Slayer Anderson
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THE STUPENDOUS ADVENTURE OF BUTLER BOY! - Chapter 2
🕑 Added 2025-06-23 12:33:13 +0000 UTC“Eat Shit!”
As I cried out, I pulled back hard on the bar of metal.
“STUPID FUCKING DOOR!”
There was an ominous groan as something began to slide out of place.
“GODAMMIT-OPEN!”
Whatever stray piece of metal this piece of crap had originally been finally gave way and snapped, part of it spinning off to clatter against the wall as the remainder came with me in my hand as I fell over onto the cushioning I'd set up in advance. It was frankly amazing what foresight could accomplish when you weren't literally dying of hypoxia.
“Shit,” I muttered, looking forlornly at what was left of my improvised crowbar, wondering if there was something else I could find...
I blinked.
Stared.
And felt a slow stretch of my lips into a wide grin.
“FUCK YES! You go to hell! You go to hell and you die, you fucking door!” I shouted gleefully, rising to my sore legs and stomping towards the entrance to the vault.
Which was now cattywampus!
The door wasn't open, necessarily, but I'd tilted it on one axis and opened up about a foot of space between it and the housing. The top right corner was now pulled into the interior room just a bit, while the opposite side – the lower left-hand corner – was pushed outward. Notably, this shouldn't have been possible with a well-designed vault door that had a smaller inset square of material on the inside to lock it in place. The only thing really keeping it in place right now was the heavy deadbolt mechanism that had seized and fucked me over.
But, again, this thing was nearly fifty years old.
“And it's not like I'm going to complain,” I stated, grabbing what was left of my crowbar and place it on the corner I'd pulled free.
Taking a deep breath, I pulled with my aching arms and-
Archimedes might have wanted to move the world, but I'll settle for this fucking door.
-my body weight wasn't anything to write home about, but I had a few muscles here and there and enjoyed a few too many burgers and sodas.
The pull-up I attempted worked its magic as the door slowly twisted more out of alignment.
Ironically, it didn't squeal at all. I'd slathered the damn thing in as much WD40 as I could scrounge up from the old machine shop's crap to make this endeavor easier.
“Fuck,” I hissed, finally dropping back to the ground and breathing heavily.
I looked at the lower left-hand corner and laughed.
And Laughed.
A few minutes must have passed as I lay on the padded concrete gasping with manic humor. A few more minutes probably crawled by as I stared up at the ceiling and the buzzing lights that had been my companions for...
A hand groped for my watch and I held it up.
“It's four fucking AM on Sunday morning,” I muttered. “Shit... I'm probably going to miss church this week.”
Mom would be pissed... well, once she got done freaking out. Mass was serious business for her side of the family. Dad didn't care as much. I was pretty sure he'd only converted to marry the love of his life, which I could respect on some level, at least.
“If I just lay here, I'm going to pass out soon,” I sighed and pushed my weary bones vertical, throwing shit into my backpack as I fought against exhaustion.
Sure, I'd slept six hours after Mixxy had given me a new air supply, but that was on a bundle of old drama costumes that smelled vaguely of mildew. Which, itself, was a thin covering over hard concrete. There was a couch buried under some ancient crap against the far wall, but I honestly didn't trust it not to give me bedbugs, lyme disease, and tetanus all at once. Also maybe rabies from a rat's nest somewhere in its guts. I swore I'd heard squeaking at some point during the night.
“Don't worry buddy, I won't forget you,” I whispered to my Frankenstein-drill, shoving it into the bag right after my pack of electronics equipment.
Last but not least was the baby tooth I'd pulled free... two fucking days ago.
Ugh.
Then I stopped and stared at the hinges I'd cut off.
“Fuck it,” I muttered, grabbing them and dropping them in a smaller compartment with the bloody knife I'd sealed inside the ziplock bag from my sandwich. “They'll make great souvenirs, at least.”
Yes, I had packrat tendencies.
Thank you for noticing, I feel validated.
Then I began crawling for the bottom left corner of the door, dragging my backpack from one foot to slip through the gap I'd created.
Then I was out.
Cheap decade-old linoleum covered the floor, creating a cool and smooth surface for me to lie against as I pulled myself clear of the door by a few feet. Just in case the slab of metal gained sentience and spite and decided to fall over on me to keep me from my victory.
