Slayer Anderson
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Butler Boy - Chapter 5
🕑 Added 2025-08-05 10:41:41 +0000 UTCI had the week off from school.
As much as I enjoyed it, that also meant the week crept by without a reliable schedule or time sink. The only thing that mattered in any real way was the daily set of medications my mother thought I still needed to take and the movies or television shows I wanted to watch/record. Granted, both of my parents kept a pretty strong watch on my viewing habits, so South Park was not an option, but Daria had just started coming out this year.
That and Buffy, Stargate, Power Rangers Turbo, Recess, TMNT meant I had a mostly-full schedule.
I didn't even have homework to fill the empty hours.
Because the school was still closed pending a full remediation of that entire bunker.
Thankfully, there were a few people who had volunteered to at least distract me from the tedium.
“-so, yeah, I'm actually perfectly fine. Even stopped coughing up crap that got into my lungs down there by now,” I explained, my eyes glued to a muted episode of Johnny Bravo as the titular character strutted across the screen.
“I'll let everyone in the troop know, man. It's been totally crazy around town. Can't believe those Baxter douches actually pulled something like that.”
I hummed. “Yeah, it sucks. I've mostly been camping out on the sofa. Mom wants to keep where she can see me for a while.”
“I can only imagine. My mom would freak the F out if anything like that happened to me. I keep trying to get her to let me come over and visit, but the news guys camped out in the street in front of your house are making her wig out.”
“Tell me about it, Mike,” I groused, turning my head slightly to look through one of the dining room windows, grateful that they'd been positioned to where I could see out, but they couldn't see me. “Things have been on lockdown around here. Is the troop doing anything this week? I could totally use an excuse to get out of the house right now.”
“Ah... I guess? We're meeting up to discuss spring break stuff. Big camp out, you know? Badges and all that.”
“When and where?” I probed, mentally calculating the chances I'd be allowed to attend.
“Jimmy's. We can't use the pool yet, but the hot tub is inside and on a heater, so...”
I clicked my tongue. “Probably can't do that, but I can sit out and chill.”
“Yeah, um... hey, can I ask a question?”
I clenched my eyes. “I swear to The Source, Mike... if this is about my sister again...”
There were some parts of the twenty-first century I didn't miss. In fact, there were some part that I'd go ahead and attest to loathing with a visceral hatred that surpassed the heat of a thousand stars. What I didn't miss was the general recognition that some habits of the teenage male were – in fact – really creepy and should be considered harassment on some level.
Like when one of your friends attempted to get you to steal a pair of your sister's underwear after watching Revenge of the Nerds with their older brother and getting ideas.
Funny in theory.
Not in practice.
“No way... you, uh – last time I bugged you, you almost broke my nose, I get it. I just... are you really rich?”
I grimaced like I'd bitten into something rotten. “It's not my money. I know what the news has been saying, but it's not. My parents made the investments with their money-”
“But you told them what to buy, right? So, like, it's money that you made, even if they're holding it for you.”
I rubbed at my face tiredly, already exhausted by this conversation. “That's not really how it works, Mike.”
That was exactly how it worked.
At least, mostly. I wouldn't get all the money, even if it was my 'genius investment insight' that had earned it, and I was okay with that. Once you got past a million dollars, anything else was gravy. If I'd wanted it, I could have had it all, but as long as I had enough cash at the end of the day to buy a remote cabin in British Columbia or somewhere equally-unlikely to be at the forefront of an alien invasion, I'd be fine.
As it was, the stock portfolio was divided up into six shares. My parents would each get one of them for retirement and my brother and sister would both get one when they hit twenty-five. The remaining two – by the family's non-me unanimous consensus – went to me. None of them would automatically cash out and I had executive control over what got bought and sold until such time, but I wanted a loving family more than I wanted a pile of money.
The entire thing had been something of an accident, anyway.
I'd been six when word got out that Bruce 'Prodigal Son' had returned from whatever abyss he'd thrown himself into after he dropped out of boarding school at sixteen and vanished off the face of the Earth. That had coincided with the announcement that Wayne Enterprises would be undergoing an IPO to fund an expansion, taking the company public after Bruce had finally been declared legally dead and the board of directors had wrested control of the company from Alfred Pennyworth.
I'd been watching the news, the fascination with DC-verse in-universe broadcasting not having worn off yet, and I'd laughed out loud at the idea that financial commentators were discussing Bruce as some drunken, drug-addled, borderline suicidal layabout who'd finally come crawling back for a big payout from his family fortune.
