Previously on With Great Power Quest: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=With%20Great%20Power%20Quest

Rolled 55 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>4944490
Ohrmazd give us strength

Rolled 38 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>4944490
inb4 critfail and we fall off the tower

Rolled 43 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>4944490

>>4944505
fail

I reached for the fire within me. Grew it, fed it my raw emotion and concious thought, reached for the place where the fire touched something beyond. Reached for the place beyond thought and sensation, where my mind became silver glass and the other face of the world was revealed.

When I opened my eyes and looked down upon the city, I saw the dark veins wrapping the towers, the swollen red vines choking the street. The sky went from blue to a purple smear, and the sun dulled to a colorless blot. Sears Tower itself was enveloped in the dark, bulging vines, throbbing with an unnatural pulse.

But this wasn't the heightened place I had been seeking. I looked from the north to the west to the south and saw the same picture, the city enveloped in the alien kudzu vine. It seemed to have no source or point of origin, but sprung up from the ground itself.

Lake Michigan itself was sparkling clear, and the blueribbon of the Chicago River was a silver band through the dark wilderness, the ugly bloated things staying away from its waters.

Maybe that was something at least.

But it wasn't the help I was hoping for. I had hoped an eagle-eyed view of the city could have shown me the source of the outbreak.

I let the vision fade, and the material world return to view, sweating hard under my jacket. As usual it took more out of me than I expected. I shivered on the top of Sears Tower, waiting to regain my energy before heading down. Physical stuff had become easy at this point, but the spiritual side of things was a struggle.

I camped my ass on the side of the building, blowing into the cup of my hands.

The world was a lot more complicated than I'd thought. I'd put on this costume to help people without any awareness of who I was or where my powers came from. What I'd discovered was a connection to something else, an invisible war between good and evil. Maybe the Zoroastrian stories were true, of Ahura Mazda and Angra Mainyu and their eternal conflict, or maybe they were an echo of the truth. Whatever it was, it wasn't why I'd started calling myself Hotspur or put myself out there night after night taking down gangsters and corrupt cops.

All I knew was that magic and the spiritual world were real, as real as a bullet from a .45 and possibly more deadly.

When my strength was back I headed down.

I'd told Jimmy Green we'd meet up, figure out a fix for the problem our city was facing. He was the Red Wizard and I was his sworn boon. Another thing I'd never imagined I'd be after getting my powers.

There was still a question of what we were going to check out. He had his lead, I had mine.

What we really lacked was knowledge.

>investigate the HH Holmes site
>investigate the DeKoven street lead

>>4944547
>investigate the DeKoven street lead
Might as well go big

>>4944547
>investigate the DeKoven street lead

>>4944547
>investigate the DeKoven street lead

>>4944547
>investigate the DeKoven street lead

Jimmy Jimmy doo, where are you, we have an ancient evil to work now

>>4944598
>>4944562
>>4944559
>>4944550
locked in

>>4944598
Bring him donuts, just because he may piss off by it >;)

I met Jimmy down the Loop. As Eric, because snooping around in broad daylight in a superhero outfit with a guy in second-hand jordans would kind of stand out.

"You ever going to get a hair cut?" Jimmy asked as I jogged up. He was waiting for me outside the L-station, checking his phone. We were heading south in his beat up car.

I was getting shaggy on top.

Not that Jimmy was anyone to critique someone's fashion. The big doughy nerd dressed like a librarian, I was surprised he didn't wear a tweed jacket with leather patches on the elbows. He didn't look like anyone's idea of a great sorceror, not only because of the belly hanging past his waistline but because of the inward curl of his shoulders and self-concious attitude, like a dog waiting for a kick to come flying from any direction. Dude needed to lift or something, straighten out his spine, because at six four he could be doing a lot better.

We walked and talked.

"You ever going to put down the jelly donuts?" I said.

He scowled but didn't return fire.

"DeKoven street," he showed me it on google maps, "Nowadays its called the Chicago Fire Academy. They say its where the Great Chicago Fire started, when a cow kicked over a lamp starting an inferno that burned down the city and killed about three hundred people."

"We've got a sense of irony in Chicago town," I said, getting into the passenger side of his car.

"The story is probably bullshit," he said, "But everyone loves a good legend, right? Still, I was doing some research and I think there's more to the fire than people want to believe. As in, it was no accident."

"The Company?" I said.

Jimmy nodded. "Burn down the city and remake it in your image, why not?" he said, "And if a few people die in the process, what's it matter? It seems like their MO."

"You got any proof other than a hunch?" I said.

"Only in the people given the job of rebuilding the city. Land grabbers who turned it into an exercise in fortune building while a bunch of ordinary folks were left homeless in the rubble," he said, "Might be coincidence but after all I've read I don't believe as much in coincidences."

"Anyone ready to turn a tragedy into personal profits is a scumbag in my book," I said.

We drove south, down to a red brick building with a bunch of fire trucks parked out the front. By deductive genius I figured out we'd arrived.

"Just because someone is a greedy son of a bitch though doesn't mean they work for the Company," I said.

"Maybe every greedy son of a bitch works for the Company, they just don't know it," he countered.

"A bit tin foil hat," I said, though I didn't inherently disagree. We were in a different world now, who knew what could be true.

For an academy dedicated to training Chicago's first defenders, the building was surprisingly humble. There was a modern art piece out in front of the entrance. Took me a second to realize it was a stylized flame. Staring at it, I put a hand to my belly, feeling a flicker of recognition.

"Real horse shit stuff is all I'm saying," a guy said, walking out chatting with a tall, muscular woman. I knew him, Chuck Hayward, and nearly said 'hello'. She nodded to what he was saying, but neither her nor Chuck Hayward stopped for a couple of kids.

Now we were here, I didn't know what we were supposed to do.

"Are you sure this is even the right place?" I said.

"No," Jimmy said, "That's why we're here, to figure it out. I need you to get me some privacy while I do some magic. Make sure no one interrupts."

Kind of difficult in the late afternoon with people still around. There was an empty lot beside the academy. Maybe they were going to building something there but for now it was abandoned. Jimmy found an opening in the wire fence, squeezed his bulk through.

So that's all he wanted. Me playing guard dog.

While I guess that's what a boon is for, it still wasn't cool, and he could have asked nicer.

>keep an eye on him as he works, he doesn't know everything
>do what he asked and keep an eye out, trust the Red Wizard

>>4944681
>do what he asked and keep an eye out, trust the Red Wizard
And hope he won't go full daemonhost

>>4944681
>do what he asked and keep an eye out, trust the Red Wizard

>>4944681
>do what he asked and keep an eye out, trust the Red Wizard
so boon basically just means bitch right

>>4944706
From what Mr. Green said, it's supposed to be a defender. But we didn't have many occasions for that. Yet.

>>4944706
It means something is going to try to stop him and we gotta defend him, also we're allies so even if we don't personally like one another our goals align and we can atleast trust each other

>>4944681
>do what he asked and keep an eye out, trust the Red Wizard

Do your thing Harry.
We really need to have a talk with him for things we should keep an eye out.

>>4944751
>>4944706
>>4944701
>>4944687
locked in

>>4944751
Realizing this is an Rpg defend the point mission.

Okay he needed me to keep a look out, I'd keep a look out.

Stuffing my hands in my pockets I leaned back against the fence. I don't smoke but in that moment I felt like I should. Playing nonchalant isn't a strength. 'Act natural'.

Whatever Jim was doing I figured it might take a while. I pulled out my phone, scrolling through twitter, checking on the group chats. People came in and out of the firefighter academy, people strolled by, as the sun started to set. Sunsets were coming later in the day as the seasons turned from winter to spring, but news had it spring would still be cold.

I liked a picture of Ayesha standing with a tray of vegan cupcakes she'd baked, and watched a video clip posted by Kemal of his cousin Nasim pulling off a kick flip into a grind down at the skate park, her niqab flapping around her kicks. Then watched another Zeke had cut together of game highlights, mostly of Rufus and Hunter but also a couple of my dunks mixed in, all recorded off various phone cameras.

We hadn't hung out in a while. Maybe I should change that.

I got a text from Ivy.

Ivy - Can I send you something? Need an opinion.

Me - What like a picture?

Ivy - its dumb, its the outfit I'm wearing for the gig.

Me - Go ahead.

The phone pinged.

And my first thought was I shouldn't be looking at this in public.

She stood in front of a full length mirror. In a black leather bikini top, tight black vinyl leggings with hip holes, her hair caught back in a pair of short braids. It sure showed a lot. Her belly...

But her expression was a thinking pout, like she wasn't sure. Behind her was a guy, a little blurred out, sitting in a chair with a guitar in his lap. I vaguely recognized him from the school gig.

I didn't know how to reply. My silence was filled by another ping.

Ivy - a bit too 'sexy'?

Ivy - the boys like it but...

Ivy - and there's this head piece thing too. hold up.

'The boys' being her band, I guess.

Before I could check the next picture my attention turned up. A weird pulse in the back of my head. Someone was walking down the street. Just a guy in a hoodie. Normal looking, a plain pale face in a relaxed expression. But the pulse quickened in the back of my head.

No one was that ordinary looking, not in Chicago.

He slowed as he walked by.

"Kid," he said with a nod. He walked on, then stopped.

He turned back. Started back toward me.

"You know that's private property," he said.

"Yeah?" I said.

"Your friend is trespassing," he said it so plain it didn't sound like a threat.

I looked into his eyes.

Black pupils. A black fleck rose from the pupil, disappearing up under the eyelid. I might have thought I'd imagined it, if I didn't know better.

"Trespassers beware," he said, a smile starting on his cold pale face.

>play it cool, laugh him off
>slug him in the gut

>>4944788
>play cool, be ready to deck him the moment he twitches oddly
Also, did you mean "black irises"? Pupils are always black.

>>4944788
>play it cool, laugh him off

Guard up, Guard up!

Prepare for counterattack right the fuck now, evil wizard minion is here!

>>4944788
tell him to fuck off. if he doesn't then
>slug him in the gut

>>4944795
yeah that

>>4944788
And for something completely different:
>black leather bikini top, tight black vinyl leggings with hip holes
Needs a short leather jacket over it, probably worn open.

locking all that in

I laughed, bunching up my fist in my pocket, slipping away my phone.

"Whatever man," I said, "I'm just waiting for a friend."

"You're a bad liar," he said, "And trying to decieve a deciever is never a good idea."

He stepped closer. My instinct was to push him off, but I was pretending to be normal so I stepped back.

"Hey now who's trespassing? Getting in my personal space," I said, "Leave me alone man."

"We can get far more personal," he said, and tried to catch my eyes with his gaze.

An alarm bell went off in my head. I kicked off from the fence, hands up ready to throw down.

"Step the fuck off," I said, open palms pushing him back.

He stumbled back but didn't stop smiling, bobbing his head to look me in the eyes. I wasn't some punk though, and pulled my arm up, for a second blocking his stare. I saw the smile die.

"So you're only half ignorant," he said.

"And I'll have half your teeth down your throat if you don't back the fuck off," I said, fire rising inside me.

"I can take your mind apart and put it back together," he said, "Rewrite your soul until you don't remember who you were. And your friend won't be able to put you back together again."

"Asshole," I said.

He backed away. "We'll see you both soon," he said, smile growing. He turned and started to jog the other way, becoming another figure in the crowd, his footfalls fading.

I spat in the gutter.

Whoever that guy was if I saw him again things would go different.

My phone pinged.

A picture from Ivy.

This time she was wearing what I could only describe as a crown of horns, pulling a face with her tongue stuck out.

Ivy - Heavy Metal Barbie now with Dark Fantasy accessories.

Wow, what a bad time to send me a picture like this.

I sent back.

Me - Maybe add a crop jacket or something, worn open.

She replied.