I chuckled at the thought, still finding random bullshit absolutely hilarious.
Groaning, I pushed myself up again, dragging my sorry ass to the basement bathroom. Normally I wouldn't even consider drinking from a school bathroom faucet, but fuck standards. I hadn't had a shower in nearly three days and was coated in an ungodly amount of nastiness. I damn well stuck my head into that sink and slurped up water like a fucking dog until my throat no longer resembled a desert.
Then I sat down on the cool floor and stared off into space for a few moments.
I'd need to get up again, soon, I knew.
At this point it was about pride.
I was going limp my way up those fucking stairs and find a phone and I'd gotten myself out. No one had helped. I'd done it. Me. I could sit my ass down on the bottom step and scream until some janitor eventually heard me in a few hours, but fuck that. This was my win and I wasn't letting anyone else have the glory at this point. If they wanted it, they should have shown up yesterday before I'd accidentally summoned an interdimensional imp while in a state of altered consciousness due to hypoxia.
“Speaking of which...” I muttered, reaching for my backpack and fishing around in the over packed bag until I found it.
The plastic egg.
Cheap plastic, too.
The kind that you knew wouldn't take a single good hit from a hammer.
“I either open this now or I wait until next week,” I sighed, looking it over more closely. This was the last bit of privacy I'd likely enjoy for several days.
I'd almost certainly be confined to the hospital in the next town over for an observation period after this. Then I'd probably be forced to camp out on the sofa in the living room with the doggos for a few days while my parents observed my health.
“Eh, I just overcame a life or death situation,” I shrugged, my shoulders rubbing against the hard ceramic tiles. “This is a high point in my life. If I have to go out like this, it'll at least save me the trouble of cleaning all the shit off and the hospital stay.”
That would suck.
Go through all that trouble just to open the imp's parting gift and die after properly recuperating.
“I've got another hour till the sun's up anyway, so let's see what bullshit I have to deal with now,” I muttered, my nails finding purchase in the thin seam between the two hemispheres of the egg.
It was shitty logic, but admittedly, I still wasn't at my best. I was still tired as shit, hadn't eaten anything of substance in twelve hours, and my brain was dumping the good chemicals as a result of accomplishing my breakout. On the other hand, though, the imp's parting words stuck with me. He'd be back, to fuck with Superman if nothing else.
And he was going to 'check in on me' at that point to see if I was a 'disappointment.'
“I really hope this doesn't turn me into a sentient slime or something,” I grunted and finally felt the two halves give way. Immediately, there was a surge of energy that ran through my body and...
I blinked, looked myself over.
Cocked my head and felt around upstairs for a mental trigger.
“Huh,” I muttered, and finished opening the egg.
Five pieces of paper immediately fell out, falling into my lap, and the plastic egg dissipated into motes of stardust. I stared at my empty hands for a second longer and shook my head. “Alright then, let's see what we've got.”
Three of the pieces of paper were painted silver.
“Tear To Roll,” I read aloud, then flipped it over. “Free Ticket.”
That was all it said.
“...okay, what about you, Mr. Gold Ticket?” I asked, picking it up. “Tear To Roll, and on the back... Life Threatening Achievement Without Powers – Stubborn Bastard.”
I stared down at the clearly inked font, then turned towards the bathroom door I'd propped open to look down the short basement hallway at the dislodged vault door.
I nodded slowly and set the ticket aside for the moment. “I'll take that as a compliment.”
Then I went for the final piece of paper and carefully unfolded it.
“Welcome to the Chaos Gacha!” I read aloud, then paused as I belatedly realized the round 'egg' made of plastic had actually been a gacha capsule. They were little mystery prizes selected from a series of possible items that were usually deployed via coin-operated machine. While they weren't uncommon here in the states, they were almost exclusively for children at various events and arcades. In Japan, where the name 'gacha' came from – originating from the onomatopoeia sound of a capsule being cranked out and falling into the tray at the bottom – they were huge business for kids and adults, men and women.
I focused back on the words in front of me.
