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I… am in a conundrum. What kind of conundrum, you may ask? Well, the kind that either ends in rambunctious gang violence or a Like a Dragon-style side quest.
Let me give a quick rundown of my day so far. It's the last Thursday of November. Thanksgiving. Bad time to be an (alleged) orphan, good time to be friends with a petty Amy Dallon. I got invited to the Dallon-Pelham household holiday dinner.
All of this is normal.
Of course, showing up to someone's house for Thanksgiving without bringing food is sort of in bad taste unless explicitly told otherwise. So, like the polite young man I am, I decided to go visit Brockton's local Asian district for some interesting food to bring to an American dinner.
Again, a normal and sensical thing to do.
Here's where it gets weird. I could give a long diatribe about economics, the state of the supply chain, and a bunch of other stuff - but long story short? Brockton was a small city, and it only had a couple of ethnic markets. So, I was strapped for choice when it came to finding a place that sold Siu Yuk, otherwise known as Canton-style roast pork belly. I wasn't really holding out for anything more exotic, and roast pork was as good a turkey companion as any.
It's just that the only place that would sell more than a single-serving was also Oni Lee's favorite lunch spot.
How did I learn about this? Well, despite Worm being the most grimdark thing ever written, people still practiced a bit of common sense. For example, intimidating customers who intend to buy food from the place that's part of your protection racket is like shooting yourself in the hand.
Stupid and confusing.
So, despite the small group of armed thugs chilling outside the restaurant, no one really stopped me from going in and spending money.
Which is how I ended up behind the aforementioned suicide bomber in line.
Now, despite what you think, there was no tension. I was, after all, a civilian and had nothing to do with cape culture besides my friendship with PanPan. Lee turned around and looked at me when I stepped into the restaurant before dismissing me from his mind. We then spent the next twenty minutes standing idly at the counter as our orders were prepared.
No, what made it weird was when he went to pay for his food.
"Um, Lee-xiansheng, you are short fifteen dollars." The elderly man said, wringing his hands as he kept his eyes focused on the register. Yeah, I would too, considering the cape paid in a wad of crumpled tens. The bundle of money he handed over might have been more coke than cash by weight.
Which made sense, since the ABB had raided some Empire storehouse last week, which had put Amy in a bad mood from all the skinheads she needed to patch up.
The addleminded cape stared uncomprehendingly for a few seconds, then nodded. He then stuffed his hand into his jacket. The old man flinched at the action before he realized that the man was just pulling out his wallet. Unfortunately, for our intrepid mass murderer, his coinpurse was empty. Lee thumbed through it a few times, trying to find a trove of hidden cash in its snakeskin, only to come up with grenade pins.
Realizing he had no money, he pulled out his phone. He shot off a quick text before tucking it away.
I watched the entire scene unfold, morbidly curious as to where it was going. A few moments later, the entire group of thugs had made their way into the restaurant, searching pockets and patting jackets, looking for loose money.
"I got my lucky two-dollar bill."
"I've got three quarters and a dime, but that's for parking."
"Jiang, you always carry cash - pay the man so we can go."
"Screw you, I'm always paying. Why don't we just put it on a tab?"
"And make the neighborhood think the big boss is strapped for cash? If you want Lung to roast you over ruining his rep, feel free."
"Yeah, that's bad business, Jiang. If you take without paying, how is the man supposed to buy supplies and keep the business afloat? Restaurant margins are notoriously thin."
"Are you kidding me? We make the guy pay thousands in 'protection' and you idiots are arguing about the ethics of fifteen bucks?! Are you fucking with me?!"
They squabbled like that for a while longer before the one named Jiang finally admitted he left his wallet in the car.
All said and done, they were able to scrounge up another five bucks.
"Xi, we're regulars. How about we mark it up and you charge us another ten next time?" Jiang asked, apparently the designated spokesperson for the group of red and green-wearing men and one blankly staring cape. The old man nodded nervously, preparing to write it into the order, before one of the thugs noticed my staring.
"Hey, Jiang, why don't we just ask the kid over there for ten bucks?" A man with a green dewrag nodded at me. Jiang just slowly looked over. He then looked back at Oni Lee.
"Has he been there the entire time, boss?" The man asked his superior. Lee nodded.
Jiang turned back to me. He mulled something over in his head before finally coming to a decision. He walked towards me lackadaisically, hands in his pockets, like he was approaching an acquaintance. After about ten steps, he squared up to me, his gaze scrutinizing my clothes before deciding on an approach.
