Slayer Anderson
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Butler Boy - Chapter 7
🕑 Added 2025-09-07 10:29:09 +0000 UTCThe precepts of my new life were as follows:
Stay under the radar for as long as possible; more time to grow means a stronger debut,more experience with my powers, and being in generally fewer life-threatening situations.
Get stronger by doing stuff to get more gacha tickets to get more powers/skills/etc...
Brainstorm ways to accomplish #2 without violating #1.
Don't Be Evil (Practice conduct that mitigates harm and promotes the preservation and betterment of life while aligning with all previous rules).
To that end, I'd used the last bit of my enforced vacation to carefully think over what I could do, what I should do, and decide which was which.
The first problem I'd run into was the realization that there were some important events coming up that I couldn't, in good faith, ignore. Moreover, it would be hard to live with myself if I did.
In particular, I'd looked up the Flying Graysons on the still-young internet.
Using KordSRCH.
Because KordTech had bought out Yahoo and rebranded the search engine and email system.
The important part was that I'd searched up the Flying Graysons and found the schedule for Haly's Circus. I now had a choice to make, something that I'd been trying to avoid by remaining in ignorance for these past few years. In practical terms, I didn't have much information that could really help a lot of people, but Dick Grayson was such a staple in so many continuities that it was one of the few things I felt truly confident in predicting.
I hadn't exactly been able to root through the GCPD's files, but I was savvy enough to find a few headlines detailing Tony Zucco, too. Which only firmed the resolve to do something in my mind.
It was a big choice to make, to interfere in that destiny.
Dick Grayson, Robin, Nightwing, and finally Batman...
It would change things irrevocably.
But, as I looked around the small sandy shoreline of the river near our house, flames manifesting around my arms, I knew that – eventually – I'd change things to that degree anyway. My mere presence in the timeline was disruptive now. And... I couldn't lose sight of the reality of the situation. The choice I needed to make wasn't about 'maintaining the timeline' or anything like that.
It was whether or not Dick's parents deserved to be saved.
And that wasn't a choice.
“Lookin' good, squirt!” Algie called from the other side of the river, lounging in a pair of rolled-up pants with his feet dangling in the water. “Your clothes aren't even burning this time!”
I gave him a deadpan stare, then willed my flames into a giant middle finger.
Algie snorted, cracking up and almost rolling off his rocky perch into the chilly waters. “Finish up, though! We need to get back!”
“Just gotta' try one last thing!” I replied, and took a deep breath.
There were scorch marks on several patches of rocks and sand that I'd used for target practice, making passable progress on my accuracy while doing so. I wasn't terrible, but I wasn't great either. My natural fluency with my power aside, I clearly needed more experience. Thankfully, I was able to quench the few pieces of brush that had caught light while I was practicing.
But now... it was the moment of truth.
Flame wrapped my body, the aura of heat feeling soothingly warm to me instead of the scorching heat I knew it to be. I held my hands out, palms down, and focused. Twin lances of fire streamed down from my hands, pointing towards the ground. I felt the force of the energy I was generating begin to move my hands.
“Okay... going to start off nice and easy... just don't be Tony Stark,” I muttered to myself, flexing my bare feet and allowing the flames to cover me from head to toe. “If I start going out of control, aim for the water.”
“Whoa – Holy Shit!” Algernon cried, watching me slowly rise off the beach on plumes of fire beneath my feet.
The sand beneath them turned orange, then red, and started to go molten as I turned up the intensity of my flames. Feeling my feet leave the earth under my own power for the first time, though... that was...
It was something I'd never forget, I knew that instantly.
Taking a deep breath, I opened the mental iris holding back the bulk of the power and slowly ramped it up. Unlike the heat, this saw more immediate effects as I slowly crept up into the air. Dialing it back just as carefully... saw me stop and hold position. That was something I needed to remember, too.
Gravity is still a thing, I'm just being a criminal and breaking its law. Stop breaking the law and that bastard will bring me back down to Earth.
I turned up the thrust again and started moving in a slow circle around the river, uncertain whether I should try to do too much more. After a few minutes, I took one last quirk rise into the air, then began to cut my thrust while I was over a sandy section of shallow water.