“You have been awarded three free silver-level tickets to start your gambling addiction,” I snorted and shrugged. “Tear a ticket to receive one random potential reward from the category of the ticket or, sometimes, of a higher or lower rarity. Rewards can vary between items, skills, abilities, traits, and familiars.”
That was... a lot of variance.
Vaguely, I remembered the trend of the Celestial stuff from my previous life. A collection of all the possible perks from the various jumpchains and CYOAs floating around the internet. Was this like that? I hadn't thought about that in years...
“Potential tiers of tickets by rarity are, in ascending order: bronze, silver, gold, platinum, diamond, legendary, mythical, and divine,” I continued reading, humming as I took that in. My eyes flicked back to the three silver and single gold tickets. “Rewards vary between trash, common, uncommon, rare, elite, epic, legendary, mythical, and divine.”
I frowned. “Looks like someone couldn't think of a synonym for legendary, mythical, and divine. Or, I guess they're supposed to be just completely off the scale of regular shit. Either way, that's neat.”
I looked down at the bottom half of the sheet. “In order to acquire more tickets and, therefore, more rewards, the participant must succeed in accomplishing tasks, goals, or other endeavors of commensurate difficulty to the level of the ticket.”
“In other words, I do shit and get tickets. Use the tickets, get prizes. Get prizes, maybe the interdimensional imp doesn't wink me out of existence,” I summarized.
“Bronze tickets are awarded for mundane tasks or accomplishments of no particular danger or difficulty save their time-consuming or tedious nature. They are only significant to the participant themselves or the individual they are being accomplished for,” I continued to read off. “Examples include cleaning a domicile for yourself, your family, or a friend. Taking a journey of significant time or effort for yourself or another. Attaining a significant academic achievement over the course of normal education.”
Do basic shit, get basic rewards.
“Silver tickets are awarded for mundane tasks or accomplishments of potential – if unlikely – danger, or in which failure has meaningful consequences. Examples include winning a standard contest of strength, skill, intelligence, or luck with substantial personal belongings or wealth wagered, accomplishing a milestone of significant difficulty during an academic or occupational career, or fighting off an opponent who means to do non-lethal but significant damage to you or another.”
I frowned a bit. “They could use better wording. 'Significant' and 'substantial' keep appearing. That's pretty vague, even if I get the gist of it. Though... leaving things open to interpretation is probably for the best. If they're handing this shit out to multiple worlds, things are probably really weird out there.”
I skimmed the rest of it... and the higher-end stuff was pretty terrifying, not going to lie.
Basically, gold tickets were for when you life or the lives of others were on the line. Or at the very least the possibility of permanent maiming or crippling injury. Anything where people stood a reasonable chance of dying – IE: 'Mortal Peril' – was worth at least a gold-tier ticket. That was why I'd gotten one of those for breaking out of the bunker, because my life had been on the line. Which made the 'stubborn bastard' line on the ticket make sense, if by implication only.
The tickets were worded vaguely because they seemed to be partially awarded on the relative danger and risk posed by whatever you were doing. If I'd opened the gacha capsule before I'd gotten out of there and received a reward that ensured my survival until someone found me, then I'd no longer have been in mortal peril. Getting out would have been worth a silver ticket at most.
“But if it was someone else trapped in the bunker or under rubble or something... would that still merit a gold? Or if I had something that made it easier to accomplish, would that downgrade the ticket because it wasn't as difficult for me and the only way the other person would die would be due to my own inaction?” I frowned as I considered the ramifications for growing more powerful.
The tickets sat heavily in my lap as I understood what they represented.
Power.
Mixxy hadn't been lying. Or, at least, he hadn't lied provided this offer was real. I could see the trap, though. This was bitch-basic skinner-box manipulation tactics, just like a real gacha smartphone game. Even if I wouldn't have to deal with those for another decade or more – thankfully – the principle was the same. Getting a 'reward' made a human's primitive brain light up with the good drugs. And just like any high, you'd want to feel that way again.
That was just how the gacha-system worked.
But as you accrued more 'rewards,' it would likely become harder to achieve new levels and get stuff you didn't already have.
And that was without taking into account the potential powers and abilities one would receive from the rewards.
A normal man who's run out of heroin might kill someone to get money to buy more, chasing that high ever-downwards.
What would a super-powered gambling addict who got rewarded for crazy shit do? What would they justify doing?