That shit was funny, let me tell you.
My parents, though, had interpreted it as me making fun of someone who'd lost their parents and suffered through the pain of loss.
I'd had to get... creative with my explanation to avoid punishment.
The end result was me asserting that the stock price would go really high after the IPO, then crash about a month after the dust settled when everyone realized Bruce Wayne had bought out the stocks through shell companies, and then shoot back a few months later once he proved he was really good at the job. And now, you know, some crazy guy who'd been laid out doing heroin for the past few years by pawning off his parent's silverware.
I had that article framed, actually.
Because, as it turned out, a certain bespectacled reporter had to do some yellow journalism news work to get the more 'serious' work.
More to the point, though, my father had found the prognostications of a six year old about the financial future of a multi-billion dollar business empire amusing enough that he'd decided to invest. It wasn't really belief in my predictions, so much as it was a general understanding that buying into the Wayne IPO might actually net some profit.
It did. Nothing amazing, since we were 'Dumb Money' investors who couldn't shell out tens of thousands of dollars, but my dad had taken some of our family's rainy day fund and netted a few thousand when all was said and done. Then, when two weeks had passed, he'd sold them off and put the money into less volatile funds.
Then, just as I'd predicted, Bruce had started unilaterally reorganizing the board of directors with the revelation that he was the new majority owner.
The stocks had plummeted.
Bruce was only twenty-two at this point, after all. No matter his pedigree, he hadn't finished high school. Then he'd vanished for nearly six years with absolutely no accounting for his whereabouts. For all anyone knew, he actually had been slumming it with drug dealers, thieves, and prostitutes!
...and, I mean... they wouldn't necessarily be wrong, but that was missing the point.
My father had been spooked enough by the entire thing not to question me when I’d nodded at him three weeks later and told him to buy as much Wayne Enterprises stock as he safely could.
My parents couldn't explain it, so they didn't.
Mom thought it was probably some kind of divine revelation, an insight from God Himself to a devout and clean-living family so that He could stealthily reward those who kept the faith.
Dad thought I was a genius, as evidenced by the fact that the school already wanted to move me up a grade even that young, given I clearly wasn't being challenged.
When pressed for an explanation, I'd simply shrugged and said, 'It seemed obvious.'
Eventually, when people realize there aren't answers to be had, they stop asking.
I'd made a few more calls over the years. Like the one when Oliver Queen had been found years after being shipwrecked on a jungle island. Riding that rollercoaster had been... interesting, given that Ollie and his mother were constantly at each other's throats for control of the company. I didn't know the Queens as well as the Waynes, granted, but with the murderous vigilante known as The Arrow running around Star City, I could read between the lines and tell when things were about to get messy.
I had missed a few calls, too.
Kordtech had blindsided me, for instance, but I'd been right more than I'd been wrong. More than I had any right to be correct, really.
Which was why I had the family's stock broker's number and he had strict instructions to listen to whatever came out of my mouth like biblical writ.
Most of it, admittedly, was guesswork. Clever guesswork, on occasion, like the business with the Queen family, but guesswork nonetheless. I also credited my 'future knowledge' with my success, too. The world of Superman and Batman wasn't precisely on-track with a 'normal' world, but there were patterns in the technological shifts, if you knew what you were looking for. Right now, for instance, our stocks had been riding the over-valued bubble that was the early public internet. I expected that to pop soon, though, just as it had in my previous life.
“But you still have a lot of money, right?”
Mike's tone was pressing, the voice of a friend who wanted to leverage their relationship to get something. Which, in turn, was exactly the reason I hadn't been forthcoming with the details. Mike wasn't a bad kid, he was just a teenager in the nineties. There was always something to buy, something that would impress or alter social status.
“Think of it like your dad's baseball cards,” I replied instead of confirming. “What do you think he would do if you took one and sold it without checking with him first?”
There was silence over the line, and I could practically feel the wince.
“Oh... but, then... that guy on the news said you got to pick when to sell stuff, I thought?”
“I still have to run it by my mom and dad, dude,” I half-lied. If I needed to make a time-sensitive call on stocks, I had our broker's number, but I still had to justify those calls to my parents.
They weren't completely insane.
“Who's going to let a thirteen year old run the bank account? Both of us would order pizza every night and end up bankrupt by the end of the month,” I chuckled, stretching lazily.
The nonchalant attitude carried through the phone and Mike laughed back. “Ah... yeah, you're right. Sorry, I just thought... anyway, Astrid's been asking about you.”