Ivy - yeah that'll preserve my modesty ;)

I blushed, put away my phone. I couldn't be distracted with pictures like that right now.

There was a grunt from the other side of the fence. I turned, alarmed, and hiked up it to look over.

Jim knelt in the middle of the empty construction yard, holding his arm to his chest. A stick of incense had burned down to a nub in a holder. Sweat glistened on his cheeks and he shook with a fever. Turning to the side he retched, spat up a glob of phlegm.

When he saw me peering over he got up, stuffing a book in his back pocket, limping toward me.

"It's started," he said, "Half the spell. But we need to come back tonight to finish it, at three in the morning."

3AM on a school night, great.

But if it was how it had to be, it was how it had to be.

"What did you find?" I asked.

"Someone woke up the sleeping dead," he said, "Memories put to rest have been disturbed."

"Yeah, I had a guy come up to me talking some spooky nonsense," I said, "So what are we talking about, zombies or something?"

His scorn was obvious. "It isn't like that," he said.

>you know, you could be a lot nicer about this
>let his digs slide, it was no big deal

I'll be back tomorrow

>>4944845
>dude, I'm just trying to help. And that guy that came up certainly looked like a fresh corpse walking

>>4944846
>tomorrow
Thanks for running

>>4944845
>listen, you don't have to like me and I don't have to like you, but against this eldritch darkness bullshit we're the only allies we have, so let's treat one another with some respect and courtesy please?

Atleast enough that we don't strangle one another while also having to deal with horrors from the beyond

>>4944845
Both of these
>>4944848
>>4944853

>look dude we don't have to like each other but can we at least be professional?
there's information I need to do my job, which is to keep you safe, am I gonna have to fight zombies, ghosts or possessed humans? cause that'll effect the way I fight

>>4944853
>>4944845
Support

Jimmy Jimmy Jim, we in this for the long game my man, cheer up would you?

>>4944845
backing >>4945056

>>4944853
>>4944848
>>4945056
locked in

"Hey man, you don't have to like me but I'm just trying to help. In case you didn't notice we're in this fight against the eldritch darkness together, so let's treat each other with some respect and courtesy, okay?"

"So if you can tell me what I need to know to do my job, which is to keep you safe by the way, can you do it without making me want to strangle you?"

He had enough grace to look guilty.

"Now, is it zombies, evil spirits or what? because I just had a creep come up and boy did he look like a walking corpse."

Jim sighed.

"Sorry," he offered, the most tooth pulled sorry I'd ever heard, "Truth is I'm not sure what to expect, but zombies aren't on the menu. Not if you mean Walking Dead style walkers or whatever. What I'm going to do is try to calm the memory of the dead with a chant, but its easier done at 3AM. The Devil's Hour."

Well there's a reassuring name.

"There's an ebb and flow to the spiritual world," he said, "Like the tide at the beach. Our world is the beach, the spiritual world is the ocean. Time of day, day of the week, the month and the season, all have an affect on that tide. Even the balance of the solar system, the position of the stars, astrological bullshit all have a part to play. They tell me whether we're looking at a normal tide or a full blown flood."

"And where are we right now?"

He shrugged. "I'm still pretty new to this," he said.

I hoped down from the top of the gate. Jimmy pushed his way out. He looked hurt but I don't think it was physical.

"You said the memory of the dead," I said.

He nodded as we walked. "When something bad happens it leaves a thumb print on the world," he said, "I wouldn't go so far as to say its the souls of the dead themselves, but the memory of their passing lingers. A good wizard makes sure the memory is laid to rest, but a bad one could stir them up, unleash their sorrow on others. It's necromancy I suppose, but not in the corpse raising sense."

"Keep in mind Eric, this is all a lot more esoteric than physical," he said, "Don't think I'll be whipping out fire balls or whatever."

We got into his car. He put on some music, prog-rock, a British voice singing.

'The rusted chains of prison moons
Are shattered by the sun
I walk a road, horizons change
The tournament's begun
The purple piper plays his tune
The choir softly sing
Three lullabies in an ancient tongue
For the court of the crimson-''

I frowned at the stereo. Raised an eyebrow at Jim.

"Fuck you, I like King Crimson," he said.

"So the plan is come back at 3AM and try again?" I said.

He nodded. "There's something going on here, someone's stirred up a hornet's nest of anguish," he said, "The sickness in Chicago is deeper than one thing like this, but it isn't helping. Think of it like Chicago has a general baseline of misery, and this is a depressive spike. I don't think this is responsible for everything going on, but if we quiet the dead it should buy us time to close the gap."

Buying time was about all I seemed to get.

We drove through the city streets, the prog-rock sounds grooving in psychadelic strains with poetic lyrics tripping over each other in fairy tale rhyme.

I guess it wasn't too bad. Problem was I always associated it with Dad and Carmen banging, prog-rock pumping from their room to mask their sounds.

He dropped me off in the front of mine. I'd see him again at 3AM.

Until then I had somewhere to be. A Jiu Jitsu lesson.

The class was above a dance studio, mats set out on the ground where a bunch of guys in blue gis were rolling around, trying to lock each other up. I stood in the doorway in my busted sneakers and gym clothes, not sure who to talk to.

I was saved though by Ayesha bouncing up. She wore a blue gi with a white belt and a bright smile, barefoot.

"Eric, you came," she said.

"Yeah, figured it was time to get serious," I said, "Can't keep getting my ass kicked in your back yard."

She grabbed my arm. "Let me introduce you to the professor," she said.

Looking around it seemed Ayesha was the only girl in the class, and the only one under six foot other than me. One guy came up, eager to see if she wanted to 'roll'.

"Later Diego," she said, waving him off.

She pulled me in front of a tall Brazilian looking dude with pepper in his hair and a build made me think he could take on Yeti, but he shook my hand with a friendly grin. His black belt had a red stripe.

"Nice to meet you Eric. So have you come to learn how to fight?" he said.

I shrugged. "I know how to fight," I said, "Just looking to round out my education is all."

His expression went up like I was some kind of trash talking hot head.

"Well there's more to fighting than school brawling," he said, "And more to learning how than being aggressive. Better you leave the ego at the door."

"Sorry," I said. I wasn't trying to flex.

"Eric trains in boxing with my uncle," Ayesha said, "He's already had a few amateur matches."

His smile returned. "Oh so you do know how to fight, sorry," he said, "We get a lot of young men come in here with big egos. This isn't that kind of place. What works for you in boxing won't work for you here."

"I can adapt," I said.

"Good," he said, "Let's get you started with Nicky. Nicky!"

Nicky was a tall, gangly red head with pimples up her neck. I had thought she was a boy from the outside because she was flat as a post and had a big chin. She kept her hair from her face in a loose knot behind her neck. She wore a blue belt.

"Hey I'm Nicky," she said, shaking my hand, "You're Eric, right? I've heard about you." She glanced at Ayesha when she said that. "So, do you know anything about BJJ?"

"Only what Ayesha's shown me," I said.

"Right," Nicky nodded in an overly knowing way, "Well I'll take you through the basics. Are you ready?"

>sure let's go (train normal)
>sure let's go (train with a little power)
>I think I'd rather learn from someone more experienced

>>4945945
>sure let's go (train normal)

>>4945945
>sure let's go (train normal)

If we're better than her we'll ask someone more experienced, but she's great for seeing where our ability lies atleast

>>4945945
>sure let's go (train normal)

>>4945953
I think it's very safe to say she'll throw us on our ass, grappling is way out of our area of expertise

>>4945945
>sure let's go (train with a little power)

Sometimes I wonder if using a bit of power during training would be better since it's closer to the actual use scenario.

>>4945980
It honestly seems like a swinging your balls around option unless power use actually improves our training efficiency.

>>4945980
Our power seems exponential, anything we can do in base state we can do better in our flame state

That's why working on our base is better and gives more gains than simply using our power all the time

>>4945980
>>4945955
>>4945953
>>4945950
locked that in

"Sure, unless I need to change into a gi," I said.

"It won't be a problem," she said, putting up her hands, "Let's go through this easy and slow."

Easy and slow suits me fine. I put myself into Nicky's reliable hands.

For what it's worth it wasn't as fun as tussling in Ayesha's backyard in sweaty gym clothes, going to the mat, and I understood pretty quickly why they called it 'rolling'. The room was loud with thumping sweaty body and rough grunts as each pair worked the angles to get a lock on their opponent. It was a language of fighting I only half understood, and I let myself sink into the lesson.

Some guys got a real chip on their shoulder about how good they were at fighting in one style or another. I didn't have that luxury. I wasn't training for fun or competition, or even for 'self-defense'. I was doing it for the edge I'd need in brutal life or death fights with the worst scum this city could muster, and Chicago could muster a lot. That wasn't including opponents both super powered and supernatural. If it meant putting myself in the posotion of kid who didn't know anything, it was all good. There was nothing gained in pride.

All though I wasn't completely clueless, and managed to escape more than a few of Nicky's attempted locks until she finally caught me in a triangle.

The grapple game means if you stay in it long enough you'd get caught in something eventually, if the other guy knew more than you.

"The important thing about practice is its about feeling out technique, learning the danger zones in a safe environment so when things aren't safe, you know what to do," she said, helping me up.

"Right," I said.

"It won't take you long to pick up the basics or get decent with them," she said, "But BJJ is a deep pool, there's always more to learn about the art and yourself in the art. Keep an open mind and leave ego at the door."

"Right," I said.

"The more you train, the more you roll and the more people you roll with, the better you'll be," she said, slaping my arm.

Before I knew it the lesson was over. I'd barely felt like I'd had a work out. The same wasn't true for others. Ayesha came over, huffing and sweaty, having just rolled with the lanky guy, Diego. She was puffed but grinning.

"So what do you think?"

"Useful," I said.

Ayesha rolled her eyes.

"You should sign up," she said, "It'll be good for you, and I'm running out of stuff to teach you."

"How much does it cost?"

She said and my eyes went wide.

"Yo," I said, patting at my pockets, "I don't have that kind of bread."

"Maybe I can cover you," she said.

"No way, I can't ask-"

"I'm offering," she interjected, "If it'll help you do...what you need to do, I want to."

"And you know, Ivy has her ballet lessons downstairs," Ayesha said, "It would make it easier for us to hang out."

>let me think about it
>no way Ayesha, you do enough for me
>fine, and you're right it will help

>>4946024
>let me think about it

It's not just pride ( though that's a big part of it)

It's commitment

Are we going to continue with the boxing or are we going to do this now ,between school/crime/magic/para community we don't have enough time to take on more than one style

So is bjj our new style or do we stick to boxing? Maybe even something else like muai thai?

>>4946024
>let me think about it
Problem is, if Ayesha is going to pay for Eric, her parents will catch wind of it real soon. We might have to get a part time job in addition to all the other bullshit.

>>4946024
>let me think about it
Gotta win this boxing match and look for more money fights

>>4946027
Eric might be able to do both, though maybe not to the full extent. And we need to round out our fighting skills so there's fewer chances someone's going to catch Eric with his pants down.
Later it might even be a good idea to talk to Kemal, he said he trains some sort of martial art, Kyokushin or Shotokan I think. That might improve our legwork.

>>4946040
>>4946036
>>4946027
locked in

>>4946027
We can use aspects of each fighting style, we don't have to commit to one.

"Let me think about it," I said.

"What's there to think about?" she said as we went down the stairs, "It would be good for you, don't get all proud macho-man about it."

I didn't want to say my pride was part of it, but it was. And there was the training regime. Was I going to switch fully from boxing to BJJ or carve more time out of my life to train both? And the money...Ayesha didn't have a job. Her money was her parents' money, and they'd fiure out something was up when they found out Ayesha was paying for my BJJ lessons.

Maybe what I needed was a part time job or something.