My flames cut out and I dropped into the chilly pool, meeting my brother's wide-eyed gaze with a matching one. “So, yeah... I can fly.”
He grinned like a loon and whooped, the sudden noise sending birds flying from their perches as I trudged out of the river, my legs shaky from the adrenaline rush. Not, strangely enough, the exertion. I could feel... something in the back of my mind – soul – that told me I had a lot more in the metaphorical tank to use my powers, but my physical body was still underdeveloped.
Something to work on, then.
“Fuck yes you can!” Algie cheered, coming up to me and wrapping me in a one-armed man-hug. “My little bro can fly! Holy shit!”
The excessive cursing was a mark of just how excited he was.
“And you didn't even burn your clothes off this time!” Algie cheered, pulling me into his side tightly. I twitched at the reminder, my gaze flicking over to the charred remains of another outfit. Thankfully, I'd had the foresight to dump anything important beforehand, wear disposable clothes, and bring a full change just in case.
“I thought we agreed not to talk about that,” I grumbled, though the smile wouldn't quite fade from my face.
Algernon just laughed and ruffled my hair.
…
The scout meeting hadn't been anything to write home about, but it was enjoyable enough. Irritatingly, I'd had to hide in the trunk of Mom's minivan under a blanket to fool the last few reporters lingering for a glimpse of me. I really hoped they got the message that I wasn't going to give an interview anytime soon and gave up.
“-yeah, but I don't get why, you know? You could be on the news!” Mike Grissom nudged me as we lounged in our swimsuits, sweeping his wet brown hair back.
“He was on the news, dingus,” Astrid huffed, slipping into the hot tub beside us.
Though 'tub' was a little bit of a misnomer.
The damn thing was nearly the size of a normal pool.
Which was why we held things like this over at Jimmy's home in the first place, of course.
It was the kind of impressive construction that regularly made the vacation brochures to display how idyllic and pleasant this area was supposed to be. In comparison, my own family's wasn't any slouch, but we were definitely a more standard residential property, and was off on a side-street. Nothing, of course, to be ashamed of, but I did occasionally wish we had a pool or hot tub when I wanted to feel fancy.
Ah, well... aspirations.
“Yeah, yeah, I get that he was on the news, but he wasn't actually on the news, you know?” Mike pointed out, gesticulating wildly to make his point. “It's one thing if they just show your picture, but Arden could actually give an interview and-”
“He doesn't want to be on the news, though,” Astrid cut the boy off pointedly.
“I got that, I just wanna know why...” Mike huffed.
“Because it's a pain in the ass,” I sighed, slipping down further into the hot, bubbling water. “Remember the talent show two years ago, Mike?”
My friend twitched, a few of the kids in earshot muffling smirks and laughter.
Astrid, though, openly snorted.
“I thought we agreed not to bring that up ever again!” Mike squeaked, clearing his throat immediately after. “Dude, what the-”
“Language!” Thomas Hill, the hardass of the group, barked from where he was cleaning up the snack table. I strongly suspect that boy had a bit of the 'tism in him, as a friend had once told me. “Don't think I can't hear you over there. I let the first one slide because of what happened, Arden, but you won't get another one.”
“Roger that,” I replied, unbothered and enjoying the heat suffusing my body.
“Now that the buzzkill is done...” Mike grunted and turned back to me.
I rolled my eyes. “When you get up on stage before someone and have to answer questions, anything you say is put under a microscope. Everyone's staring and they're recording and, if you make one mistake they'll pick that apart and ridicule you for days, weeks, months... and the worst part is that reporters are constantly trying to get you to say something wrong.”
Mike grimaced and turned away while I saw Jane, Terry, Bella, Charlotte, and Duke were all paying varying levels of attention to me.
“That's not what reporters are supposed to do,” Thomas asserted, crossing his arms in front of him. “Reporters get at the truth of the matter and inform the public of important matters.”
Yeah, definitely a bit of the 'tism. Oh, this poor, sweet, summer child.
“Except for the fact that they get paid based on how engaging their article is,” I responded. “And articles that farm outrage will always be more engaging than ones that are simple feel-good stories. They'd really like it if I had a public breakdown while talking to them and called for Kevin and John's heads on a silver platter.”