"Kid, you mind loaning us ten bucks? We'll owe you one. We're getting lunch for a meeting with the big boss, Lung. You know Lung? Dragon of the ABB?" He asked, tone drifting from exasperated gangster lieutenant to sleazy car salesman. Curious to see where he was going with this, I nodded.
"You do know him, then. Well, see, he hates being kept waiting. I'd hate to tell him that we were held up because you couldn't find it to be generous on Thanksgiving." It was so over dramatic, I lost my train of thought for a moment. Heck, he even started drawling like an old-style mafioso, despite the fact that he was a Chinese man who was part of a pan-Asian gang in a fairly diverse city.
"Are-are you extorting me over ten dollars?" I asked. Some of my confusion must have been visible on my face because Jiang reeled back like I cold-cocked him.
"Extortion? Who said anything about extortion? I'm just asking you, as one Brockton citizen to another, on this great American day, to make a generous loan of ten dollars to some down-on-their-luck neighbors. Isn't that what holidays are all about?" He held both hands in a prayer gesture, smiling cheerily at me.
It was very off-putting seeing a scarred six-foot Chinese man try to pull off the Tiny Tim routine. The worst part was that he seemed to have practiced it.
"Yeah, kid. Aren't you young people all about that holiday spirit?" One of his thugs asked, trying to throw an arm around my shoulders. I sidestepped it, which just left him awkwardly patting the air.
As you can see, this was a conundrum of epic proportions. Do I hand over ten bucks? Or do I go all kickass like a real isekai protagonist, thereby starting a chain of events leading to my eventual world rulership?
'It's ten dollars. You spent more on breakfast yesterday.' Mewtwo psychically beamed at me. I could visualize his face palm. I frowned, but didn't let it show on my face.
'It's the principle of the matter, Mewtwo! This is the call to adventure! What kind of hero lets themselves be extorted by a couple of low-tier thugs and a guy who's Psychic imprint looks like a shriveled mummy?' I telepathed back. I wasn't really all about that wish fulfillment business, but I mean, come on - this was textbook! I could even go all 'Hya! You thought to ask this young master for money?!'
'Marcus. I believe humans to be distasteful at best and disgusting at worst. And even I find beating on these ne'er-do-wells a pathetic endeavor.' I paused for a moment. Mewtwo used my actual name. That meant he was super cereal.
I actually looked over the gathered thugs. A few things stood out. Their clothes were old. Like, old old. The bright flashes of green and red were stitched in patches to cover what were likely holes in clothes. They were tense. Not from me, because a group of grown men could handle any random seventeen-year-old kid, but because Oni Lee was watching. They were being judged silently by Lung's second in command, who hadn't said a word the entire time.
Even looking at Jiang, career criminal or not, the man was nervously glancing to the side every time my eyes passed over his boss. He was worried about losing face, which in the game he was playing would be deadly. I pursed my lips as I came to the same conclusion as my Legendary friend.
Mewtwo was right. Beating on them - gangsters or not - would have just been pathetic. Not for any moral reason, but because they weren't actually a threat. They were just posturing to try to make up for looking incompetent in front of their boss. A random ABB lieutenant calling down the wrath of Lung? Over ten dollars from some random kid?
I sighed. Yeah, these guys were pitiful. I wasn't all-powerful either, but I was good enough with telekinesis, my sixth sense, and Aura to floor these idiots. And Mewtwo could crumple Lee and Lung like cans. There really wasn't any sense in starting a gang war over ten bucks, was there?
"Yeah, sure, here." I said, pulling out my own wallet. It was a beaten thing that I'd somehow kept from my first life. It just fell out of my phone one day when I thought about money. Don't get me wrong, I liked money - but with Mewtwo's capabilities and the nature of the multiverse, cash just seemed to be more like Monopoly money than anything with actual worth. Wait a minute, something about that sounded weird. Money had no worth? I ran that thought through my mind again.
The realization hit me like two Woopers jumping on my bed in the morning.
I've become a rich person.
The tension fled the room as I handed over the money robotically, coming to terms with my newfound status. No, this couldn't be true. Had I somehow completely lost perspective? Did money hold no meaning for me anymore?
'Quick, Mewtwo, what's the price of a single orange?' I hastily asked. I wasn't out of touch yet, I'm sure of it.