Despite myself, I felt my heart skip a beat.
“Honestly, I'd be shocked if someone hadn't asked about me,” I replied, graciously allowing the topic change, but not willing to grant him teasing rights just yet. “Everyone knows we're tight, so I imagine they've been blowing up your phone.”
Mike gave another awkward laugh. “No, no... yeah, pretty much. Everyone thought you were hooked up to IVs and stuff, like on TV. But you're basically fine, right?”
Points where it counted, he sounded legitimately concerned. “I mean, they did have me on an IV the first night, but that was just to make sure I wasn't dehydrated. Past that, I've just had to take a bunch of pills and not get too worked up. No exercise or anything.”
“Cool, cool... uh, listen, I've gotta' go, alright? Let me know if you can make the thing for the scouts, okay? Jimmy's on Thursday, three o'clock since we're out of school.”
“I'll let you know when I know,” I promised, exchanged a few more words, then hung up, sighing deeply as I looked on somewhat nostalgically at the antiquated living room phone. Even now, the kitchen had a wireless one and I knew this piece of eighties-style antiquity was due for the chopping block once someone got around to replacing it.
But I'd saved the rotary phone from the trash when it got replaced and I'd save this one, too.
I was seriously considering a vow to never get a cellphone in this life, much less a smartphone.
“That Mike Grissom?”
I blinked, turning to see Addie leaning against the doorway. Snorting, I nodded. “Yep.”
“Thanks for not letting him steal my panties back then,” Addie smirked, and I felt my cheeks redden despite myself. “Little shit deserved the black eye you gave him.”
“He's gotten better,” I shrugged, looking away. “A bit, at least.”
“Well, shove over and let me grab some couch,” Addie ordered, walking over and dropping into place beside me even as I scrambled to move in time. “Even if he was a turd, I'm glad you're keeping in touch with kids your age. Algie says you're doing alright in high school – besides this stuff – but Big Sis has to worry, right?”
I hummed, tossing her the remote. “Here, whatever you want. I'm pretty burned out on TV by this point, honestly.”
“Hardcore porn it is,” Addie joked, leaning back on the couch and beginning to surf the channels. “Which I can totally do because Mom's gone, Algie's out with the team, and Dad's at work.”
“Your funeral,” I shrugged, reaching for my drawing pad and slipping my feet up onto the coffee table now that I had confirmation Mom wasn't here.
“...but, instead, I think I want to go ahead and cash in that talk you wanted to have,” Addie stated, hitting the power button and letting the CRT fade to black. “Get it out of the way before I forget, go back to school, and curiosity kills me for the rest of the semester.”
I blinked, looking at her owlishly for a long moment. “Talk?”
Her shoulders drooped and her stare flattened out. When she spoke, it was with a voice coated in light disbelief. “That super serious talk you wanted to have? Back at the hospital? That you were worried about the get-well flowers hearing?”
I twitched, inadvertently clenching my fingers so tightly the pencil in my hand snapped. Looking down at it in mild surprise, I sighed and reached over to drop it on the end table with a grumble.
All that under the narrowed gaze of my sister.
So, yeah, being unable to actually use the more 'active' stuff I'd gotten from the gacha so far... I'd ended up finally testing out Stim over the last few days. Twice, specifically. And... the results had me wearing slightly baggier clothing to disguise the reduction of fat reserves and the too-fast development of muscle tone.
There were limits, obviously, but even without exercise using an ability which – per the text – rebuilt your body, well... it had benefits.
That, and I think the Blessing of Hestia was having a compounding effect. Beyond the burst of good health I'd received from the initial bestowal, it seemed like it made Stim more effective. Not that it straight up healed me 'more,' but that each use of my healing was inclined to 'repair me' to a state that was slightly better than before.
At least, I thought so. I didn't have a baseline to compare it to or anything, so I was working off best guesses here. Regardless, compounding effects like that were something I would need to watch out for.
“See, I was going to see what you had to say about Jamie Richards, but I kinda' want to talk about that now,” Addie pointed to the remains of my drawing pencil.
“What about Jamie Richards?” I asked, completely and intentionally ignoring the other matter.
Adelaide gave me an unimpressed look, then shook her head. “Arden, Little Bro, whatever you think of me, I am not that stupid. Algernon might be, in my place, but you asked me to pick you up a bunch of sharpies, glitter pins, a white hoodie, and a pair of mirrored aviators... then the next night some kid who apparently got his cancer cured is talking about how he saw an angel wearing the exact same thing?”