“That's...” Thomas began, looking frustrated.
“I mean, what was it our Ms. Task said last semester? 'If it bleeds, it leads?' Wasn't that it?” Jane asked, leaning back and thinking it over. “That's basically what Arden just said.”
“Anyway, how about we just not talk about that mess,” I waved them off. “What's up with the trip on Spring Break?”
The topic change was obvious, but clear enough in reasoning that no one contested it.
While they talked, I watched my fellow scouts have their animated discussion. They were all excited by the possibilities of the new camp we were going to travel to. I had to admit that it would be interesting, but...
The shine had rubbed off a little bit, now that I had powers.
I frowned at the thought.
The scouts had been something I'd joined in the name of... well, experiencing something new. I hadn't been one last time around. There'd been a local youth program I'd been a part of, but not one that was nationally-recognized like the Scouts. If nothing else, getting to Eagle Scout would earn me a nice gold star to put on college applications and resumes.
But now that my entire life has changed...
I could justify this last trip, probably.
People lost interest in the program all the time. A few years ago, we'd had... what, five more kids? Kelly, Lawrence... Bob? I couldn't remember the other two right now. They'd all dropped. Even if I had intended to keep up with it, things changed.
“You okay?”
I blinked, turning to look at Mike. “Hmm?”
“Just... you seem down, all of a sudden?” Mike commented, picking up the last of his things and tucking the wet swimsuit into a plastic bag. “You didn't even stare at Astrid's ass like you normally do when she's in her suit.”
I groaned, my face heating. “You ruined it, dude. We were about to have a true friendship moment, and you ruined it.”
Mike snorted, grinning. “Alright, there it is. Thought you were actually kind of screwed up after that mess at school. You gonna' be okay heading back after the weekend?”
I shrugged, sighing. “I'll be fine, it's not that I'm spazzing over. Just...”
I hesitated. Part of me wanted to tell Mike everything, but... he was also still a kid. It wasn't that he was immature, really. It was more like... I didn't know if he knew how to take thing seriously, if that made sense. There was an inherent childishness to his character that I wasn't quite ready to place my faith in.
“...just thinking about maybe getting more serious with my electronics hobby.” I paused. “And I've taken up painting, too.”
“Painting?” Mike blinked, his brown eyes looking blank for a moment. “No shit?”
“No shit,” I replied with a nod. “It's some kind of hidden talent thing. Maybe I went on a spirit journey huffing toxic fumes in the basement.”
Mike snorted and slapped my shoulder. “That's a good one! So, you any good?”
“Scary good,” I replied with a shrug. “I'll show you the next time you come over. After the paparazzi finally get lost.”
“Looking forward to it,” he nodded, giving me a once over. “Was that what had you distracted all afternoon? Thinking about art?”
“Just not sure if I'm going to have time for getting serious on my hobby, taking up art, and the scouts all at the same time,” I admitted, mentally adding 'heroism training' to the list.
Mike clicked his tongue. “Ah.”
“Plus, I kind of want to get into shape, you know?” I said, stretching my arms out over my head. “At least a little bit. If I could have clocked Kevin one in his fat face, maybe he'd have taken a hint.”
My friend snorted and nodded. “Eh, maybe. I'd heard he was pretty stupid, though. Might've taken more than one.”
There was a pause.
“So... dropping scouts, then, huh?” He probed.
“Something's gotta' give,” I sighed, rubbing at my chin awkwardly. “Not until after Spring Break, though. Maybe sometime during summer. Give it a last hurrah, you know?”
“Man... that sucks,” Mike sighed as well, shouldering his bag. “Astrid is gonna be bummed. You know she likes you, right? Dunno if she'll stay in if you leave.”
I grimaced. That was something that I needed to think about, too. I could tell that she liked me, especially now, with that skill. I'd avoided the idea of romance in this life so far, for multiple reasons. First, it'd be a little weird if I started dating before I hit high school. Second, now that I was in high school, I was young enough that the age gap made things weird with kids in my year. Third, Mom would throw a shit fit. Fourth... even if I was a kid again, I was still mature enough to know that other kids weren't mature enough to handle that stuff.