What would I?
The gacha will consume you.
“Credit where it's deserved, this is one insidious little game I've been entered into,” I stated. “And it's fitting for a chaos imp. As much power as I want, but I have to go out and use it to get more. Steal things, fight villains, kill people, save kittens out of trees... it doesn't really matter as long as I'm playing around with these fun shiny toys and setting the dominoes to toppling whichever way they fall.”
...and the worst part was, even if I didn't want to fight against planet destroying monsters, it would be nice to matter in a way that a regular civilian in this world simply didn't.
To do something.
To accomplish something in a world full of real people that I'd read about and watched on television and loved.
I wasn't even alone in that regard. Superman had only been active for a few years, but nearly every kid in my class back in elementary school had wanted to meet him or grow up to be him. He was the best-selling costume during Halloween for boys, with a WW2-era Wonder Woman that had surged in popularity with the re-emergence of heroes into the world.
I'd gone as Batman, though.
Fite me, bruh.
I worked my jaw, chewing on the heavy thoughts bouncing around in my head as I reached down and rubbed a silver ticket between my fingers, feeling the slick paper and raised ink under the pad of my thumb. I gave one last look at the instruction sheet before carefully folding it back up and sliding it into the pages of Pride and Prejudice before tucking both back into my backpack.
“Alright,” I nodded, my expression firming, “Let's do this.”
A silver ticket between my fingers, I took my last breath as a normal human and ripped the paper roughly in half. The rattling sound of a plastic gacha capsule in a coin-operated crank machine rolled through my head, another opaque plastic egg appearing in my hand shortly after it rattled into the 'tray' at the bottom of whatever cosmic process was impersonating the dispenser.
I didn't feel anything come over me, though.
Feeling out the seam, I forced myself not to hesitate as I cracked the capsule.
Then I felt a flare of... something move through me as the capsule faded into stardust.
I looked down at the remaining piece of paper in my hands.
“We're really doing this?” I asked in mild disbelief. “We're going to keep to the shtick this hard?”
Of course, I didn't get an answer. Exasperated, I unfolded the slip of paper.
350.Stim (2.6 Rarity, 0.37% odds)
-Uncommon Ability-
Flood your body with natural stem cells that will start rebuilding your body, warning, this consumes a lot of stamina and resources from your body. Doing it without any nutrients to rebuild your body won't work and will only harm you instead. You can also inject these cells into other people through the exchange of fluids.
“Jesus Fucking Christ,” I muttered, reaching up to rub my face. “First fucking pull and I can't let anyone I don't trust absolutely know about it. I'd be kidnapped by goddamn Amanda Waller in a heartbeat to serve as an emergency health pack for the President or something. Maybe rent me out to billionaires to fund her retarded schemes.”
I resisted the urge to activate the ability immediately, my finger brushing lightly across the mental switch in my head. My stomach wasn't anywhere near full enough for that kind of strain and the hospital would probably want to do a blood test. Even the best hospital would have one corrupt asshole on staff that would sell me out in a heartbeat.
Thankfully, it seemed this was an all or nothing power.
I stared at the next silver ticket in my hands for a moment before taking another breath.
It tore easily, the sound of a gacha machine rolled in my head, and another ball appeared.
“That's going to get old really fast,” I sighed, pulling the capsule apart and letting it fade away into motes of light again.
My eyes widened.
122. Master Drawing (4.1 Rarity, 0.19% odds)
-Elite Skill-
You are a master at illustration, you can perfectly convey your thoughts or reality through your art. If you put in the effort you can even create moving pieces of art that invoke the emotions you want on the people who witness them.
"I'm not going to be this lucky all the time,” I audibly reminded myself, staring at the blurb. “Uncommon is one thing... but an elite skill on a silver ticket? That's bullshit.”
Master Drawing didn't have the same immediate temptation as Stim, at least. Still, there was an itch for a pencil or pen in my fingers and I couldn't deny the desire to stagger my way to the art room to see what I could really do, now. I wasn't an awful artist before this, just a disinterested and untrained one. I'd chosen to become a writer in my past life, however hobbyist my skill and dedication was. Illustration had always interested me, but it was a messier skill that needed more equipment and preparation.