Down at the bottom of the stairs Ivy came out of the dance studio, waving to someone inside. She wore her jacket over ballet tights with a pair of sneakers, ballet shoes tied over her shoulder. She saw us coming down together and smiled.

"What's up?" she said.

"Oh just trying to convince this guy to let me help him out," Ayesha said, "But he's being stubborn."

Ivy's eyes glittered in agreement.

I frowned a 'not you too' kind of frown.

'Then be less obvious' was her returning smirk.

"You've got work later?" Ayesha asked.

"Not tonight, tonight I'm free," Ivy said, stretching out as we left together, walking down the street to a pizza joint on the corner.

"So anyway, you never told me what you thought about the costume for the gig," Ivy said, not to me but to Ayesha.

"Oh please, that thing?" Ayesha said, "They've got you dressing up like a nerd's wet dream. They shouldn't be pressuring you into those sorts of outfits. It's seedy, you're not even sixteen yet."

"Guys like a little jailbait," Ivy said in a way I didn't like. "And you know, maybe I like the attention. Dressing up, strutting my stuff in a hot outfit for a cheering crowd. Or are you going to pretend it isn't a hot look?"

"I never said it wasn't hot," Ayesha said with an awkward blush, "But you don't have to go out there like that."

"You're right, I don't have to do anything," Ivy said with a chip of ice in her voice.

I kept a cautious distance from the edge of the conversation as we took a booth.
Unfortunately, Ivy wasn't letting me stay out of it.

"Eric liked it," she said with a smirk. I buried my face in a glass of water. Ayesha looked as awkward, examining the menu for vegan friendly options.

"You can do what you want," Ayesha said, "I'll be there for your gig, you know I'll support you, just don't let the guys in your band push you around. You act like you've got everything figured out Ivy, but I know you better than that."

"Whatever," Ivy said, crossing her arms. But I knew she knew Ayesha was right, and it was her turn to give me an annoyed 'don't you start either' look.

Neither of them asked me about the obvious stuff. We talked about school, our friends, general things. It was good to hang with them without the sword of my other life hanging over our heads. And now Ayesha had a car we didn't need Mr Carver porting us around.

But as it got darker and darker, and the hours ticked over, I felt my responsibility loom outside the warm circle of their friendship.

"So your birthday," Ayesha said.

Ivy groaned. "Please don't talk about it."

"Sixteen is important!" Ayesha said, "We should do something. Especially if you're moving out."

"I don't want to think about it," she said, "It's way from my mind. Can't we talk about I don't know, the failing school systems or police reform or whatever bug you have up your butt today?"

"Come on Ivy," Ayesha said, "Pretend you're excited."

Ivy rolled her eyes. "Okay, 'yipee guys, I'm sixteen!'" she twirled her hands in mock excitement, "Let's have cake and pop, maybe Daddy will buy me a porsche!"

"You know what I want to do?" she said, "Nothing. Nothing would be great. I don't get enough nothing in my life these days."

Ayesha sighed, rolled her eyes. She checked her phone.

"Well either way, we should go home," she said, "It's getting late and I can't drive out past ten. Or have two passengers. Are you okay getting yourself home Eric?"

"Yeah I'm cool," I said.

They left with a wave out on the street.

I scuffed my feet down the sidewalk, thinking. About Ivy and Ayesha, about what I had to do later tonight. About lots of things, few of them good.

The weight of everything could get heavy.

It felt a long, tiring time until 3AM.

>meet up with Jimmy as Hotspur
>Hotspur was a super hero, Eric was the boon

>>4946112
>meet up with Jimmy as Hotspur
Shits gonna get heavy tonight guaranteed

>>4946112
>meet up with Jimmy as masked ski goggle and hoodie guy

Don't want Hotspur connected to this and we should bring a mask for Jimmy as well, he needs to protect his identity from these necrofucks

>>4946129
This

>>4946129
If we're expecting heavy fighting then our fighting style will be recognized as hotspurs. Might as well dress the part.

>>4946165
It might be recognized as Hotspur's but we'll attract less attention outside of the fight. Don't forget about the cameras too.

>>4946165
>fighting style

Your brain is fried by anime, in real life unless you're a hard-core mma fighter who has fought this one specific dude multiple times no one is going to recognize shit about how we fight

Apart from that our power in combat is super strength and speed, pretty generic as far as paras go

>>4946133
>>4946129
locked in

>>4946174
I just remember when we were recognized while disguised when we busted Thunderchild out. Because of our fighting style. Man I don't even watch anime.

>>4946198
By people whose job is to watch psras

Hotspur had enough enemies, and I didn't need them going after Jimmy because they got it in their head the Red Wizard was some kind of crime fighter. Still, going with my face uncovered was a bad idea, time to go back to the hoodie and ski goggles routine, Hotspur classic edition.

Getting home late for dinner, I went to bed early, getting a nap in before the work. It never hurt to get sleep where you could.

At around 2, when Dad and Carmen had long been asleep, I slipped out of bed and made ready to go, dressing the part.

Wawtching me from the corner of my room was trhe cat Mangy, her tail swishing. She gave me a slow blink, a cat smile.

If Mangy even was a cat. There had been something, a voice in my head, and a dream later, and all of it was connected to the stray on some level. But staring at the fluffy white cat, all I got was cat energy back. If there was more to her than I thought...

Well, I had other shit on my mind.

I slipped out onto the fire escape and shot up to the neighbor's roof. Runing and jumping, I made my way back to DeKoven street and the Chicago Firefighter Academy.

Crashing through the night, the city was quiet under me. A story was going around if you heard a hard bang on your roof on a quiet night, you should relax. It meant Hotspur was out looking for trouble. Hoped that helped people sleep when I landed on their roof before rocketing off for the next one. Hoped I never heard any hard bangs on my roof.

Landing on the roof of the academy, I watched Jim's car pull up to the curb. The exhaust gave a rude cough as it rumbled to a stop, the Red Wizard pulling out his bulk. He wasn't alone. I frowned.

I knew the girl, Ashe Givens. She was on the co-ed basketball team and was Jim's lab partner. Last I'd heard he wanted to keep her out of this stuff, which I had figured for a good idea. Why he'd brought her...

I landed in DeKoven street and walked out to meet them. Ashe was paler than usual, and she was pretty pale, her black hair almost buzzed off.

"Yo, if I knew you were bringing a date I'd have brought one too," I teased.

He frowned. "It isn't like that," he said, "She invited herself."

"Hey," she offered me her hand, nervous. I shook it. "You think I haven't noticed you guys are up to weird stuff? I'm not letting my best friend get into trouble without being right there next to him."

"Cute," I said. Pink blots lit her cheeks. "Stupid though," I added. "You told her what's up or what?" I asked Jim.

"I've told her enough," he said, "You think you can keep an eye on her?"

"Oh frick off," she said, "I'm right here, don't talk over my head."

"I'm the Red Wizard's boon," I said, "I'm supposed to watch your back."

Not that I'm going to leave someone i danger, but it had to be said.

"Boon?" Ashe asked.

Jimmy got a constipated look.

"It's like a bodyguard," he said, "Eric's job is to make sure I don't get hurt."

"Oh so he's stealing my job now," she said, "So can you have more than one boon?"

Jimmy clenched his eyes shut.

"Yeah, but-"

"So I'll be your boon too," she said, "Or don't you trust me?"

"This isn't a game, Ashe," Jimmy said, looking to me for help.

I hid my grin, enjoying his discomfort a little.

>the Red Wizard is right, she should stay out of it
>Maybe another boon could help
>let them sort out their lover's quarrel

back tomorrow

>>4946202
If you didn't want her involved then you should've stopped her from coming. In the meantime I'll watch both of your backs and anything else is up to Jimbo.

>>4946202
>let them sort out their lover's quarrel
Bodyguard job might be a bit too much for her, but she'd make a fine associate with her athleticism and giant brain. And it's not like we have time to drive her back.

>>4946202
>the Red Wizard is right, she should stay out of it

We are not bringing some girl with no super-powers, no magic spark, and not even a fucking gun into this game we play, she's not supposed to be here and she's not going to be here

>let them sort out their lover's quarrel LATER

I don't mind if she's on lookout on some nearby rooftop but she can't be fucking here, and the red wizard needs boons who can protect him ,not be a constant source of stress and worry

if I had the time and energy I would absolutely be running a Red Wizard spin off

>>4946231
Well, I don't think that we would mind playing as the red wizard for a bit, have a vote for what Eric does in the background and in the meantime we play as the red wizard for a session or two, lots of quests with multiple protags do this all the time, it's a good way to advance the plot and see the world from a different perspective from what we are used to

>>4946231
Well, you said you have an idea where this is going, so why not after Eric's story ends?

>>4946202
>>let them sort out their lover's quarrel
as long as it doesn't mess with the mission, Boons are The Red Wizard's decision

>>4946202
>let them sort out their lover's quarrel

>>4946202
>let them sort out their lover's quarrel
>>4946231
I wouldn't mind if we ended controllling the Red Wizard for an thread or two, it'd be a nice change of pace

>>4946202
>"Hello? We got a restless dead concert fucking up the city to shutdown here. Do your concerned couple skit at home when we aren't in danger of soul rending death, I don't know when the deadman will come back, or if he's bringing friends."
>"Plus I'd like to make sure this shit isn't turning my school into a battle royal cage match."

>>4946396
>deadman
He's likely not actually a dead man. It's probably a guy worn as a suit by a demon (or however you want to call a part of the druj)

>>4946024
>let me think about it

Maybe we can get serious about our boxing matches and use that money for this? Sounds like a plan. Not saying we would win everytime but when we don't ayesha would cover for us, BJJ looks like it would cover some mental training too so looks cool.

>>4946202
>let them sort out their lover's quarrel

"I have people that help me in many ways, but I don't take them to the field, maybe next time you can Help Jimbo this way"

(After this maybe tell Jimmy to teach her some basic magic or ways to deal around this stuff)

>>4946414
I am retarded

>>4946426
You don't get magic by being a normie, takes a special kind of person to do it or else their soul shatters

It's what gramps told us, and she doesn't seem to have that calm soul it needs

>>4946202
>let them sort out their lover's quarrel

Stress that she can't actually fight what's out there though, she can support him in other ways by being someone to lean on and staying the hell away from the action

>>4946490
Frankly, there's no guarantee even Eric can fight the demon dudes

>>4946202
>the Red Wizard is right, she should stay out of it

As funny as it is now, she could get seriously hurt later.

>>4946552
That's what I'm saying man, we don't let ivy or Ayesha come on our missions because they're just normal girls who will die, why is everyone voting to let this normal girl who will die come with us?

I know that it's ultimately Jimmy's call but we gotta atleast point out she brings nothing truly useful to the table, and boons are limited and must be carefully chosen

>>4946577
>why is everyone voting to let this normal girl who will die come with us
No one does that. Unless I missed something, just about every vote is "it's up to you two, but Ashe shouldn't be anywhere near the possible fight. She might help later"

>>4946490
>>4946426
>>4946394
>>4946389
>>4946384
locked in

Whatever was going on between them ultimately wasn't my problem.

"If you guys are going to make out can you do it after the exorcism?" I said.

Their bickering shut off in an embarassed silence.

"Either make her a boon or have her wait in the car, but make a decision Jim, we've got work to do."

He nodded. "Yeah, okay," he looked down at Ashe, "You don't know how dangerous this is, and I don't know if we can protect you. So I need you to stay in the car. I can't do what I need to do if I'm worrying about you."

"Stay in the car?" she said, "Damn, Jim, you going to tell me to stay in the kitchen next?"

"That's not what I mean," he said, grabbing her shoulders, "Whatever's going to happen tonight, its going to be dangerous. This isn't Harry Potter. Whatever happens, whatever you see, I need you to stay in the car. Get out of here without us if you need to."

"Well that last part isn't happening," she said, rubbing her arm.