Should I even try to start a relationship right now?
But I'd been 'busy' in my last life, too, and ended up single for a long time because of that.
Was a 'summer romance' too much to ask? Or would it be unfair to Astrid?
Was I getting caught up in my own head again?
“I'll ask her out,” I decided, impulsively, nodding at Mike.
“You go, man,” he grinned, flashing me a thumbs up. “I've been rooting for you to get around to it one day.”
I looked around, finding the clusters of parents and their children getting ready to go.
“Dude, what are you-” Mike started, his eyes widening as I made my way towards the blond girl standing with her mom and dad. “Oh, holy shit. I didn't think you meant now!”
“Hey, Mr. and Mrs. Hobb?” I asked, fighting down the urge to make an excuse that was rising in me.
“Oh, Arden! It's so good to see you!” Hanah Hobb smiled, reaching out to pull me into a hug I wasn't entirely comfortable with. “We were so concerned when we heard you'd gone missing! Astrid was beside herself with-”
“Mooo~ooom!” The girl cried out, her face flushing.
“Thanks, I'm sorry I caused everyone such a scare...” I frowned and reached up to scratch the back of my head. “Anyway... I was going to ask Astrid if she wanted to go see a movie. With me. If it was okay with you? And her, of course.”
Hanah blinked, perking up considerably as Astrid's face blanked completely in surprise, her blush reaching atomic level while two of the other girls in our troop nearby started squealing. But my gaze had already moved to where it was most important.
Her father's gaze met my own.
Gary Hobb, another former football player, though a different year than my father. They'd never played together, but knew of one another, and liked to talk shit together about the sport together sometimes. He looked me over, an assessing eye raking up and down my body, then over to his daughter. “You want to catch a movie with Arden, Princess?”
“U-um... Yes, Daddy?” Astrid squeaked, uncharacteristically bashful as she looked to me and we exchanged a quick smile.
“Alright then.” Gary shrugged, clapping me on the shoulder with a heavy hand. “You have her back before... eight, let's say? You're both thirteen, after all. I don't think you need to be out later than that, and I think Archie and Abigail will agree with me.”
Importantly, he was looking over my head when he said that.
“I do, and his father will, as well,” Mom stated from behind me, and I looked back to her with a small wince. She sighed at my trepidation. “I guess I was expecting you to ask her out sooner or later, I'm not angry, Arden. Just... this is a little out of the blue, honey.”
I opened my mouth, and thought better of what I was about to say, then... decided to say it anyway, if a little softer than I'd initially planned. “I was thinking... who knows what might happen? So better now than never.”
Mom winced and the Hobbs inhaled slightly, seeming to understand.
“Saturday,” Astrid jumped in, stepping forward. “Should I eat first?”
“We can hit up a restaurant before the movie,” I shrugged. “Meet up at three? How about... we meet up at the theater, pick a showing, then find something quick so we still have room for popcorn?”
Astrid's smile widened, “Sounds great! See you Saturday!”
Then she leaned up and kissed me on the cheek before bouncing off happily. Her father patted my shoulder one last time before raising his pointer and middle fingers to his eyes, then smirking and pointing them at me. The expression was clear enough, but had a playful edge to it.
Still, I nodded respectfully in acknowledgment.
Mike walked by, his look respectful and impressed.
“Well, let's get home and talk to your father,” Mom sighed, shaking her head.
“Sorry, Mom,” I sighed, not knowing what else to say.
“You don't have anything to apologize for, Arden,” Abigail stated firmly. “I knew it was going to happen eventually, this just caught me by surprise.
That seemed to be the end of the discussion, or close enough. Given that Mom didn't seem completely opposed to my play, I let it go and shifted topics to the imminent return to school. After two weeks of closure due to the crime scene and subsequent remediation efforts, things looked to finally be ready to go back to normal.
That, at least, kept the awkward silences away on the way home.
…
“Oh! Here he is, they're just coming in right now!”
I blinked, looking at my dad. He was standing in the kitchen with a look of profound... something on his face. Pride? Excitement? Shock?
“Arden, phone for you. Someone important wants to talk to you,” Dad stated, walking forward and handing me the wireless handset. Looking at his wife, he made hushed beckoning noises.