And I was pretty lazy.
Still... I'd enjoy the prospect of being able to draw and paint to such a level now.
I stared at the last of my 'free' silver tickets. The gateway drug. The first free hit.
Breath. Tear. Gacha Crank. Capsule.
“I should never visit Japan,” I shuddered. “Walking by a gacha parlor is going to make me break out in cold sweats from now on.”
I popped the capsule and pulled the paper out.
And stared.
And stared.
“One day, this shit will stop surprising me,” I stated. “That day will be a very, very strange day indeed, and there will be no going back from it.”
90. Adept Kama Sutra (3.3 Rarity, 0.56% odds)
-Rare Skill-
You are very talented in the carnal art, being able to spot signs of arousal and attraction, in addition, you instinctively know how to pleasure your partner in bed and be a very pleasant recipient, enhancing pleasure for both of you.
“I just hit puberty, motherfucker,” I sighed as I mapped out bits and pieces of the new knowledge in my head.
Which was beginning to pulse with the return of a migraine.
“Ugh, massive skill dumps cause headaches, gotta' remember that,” I stated. “If I pull a huge skill like artist or shit shit, I need to take a break before I pull anything else.”
I rubbed at my forehead and stared at the gold ticket.
It had fallen on the floor, its back facing upwards.
The words 'Stubborn Bastard' printed clearly on it.
“I need to take a break before I pull anything else,” I repeated myself aloud, still staring at the ticket.
A rationalization came unbidden and unappreciated.
I didn't know if these tickets could be used by anyone else.
I drummed my fingers on my thigh and sighed before looking at my watch. Half an hour. Eventually, I shook my head and put the ticket in my pocket. “Gimme at least a few minutes before I open another can of worms.”
I rose up slowly, tired and aching and wanting to just lay down on the cool bathroom floor and sleep. Instead, I washed my hands again, rubbing water on my face and cleaning at least some of the sweat and gunk off it before I hobbled out into the corridor and up the stairs.
One foot after the other.
Slowly and a bit painfully.
First set.
Turn.
Second set.
“Goddamn I am beat the fuck up,” I whispered, the climb having taken it out of me far more than it should.
But I was close, and I was a stubborn bastard.
They were right about that.
Instead of turning towards the main office, which was in one of the newer buildings on campus, I started walking towards the cafeteria. It had two big advantages going for it in this case. The first was that there weren't any locked doors between me and it. I might be inside the school itself, but several of the buildings were connected only by covered walkways. Those walkways began and ended with doors. Those doors would, in turn, be locked on the weekends barring special events.
So unless I wanted to walk out into the courtyard and lock myself out of the building I was currently inside, then be forced to wander down the fucking street and knock at a random person's door...
The office was a no-go.
Thankfully, though, some kid a decade ago had an allergy attack in the cafeteria and, while they hadn't died, the administration had installed a landline phone just outside the interior cafeteria doors for emergencies.
This probably counted as an emergency, I thought.
The second thing the cafeteria had going for it?
Vending machines.
“Thank you, sweet merciful god,” I sighed as I came into sight of the blessed obelisks. “I'm sorry I take your name in vain so much, forgive this poor stupid mortal his failings.”
I dropped my backpack against one and fished out my wallet.
“Goddammit,” I muttered, immediately falling back on my plea for clemency and sinning. “Fuck, I was going to run by the bank on Friday and get more singles after school, that's right.”
I'd burned my last few when the pizza booth had run out of small bills and couldn't break a twenty. I sighed and stared at the machine for a long second, then turned to look at the phone across the hall. If I called out now, someone would probably let me have something to eat before the ambulance carted me off. Or maybe dad or one of his officers would have some change.
I turned back to the vending machine.
“I want you to know that I could smash you open and feast on your delicious innards and no one would say a word against it in the position I'm in right now,” I told it bluntly.
Then I hit and held the service button down.
Five seconds.
The old-school display started blinking.
I hit 1-2-3-4 in that order.
The front of the machine popped open.
I gave a hysterical laugh and swung it the rest of the way. “Holy shit, the internet was right! Thank you, Jesus!”
Ah, the intemperance of the human soul.
Sadly, that code didn't work on the drink machine.