"Please Ashe," he said.

Finally she sighed. "Fine," then when getting in the car pointed at me, "You better not let him get hurt."

"Yes ma'am," I said with a salute.

Jim looked uncomfortable. Couldn't blame him, I'd be uncomfortable too in his position. It isn't easy being the Red Wizard.

"What do you need me to do?" I said.

He looked down the street. "Wait," he said.

He got a piece of chalk out of his pocket, hunkered down and started marking lines in the middle of the road. It was a pentagram or something, but not like you'd see in a cartoon. When he was done I got the impression of a blazing sun from the sketchy lines, arrow marks made on the inside of the lines. Cuneiform, I think it was called. The old writing style of the ancient Middle East.

Come to think of it, another word for the middle east could as easily be 'the middle of the world'. A crossroad joining Europe, Africa and Asia. Only America was left out. The thought didn't mean much, but I didn't have anything else to do but wait, watching the cold dark around us, the big dead windows of the surrounding buildings, standing in a bathing pool of electric street light. At least Ashe could listen to music. All I had to fight the chill was a thin hoodie and my own internal fire.

But I'm a patient guy. I could wait and I could watch, until dawn came. I'd done it before.

Though even at 3AM it felt like dawn was a long way off. As if the city had never known the sun and we stood now in a world of twilight, the stars robbed from the night sky by the city's own polluting light. A skitter in the grass might have been a rat. A swoop overhead a bat of some kind. Or it could have been something else.

The other world, the world of the gaps, had a shifting tide and to me it felt as if the tide was coming in. Jimmy continued to scratch chalk marks into the ground, beginning to mumble a chant.

Was it getting colder? Breath wisped visible from between my lips. The numbness in my fingers I washed out with fire.

Was it getting darker? The electric light overhead, its constant buzz, seemed to dull.

A soft 'wump' from around me.

I checked on Jimmy. The Red Wizard knelt in his chalk array, hands pressed together, bowing forward and mumbling as if in prayer.

Another 'wump'.

The sound of gas catching fire.

I sniffed, rubbed my nose. Checked the dark.

The light flickered off overhead.

And then they came.

They appeared without sound. Spindly gray figures, match-stick arms contorted, jaws hanging loose. No sound at all, they appeared in a flicker, standing there on match-stick legs around us. A cold jolt shot up my spine. Black pits where eyes should be, lipless faces shown blackened teeth, caverns where there should have been noses. They were all sizes, some no bigger than knee high. A few worked their jaws as if to speak but they said nothing.

Flecks of gray rose from their shoulders, rising up.

They stood around us, surrounding us, all down the street. Hundreds maybe, I didn't try to count.

They didn't move but stood with palpable menace.

The memory of the dead.

Whatever he was going to do, I hoped Jim did it soon.

"You were warned about trespassing."

He stood in the shadow of the Chicago Fire Academy, as ordinary as ever, pale and bright in dark blue. He smiled.

Now the dead moved, and when they did they glowed with smouldering amber light in the pit of their eyes and the gaps of their mouths.

A hand reached for me, fingers little more than charred bone, spindly and raking. I swung back from the reaching grasp, the burned face behind the hand long and mournful. It opened its mouth to speak but gushed a wave of blistering heat, a fire burning at the back of its throat.

"Soldier at the end of time," the man, the necromancer, said, "Aren't you tired?"

I stepped back toward Jim's circle.

"Tired of the battles fought and yet to be fought," he said, "Tired of life. Standing at the end of time."

He spread his arms. "We are the victims of Truth, here at the end of time."

"Aren't you tired?"

My arms sagged before me.

"Life screams for a champion to be sacrificed at life's altar," he said, "Be another of a thousand victims of the Truth."

"Here at the end of time."

The burned corpses stared at me, reached for me. Reached beyond me for the figure kneeling in the chalk circle.

"Die again and again," he said, "Until death at last ends."

I shook my head. Heavy in my head. Stiff and heavy.

"Stand aside," the necromancer said, "And let the battle end."

Never.

The heaviness eased, my arms picked up.

Talking was hard, my voice caught tight in my throat.

"The battle," I said, the words stiff through clenched teeth, "Hasn't even started."

The necromancer smiled. "The battle ended long ago."

Then around me the corpses burst into flame, and the soundless agony on their faces grew as they reached for me and past me, the night alive with their unnatural fire.

>protect Jimmy, focus on the fire ghosts
>go for the necromancer, the real threat

>>4947166
>throw a rock or something similar at the necrobastard
>protect Jimmy, focus on the fire ghosts

>>4947166
>protect Jimmy, focus on the fire ghosts

>>4947166
>protect Jimmy, focus on the fire ghosts

If we get a chance throw something at him, but protect Jimmy

We should start carrying some big marbles or something, we need a bit of range for our power, and with our super strength anything we throw is dangerous

>>4947183
Aren't bearing balls sold by the pound and cheap?

>>4947166
>protect Jimmy, focus on the fire ghosts

>>4947166
this>>4947177

>>4947177
>>4947178
>>4947183
>>4947238
>>4947242
fighting the ghosts is locked in

What if we've been looking at training the wrong way this whole time?

We need a trainer who's also a para. One who we can openly use our abilities with and train them directly instead of training normal fighting and adapting it for our powers. Just a thought. Also Hotspur really needs a para mentor so it's a win-win

>>4947260
But we're basically the first para as far as anyone is concerned, who other than us has more experience in using our own powers?

I was a wizard's boon. My job was to defend Jimmy.

I drove a fist toward the nearest specter. It shot through the body as if it were mist, and pain burned up my arm, a fire sweeping across the skin burning through my nerves. The smell of smoke and cooking flesh rose to my nostrils, choking me, punching a harsh cough out of my throat.

I sputtered and gagged, stepping back, coughing and trying to clear my lungs as my head swam and my arm continued to blaze with hot pain.

But there was no fire, there was no smoke. My flesh didn't burn despite the pain.

The necromancer stood watching, smiling in the shadows.

The fire ghosts twitched and turned their focus toward me, ash gray bodies flickering with silent fire, the unearthly light growing. They reached for me in the hundreds with burned hands, charred finger bones claw like in their grasping reach.

Fear ground my feet beneath me, a numb terror taking physical hold, a chill in my legs and stomach. My heart was the only sound in the street, louder than Jimmy's mumbled chant. Beating hard.

I forced a step back, legs resisting. The anguished burned faces of the dead surged toward me, slack jaws open in soundless grief.

My foot slid on a bottle, I fell back. My hand closed around the cold glass.

However I was meant to fight these spirits, I knew the necromancer was flesh and blood. With fire pumping through me, forcing back the fear, I hurled the glass bottle at his head.

It broke on the tall fire statue beside him, glass crinkling down.

Fuck him. I kicked up to my feet as the ghosts of the unquiet dead pushed toward me.

There had to be a way...

I closed my eyes. The heat of their breath, the smell of smoke and cooking meat, rolled over me. The burning of a whole city manifesting around me.

I couldn't hit them with my fist but...

I focused my fire into my fists. The sacred flame against the dark.

I opened my eyes, and when I swung, the pain which lanced my arm was dull, and the spirit shifted, turning away. It staggered away from Jimmy, away down DeKoven Street back into the shifting mass of the great Fire's victims.

"Okay," I muttered, "Okay I can do this."

>roll 3 x 1d100+15 dc 80

Rolled 19 + 15 (1d100 + 15)

>>4947265

Rolled 61 + 15 (1d100 + 15)

>>4947265
go flame go
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6P65Y-q-ht4

>>4947267
Sheeet

Rolled 42 (1d100)

>>4947265
Pls

our rolls are so consistently bad, really diminishes some of the fun of combat

>>4947268
no pass

>>4947272
Bad luck. Our actual chance of success was 72%

>>4947275
yeah our luck is absurdly bad

>>4947279
Not at all, we pass a lot of the time and have 2-3 crit successes with no crit fails. This is a very lucky quest relative to the rest.

Time for some ghost scars

Ok new plan, rush the magician, no mercy just full blitz on him, can't afford to let the ghosts get close to Jimmy

I swung for the next one, and felt a solid connection. The pain raced through me but I ignored it. The fire ghost turned, joining the other in retreating.

But there were others, hundreds of others, filling the street, flooding it, the fire burning, crackling through them, joined in a century long anguish. The roasting stink of flesh and wood was over powering, and sound now, the sound of crackling and the distant high pitched screaming of people caught in the flames.

No fire burned but the heat and smoke stung my eyes. I squinted through a growing pain, trying to coach my lungs into breathing. There was no smoke to choke on. There was no fire to burn me. It wasn't real.

But the gap between world's was narrow, and through the haze I saw the necromancer smile.

"Ashavan?" he said, "Interesting."

They liked to talk, bad guys. I swung blind, feeling my fist connected with something fragile. Ash burst around my knuckles. I cough as they stung my eyes, fire wrapping the sleeve of my hoodie, racing up its length. All too real fire. I slapped at the flames, stepping back, but they were around me, surrounding me.

The best I could say is they weren't interested in Jimmy. Their focus was on me.

"An untrained wizard and a half-trained ashavan, fighting side by side," the necromancer said, pacing at the outskirts of the conjured spirits, "All the pawns cruel Truth has left. Pathetic."

Ashavan. Another word I didn't know.

Burned hands grabbed my shoulders, an ash face dragging itself toward me, slack jaw open and steaming with internal fire. It reached to bite, or to kiss, either way I drove my forehead against its blackened skull and felt it crack, all too physical.

Tainted fire burst from its lipless mouth, around the charred stumps of its teeth as it reeled back. But claws sunk into my back, slicing into my hoodie, down into my back. The tainted fire burst across my back, burning up my spine to the base of my skull. I couldn't keep the agonized scream from exploding out of me. It dragged me into the arms of the other spirits, fingers digging into my flesh, tearing into me. Hot tears poured as terrified sobs of pain burst from my lips as their fingers burrowed into my skin, as teeth sunk into me. The unnatural fire racing through me, blinding with pain.

God, I thought. Dad. Mom. Mom. God.

I wheeled in their grip.

"Be another sacrifice on Truth's altar!" the necromancer cried, delighted.

A car revved, headlights turned on. A song pounding from the speakers as tyres screamed against the street.

'If you like to gamble, I tell you I'm your man,
You win some, lose some, it's all the same to me,'

The car thundered into high gear, bearing down on the necromancer.

'The pleasure is to play, makes no difference what you say,
I don't share your greed, the only card I need is
The Ace Of Spades'

The look on his face as Jimmy's shitbox slammed into him, I could almost enjoy it through the pain. He raised his hands and had time to say.

"Oh fuck."

The front of the car collapsed in against the fire statue, Ashe behind the wheel thrown forward in the seat to slam against the steering wheel. The spirits released me and I dropped to my knees.

I hadn't been torn apart. There were no wounds on me, not physical anyway. But I shook hard, and puked over the ground.

The spirits stared at the crumpled front of the car. Smoke rose from under the hood. They stood watching, alert hounds, waiting a master's call.

From the circle Jimmy rose, a hand raised to the heavens.

A word of power burst from his lips, bloody tongue lashing and spritzing droplets of blood. Above us the clouds and the gloom parted to show the bright field of stars hidden away.

The spirits turned, turned to look up at the hole in the sky.

Jimmy called at them in words of magic, face strained beyond his age.

Slowly the unnatural fire within the burned spirits began to die, and the field of blackened corpses began to relax, a soundless sigh of relief passing through them. They tumbled toward the earth, their bodies for a moment turning from twisted, anguished wrecks to something else. To men, women and children, as they had been in the color of life, in workmen's clothes and happy bearing. Returning to the earth, to better memories than their final moments.

And when it was done Jimmy collapsed in his chalk circle, heaving, blood dribbling down his chin, the mark on his tongue ember bright as blood sizzled against it.