I gave my father an odd look before shaking my head and heading into the living room for quiet and privacy...
...and promptly continuing on my way to the back porch. Algie gave me a quick wave before turning his eyes back to the game that was on, though I winced from the roaring of the crowd. No wonder Dad had been in the kitchen. Experience told me I had about teen feet into the yard before the connection failed. As I slid the glass door closed behind me, I held the receiver up to my ear.
“Arden Villin speaking, who may I ask is calling?” I greeted politely.
“Arden! This is Bruce Wayne! Owner, operator, and CEO of Wayne Enterprises,” a full and friendly baritone voice on the other end responded to me.
I nearly dropped the goddamn fucking phone.
“Hu-uh-Hi?” I bleated out.
The man on the other end of the line chuckled. “It's great to speak with you, I was worried I'd just missed you when your Dad said you were still at your scout meet.”
My mouth worked, trying to grapple with the sudden and inexplicable shift that my world had undertaken. “I-it's a – um, it's amazing to hear from you, too, Mr. Wayne. I... can I ask why you're calling?”
Has the Bat-Mind detected me? Zatanna spouted a prophecy? Is that a thing he can do? Maybe Wonder Woman... wait, no Justice League yet! Have they even met?!
While I was spiraling, Bruce chuckled again at my obvious flusterment. “Well, when one of the largest shareholders of voting stock outside of myself and the board members finds himself in the hospital and on the national news, a courtesy call is usually expected, if only to exchange a few pleasantries and touch base.”
I blinked, swallowed, and felt relief wash over me.
Right. The shares.
“O-oh,” I cleared my throat, my mind rushing back to my thoughts earlier that day – the same ones that had been plaguing me for days now – as my eyes tracked to the shut glass door and the closed window. Ambient noise from the house filtered through, but not enough to affect my conversation. “Well, I'm fine. Like you said, I spent some time in the hospital, then finished recovering here at home. It... well, it wasn't fun, exactly, but there wasn't any permanent damage, either.”
“I'm glad to hear it,” Bruce replied. “Though, while I have your ear... do you mind if I pick your brain a little?”
I frowned, thinking over the question. “If there's something I can do to help, sure Mr. Wayne.”
“I was mainly just wondering exactly how an-” There was the sound of shuffling papers. “-eight year old? Yes, how a six year old managed to work out when to buy and sell stock in my family's company. I actually had an SEC investigator – that's the Security & Exchange Commission – show up. They asked a number of interesting questions after that piece on your stock portfolio aired, you know?”
I winced. That had been one of the few phone calls I'd actually had to deal with personally yesterday, just after Addy had to head back to college. It'd been a pain in the ass and something I'd wish had been validated by earning a ticket. Sadly, or happily, my parents had done the bulk of the work deflecting attention away from me. I might be the young prodigy, but it was their name on the purchases and accounts, for the most part.
“I was technically nine when the IPO actually happened,” I replied, leaning against one of the poles holding up the porch overhang.
Bruce chuckled again, a noise that I couldn't tell whether or not it was manufactured. “I'll have that noted in the report, but regardless of your age... I'm just curious if you heard about it from someone online, maybe? Or overheard someone traveling through town on vacation, maybe?”
My thoughts raced, and I realized why this was so important to merit a call from the man himself.
It wasn't the company, not really.
In a very real way, I'd placed a long-odds bet on Bruce Wayne just as he'd wandered in from the wilderness and everyone and their dog considered him some prodigal son out for an easy payday.
I hadn't. I'd bought into the IPO, held it for the rise, then accurately predicted that Bruce would find some way to buy the stocks back through third parties. Once that came out, the stocks had plunged and devalued completely. I'd avoided that by preemptively selling, then buying the resulting dip when things went to rock bottom.
The only reason I'd gotten away with it for so long was due to the chaos of the initial months of Bruce's management and, after that, things had been buried under layers of sales and purchases and a newly-formed LLC my parents had created to handle all further purchases, isolating our names from transactions to a superficial degree.
Once scrutiny was applied, though... that paper-thin camouflage fell apart.
Did Bruce think I was some kind of front for the League of Assassins? Some organization he'd wronged or ghosted during his travels?
