him, Lisa would have the perfect opportunity to observe how Hoarder reacted when he realized that even trying to be "good"… he and his team would still become marked targets for the Protectorate and the PRT.
And if she figured out where Hoarder was vulnerable… where his conviction actually hit its limit… she could start managing that variable. Even if it was just to make him as much of a problem for Coil as he was for her… if that happened, maybe the scales would start tipping in her favor.
If Hoarder broke, Coil would control him. If he didn't… then Lisa knew her boss would have to choose between controlling him… or trying to destroy him.
And either option would put Hoarder directly on a collision course with Coil.
At that point… Lisa would just need to figure out how to maneuver through the wreckage that inevitable clash would leave behind.
"Let's all play a dangerous game together…"
Lisa already had the plan… now she just needed the chaos.
… Elias Mercer
A theory started forming in my head from the moment I hit the pillow to the instant I opened my eyes the next morning.
The lightsaber might look like just another weapon in a growing list of items that could make any nerd who's seen the movies cry from excitement and envy… but the more I thought about it, the more it felt like something beyond that.
Maki came from another Earth, called "Jujutsu Kaisen". Apparently, it's a world that revolves around curses, cursed energy, and fights between Jujutsu Sorcerers with god complexes.
Boogie Woogie, the reward from my first roll… was a technique from there too. According to Maki herself, it belonged to some guy named Aoi Todo… who was basically a functional lunatic with steel biceps, teleportation abilities, and a severe case of schizophrenia.
Oh… and apparently he also had a concerning fixation on asking "What's your type of woman?" to literally everyone he met, like it was some kind of password for true friendship.
And of course, the most obvious one... the fucking lightsaber. I used it, and I can say with absolute certainty that it wasn't some knockoff. It was the real deal… the masterpiece of an entire fictional universe.
Those two things lead me to one conclusion: the Roulette wasn't some insanely high-level Trump power, but something operating beyond the limits of known parallel Earths… maybe even messing with the thin line between fiction and reality.
If that's the case… then what the hell is it? An entity? A multiversal interface? A system created by some consciousness playing a game way bigger than I can even begin to understand?
…Those are exactly the kinds of questions that usually end with someone mumbling that they weren't meant to know this shit before exploding from forbidden knowledge.
So yeah… that's exactly where I stop that train of thought.
Because I'm simple… not in the sense of being stupid, even if I act like it sometimes… but because I'm emotionally efficient. In other words, practical.
The questions are there, and I know they exist… but I already learned that staring too long into the abyss just gives you dark circles and anxiety… and I've already got enough of both for a lifetime.
So all that's left for me to do is keep moving forward. Accumulate, survive, and keep playing this game we call life… until the Roulette inevitably decides it's over.
Which brings us back to the present… where I'm questioning, with every single cell in my body, how the hell I thought going back to school today was a good idea.
The truth is, it's never a good idea, because as we all know, Winslow High is the kind of place that makes you question whether architecture itself can house chronic hostility.
At that moment, I was already bracing myself for another standard torture session from Mrs. Knott's class... a woman with impeccable vocabulary and the energy of someone who has seriously considered, more than once, abandoning everything to live in absolute silence in some isolated monastery.
But, to nobody's surprise, the hallway ahead had already stopped moving.
I looked up and pulled out my earbuds, because I saw it was Taylor standing there.
Her hunched shoulders and quick steps made it painfully obvious she didn't want to be there. But of course, like a broken clock that insists on ringing the same alarm every day, Sophia was right behind her.
It was predictable… but that didn't make it any less disgusting.
Sophia still had that very specific kind of confidence that only comes from years of cruelty without consequences. At her side were three satellites orbiting around her… girls who probably had names, I assumed, but I'd never bothered to learn them.
They laughed at perfectly calibrated volumes. Loud enough to hurt their target, quiet enough to pretend innocence if anyone called them out.
"It wasn't that bad, right?" one of them said, faking sympathy with a voice like poisoned cotton candy.
"She was just crying like a baby in the middle of the hallway…" Sophia replied, "but that's normal for her."
Taylor didn't react, but I saw her fingers tightening around her backpack strap. For a second, I thought she might say something or at least try to punch Sophia in the face… but she looked more focused on doing nothing.
'Ahh…' I exhaled slowly, already feeling the irritation rising before I even decided to act, and by the time I noticed, my voice was already cutting through the air.
"How funny," I said as I walked closer. "I thought real predators didn't need an audience to look threatening."
The hallway went quieter, and Sophia turned her head slowly, like she was already lining up her next line.
"Well, look at that… the background extra showed up again," she shot back with a crooked smile. "Came to save the crying baby, Mercer? You two really make a disgusting pair."
"Save? Nah…" I shook my head lightly, like I was genuinely confused by the idea. "That would imply you're an actual threat, Sophia."
I let a carefully casual kind of disdain slip into my tone while watching her reaction.
"I think it's more of a… scientific curiosity," I continued, looking straight at her. "You're a fascinating case of how evolution isn't always a linear process… it's looks like your digestive system is inverted. Your existence is almost poetic… pretty pathetic too, but still poetic."
I could see the exact moment her laugh died in her throat.
"You should watch what you say," she growled… just like always. She probably didn't understand half of what I said anyway.
That was the thing with Sophia… she was never capable of coming up with anything new. You could always expect cruelty and violence from her, but never originality.
"And you should start working on your vocabulary," I said, completely sincere. "At the rate you keep repeating the same lines… people are eventually going to think you didn't even go to middle school."
I stopped talking and glanced over my shoulder. Taylor was already standing by the classroom door, her eyes fixed on me.
"Seriously, Sophia… I envy people who don't know you," I added at last.
Seeing that the most I'd get out of Sophia was her grinding her teeth while trying not to jump me, I walked up to Taylor and rested my hand on the doorframe.
"Let's go," I said in a lighter tone. "The lesson on sentence structure can wait… and Knott's already used to disappointment."
She looked at me for a long second, then nodded. We walked off together, leaving the hallway hyenas behind us with their barely disguised stench of cowardice.
Only after we turned the corner and she was sure no one was following did Taylor break the silence.
"You didn't have to do that," she said.
I didn't stop or slow down.
"It wasn't for you," I replied, even if that was only half true. "I just really hate seeing trash pretending it has any kind of authority."
The truth was, in a way, I felt pity for Taylor… or maybe it was a need to see her react, like that would validate the path I chose for myself. But saying that out loud wouldn't help either of us…
And besides, I just can't stand bullying.
People who turn someone else's pain into entertainment are some of the worst trash out there… and this world already has things like nazis and the Slaughterhouse Nine.
Sophia Hess was just another showrunner in that circus. A clinical case of institutionalized sociopathy, reinforced, fed, and carefully ignored by the people who were supposed to do something about it.
And I can't stand that. If there's one thing that drives me, besides the Roulette, it's that I hate people who think they're on top just because they've never had the guts to look down and see how deep into their own decay they really are.