The car door clicked and Ashe slumped out. Blood caked her face, her eyes dull with shock.

Shivering I got to my feet.

By every right the necromancer should have been pinned between the car and the statue, but there was nothing there except a scattering of dark ashes.

Ashe took a step and dropped, looking sick.

Behind me Jimmy gagged, coughing up bloody phlegm.

Whatever had happened, the night no longer seemed as dark. Maybe the spirits were at rest.

>check on Ashe
>check on Jimmy
>check myself, I'm not okay

>>4947315
>check on Jimmy

>>4947315
>check on Ashe
Hope for no possession

>>4947315
>check on Jimmy

>>4947315
>check on Ashe

Jimmy is going to have to do this multiple times, ashe just got into a car crash, and we're never ok, it's our default state at this point

>>4947315
>check on Jimmy

bros before hoes

>>4947315
>check on Jimmy
he's the only one who can actually stop this magic shit

>>4947315
>check on Jimmy
(Really tempted to check on Ashe first, but kinda scared of the Bon)

Start calling the doc while checking, we bringing these two to him

>>4947315
>check on Ashe
changing my vote, there's a good chance she got mindfucked or possessed by that necromancer. this shit happens to Jimmy every time so I'm not real concerned

>>4947339
>>4947335
>>4947333
>>4947319
locked in

"Jimmy," I limped over to the Red Wizard, helping him gain his feet.

He groaned, tears of pain glazing his eyes. I checked him for injury but all I saw was hurt. Soul wounds and the physical strain of magic. I was feeling a little of the same hurt, my nerves still flickering with pain.

"You okay?" I said.

"It's done," he managed, sucking back spit. "What about you? You don't look so good."

"I'm used to it," I said, though truth was this was a different kind of pain.

Then he saw his car smashed up against the statue. "Ashe!" he pushed me back, starting into a limping run over to his friend. She sat staring at nothing next to the open door of the car, smoke rising behind her. When he went to his knees next to her he looked scared to touch her, gingerly carresing her shoulders.

She turned a dizzy smile up at him.

"Hey buddy," she said, "Wow that was a real trip."

"Are you okay, do you have a concussion?"

"Probably!" she said. The blood dried on her face.

"What happened?" he said.

"Nothing," she said, "Uh, your weird friend stood there while you did whatever, and then he started howling in pain. Freaked me out. Then I saw a guy and I uh, I guess instinct took over and I floored it. Is he okay, did I...did I kill him?"

"Who?" Jimmy asked, looking to me.

"A necromancer or something," I said, "Some kind of dark wizard. I think he summoned the spirits. If it wasn't for Ashe they could have killed me."

"Dark wizard?" he said, "No, those assholes aren't wizards. The people on the left-hand path, necromancer is a good term for them. They're parasites who steal power, corrupt arta and turn it to their own ends. Everything they have they got from those who dwell in the gaps."

"Demons you mean," I said.

Jimmy didn't like the word 'demon'.

"Either way, your girl saved my bacon," I said, "So you really didn't see anything? Not the fire ghosts or..."

Ashe shook her head, then thought about it. "Maybe there was like, this smudgy feeling," she said, "I thought Jim just needed to clean his windows. You say there were ghosts?"

A hard head knock like that would leave an impact.

A siren started in the distance, police lights flashing. Coming our way, probably from the sound of the crash and my screaming.

"Speaking of bacon," I said.

Jimmy didn't like that either.

His car wasn't going anywhere, so if we were going to run we'd need to do it on foot. But Jimmy's car was registered to him, when the cops checked the plates they'd know who to call.

>wait for the cops to arrive and play dumb, it was an accident, there was nothing to hide
>book, and when the cops asked tell Jimmy to lie and say his car had been stolen

I'll be back either tomorrow or next week. I'll let you guys know

>>4947385
>book, and when the cops asked tell Jimmy to lie and say his car had been stolen

This might get him in trouble with his parents but I'm extremely unsure of what to do

Anyone that can give a good idea or argument for what to do I'll support

>>4947385
>>wait for the cops to arrive and play dumb, it was an accident, there was nothing to hide
We're all probably on cameras

>book, and when the cops asked tell Jimmy to lie and say his car had been stolen

More worried about ashe Head right know and get her a quick check out, don't know if we stay here the cops could help her out or just be paranoid and call the dpa.

I'll vote for just booking it but looking for what yall have to said to change it if not

>>4947390
>>4947398
If we do skedaddle, we might rip off the number plates. The car would still be recognizable by numbers of parts but it's a bit of a pain in the ass and Jimmy will have some time to recover.
Or maybe it's not a good idea.

>>4947260
Works in most cape settings, but not in this one. We are one of the most experienced para fighters in the world. The only para I can think of who could actually train us is Semper Fi. And maybe Salamander.
>>4947385
>book, and when the cops asked tell Jimmy to lie and say his car had been stolen
I hate to pull this card, but Jimmy is fucking black. No way this turns out good if the cops see him. Take them home and have Jimmy call the cops to report his car stolen.

>>4947385
>wait for the cops to arrive and play dumb, it was an accident, there was nothing to hide

I think lying about the steal isn't going to fool the people it's meant to fool.

>>4947482
Wait, Jimmy's black???

Cringe, wont read this quest anymore/jkjk

>>4948279
Yes, so was his grandfather

>>4947385
>book, and when the cops asked tell Jimmy to lie and say his car had been stolen
we are in private property so it's better to run

>>4949755
>>4947785
>>4947482
>>4947398
>>4947390
locked in

>>4950418
LETS
GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"We need to go," I said, pulling Jimmy down the street, him pulling Ashe in turn.

"Why? We;ve done nothing wrong," Ashe said.

I'll chalk that up to the concussion talking.

"When you get home you get on the phone to the cops and tell them your car was stolen," I said to Jimmy. We started down the street, away from the crash and the high whine of the police siren.

"You don't trust the cops?" Jimmy said.

"I don't trust anybody," I replied.

We made it to the L station where we split up, the both of them heading north on the Red Line, me heading out west on the Blue. Ashe was still woozy. Being frank I wasn't much better, and sitting on the train it was a struggle not to sleep.

The chunk-chunk-chunk of the train, the grinding hiss when it would pull into a stop, the soft jostle of the carriage on the tracks, was as lulling as a lullaby. I didn't carry any physical wounds but my body still ached, ghost traces of the tearing claws of the fire-ghosts waking up inside my body, and a deeper pain seeping into the back of my head. Pain might not even be the right word for the worst of it, it was a disturbing feeling like my brain wasn't properly plugged into my spine, a floating, unsettling weightlessness in my head.

The train was empty. Fluroescent lights bright with a steady low hum. I huddled up on my seat, shivering.

When my head dipped to my chest I forced myself up with a jolt. Falling asleep on the Blue Line would have me miss my stop and leave me out in Cicero or somewhere end of the line. And I didn't want to sleep. There was no knowing what sleep would bring.

I glared tired eyes at an ad for Hamilton, playing at the Chicago Theater. Anything to stay awake.

When I got out at my stop I was past pretending I wasn't hurt, or sick or scared. I slumped my way down the streets, firing up what power I could to make the jumps I needed to make it faster. Only me and the stars were out.

'Do you believe in ghosts?' I'd asked. I don't remember why. Maybe I'd just watched one of the Conjuring movies. We had been standing on the back deck, she was playing with her telescope.

'Of course I do,' Mom replied. It wasn't the answer I'd expected, and it must have shown on my face, because she drew me over. 'Look,' she put my eye to the telescope, 'Do you see all those stars out there? Well, they're so far away from where we are right now we barely have the words to describe it, and it takes their light so long to reach us by the time we see them, the stars themselves have long since gone out.'

'So what we're looking at in the night sky isn't the stars themselves, but the ghosts of ancient suns, so far away we can only catch a glimpse of what they used to be. Now if that isn't a ghost, I don't know what is.'

She smiled and ruffled my hair, before putting me to bed with a kiss.

She was right, Mom, there were ghosts. But not only in the way she thought. I dragged myself up the fire escape, pulling myself through the window to lie shivering in my bed. Spirits of fear and anguish, crying out as they reached for me. Not hate or violence within them but a terrible grief, turned against me, tearing at me, ripping me down.

But Jimmy had given them peace while I'd flailed helpless against them. His magic had put them to rest. And the villain responsible, the necromancer, he was still out there. Waiting to raise more evil.

We needed to be ready. I needed to be ready. But right now all I could do was lie in sleepless misery, fighting the haunted memory of the dead.

-

Saturday.

The fight.

Whatever else I had going on, as Hotspur, as a wizard's boon, I'd also agreed to a fight. I'd been offered a grand, more money than I'd ever seen before, hooked up by Coach Jackson and a rival gym. It had been a few restless nights since our encounter with the necromancer, the spirits put to rest. For what it was worth it seemed to have a real impact, tensions settling at school, things half way back to normal.

But now I had a fight.

It had been a long time coming.

I changed in the locker room, Kobi giving me a hand. Friends and family would be watching. Kobi wrapped my fists.

"You ready?" the little guy said. I nodded, half-lying. "Tear his fucking head off."

His name was Paul Danvers and he was a couple years older than me. I'd checked out his instagram and in between light boxing lessons a lot of it had involved him with pretty girls on a boat. There were a couple of pretty girls now in his corner, both in skimpy tight outfits, one of them with cards ready to play at being a ring girl.

He wore red, white and blue trunks, a blond haze of stubble on his jaw and a cocky grin. He had muscle, real muscle, and he was a well cut 6'2. There was no way we'd ever be matched up in a real fight. He slapped his gloves together, taking a kiss from first the one girl then the other. I hated him right away.

"Dude, seriously?" he said back to his coach, laughing, "This ain't right, me fighting a little kid."

That's when I pulled off my shirt, handing it to Kobi. A twisted scar in my belly, another in my back, with smaller scars licked around my arms and shoulders. I slapped a glove against my face, trying to wake up.

I was tired.

"He's bigger than you," Coach Jackson said, "Has a longer reach and some real power. But he's cocky, arrogant, and sloppy. No real technique. get inside his reach, stay in the pocket, and don't let him find his feet."

"Just 'cause he an asshole don't mean he can't fuck you up," Kobi warned.

I stepped into the ring, feeling punch drunk under the bright lights.

There were people in the small crowd cheering for me, but they were drowned out by a chant of 'Paul' from a coterie of frat boy types.

I glared at him, he smirked down at me. The referee talked us through the rules but I barely listened.

I just wanted to get this done.

>take him down with a rush of power, end this quick
>asshole or not, he was a regular guy. Beat him the fair way

>>4950521
>asshole or not, he was a regular guy. Beat him the fair way

>>4950521
>asshole or not, he was a regular guy. Beat him the fair way

>>4950521
>asshole or not, he was a regular guy. Beat him the fair way

>>4950521
>asshole or not, he was a regular guy. Beat him the fair way

Is all part of training
(Hope we roll good)

>>4950529
>>4950531
>>4950537
>>4950554
locked in

However big an asshole this guy was, it didn't warrant drawing on my powers. I squared up against him, the crowd cheering.

I glanced over to see my friends in a row at the front. Zeke whistled while Rufus waved over head, Ivy and Ayesha tucked together in front of them with Hunter up the back. Dad and Miss Flores watched nervously from the side.

"Go Eric, go!" Ayesha cheered.

But they were drowned out by the gang of college boys chanting 'Paul, Paul, Paul'.

We came up to the center of the ring to touch gloves.

"That your bitch in the crowd?" Danvers said.

I don't know who he meant, Ayesha or Ivy or someone else.

"When I'm done with you I'll take your bitch next. Take her for a long ride in my lambo."