Well, it looks like Mission #1 was fucked even before it began! A new world record! Literally negative time accomplished on that objective before Batman was on my ass!
My hands were sweating.
You know what? Fuck it!
“If... if I asked you for help, sir? Could you...” I worked at the words, and nothing came out for a long moment, the feeling of vertigo coming over me, as if I were standing in front of a gaping void. A chasm of uncertainty and possibility that no one else could see.
The Unknown.
“I'd do my best to help you if you're in trouble, Arden,” Bruce stated, his tone shifting. It was lower, serious, firm... there wasn't any gravel or threat to it, not yet. “Is someone threatening you? Your family?”
“No,” I shook my head, not that he could see it, my heart racing and adrenaline flooding my system without an outlet. “I-it... there's a... circus, coming to Gotham. In a month. Next month.”
“A circus?” Bruce asked, and I heard the faintest clack of keys in the background. “That's... ah, Haly's Circus?”
I took a deep breath and whet my lips with a stroke of my tongue.
“Tony Zucco is going to hit them up for protection money when they come to town,” I explained. “They'll refuse to pay. They're tough people, not the kind you threaten lightly. I-in reponse, Zucco is going to have the trapeze wires sabotaged, so that... the F-flying Graysons will fall to their deaths.”
There was silence on the other end of the line.
“Arden... why are you telling me this?” Bruce asked, his voice quiet and compassionate, but with an undertone of steel.
“Because you can help,” I replied bluntly, almost gasping the words out in relief, the weight of the secret having been bearing down on me harder than I'd thought. I knew there was so many dangers coming in the next few years... aliens, demons, gods, monsters, villains, disasters... but I didn't know where or when or which ones.
This, though, this was something I could stop.
Something that I wasn't helpless to prevent.
I reached up and swept a hand over my eyes.
Raining, again, under the awning even. Must be a leak. Dad would need to fix that.
“I can call the police, yes,” Bruce replied carefully. “At least, I could if I knew this information came from a reliable source. So how do you know about this, Arden? How does a boy in Colorado know about the schemes of a criminal in Gotham?”
There were things I could say to that, a lot of them.
Bruce didn't deserve most of them, though, not the ones that would convince him.
“Even if I told someone...” I replied, choosing my words with unusual precision. “...any kind of secret, like where that tip came from... they wouldn't believe some kid. Even if he's a genius. But...”
I paused, thinking over the next part, Bruce sitting quietly on the line.
“Secrets... aren't like other things. They're more important the fewer people know them,” I stated. “So... if I had a really important secret, like where I got that information from, or why I'm telling you... I'd know better than to tell anyone about it. Especially if it's not mine to share in the first place.”
Another long pause.
“I see.” Bruce's voice was... hard to read, now, empty of either true or falsified emotion. “Is there anything else you think I should know?”
“J-Jason Todd,” I mumbled, then repeated myself. “Two d's. His mother is using. He needs a good home before he ends up on the streets.”
“I'll... try to get the police to pay some attention to these situations, Arden,” Bruce assured me, taking a breath before replying properly. “If there's anything else... hmm, actually, you should expect a package from me in the next few days. It wouldn't do to have my youngest stockholder unable to voice his opinions, after all.”
My mind groped for a moment, the switch of tracks too rapid.
A communicator. Cell phone? Something that's not a normal phone line, probably. Are satellite phones a thing yet?
“Okay. If there's anything else... I'll let you know,” I nodded. “You're probably busy, though.”
Bruce chuckled, the amiable nature coming back. “We're two hours ahead of Colorado, Arden. I was just about to sit down for dinner, actually.”
I meant what I said, and I think we both know it.
“Right,” I nodded. “I shouldn't keep you, then.”
“Good night, Arden.” Bruce paused one last time. “I'll be in touch.”
The line went dead and I almost went with it.
“Jesus H. Fucking Christ,” I whispered, rubbing at my face and smearing sweat over it from my palms. Which, again, weird because I never sweat from my palms. Ever.
Then again, I'd never spoken with Batman before, either.
I sighed and, not wanting to interact with my parents again quite yet, dropped onto the edge of the porch. Instantly, a giant hound made it known that he expected attention and dropped his head into my lap. Setting the phone down, I pulled out the ticket I had in my pocket from earlier.