Happily, four zeroes did and I was able to collect bottled water, juice, and a single soda. After what I'd been through, I deserved a reward. I wasn't stupid enough to think my body didn't need something other than caffeine and sugar, but the burst of energy would help me get through the next mess that was coming.
Which was the other reason I'd been putting off using the phone.
“Keep the change,” I commented as I pulled my wallet out again and shoved a ten dollar bill in each machine before shutting them again.
My arms full of assorted snacks and drinks, I staggered over to the opposite wall.
“This is going to be a clusterfuck,” I sighed and picked up the receiver.
9-1-1
“Nine-one-one, who may I ask is calling and what is the nature of your emergency?”
“Hey Janine,” I sighed into the receiver, “It's Arden Villin.”
I barely got the phone away from my ear before her response came through at the highest volume the woman was capable of.
“ARDEN!? Where are you?! I'll have the entire station there in a minute!”
“Kevin Baxter and his idiot cousin John decided to throw me in the old fallout bunker under the school for the weekend because I wouldn't help them cheat on their homework,” pulling the receiver back to my ear, I sighed again at the absurdity of my claim. “It took me two days to cut through the hinges on the door to get out. Would you call my parents and tell them I'm not injured, there's no rush, and I'm sitting outside the cafeteria at the school?”
“I-ah, yeah sweetie. You're okay, really? Your dad's been awfully worried. Half the town has been out looking for you!”
I swallowed dryly, the words touching me more than I'd thought they would.
“I'm tired, sore, smell like some unholy combination of a mildewed closet and an outhouse, and would very much like to go home and sleep for a week.” I confessed. “But I know the drill and you're going to have to call an ambulance and a firetruck and I'm going to hospital in Shiloh across the bridge and the sirens are just going to make my building migraine worse.”
Janine gave a weak laugh. “You do know the drill, baby. You wanna' stay on the line while they're on their way?”
“I was thinking I'd go sit outside the cafeteria and eat a granola bar and drink apple juice from the vending machines while the sun rises, actually,” I admitted. “I think I've earned that.”
There was something like a laugh-sob on the other end of the line.
“You do that, Ardie. You do that. I'll have them there in a few minutes.”
“Thanks Janine, you're the best,” I replied. “I'll hang up now, okay?”
One more pair of goodbyes and I made good on my decision, setting my backpack to hold the door to the cafeteria hallway open before camping out in front of it and cracking a water. I drained the entire thing in one go, relishing the moisture on my still-recovering system. Dehydration was no joke.
The apple juice and the granola was next.
Vitamins. Nutrients.
The first rays of the sun started to peak over the treeline. I reached up and rubbed at my eyes, the sudden daylight making it hard to see. That was surely the only reason. Rubbing them again and snorting harshly to clear my running nose, I took a deep breath of air to compose myself.
It's not over quite yet. Hold it together.
Shaking my head, I pulled out the last ticket.
A distraction, something to focus on that wasn't... me.
It was gold, the same color as the rays of the morning sun.
“Do me a favor and don't dump more shit in my head and make me pass out, okay?” I asked it tiredly.
I could hear sirens in the far distance.
Now or never.
Tear.
Rattle.
Capsule.
Pop.
Stardust.
“Praise the sun,” I whispered, grinning as I raised my apple juice in a toast to Mother Sol herself.
4. Pyrokinesis (4.4 Rarity, 0.08% odds)
-Elite Ability-
Allows you to produce and control flames, your own or natural flames. You have fine control over the flames you control, being able to shape them into arrows, blades, walls, projectiles etc.
I tucked the small slip of paper away in my wallet with the others and went back to appreciating the morning sun.
It was warm.
Almost as warm as the heat that settled in my core.
I chuckled and reached up to rub at my eyes again. For some reason my vision was blurry and my fingers came away wet. “I didn't get a single fucking thing that would have helped me get out of there.”
The two mental skills were useless in that situation. Stim was nice, but I'd have destroyed my body's reserves with one use and no more food or water to replenish myself. Even pyrokinesis, the ticket I'd only gotten because I'd broken out on my own, would probably have just burned up my remaining air supply faster.
“Man, I have some shit luck,” I chuckled again, shaking my head in disbelief. Sure, they were awesome rolls, but they'd have done dick to help me in the now. “Fuckin' unbelievable.”