He slammed his gloves down on mine, backing to his corner, his own ring irl holding up a first round card. The disgust on Coach Jackson's face matched my own.

The bell rang and it was on. We stepped in.

The first punch caught me above the eye, a long but fast jab. He grinned behind the flesh of his arm.

I shook it off, trying to burn out the soul-tired drag on my body. I bobbed under the next one, dipped around a hook. Careful not to get beaned by his quick, hard jabs.

>roll 3 x 1d100+10 dc 75

Rolled 35 (1d100)

>>4950591
Pls

Rolled 29 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>4950591

one last chance

come on boys
I'm so fuckin tired of failing easy rolls

Rolled 28 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>4950591
guess I'll roll again, gonna fail it though

Rolled 3 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>4950591

>>4950615
oh no, it looks like Ivy is going for a ride in his lambo

I joke, I joke

Rolled 45 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>4950591
Shite

Rolled 89 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

If I roll under 40 again the dice should be abolished or revamped in this quest

>>4950619
lmao fuck me

>>4950619
Thus we know it was our fate to get wrecked by Logan Paul

Rolled 15 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

Our 1k (TT______ TT)

I want new dices.

I came in low. His fist cut around. The hook caught me behind the ear. It was more my own exhaustion than the strength of his hit. My legs went jelly for a second and I went down. He backed off like he'd won it already, hands up, his supporters cheering.

But I wasn't out. I was up, pushing up on my gloves before the ref could count past two, and I hopped on the spot, showing I was still put together. The dull ache behind my eyes was nothing to worry about.

Paul Danvers frowned from his corner in a douchebag way.

Anger woke me up. A step back and I rolled under his jab, landing my own in his ribs, bringing a hard right over to slam into his chest. He tap danced back. I was in the pocket now like coach wanted and I didn't let up until I'd backed him on the ropes.

His crowd booed me, while Ayesha hugged Ivy, caught up on nerves. Ivy kept a cold stare on me, face pale.

"Get him Eric!" Zeke cried, almost falling over the girls in front.

I pushed in and he grabbed me in a clinch. His forehead smacked into mine, a foot stomp snuck in for good measure, pushing me back with his superior bulk. It was a smart move but only made me madder. When he broke the clinch he snaked a punch to my liver, and in the flash of pain loosed a jab as he dipped back, giving him some distance.

The ref hadn't seen the head butt or the foot stomp, and the bell rang, saving us some punishment.

He might be a douchebag, he might be dirty, but he could box. With the knock down the first round was his.

I went to my corner.

"You're doing okay. Remember the pocket, be a fist in his glove," Coach Jackson said.

"Yeah, stick your fist right up his ass," Kobi added.

"Pick your moment," coach said, ignoring Kobi's disgusting illustration.

I nodded, trying not to check the crowd. In his corner Danvers nodded along to his own coach as his girls, the insta-thots, massaged his shoulders.

"You can do this," coach said.

I got up, slapping my gloves together. Paul Danvers did the same.

We met in the center.

"Imma make your mama squirt," he said through his mouthguard, right before he opened with another jab.

When I dodged he rolled his fist and caught me, dazed enough to let him slip in the right, right on my chin, jarring my jaw up into my head. Sweat whipped from my hair with the follow up cross.

I kept my feet under me, kept my hands up, catching the next flurry on my gloves and forearms. I shot a jab that bloodied his nose, put a bit more stupid in his eyes.

"Fucker," he snarled, and closed in for a dirty clinch again. For a second my body moved to throw him, take him to the ground BJJ style, but I held off. He pushed me back, driving a knee into my inner thigh. When the clinch broke he whipped a hook faster than I expected and caught me in the side of the face.

I lost my legs again, dropping to the canvas.

This time I wasn't as quick to get up...

Dull voices called my name under a roar of 'Paul! Paul! Paul!'

"Eric? Eric!"

>roll 3 x 1d100+10 dc 80

>>4950616
A question for the future: could we have used our power only to flush the exhaustion out, not to empower us in any other way?

>>4950650
yeah, write-ins like that are okay

Rolled 66 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>4950648
surely we'll pass this harder DC
>>4950650
I'll back this up if it gives us a bonus to get back up

Rolled 85 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>4950648
Rise!

Rolled 27 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>4950648
LETS GOOOOOO
(not blaming anons if they drain or exhaustion, but Ill keep it clean)

>>4950657
pass

File: 37724998abbbdf62d2930dc25(...).gif (2.02 MB, 500x269)

2.02 MB GIF

>>4950657
I love you anon

>>4950653
Thank you

>>4950656
I'm against using it at this juncture, just asking for future fights.

My body said stay down but the rest of me said 'fuck that', especially with a girl's frightened voice in my ear.

I got up and before the ref could check I drove forward at the smug boxer, back in his corner thinking he'd won.

My fist rocked his jaw, waking him up, knocking the smug off his face.

But the bell rang before I could do much else.

Two rounds to him, but the fight wasn't over.

"You're all right?" Coach Jackson asked.

I nodded, sniffing back on something in my nose.

"One more knock down like that and I'm throwing in the towel," he said.

I nodded. No point arguing with him.

Someone came in the back door, hanging around the entrance watching the fight. Stink. I hadn't seen him around the gym in a while. He watched, not making his presence known.

I spat water in the bucket, Kobi wiping sweat from my neck, ringing out the towel. Paul Danvers was in the arms of his instathots but looking a lot less confident.

"You're a tough kid, Eric," Coach Jackson said, "But no one is invincible."

I hopped up from the stool, ready for round three. Paul's ring girl walked out with the card but was booed away by my supporters.

"Come on Eric! Woo!" Miss Flores cheered, bouncing beside Dad, who was silent with white knuckle anxiety.

I stared down the bigger guy, hands up and ready. I was awake now. Fuck being tired.

The bell rang. I didn't rush in. I was careful. He worked his jabs but they couldn't touch me. I slipped and ducked, hands up to catch the edge of a punch on my arm. I worked in and opened a flurry. When he tried to clinch me again I dipped out, escaping with an upper cut that left him wobbling. The ref nearly stepped in but he shook himself out, finding his feet before I could close back in. He ate a punch on the arm, moving defensively.

Again he might be an asshole, but he could box. I slipped under a shot for my head and caught him in the sweet spot where the ear met the jaw. He lost his feet, catching himself on the ropes, looking like he didn't know where he was.

The ref started a count. The sound of numbers got him on his feet. He sprung up from the ropes, but the bell rang before we could do anything else.

Two rounds to him, one to me, with three more to go.

"That's it, that's what you need to do," Coach Jackson said, "Watch out for his clinch, keep moving, cut him down."

"You got this," Kobi said with a thumb's up.

But a fight wasn't over until it was over.

>roll 3 x 1d100+10 dc 70

Rolled 100 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>4950677
Let's goo
Sorry for bitching about the dice it's just a bit soul crushing sometimes

>>4950681
crit success

Rolled 78 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>4950677
Geddim boss

>>4950681
WOOOOOOOOO

>>4950682
Unless a 1 is rolled?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PvvDj2fnKoQ

>>4950687
Hope Eric won't go full ancient warrior on him

>>4950688
crit success always trumps crit fail

Rolled 9 (1d100)

>>4950691
In that case.
>>4950677

>>4950691
Huh. I was under the impression it was the other way around before.

>>4950693
Good to see my dice are still cursed....

>>4950694
from the first thread, posted as a reminder

>roll 100 you get a crit success

>roll 1 you get a crit fail

>crit success trump crit fails, but crit fails trump all other rolls.

>>4950697
OK. I guess I misremembered it, thank you for correction. Gotta fix my calculator then.

File: hajime-no-ippo-ippo.gif (700 KB, 220x161)

700 KB GIF

>>4950681

>>4950710
>"You're a tough kid, Eric," "But no one is invincible"
>"I know, but I'm not showing my weak side today"

>>4950710
GUTS AND MORE OXYGEN IN THOSE MUSCLES

File: Guts.jpg (55 KB, 1024x576)

55 KB JPG

>>4950723
Someone say Guts

I took a deep breath.

Closed my eyes.

'Keep moving, cut him down.'

I opened them on my opponent. The fire inside me rose, but I smothered it down.

But something took hold of me either way. I felt it, a fixed moment of clarity and unthinking awareness. The gloves in my hand became the grip on my sword.

And I wasn't in the ring any more but somewhere else.

On white stone under a red sky, the chirp of strange insects around us. A hot breeze kissed my face.

He stood in training armor, smiling, a training blade in his hand. The rounded pauldrons, the white enamel chest plate engraved with the holy fire. I knew him better than I knew my own brothers. I knew him as only a rival could.'

He raised his blade, I raised mine.'

'When we do this for real,' he said, 'The honor of carrying the fire will be mine. You're no prince, you don't have what it takes to be ashavan.'

My guts burned, feeling the truth in his taunt.

'You haven't won yet,' I said, 'And so long as I stand, I won't give up.'

He smiled with the certainity that had carried him through every trial. A certainty I admired.

'Then I'll have to knock you down!' he called.

And he flew at me across the training yard, his sword bursting into fiery light, my own rising in answer.

And in the bright clash of blades, we grinned.

The bright flash before my eyes, the ring of the bell, the ring girl with the card, blinked me back to the here and now. My mind was cool and smooth, attuned to the moment. The red glove hunting for my face killed the ghost of another man's memories.

But no thoughts replaced them, only a cold instinct.

I dropped under his punch, firing off a jab to his gut, then stepped out before he could wrap me into a clinch and weigh me down, firing off another into the side of his face.

Paul wobbled back and I took the moment, opening a combination, dancing forward as he stumbled back, rapid fire shots launched off. He got his hands up but slipped around his guard, slipped a right hook between his gloves, driving it right into his mouth. Blood and sweat both poured from him, his face puffing over, breathing hard. He stumbled back onto the ropes, catching himself, panting.

He couldn't stop the haymaker, and the ropes couldn't hold him up.

He fell with an arm hooked around a rope, leaving a bloody smear on the canvas. I haunched forward, breathing hard.

The ref barely bothered with a count. Danvers wasn't getting up. His instathots gave the dropped boxer a disappointed look, his gang of college bros booing.

But the cheers were louder. Ayesha hugged Ivy, hopping up and down, almost climbing onto her shoulders, while Ivy herself had a growing smile, eyes electric bright as she hugged Ayesha back.

"Get outta here!" Zeke said, "Go on and get fucked, Jake Paul looking clown!"

"That's how its done, that's my boy right there!" Rufus called.

I looked to the back exit. Stink had slunk out.

The medics got Danvers on his feet. The look on Paul Danvers' face was hard to make out through the bruises, but when the ref held up my hand in victory he pulled away in a churlish tantrum, looking for the comfort of his ring girls. but they were already leaving with some of his frat brothers, leaving Danvers with his coach and cornerman instead.

Me, when I stepped out of the ring I was mobbed.

"2-0, 2-0," Zeke said, shaking me, "You fucking rule dude."

I barely had the energy to smile.

"We got to celebrate," Hunter said, "Have a kickback at mine or something, goddamn."

My body groaned.

>what I need right now is rest
>a party is a good way to rest

>>4950739
>a party is a good way to rest

>>4950739
>a party is a good way to rest

>>4950739
>a party is a good way to rest
"Something Chill Hunter, please"

>>4950739
this too>>4950745

>>4950745
This

>>4950745
>>4950748
>>4950769
>>4950743
>>4950742
locked in

"A party sounds good," I said, "But chill, Hunter, a chill one please."

"Chill, yeah," Hunter said.

Everyone was down, but first I had to get checked by the medic.

Coach Jackson watched while they checked my pupils.

"You got heart, kid," he said, passing me an envelope. The sight of a grand stuffed into it made my head dizzy.'Is this legal?' I thought as I stuffed it in my bag. "Pay out from the gym Danvers trains at," he said, "Bet they thought I'd give them a can. You did good."