It was bronze, a reward for not starting a forest fire while practicing.
An intrusive thought suggested I might get another for intentionally starting one, but I beat that down with the ease of growing practice.
Only there wasn't one ticket in my pocket.
There were two.
[Confound Destiny]
It was clear or – no, not quite – it was... faceted, translucent, not quite transparent. Like looking through broken glass or a cut gem.
My heart rate spiked again.
“Diamond,” I breathed, my eyes wide as I stared at the reward, then read the words back. “Confound Destiny.”
Something about that tickled the back of my mind, but the potential of the ticket absorbed my attention. This was – by far – the highest rank I'd gotten. I hadn't even scored a platinum ticket yet. Those were awarded for saving – or killing – affecting hundreds of lives. Acts of heroism or villainy that spanned city blocks or entire neighborhoods.
Diamond was... a step past that.
The First Robin, Nightwing, Dick Grayson... yeah, I could see screwing up his destiny being worth that much.
It left a pit in my stomach, though.
I looked between the two papers for another moment, then slipped the bronze back in my pocket for now. I probably only had time for one before they noticed I was off the phone, anyway.
And like hell I wasn't cracking my reward for what was likely the most stressful conversation I'd had in either life.
I stopped, turned to look at the dog in my lap, and relaxed. “Fool me once, shame on me...”
But, this wasn't Lincoln. This was Monroe, and he was a kind, gentle, and noble beast... except when it came to treats. God help you if you got between that dog and manifesting his destiny on whatever treat was being offered.
Snorting, I tore the ticket and popped the ball.
And blinked at the paper, then swore.
“One day, I'm actually going to get magic and then I'll be fucking awesome at it, I swear to the Source,” I muttered, shaking my head.
372.Brand of Tzeentch (5.8 Rarity, 0.71% odds)
-Epic Trait-
Warhammer 40k - You wear the brand of Tzeentch, the Changer of Ways. Greatly speeding up your comprehension and learning abilities. Allowing you to improve in skill and magic far faster. In addition, you are capable of spells that you otherwise wouldn't be able to learn due to restrictions like racial differences. Note: Brands do not connect you to the Chaos Gods or Warp.
Worlds away, an ancient figure in a tattered cloak sat upon a sandworn monument in a forgotten desert at the edge of a ruined civilization.
Cradled in his arms was a massive tome which bore arcane symbols carved on both faces, chains wrapping the body of the book and trailing up the thing and weathered arms holding it open.
A faceless shadow bore down from where the hood of the cloak was raised as he stared down at the pages before him.
The pages… that had shifted.
Something had happened.
Something strange and unforeseen.
“There is… another,” a voice dry as the surrounding desert rasped out. Joints and bones as old as the universe itself creaked as he stood, the dust of centuries falling from the folds of his cloak.
He began to walk, the endless sands shifting around him as ways and paths formed from nothing to carry him to the mansion that had never been - but always was - in the distance.
~~~
Here we go!
Another Butler Boy!
We continue the tale of Arden's adventures as he slowly gathers tokens of great power and reaps the unintended consequences of his own actions. Which is always fun.
Next update will be Mind Games, which scraped out a win as the top dog for this month. Butler Boy was close behind, though.
I'll also have the highest-tier poll up either tonight or tomorrow to see which other project gets a special extra-long chapter.
Hope everyone is enjoying your weekend. Thank you for your ongoing support.
Comments
Arkos Sloth
Because they live in Colorado, not West Virginia. Most of the people he has helped has been his family and possibly dog. And one child cancer patient. He'd quickly get a very different reputation very quickly, especially in his small town. Also, mono sucks. 0/10 do not recommend.
ElCebo
Finally got around to reading this collection. It's quiet fun, even if the devout family dances right on my own religious trauma button. That aside, I wonder why Arden uses syringes filled with blood when the pull explicitly says "You can also inject these cells into other people through the exchange of fluids," meaning that exchanging fluids acts as the means by which the cells are injected, not that an injection of fluids is necessary to exchange them. And why blood instead of saliva?
Marius Petrauskas
nice