'In what known universe would the price of fruit be relevant to your current situation? Stop bothering me with your inane ramblings.' Mewtwo sneered at me. I despaired over the truth that had become startlingly obvious. I was out of touch. I couldn't even name the price of common food…
"Thanks, kid. Anyone around here give you any trouble, you let me know, alright?" Jiang asked, clapping me on the shoulder as he walked past with his group and his boss. Apparently, during my emotional breakdown over my realization, he'd gone ahead and paid for his order and already got everyone loaded up and was heading out. I ignored him as they left the restaurant and stepped up to the counter.
"Your order, young man. And take this, an apology. Robbing children on a holiday…" The old man complained, pushing a carton of peanut candy into my hands along with the two boxes of roast pork. I thanked him and left a bit extra to share with the cooks in the back, with a small 'Happy Thanksgiving' being my last words before I stepped out into the November chill.
It was the middle of the afternoon on a federal holiday, so the street was busy. Not so busy that I had to muscle my way through a crowd, but enough eyeballs meant I couldn't just portal away at my earliest convenience. I'd have a few blocks to walk before I could dip into an alley and disappear.
'Hey, Mewtwo.' I mentally nudged the Legendary.
'What is it now, you reprobate?' He asked without any heat.
'Do you think - do you think we should do something?' I asked, thinking about that weird interaction at the restaurant. As strange as it sounds, I don't think that Jiang guy really wanted to shake down a seventeen-year old kid. Don't get me wrong, as the old guy said, I'm pretty sure he was a lifelong criminal. But even criminals deserved better than a warlord like Lung playing judge, jury, and executioner in a way that would make even the most kangaroo court cringe.
Not to mention all the regular people suffering under his boot heel.
'I fail to see why the inadequacies of the local justice system stop with us. Explain why this compels you now, when the past months have been spent frolicking about with no care.' I shrugged.
'Most people don't care about things unless they can see them, Mewtwo. I'm not really any different.' It really was that simple.
'Your species' failures compel me to retch.' I heard him release a mental sigh. 'But let it be known that I wish to be above my creators, and will not propagate cruelty for cruelty's sake. I will handle it.'
I raised a brow.
'Just like that?' The Psychic-type had been content with studying Shards for the past two months. Hearing that he was willing to help was odd, to say the least.
'Just like that.' He agreed. I smiled.
'You were just looking for an excuse to help, weren't you?' I prodded him. Mewtwo just scoffed. He did that a lot. Like that time I called him a test tube baby. Accurate, and I was out of comebacks at the time.
'I am a sapient being. Not just sapient, but my awareness could be compared favorably to your vaunted God's omniscience -'
'Good guy or not, still gotta stroke that ego, huh?' I poked fun at the Pokémon.
'Silence.' He used his vast Psychic might to flick my forehead from across the city. Ow.
'As I was saying, my monitoring exceeds even the greatest of your kind's surveillance systems. I am poignantly aware of every small soul stepped on by the aspirations of 'greater men.' While I am powerful, I am also not so arrogant as to lack empathy or self-awareness.' Hearing that actually lifted my spirits a bit.
At the end of the day, Mewtwo came from a world where peace and friendship were the standard, rather than the ideal. Even if he wasn't the most friendly guy himself, he had that spark of goodness in him that really shone when he wanted to.
'Thanks, bud. That honestly makes me feel a lot better.' I told the Legendary as I stepped through a portal and dropped myself off about a block away from the Pelham household. I was also on time for once in my life. Fifteen minutes early, in fact.
'As it should. My enemies always find themselves an ignoble and just end.' He bragged.
'Isn't Giovanni still running around Johto a free man?' I asked. I didn't do much research into the Pokémon world I landed, but I'm pretty sure the Rocket boss wasn't in prison in any of the main continuities.
'Yes, he scurries about like a rat after having his criminal enterprises dismantled by a ten-year-old. It pains me to admit that this Arceus that you say is the God of my world has a penchant for suitably ironic punishments that far surpasses my own. Giovanni's singular wish was for greatness. Now he must find greatness in a cave, hobbled over a canned meal and a radio.' Well, it was nice to know that Heart Gold and Soul Silver story beat was canon. We chatted a bit more about what he was planning to do - more or less, it was me trying to pry the secret out of him and getting nowhere.
Eventually, I found myself standing in front of the door, a shopping bag full of pork in one hand, and a small container of peanut candy in the other. I dropped the candy into the bag and knocked on the door.
The man who answered was well built, if a bit leaner than I expected for a hero. Of course, that expectation was based on years of superhero media from my old world and Armsmaster's workout videos. Discount Batman or not, the man had a bodyfat percentage that would make a male model weep in envy. I sorta got how Dragon could look past his tendency to be a dick.