"Thanks coach," I mumbled through a sore jaw. I'd been beat up worse than this, and now the fight was over I wasn't shy about using my powers to help get back into some kind of shape.

I hit the showers, and as the hot water poured over me the memory I'd felt, standing on the canvas, the vision of red skies and a marble arena, washed away leaving only an etched impression. I knew it couldn't have been my imagination, it had been too vivid and besides, I'm not very creative. It had to bethe memory of the presence inside me, the one hiding in the fire.

It was troubling is what it was. Maybe the party would help me take my mind off it.

After the shower I was pretty much fixed, feeling fresh. I pulled on a shirt when I stepped out.

Dad and Miss Flores, Carmen, were waiting. Neither of them liked blood sports, but they were bright with relief and pride.

"I'm going out with some friends," I said, hiking up my bag, "Is that cool?"

"Fine by me, so long as you're home before midnight," he said.

"Well done," Miss Flores said, giving me a thumb's up.

They let me go with my friends. Rufus grabbed me around the neck. "Badass," he said.

"Where we going to?" Zeke asked, "Mine's no good, the parents are in tonight."

"Hunter, you said yours was cool?" Rufus said, "You live out by the Gold Coast or something, right?"

"My Dad does," he said, "My Mom lives in Logan Square now."

"Who you living with?" Zeke asked.

"My Mom," he said, "Hold on let me see if she's cool with us..." he tipped away on his phone, waited for a response then nodded, "Yeah, we're good."

We got to the street where the girls were waiting by a van. Ivy, Ayesha, Shonique. Sitting in the sliding door of the van was a tall Mexican guy I recognized as the bassist in Ivy's band, hair long and dark.

"So I've got a gig to get too," Ivy explained, stepping in where other band members were sitting, already starting to knot her hair back in a braid, "You guys have fun?"

"It'd be more fun with you," Ayesha said, "But you do what you've got to do."

"Trust me, it beats flipping burgers at a bowling alley," Ivy said. She saw me and got a nervous look, darted a kiss on Ayesha's cheek then went in, "Got to go!"

The van slid shut, engine rumbling as it took off.

I frowned after it. It wasn't like her to go without saying anything.

In fact it kind of hurt, a little sore point in my chest.

"Hey, you were great," Ayesha said, touching my arm.

"Huh?" I said, flicking my attention back to her, "Thanks, yeah."

"We're having a victory party at Hunter's," Rufus said, hook an arm around Shonique's neck, "You coming?"

"Bet," she said.

I stared after the van.

My phone rumbled. I checked a text.

Ivy - Sorry I had to run. Congrats on the win. Always fun watching a couple of pretty boys beat the hell out of each other. ;)

It didn't relax me much though. Was she avoiding me?

"So we going to Hunter's or what?" Zeke said.

I stared at the text.

>yeah Hunter's is good, let's chill
>actually, do you guys want to check out Ivy's gig?

back tomorrow

>>4950812
>actually, do you guys want to check out Ivy's gig?

>>4950812
>>yeah Hunter's is good, let's chill
I want ivy but going after her like this just reeks of desperation, let's talk to her later in a calm environment, not crash her concert

>>4950812
>actually, do you guys want to check out Ivy's gig?
something's up with Ivy, plus I wanna see her perform. she comes to all of our shit.

>>4950820
You're right that we need to talk to her, but I don't see how being at a concert is desperate. We're just enjoying our friend's performance. If she told us about it earlier, maybe we'd go anyway.

>>4950812
>actually, do you guys want to check out Ivy's gig?

>>4950812
>yeah Hunter's is good, let's chill

>>4950812
>>actually, do you guys want to check out Ivy's gig?

>>4950812
>actually, do you guys want to check out Ivy's gig?

Let's see where this rabbit hole is going.
(Should we text her we going? )

>>4951010
Let's not make her nervous ahead of time. And maybe we'll see something she's hiding.

>>4950812
>actually, do you guys want to check out Ivy's gig?
Something's off.

>>4950812
>yeah Hunter's is good, let's chill

Eric won't be able to handle seeing Ivy riding in Paul's lambo

>>4951036
>>4951010
>>4950941
>>4950857
>>4950827
>>4950819
locked in

"Actually, do you guys want to check out Ivy's gig?" I said, slipping away my phone.

They exchanged a look, then a shrug.

"Sure, why not?" Rufus said.

"Let's go support our girl," Ayesha said.

"Where's it at anyway?" Zeke said.

"Aces and Eights," Ayesha said, "It's a dive bar in Wicker Park."

"Can we even get in?" Zeke asked but by then the uber was rolling up. We squeezed in, and Ayesha gave the driver the address. We'd be racing Ivy there. Traffic was bad though, and a late snow was falling outside the window.

I checked out Aces and Eights on my phone. Finding it wasn't easy even with google street view. Hole in the wall was right, it was down an alley then down a flight of stairs. The only sign it was there was a hand of playing cards painted on the wall above the entrance, not even a name, literally a pair of aces and a pair of eights.

By the time we got out it was dark and the wind was rising. Suddenly our trip felt dangerous. Wicker Park wasn't any kind of rough neighborhood, but it did have a party scene, a strip of bars and clubs that saw people lined up in the cold in all kinds of get up. Me, I'd busted a couple of frat boys this way a time or two, but the others weren't used to being out in places like this. 'Adult' spaces where you didn't know if the laughter would stay friendly or something would break out. Zeke was the most uncomfortable, and stuck close to Hunter, while Rufus tightened his grip around Shonique's shoulders.

We also weren't dressed for the kind of place Aces and Eights looked like it would be. When we turned down the alley we walked on a guy in white biker leathers, Stunt Crew MC, taking a loud, public piss, beer bottle behind his feet, more lined up to enter. My back went up by instinct at the sight of the outlaw biker gang, but Ayesha's hand on my arm forced me to relax.

Not everyone lined up was a biker, but tough leather jackets were a theme, with large facial hair even on some of the women. Ayesha, in a tartan skirt and orange sweater, looked better dressed for a book club meeting. The others were only a little better while I dressed like a bum in a hoodie and dirty sneakers.

It wouldn't only be our age that got us turned back, but we waited in line anyway, cold creeping on but Wicker Park's night life alive and thriving despite it.

"Hold up," the bouncer said when we got to the door, "ID?"

He had a look like he knew any ID we might have would be bullshit.

"18 and over, and if you aren't 21 you get the pink wrist band," he said, "Means you won't be served alcohol, got me? And there's a $10 entrance fee."

We nodded. He held out his hand.

"So let's see those IDs."

Shit.

>maybe there's a back way we can sneak in
>hand over the envelope of cash
>ask nicely, that's bound to work

>>4951633
>maybe there's a back way we can sneak in
I'm kinda tempted to threaten him with Sully's displeasure but that might threaten our identity.

>>4951656
>no fuckin way are we blowing 1000 bucks on this
you can write-in a lower amount if you want

remember guys, write-ins are always open

>>4951633
Throw him 400 bucks then I guess. I don't think money management is gonna be an integral part of the quest anyway

>>4951633
text Ivy, see if she can get us in. we're not trying to drink, we just wanna see her play.

>>4951684
Sure, let's do that, but 300. It's 50 per person, should be more than enough for a hole in the wall.

>>4951727
>>4951684
locked in

"Here, the name's Ben," I said, slipping him three hundred dollar bills.

Two of them went into his pocket.

"Mr President," he said, getting out the wrist bands, waving us through.

The others were quiet until we were half way down the stairs.

"Jesus," Zeke said, slapping my back, "Smooth."

"Franklin was never president," Ayesha scoffed, but was impressed despite herself.

We walked down into the adult club, band posters with tour dates papering the walls all the way down. Another bouncer, a big guy with a curly red beard and a pair of shades, checked our wrist bands before letting us in. We got in to loud music and a busy floor space. It was grimey but grimey by design, with low lights intercut with spots of red and yellow. It wasn't all that big, the bar area was a slice of space with standing tables, overlooking a dance floor set in front of the stage, with a wire mesh screen protecting the band.

Ivy's band, the Blisters, weren't performing yet. From a flyer there were a few bands playing tonight, and first up was a band out from Aurora, the Dartboard Angels. The crowd wasn't feeling them and they didn't fit the scene, with a hipster Mumford and Sons kind of vibe, not just in how they played but how they dressed. All they had in common with the crowd was facial hair, the rest was flannel shirts, arm sleeve tattoos and big fleshy holes in their ears, with a surprisingly high pitched singer and for some reason a scratch board accompaniment.

They had given up on trying to win the crowd, and were just trying to get through their set.

I checked on the others. Nervous energy, a good kind of fear, as they found a corner for ourselves as more people came in. Zeke was looking everywhere, ready to hop out of himself, while Rufus tried to play it cool but wasn't able to hide his nerves. Hunter went up to the bar. Being tall as a redwood Hunter blended in better than the rest of us, and the woman behind the counter didn't bother to check his ID before serving him a beer.

"Well here we are," I said, pretending I didn't recognize the pair of Latin Reapers who walked by our spot.

"When does Ivy play?" Ayesha asked.

I scanned the flyer. "First up is the Dartboard Angels," I said. They booed. "Then a band called Mudcore, then Three Degress of Warming, then the Blisters."

"Sheesh, that's a wait," Hunter said, downing his beer, watching a couple of heavy metal girls walk by in tight leather.

"Consider it a chance to enjoy some of Chicago's premier live music scene," Ayesha said.

"Would be nicer if it had good music," Shonique said, "And the place didn't smell like wet dog. Can we hit a nicer club next? My uncle's played the Subterranean. He can probably get us in."

"Next time," Rufus muttered, eyeing the crowd uncomfortably.

It was a rougher set, but not as rough as Rufus might have thought. I could tell the difference between an outlaw biker and a guy who liked the look, and other than a few Stunt Crew MC goons and a couple of Latin Reapers, the only danger here would be from falling over in the mosh pit. Though my friends didn't have a sense for these things.
Truth is while I was acting cool, I was more used to these kinds of places in my other name. Hotspur got a path cleared for him when he made an appearance, Eric Miller had to wrestle through the crowd like anyone else.

"Watch it kid," some wannabe tough guy said when I squeezed past. I got a round of pop from the bar, brought it back, even though my bribe had got us the over 21 treatment.

Ayesha clicked her fingers along to the song, taking a long sip.

"Would Malcolm like this place?" she asked. I shrugged. She got out her phone to text him.

"Hey guys, group selfie," Zeke said, getting out his own phone. We squeezed into frame, smiling as he took a snap. "Man this is cool," he said, looking around in wonderment at the cramped, greasy walled dive.

It was a good imitation of a genuine shit hole, but it needed a certain kind of hopelessness for flavor that this place lacked. The people here were looking for a good time, not the hedonistic rush toward oblivion I'd seen in the worse places, where the hopeless went to chase some kind of sensation might make them forget how burdensome their lives were.

No, got to not be Hotspur right now. I needed to enjoy the moment. I sat through the next set with a nervous clutch in my gut. I don't know why. I'd seen Ivy perform before.

"How'd you get the scars?" Shonique asked.

"Huh?" my attention snapped around to her.

"When you had your shirt off you had scars," she said. Shonique was the type if she had a question she'd ask it point blank, never mind good manners. "Nasty ass scars."

Ayesha sat forward, as nervous as I was. Saying I got them pulling her out of an exploding building probably wasn't a smart idea.

"Car crash," I lied. It would do. "I don't like taking my shirt off."

"Yeah, makes sense," Shonique said, clearly uncomfortable in the club. Hunter and Rufus took turns buying from the bar. At one point Rufus came back with a cocktail.

"A screwdriver," he explained.

"Hard liqour for a kid," a smooth new voice said.