“You make a compelling argument,” I hummed, putting aside my pad and frowning. “If one based entirely on circumstantial evidence, it must be noted.”
Giving me a thoroughly unimpressed look, now, Addie nodded and made to get up off the couch. “No, you're right. We should bring Mom and Dad in on this, what was I thinking?”
“Alright, alright!” I sighed, throwing up my hands. “I didn't say you were wrong.”
“I will tickle you until you lose bowel control, you little shit,” Addie promised in a low voice, the threat belied by the real concern in her eyes as she leaned over me. “What the actual fuck, Arden?!”
For a moment, I debated omitting something. I could just tell her I 'got powers' and leave it at that. This was still the wild west of the metahuman emergence. No one understood anything beyond certain rumors of a 'metagene' being involved, there wasn't even an actual test for it yet, if there ever would be. I never recalled that actually happening in the various media I'd seen.
“I accidentally summoned a chaos imp from the fifth dimension while I was dying down in the bunker and he gave me crazy roulette powers,” I replied instead.
Adelaide stared at me, blinking rapidly. “What?”
“I'm against telling Mom because she'll think I sold my soul to the devil, but the Lucifer runs a nightclub in LA and he's retired from running Hell anyway,” I continued, having gotten curious and actually checked to see if that was a thing.
My sister's mouth opened and closed.
“So I got the power to heal myself and other people if I shoot them up with my blood, but I think the government will black-bag me and use me as a pack of heal-juice for some rich old guys if I let anyone know, so if you love me you won't tell anyone.”
Addie closed her eyes, reaching up slowly and starting to massage her head under the assault of information.
“Oh, and I was bullshitting an excuse earlier about the art stuff. I totally got the random power to be a master artist through the power roulette thing and just wanted a semi-plausible reason to suddenly be good at art.”
Finally, she reached out and put her hand over my mouth, making a long, drawn-out shush in a wordless request for silence.
I resisted the urge to lick her hand.
This was a very serious moment, after all.
Slightly manic ice blue eyes slowly opened and stared at me. “Is that it?”
I shook my head in the negative. I hadn't even gotten to the fire powers yet.
“Okay,” Addie inhaled deeply and sighed it out. “Fuck. Shit. Uhhh... look, Ardie... you kind of just broke my brain right now. I need some time, so no more crazy bullshit for a bit, okay?”
I nodded my head slowly.
She removed her hand and sat back into the couch before reaching up to rub at her eyes with the heels of her palms.
I reached over to my fruit juice – I'd already burned through my soda allowance for the week, suck on the couch – and drew a long slurp through the straw.
Adelaide slowly dropped her hands from her eyes and turned to me with a gaze that was now slightly bloodshot.
It didn't improve her claim to sanity at all, especially with the way her hair was getting mussed and sticking out at odd angles.
I locked eyes with my sister, slurped one more time, then released the curly straw before giving a refreshing gasp.
Adelaide simply grabbed a pillow, put it on her knees, then practically doubled over as she let loose a scream into the cushion that had the three loafing dogs in the living room suddenly perk up and look around in a mild panic... before promptly chilling out and rolling over. After a long moment, Adelaide pulled herself back up into a proper sitting position, gasping for air with a healthy flush on her face.
“Feel better?” I asked.
“Much, yeah,” Addie nodded, then looked at me. “So... powers?”
I nodded back, put my juice down, and reached into my pencil case for the syringe I'd... liberated from the hospital. Popping it out of the wrapper, I went through the motions of sterilizing my inner elbow before lining the needle up-
I focused.
-and, ignoring my sister's wide-eyed gaze, sank the tiny tube of hollow metal into a vein and pulled the plunger back. After a moment, the tube was full, and I looked up at her. “Kleenex?”
Snapping out of her shock and giving me a wordless look of righteous irritation, Addie reached over and handed me a few tissues while she muttered under her breath. In a deft move, I applied the tissues to the tiny wound and pulled the needle out.
Which, yeah, had taken a bit of practice.
Also a few more 'liberated' syringes.
I healed fast, thankfully.
Using the last tissue to wipe the needle clean, I looked over at my sister and held it up. “Here. It'll... fix, what happened.”
Addie swallowed, the muscles in her throat visibly working as her hands clenched and released. “Arden... you can't just...”
I held up my free hand and snapped my fingers, flame popping into existence as it danced around them in intricate designs. “I might not actually be an angel, but... this will work, Addie. Trust me, please?”
Adelaide closed her eyes tightly for another moment, then took the syringe.