The blonde in front of me was less muscular, but more on the swimmer side of healthy. He wore a simple dress shirt and slacks, and a belt that had a small silver buckle with the barely legible word 'Bang' etched into it.
We both stood there a while, waiting for the other to speak.
"Wow - you -"
"Hi, I'm -"
I paused to let the man go ahead, and he did the same. We waited for another moment for each other to speak before the man decided to take control of the situation and stuck his hand out.
"Mark Dallon. Nice to meet you. Sorry about that, it's just… your looks caught me by surprise." He said. I grabbed his hand and gave it a firm shake like I was having a job interview. Nothing wrong with good impressions, after all.
"Ha. Yeah. Name's Marcus Michina." I introduced myself. "I'm guessing Vicky's not been quiet about what I look like?"
I already knew the answer to that. Even after only going to school with her for two months, she treated me like the brother she never had. Not in the overly-familiar sense, but there were a lot of 'twinsies' jokes.
"She hasn't… but seeing you for myself, it's uncanny. It's the face shape. You've got the same nose as the rest of my family and Carol's high cheekbones. I - sorry. This is a little weird, isn't it?" He muttered at the end before shaking his head.
"Let's get you out of the cold, and then I can go on about you looking like my long-lost son." Mark stepped aside, letting me into the Pelham household. It was a pretty normal suburban family home, if a bit on the nicer side. We stood in a small hall foyer, right in front of some stairs. Off to the left, I could make out a sitting room, and past it the dining room. Down the hall, I could see a kitchen, and off to the right, I could see a kitted-out home theatre and couch.
I put the food down for a moment and threw my coat on the rack. I looked down at the floor, noticing the pile of shoes that were neatly set to the side. Flashbang's gaze naturally followed mine, and he snapped his fingers like he just remembered something.
"Oh, shoes, right. We probably have a spare pair of slippers somewhere. Let me ask Sarah. For now, socks should be fine." He said, gesturing for me to follow him. I did as asked and stepped out of my sneakers before picking up my bag and walking with him to the living room. I took a look around, noting that everyone was gathered here except for Manpower.
"Hey, Sarah, Amy's friend is here. Do we have anything for him to wear? Don't want to make him walk around in his socks." The aptly named Photon Mom looked up from a conversation she was having with a brown-haired woman, whom I assumed was Brandish.
It was weird, but for some reason I just assumed they were all blonde in my head - turns out, that's not the case. There were definitely plenty of blondes, not including me, but it was more of an even split.
Sarah chewed her lip for a moment in thought before letting out a small chuckle. The woman, like the rest of the family, was fit. I honestly felt a little underdressed because the 'local celebrity' aura sort of made me feel like I walked in on a meeting of important people, even if it was just a family dinner.
"We do have one pair left, but they're a little off-season. Give me a moment," She said before stepping out and opening a closet we passed by. Both families watched as the superheroine dug through a pile of clothes just out of sight.
"Here we go! They might be a little big on you, since they're Neil's Christmas Day shoes, but I don't think he'll mind sharing them for a bit." Sarah said, pulling out of the closet with her hard-won treasure. She stepped up to me and handed me the slip-on shoes.
They were bright green, with a red trim. On the tip was a reindeer face, capped with a red nose and two felt antlers. I took them from her with my free hand. They were a little big - Manpower was like seven feet tall - but it wasn't like I was going to be running in them.
"These are amazing," I said in awe. They really were. There was even a little switch on the heel that lit up the nose. I handed the food off to Mark, or I guess I should start calling him Mr. Dallon, before taking one in each hand.
I then made the noses touch like they were kissing.
"Awesome." I said again, before dropping them and stepping in.
I politely ignored the loud smack followed by giggles that came from the occupied living room behind me. Once they were properly on, or as close as I could get, I turned around to greet the room.
"Hey, Ames. Ames's family. Ames's extended family. Dean's girlfriend." I said in order, nodding to each one of the Dallon and Pelham members as I listed them off. The Newer Wave members just cracked a smile at my joke, with Vicky letting out a particularly unladylike snort. Sarah, proving to be the more humorous of the two sisters, cracked a wry smile as Carol raised a single eyebrow. Amy sighed before getting up from her cozy armchair and saddling up next to me.
She then jabbed two fingers into my side.
"Introduce yourself properly. Referring to people by relationship makes you look dumb, not cute."