Ayesha spun around in delighted surprise. "Malcolm, you came," she said.

"And you," he said with a smooth grin, "Are being very bad tonight. Aren't you a good girl? I thought you were straight edge all the way."

"I've got layers you don't even know about," she said, flashing dimples as he took her around the waist. "And besides, I have to be here for Ivy, right?"

Malcolm noticed me over Ayesha's head. "Eric," he said, oddly cold as he pulled her closer. Possessive. Ayesha didn't pick up on it.

"Malcolm," I said.

Hunter stared, the alcohol starting to hit him, then started giggling.

The last band, Three Degrees of Warming, wrapped up with scattered applause.

Ivy would be up next. We turned our attention to the stage as roadies went out to set up the equipment. We were a knot of anticipation in an unconcerned crowd. Ayesha bit her lip, bouncing. She grabbed my hand, squeezing it.

"She'll kick ass," I promised.

The crowd must have sensed something was different with the first beat of the drum. The song opened slow, the drum on its own almost a monotone beat. Then a guitar growled in, setting off a smoke machine.

"Productions and everything," Shonique muttered.

The band were dark shapes in the smoke, setting into their instruments. Whatever this was I didn't have it pegged for a cover.

"Kind of Black Sabbath huh," Malcolm said.

A figure raised her arms in the smoke, a dark figure with sculpted curves. She stepped out, the smoke parting around her. She wore the crown of horns, the leather bikini top and tight vinyl pants, and had added a short crop leather jacket on top. Her bright blonde hair was twisted back into a pair of braids that curled down her shoulders, and her pale body shone in contrast to all the tight black leather. But seeing it in person was different from a photo. Seeing her step out with a dark confidence, the smoke curling off her, a wicked kind of look like some kind of evil princess, taking in the crowd as if they were a gang of peasants all beneath her.

I swallowed. Ayesha swallowed a breath too, hand hot and fidgeting in mine.

It was an attention grabber.

Then she sang, microphone raised and foot slammed down.

'Baby burn me up
Burn me out
Burn us both away.'

'Give me your fire
Give me your flame
I can take it
I can take the pain.'

The band burst hard behind her, the slow growl building faster. Ivy's voice was strong, pounding over it. Not the kind of metal growl but something different. The voice I'd first heard at her sister's bedside now roaring out as she strut behind the cage. A wicked heavy metal princess commanding the crowd, mosh pit filling up. Intense, letting it all pour out with a certain kind of viciousness.

I stared.

'I can see you burning,
Burning away.'

"Wow, okay, that's a look," Malcolm said, too cool for the music, "Lyrics are kind of middle school though."

Ayesha shot him an irritated look he laughed off.

The others vibed, half-caught.

The song ended, and when it did so did some of Ivy's mask.

She smiled with a bit of nerves, twisting a button on her tight pants.

"We're the Blisters," she said, "This next one is a cover. You might not like it, but fuck you all anyway."

She went back and swung on a guitar.

"It's called Casey's Last Ride, if you guys don't dig it, keep it to yourselves."

Then she struck a note.

It was a dark song, it was slow, and when she sang she sang like she was mourning someone or something.

'Casey joins the hollow sound of silent people walking down
The stairway to the subway in the shadows down below
Following their footsteps through the neon-darkened corridors
Of silent desperation, never speakin' to a soul'

The crowd didn't mind even if it was slow, but it didn't suit Ivy's look at all.

When it hit the chorus and it switch so slow and sweet, Ayesha sniffed beside me, eyes starting to fill with tears.

Oh!' she said, 'Casey, it's been so long since I've seen you!'
'Here” she said, 'just a kiss to make a body smile!'
'See' she said, 'I've put on new stockings just to please you!'
'Lord!' she said, 'Casey, can you only stay a while?'

It was the furthest thing from a wild song you could get.

When it wrapped up Ivy grinned into the microphone.

"Like I said, fuck you all. That one's by the great Kris Kristofferson. Now this next one, this one's by me."

The lyrics started.

'Fuck you, buy me a beer.'

And continued like that for four minutes of pounding thrash.

I don't know if she saw us, her attention went to her guitar, a look of bliss on her face as she shredded. Blister was a good name, she had bandaids around the tips of most her fingers, pouring with sweat by the time they were done.

Ask me they were the best thing about the night. I was buzzing with an electricity I could only compare to gun fire.

"You guys want to sneak back stage, say hi?" Ayesha asked. She said it to everyone but was grabbing my arm. Malcolm glared behind her.

>hell yeah I do, let's surprise her
>maybe we can wait for her to come out

chunky update

>>4951806
>hell yeah I do, let's surprise her

poor malcolm. why was he even here?

>>4951806
>hell yeah I do, let's surprise her

Take her arm off and point her towards Malcolm, I hate the asshole but I despise cheating behavior even more, brake up with him if you're pulling this kind of Shit Ayesha!!!

>>4951806
>hell yeah I do, let's surprise her

>>4951806
>hell yeah I do, let's surprise her

>>4951806
>hell yeah I do, let's surprise her
Let's be nosy

>>4951806
>hell yeah I do, let's surprise her

locking that in

"Hell yeah, let's surprise her," I said, squeezing Ayesha's hand.

It was only in a self-concious moment, helped by Malcolm's glare, that I realized how it looked, and slid my hand out of hers. Malcolm took her by the waist, pulling her back to him.

"Hey, easy there," Ayesha said, grinning back at him, a little embarassed about how he was pressed against her. She peeled off from his grip. "Sorry, getting a little caught up in the moment."

"Me too," he replied, with a cold touch that made Ayesha frown.

"Well let's go," Zeke said. Hunter stumbled drunk with us, making our way toward the back, a side door to reach the dressing rooms. There was no real sneaking through to the dressing rooms, security blocked our way.

"We're friends of the band, Blister?" Zeke said, "Yeah, so if you don't mind-"

"Easy little man," the bouncer said, a hand raised to hold Zeke back, "Staff only back here."

"Hey come on," Malcolm said, putting himself in front, "You can make an exception, right?" The corner of a bill stood out on his hand. The security guard checked around, then gave a short nod, stepping aside.

We went down a short dark corridor.

"So which one is Ivy's?" Rufus wondered, still trying to act cool in front of Shonique.

Hunter stumbled and almost fell over. Malcolm caught him with Zeke's help.

"Before we go anywhere else I think your pal here needs the bathroom," Malcolm said, looking around for a toilet sign. They went together.

"You know I might need to freshen up too," Shonique said, giving Rufus a suggestive look.

"Cool, I'll wait for you," he said.

It was her continued stare that got him to realize what she meant. He pulled at his collar.

"Ah yeah, okay," he said, following her off.

It left me with Ayesha to find Blister's change room. It was small enough back here it didn't take long.

"-hot tonight," a man's voice, "Bet your boyfriend is killing himself for missing that."

"Don't talk about Dane, okay?" Ivy replied. We came up on the door, stopped to exchange a look. "It did go well didn't it."

"You were the hottest thing in Chicago," he kept saying, "We would be in hella trouble if they knew you're only sixteen."

"Man, a kid like Dane can't handle a woman like you."

The sound of tight leather.

"Hey, watch those hands Ramon."

"You liked my hands the other night..." he was sly, "You liked a lot of things about me."

Ayesha's frown deepened. She didn't like what she was hearing, I didn't either.

"It was a fun mistake, but it was a mistake Ram," she said, "Okay, I said watch those hands. Last warning."

Ayesha pushed through the door with a fixed smile, me a step behind her.

Ivy stood in the middle of the dressing room, her bassist, a lanky Mexican guy, lounging on a seat with his guitar in his lap, reaching a lazy hand for Ivy's ass. She'd pulled away, she wasn't interested. Ivy had taken off the big ornamental crown and the short leather jacket and big leather boots. She was down to just the leather top and tight vinyl pants, hip holes cut out, skin glistening with sweat, hair untied into sweaty matted curls.

When she saw us her face flooded with relief. She lunged right over.

"Yesha!" Ivy bounced her up into a hug, "You came, you saw?"

"Everything," Ayesha said.

Behind them Ramon grinned and muttered, "Tease."

"Girl you were lit," Ayesha said, planting a kiss on Ivy's cheek. Ivy, grinning and flush, turned her head and caught Ayesha in a lip kiss. I was surprised. Ramon was surprised too. Ayesha was the most surprised but didn't pull away, if anything leaning into it a little. It didn't last long though and Ivy beamed with a big grin.

"Sorry, I'm still riding the rush," Ivy said, blushing.

"N-no its cool," Ayesha said, checking her hair.

Me I didn't know what to say. It wasn't their first kiss but...

"Eric," Ivy said it like she wasn't expecting me, turning away to get something off a dresser. She pulled on a loose Cubbies jersey. "You guys enjoy the show?"

"It was badass," I said, but I couldn't take my mind off their kiss or the conversation I'd overheard. Truth was the conversation had killed my buzz.

"This is Ramon, the bassist and sometimes keyboard player," she said, "The other boys are off chasing tail. Ramon, these are my...friends, Ayesha and Eric."

"Hey," he said, "Bit past your bedtime, school girl?"

Ayesha rolled her eyes.

"Eric, the boxer, right," he said, turning his focus on me. I didn't like the way he said 'the boxer', like I had a double digit IQ and struggled with basic math. "I was wondering why we had to stop off at that gym. It's funny I never heard about you until today."

"Ram, be nice," Ivy warned. He smiled but saw the cold seriousness in her eyes. Now when she looked at me her expression relaxed, almost embarassed. "I didn't think you'd come after the fight," she said, "You took a beating."

"I've been hurt worse," I said, "And I won that fight, don't forget."

"Still, its not a lot of fun watching you get knocked around," she said.

"You were badass," I said, "Seriously."

She winked. "Right back at you."

She was packing up her stuff like she meant to go, wiggling out of the tight vinyl pants to a black thong. It's not something I felt I should be watching and looked away, but she didn't mind. She kicked the tight vinyl away and pulled on more comfortable blue jeans. She became a completely different person to the one we'd seen on stage, back to the Ivy we knew. She flicked out her sweaty hair, took a half empty beer bottle and finished it off.

"We going out to celebrate? Pat's got a thing going on out U of C way," Ram asked, "The promoters loved us. Taz was saying we might even get a feature in Innerview Magazine."

"Taz talks a load of horse shit," Ivy replied. She smiled at us. "You go do what you want, Ram, I found my party."

She hooked an arm through mine and one through Ayesha's.

"So, where too next?" she asked, flushed with victory and alcohol.

>home, rest, its been a long night
>where ever you want Ivy
>somewhere quiet, we should talk

>>4951944
>somewhere quiet, we should talk

Ivy, you cheated on Dane, tell him or I will


Bullpen,I still love ivy despite your best efforts to dissuade me, but this girl is completely out of control!

>>4951944
>where ever you want Ivy
>but go ahead, I'll catch up in a moment
>when they go, make it clear to Ramon that we'll feed his fingers to him, literally, if he keeps harassing Ivy

>>4951944
>somewhere quiet, we should talk
this weird thing sexual tension shit between Ayesha Ivy and Eric is actually toxic as fuck, we need to address it. something's gotta change
>Ivy cheating on Dane
>Ayesha emotionally cheating on Malcolm with Eric
>Eric having unresolved feelings for Ivy
>Ayesha and Ivy being half-assed lesbians for each other
Sidenote literally every girl we know is actively bisexual, bullpen wasn't kidding about his coomer urges influencing the quest

>>4951949
Keeping my original vote but adding >>4951971
To it, this shit has got to stop, they both have boyfriends and we gotta get this shit out in the open, Ayesha didn't do as much wrong as ivy who physically cheated on Dane, but she's still taking the steps of cheating


Also if my ID changes its because I'm out shopping right now, just wanted to clarify because I don't want to be accused of samefagging