…
An hour – and several crying fits – later, Addie had eaten most of a tub of ice cream and snagged me an extra coke from where she knew the parents kept more.
I was still looking at the pair of silver tickets I'd gotten.
“So... you just do things and get these magic tickets, huh?” Addie asked, for probably the fifth time. It was unlike her to be so uncertain, but... well, this shit.
“Pretty much,” I nodded, still rubbing the tickets between my fingers.
“You don't sound too happy to have just earned two new superpowers,” Addie noted, absently putting the cap back on the tub of ice cream. “What gives?”
I worked my jaw for a moment, then shrugged. I mean, I'd told her for a reason. For lots of reasons, really. “It's just... I got a silver ticket for telling you about the gacha and... another one for healing you. But that's not why I did it. That wasn't why I healed Jamie. Does... getting rewarded like this make me... make what I do for people... doesn't it just become self-serving?”
Adelaide stared at me for a long moment, then nodded-
-and reached over to dope slap me upside the back of the head.
“Ow! Shit... Sis, what the hell?” I asked, rubbing my now-sore head.
“Don't be a dumbass Ardie. You're smarter than that,” Adelaide shook her head and sighed, leaning back. “Yeah, alright, I kind of get it. You're worried that you're going to start looking for things you can do for people just to get tickets or powers or whatever... and, since we're not an exception to the 'people are shitty' rule, you're probably right.”
I deflated a little.
“But,” Adelaide continued, “that doesn't mean the shit you do doesn't matter just as much to the people you do it for. It doesn't make being a good person somehow less good if they get paid for what they do. Firefighters get paid, nurses get paid, and Dad gets paid... do you think Mrs. Lawrence was wondering how much Dad was making for his shift when he finally pinned that abuse on her dickbag husband and dragged him off to jail?”
I blinked, remembering the echo of an old argument I'd once had, and felt the logic snap into place. “I'm being a dumbass.”
Addie snorted. “You said it, not me. Ugh, so... yeah, just... be grateful for what you get, but think about how much it means for other people more, if it really bothers you and... fuck, I'm going to have to start going to church again, aren't I?”
For some reason, that really struck me as hilarious, and I started laughing.
“Yeah, yeah... damn it,” Addie sighed, but her lips were upturned into a smile at the edges. “So... what'd you get?”
I cleared my throat, suppressing my remaining laughter. “I, uhh... dunno. I'd have to rip them and stuff.”
Addie... she didn't nod so much as force herself to jerk her head. “Do it. I wanna see this shit.”
I licked my lips, then...
Handed my sister one of the tickets.
She blinked.
I shrugged. “I wanna' know if someone else can use them. You wanna' try one?”
She pulled another fish impression for a moment, her mouth opening and closing, then she shook herself and... took the ticket, carefully. “You're just... giving me a superpower?”
I shrugged. “Pretty much. I'll get plenty. One... well, it might hurt if you get something really awesome. I'll probably whine about it, too. But, you could get something weird that might really suck and I'll laugh at you for it.”
Addie snorted and rolled her eyes. “Right, forgot who I was dealing with for a minute. Alright, let's see... just tear it?”
I nodded and-
Adelaide grunted as she tried to pull the piece of paper in twain unsuccessfully. After taking a moment to breathe and try again, she sighed and shook her head. “Sorry, squirt, looks like that's a negative.”
I grunted, accepting the ticket back and, after a second of hesitation, tore it.
Addie gave no indication she could hear the sounds of the gacha ball falling into my hand through the divine machinery of the cosmos. She did jump a little when the plastic ball materialized in my hand, though, her eyes going wide and a curse falling from her lips.
I inhaled and made to crack it open when... I paused.
And handed the plastic orb to Addie. “Try this one.”
Contrary to the ticket, she stared at the capsule like it was a snake about to bite her, which... yeah, there were probably snakes you could get as familiars. I mean, if you could pull the Divine Dogs from JJK, you could pull a pet snake.
“Alright, I guess... here goes nothing,” Addie muttered, taking the capsule from me and working her painted nails into the latches carefully before- “Holy shit!”
My eyebrows rose as the plastic hemispheres dissipated into motes of stardust, leaving Addie wide-eyed holding a small slip of paper. “Huh, what's it say?”
She blinked, looking down at the small print... “Uhh... let's see... 313.Paper Trail. A rarity of one-point-eight with... point-four eight percent chance odds. It's a 'common trait,' that... huh. For some reason you are always carrying the relevant paper or information with you. And so do your familiars apparently. Just reach into your pocket and you can find whatever legal identification you need.”