Despite Ames' insistence that she doesn't pout, I was sorely tempted to take a picture of her nervous frown for future blackmail. She wasn't one for anxiety, but I could tell she wanted this meeting to go well. Still, it was charming. The goofy smile on my face must have been a dead giveaway, because she not so subtly raised her fingers as a threat.
Obviously, I folded immediately.
"Nice to meet you all. I'm Marcus. Amy's bestest friend." I properly introduced myself to the gathered family. Amy rolled her eyes at my epithet before taking over from there.
"Right, for lack of better choices. You've already met my dad and Aunt Sarah," She said, gesturing to the two adults next to me. Mark nodded and the nominal leader of New Wave smiled in response.
"My mother, Carol Dallon." Amy followed up as her mother stood up to meet me.
"It's nice to meet one of Amy's friends." The lawyer offered her greeting as a platitude. She seemed to still be getting a read on me, so I just politely shook the stern woman's hand, her analytical gaze clashing with her sweater depicting a cornucopia.
"It's nice to meet you, too. I'm happy being her friend."
Anything else I would have said was interrupted by the girl herself pulling me away immediately. The healer then shoved me towards her cousins as fast as she could get away with. Instead of the stern gaze of the Dallon Matriarch, I was met with a matching pair of amused eyes from the Pelham siblings.
"Stop being so corny. It's embarrassing." Amy huffed, crossing her arms now that we were away from her mother. She then introduced her two last family members, who were trying their best not to break out in giggles.
"My cousins. You already know Eric, I think. This is Crystal, who goes to the local college." Eric waved at me as Crystal eyed me up and down. Now, she was a college-aged blonde woman - I didn't want to be reductive, but it would be easier to list the 90's movies' love interest traits she didn't have.
Her brother, on the other hand, evened the ratio of blondes to brunettes, because even under his dyed hair, I could see a few dark roots making themselves known. He was younger than us by a few years. A freshman at Arcadia, I think.
Turning back to Amy, I had the perfect rebuttal to her light-hearted embarrassment.
"Ames, it's Thanksgiving. If I'm not corny now, that would go against the spirit of the holidays." I whined to the girl, prompting actual laughter from the brother and sister pair.
"Ha. I like him. He's fun." Crystal said. Eric just nodded in agreement.
"Right? I told you. They're hilarious together." Ames, who had been pointedly ignoring my teasing, doubled back at her cousin's words.
"What's that supposed to mean, dweeb?" She said, pinning the boy with a glare. He just laughed and waved it off before turning to his sister.
"See? It's like a Persian cat whose best friends with Air Bud." He explained, which caused both Crystal and an eavesdropping Vicky to giggle at the imagery. It got a little chuckle out of me, too, because Ames tended to look like a grumpy cat when she went without sleep. The way she was wrinkling her nose now at the thought just drove the image home. I leaned over to her, stage whispering as I pointed out one important detail about the comparison.
"Psst, Ames, I think you need to get better at basketball. I can't be the one carrying the team. I'm terrible at sports." I really was. New body meant new hand-eye coordination, and I didn't have seventeen years of experience to compensate. Oddly enough, it didn't really affect me when throwing or dodging a punch based on tests with Pawmi.
"That just means you're the cat, idiot. Also, do I look like someone who can dunk? I'm five-five on a good day." She said, taking all the teasing in stride. Amy really was a different person when she was comfortable with the people around her. Her attitude was still set at 'bother me at your own peril' but it was like she was playing it up for the audience. Less snippy, more snappy.
Of course, Vicky butt in, finally too excited to continue eavesdropping on us now that she had a perfect topic to enter on.
"I don't know, Ames. I still have cellphone footage of tryouts from middle school. You got some serious airtime during the first week." She was even pulling out her phone to show off said video before Amy shoved the girl's hands down.
"Don't. I know where you sleep." The brunette threatened, narrowed eyes and pursed lips, daring her sister to continue. Vicky just smirked and playfully held her hands up in surrender. I pulled Amy back, doing my part for the bit, before chuckling.
"Alright, as curious as I am about that - Vicky send me the evidence later," I fake-whispered to the girl as the healer squawked indignantly, "I think I still haven't met someone?"
The adults had stepped off to the side, content to watch us mingle. Though at my question, Mark perked up.
"Oh, right, Niel's still in the backyard. Come on, I'll take you to meet him. Kids, you mind helping Carol and Sarah set the table?" He said. The combined families nodded and agreed as I followed the adults toward the kitchen. The hero set my plastic bag of pork on the counter next to a medley of Thanksgiving staples as his wife and sister-in-law started to bring dishes out to the dining room.