I drained my juice and went for the pomegranate, which I hated.
But had shit in it that apple juice didn't and my body needed.
I took a long pull and made a face as I forced it down. “Ugh, nasty ass-”
Tires squealed to a stop.
“ARDEN!”
I stiffened, and rose up on tired and unsteady legs. My parents were running across the courtyard, still in their nightclothes. I dropped my juice and took a few staggering steps towards them, my vision beginning to swim. Dad and Mom hit me like a freight train and held on like an octopus, wrapping around me in a fierce hug.
Okay, now it’s over.
I could let go.
My throat clenched and I didn't fight the tortured noise that wrenched itself free from me. Words I'd wanted to say shattered into empty, meaningless sobs of emotion and catharsis. I didn't cry.
I fucking bawled.
~~~
This is your fault.
You all know who you are.
You have only yourselves to blame.
Mind Games next, I goddamn mean it this time.
Thank you everyone else for your patience and support. I need sleep now.
Comments
Marius Petrauskas
nice
auraofcalm
I love it and I need more.
Slayer Anderson
Waller isn't that intelligent or competent. She'd put a bomb in his head. It's her solution to literally every problem she has.
Ben
He not only rolled bedroom skills but an Olympic Physique STD... Seriously Waller will just throw women at him instead to improve the gene pool.
Tony Martin
It's because there are so many of them. It's almost impossible to avoid getting something m
Tyler Tate
Good soup
Sage Berthelsen
Fuck right in the feels.
Turnwise
Seems liked every Chaos Gacha fic I've seen so far manages at least 1 nsfw roll in the first chapter, makes me suspicious.
Turnwise
Look up Chaos Gacha, there's an interactive version and a readable searchable version by the creator whose already posted two stories based on it onto QQ
Taye
Methinks that when Mixy returns he’s going to have a bad time, because Clark will be really very unhappy to find out he messed with a traumatised, dying child like this. Clark will not go as soft on him as he normally does.
Taye
That was just sad, in the end. I was wondering if you were going to laugh it off but nope, you went balls deep in on how traumatising this would have been. I wonder if he’ll come out of this with some understandable quirks: An absolute refusal to ever be behind a locked door ever again seems likely. If he’s feeling logical, perhaps since the gacha would never have helped him get out of that shelter he’ll throw himself into making sure nobody can ever move him somewhere against his will ever again. An incentive to learn to fight (this is DC, kids can beat up grown men easily with training) with and without his powers.
Fabhar
I'd love to see the potential list of powers, if there is one.
Thaumaterge
I love that moment when he rolls the Gacha, each time thinking "Did I suffer for nothing? Would this roll have saved me?" Followed by a no each time, with a special fuck you on the gold. Like, that's a power that absolutely could have killed him in there.
Racenrise
Even better than chapter 1
ZloGlaZ
Looks good! Looking forward to next chapters ):
Krisjanis Jansons
Muse: shure, right after another chapter of buttler boy xD
ExodiaTheForbiddenOne
So his pyrokinesis is like benimaru shinmon’s ? That shits broken af love it
Jeffrey Gassenheimer
Missing a paragraph break after “they were right about that”
Slayer Anderson
Kidnapping, wrongful imprisonment, and attempted manslaughter, yes. Kevin’s going to the slammer, especially after his cousin rolls on him to get tried as a kid and juvie.
gaouw ganteng
So, that was absolutely a serious crime, right? Kidnapping and Attempted Murder, at the very least, Attempted Manslaughter? Especially since his father is the Big Honcho.
Sumgai101
An eldritch being from beyond space and time offers a young boy... not a contract. But gacha. And will presumably bug him to roll more... >Do you want to get some gacha >Come on let's go and roll >It might make you superman >Or a wooden door >You just have roll today!
Leeland
This! I like this.
Seadrake
Yes absolutely yes. Let the chaos flow.
god of war
Like the story but I was honestly expecting this to be mha rather than this one lol
GAMB42
I regret nothing. This is another cool fic ready for the Chaos to consume it.
thevolunteer
Wonderful. Can’t wait for more.
Adam Daw
This was great. I was not expecting Chaos Gatcha but I'm here for it.