We stared in silence at the slip for a few moments after Addie finished reading it off.
“I... guess I should be grateful that I didn't get something weirder,” Adelaide stated quietly, her tone a little disappointed as she frowned at the result.
“Well, you'll never get another parking fine ever again,” I shrugged.
Addie blinked, sitting up straight. “Oh my god... I can park wherever I want to. I never have to worry about getting a new hunting license! Wait, wait, let me see...”
She closed her eyes, concentrating, and focused before reaching into her pocket and-
“That shouldn't have fit in there,” my sister noted as she pulled out the wad of papers, looking through them. “Holy fuck... this is a concealed carry for my gun. I always thought about getting one, but I just kept the damn thing in my car for emergencies instead. Never mind, this is awesome! I'm never going to have to wait in line at the DMV ever again!”
I snorted as Adelaide cackled, glad she'd gotten something she liked. “Just... uh, watch out, okay? Like, you could probably pull out an FBI badge or something if you wanted to, but even if it makes you officially an FBI agent, it's probably not going to alter memories or anything and you won't have the training. So don't do anything stupid with it, okay?”
“Right, right...” Adelaide nodded slowly, coming down from her high as she looked down at the paper. “All I'll have is a piece of paper or a badge or something... still fucking awesome.”
“Glad you liked it, now...” I blinked, looking down at my hands.
I still had two silver tickets.
I cocked my head and looked at them closer. One of them was the ticket I'd gotten for healing Addie. I'd burned the one that I got for telling her about the gacha and given her the reward. The other...
“Figuring out how to share the gacha,” I muttered, frowning at it.
Right... most people wouldn't even try, probably. I guess that's an achievement. Even if I trust Addie, she could have gotten something that would put me in danger. If I'd trust the wrong person...
That also meant if I didn't immediately use the tickets, I needed to store them as tickets, rather than capsules. If I tore a bunch of tickets, stored the plastic balls in a safe, and got robbed...
Yeah, not good.
“Well, let's see what you get, right?” Addie asked, nodding at the tickets.
I sighed, the last thing I needed was an enabler. “If I get something that doesn't fit in the house, you're explaining it to Mom. Probably pull a fucking tank...”
Deciding to get it over with, I ripped both in half. Instantly two plastic capsules appeared in my hands. I tucked one under an arm and popped the other open. Instantly, knowledge began to flow through my mind and I hardly needed to read the paper to know what it was. Shaking my head and feeling like it was a bit more full than it had been before, I handed the paper to Addie.
79. Adept Mechanics (3.2 Rarity, 0.63% odds)
-Rare Skill-
You are as skilled as a veteran engineer, if given the tools you can repair almost any mundane machine and you could even design a car from scratch and build it yourself. In addition, you tinker and design faster than you should be able to without sacrificing quality.
“Whoa... that's nice. That's... you just got like, all of Algernon and Dad's skills fixing cars and then some, didn't you?” Addie asked, reading it to herself.
“Yeah, and I feel like someone just crammed it into my head sideways,” I muttered.
Seriously, learning how to sex good and draw hadn't been this bad. I guess heavy sciences have a lot more to them, don't they?
“You okay, bro?” Adelaide asked, leaning over the check me out visually.
“Yeah, just... can I get some advil or something?” I asked, a bit plaintively. “This reminds me of when I pulled the art skill, just worse.”
Because we aren't talking about the other skill I'd pulled.
“Yeah, sure, lemme just... shit, that's mom driving up, isn't it?” She asked, shaking her head and moving to grab a bottle of pills. “Just wait there, okay? I'll get it.”
I looked down at the remaining plastic capsule in my hand, then shook my head and reached over to stuff it into my school bag underneath my homework before tucking away the Adept Mechanics paper I'd gotten.
I'd crack that one when Mom wasn't literally walking in the door.
~~~
Well, to no one's surprise Mind Games has taken first place again. Literally over half the vote when all is said and done.
I'll get to work on the next chapter of that, actually already started it, but have this to read while you're waiting. I'll also get the Awesome Tier poll up tomorrow, too.
Oh, and I'm going to be adding an info post for Butler Boy, too. It'll go up right after this one. A record of all the gacha stuff properly collated into one document.
Anyway, more to come soon. Thank you for your support and patience.
PS: Butler Boy has its own collection now. Just FYI.
Comments
Marius Petrauskas
nice
Heggs
Oh, the worst season of power rangers is airing. Poor guy.