There was a door leading to the backyard, a small fenced area that was already covered in that fresh New England sogginess of November.
A giant of a man, with brown hair and a large overcoat, was standing in front of a large pot over an open fire. He had a meat thermometer pinned to his coat pocket and was holding what looked like a thick coat hanger over the pot of boiling oil.
"Hey, Neil, how's the turkey going?" The Dallon patriarch asked with a wave as we stepped out onto the patio. It smelled like it was going good to me, like a peppery rotisserie.
"Mark! Mind being a pal and tossing me a beer? Forgot to grab one when I stood up to finish it off, and don't want to interrupt the process." He said without turning, eyes laser-focused on the bird he was cooking.
The older man grabbed and opened a bottle from a cooler on the patio as we both stepped around front to the boiler. It looked comically small in Manpower's meaty hand when he grabbed it.
The larger hero took a swig, draining the whole thing in two gulps, before passing the empty bottle back to his brother-in-law.
"Thanks. It's weird how thirsty you can get standing in front of an open flame, even when it's cold." He mused, carefully shifting his grip so the turkey cooked evenly.
We were on the edge of the patio itself, so the wind wasn't as bad, but it was a bit chilly even with the fire going.
"Sorry about ignoring you, by the way. Just need to focus for the last fifteen minutes. Nice shoes though." He said, pointing out the slippers I had borrowed from his wife. I shrugged. I didn't really get it, but some people really liked making cooking meat challenging. I was more of a cast-iron steak guy, since it was fast and tasty.
"Nah, it's cool. And thanks, I'll let the owner know." I quipped back. Mark chuckled at the joke as Neil turned his attention back to cooking.
All three of us patiently waited as Neil worked his magic and finished off the Thanksgiving entree. Then, at some unknown signal, Mark and Neil started moving like a well-oiled machine. The shorter of the two pulled a large colander from the cooking utensils, as well as a cooking pan, and set them on the table next to the pot. With one swift motion, the turkey was yanked out of the deep fryer and placed in the strainer as Mark started patting it down with paper towels.
Neil then grabbed the whole haphazard ensemble and started shuffling toward the kitchen.
"Kid, get the door! Don't want this settling out in the cold, or it'll just be a mess." I snapped to attention, pushing the door open and stepping aside as the two grown men rushed in like they were balancing a hot potato. They quickly settled it on the counter as the wives, somehow experienced in this strange ritual, stepped aside.
Sarah rolled her eyes.
"Every year, I'm surprised you don't drop the damn thing. I sincerely doubt five minutes in the cold is going to do anything to meat you've deep-fried in three hundred fifty degree oil for nearly an hour." She muttered as Carol just sighed in commiseration.
"It tastes different. Back me up here, Mark." Neil defended himself to his wife.
"The skin does get a bit soggy if we don't rush it inside." He agreed.
"See? Even the kid agrees." The burly hero said, pointing at me. I didn't even realize it, but I was so wrapped up in the moment I was nodding at Mr. Pelham's words. I went wide-eyed as every suburban parent in the household turned their attention to me.
I coughed into my hand.
"Moisture content while the meat sets is important for texture," I repeated some half-remembered phrase from a cooking video binge I had in my first life. Which clearly wasn't the answer the women were looking for, because they just stared at me like Amy did when I said something particularly insightful.
"Well, at least Vicky and Crystal have taste. Some things are just nurture over nature, I suppose." Carol said, patting her sister on the shoulder as the woman rubbed the bridge of her nose.
Mark and Neil just shot me a shared thumbs up.
I think I passed some sort of test.
\-\
Thanksgiving was… fine. As usual. Don't get her wrong, spending time with her extended family was fun, but it was sort of 'business as usual' when you saw them at least once a month, more in the case of Eric, since they went to the same school. Inviting Marcus turned out to be a spiteful decision gone right. He'd already won her dad and uncle over, and despite the eye-rolls from her aunt, the woman's barely restrained smile gave the game away. Her mom treated him politely, but not distantly, even going so far as to say that the food he brought was delicious.
Also, it was nice to have another person to talk to, because as much as she loved Vicky and Crystal, they tended to share one brain cell when it came to conversation topics. As a result, she usually chatted up her younger cousin since he was pretty easygoing, but even then, it drifted towards pretty plain topics.
Marcus usually tried his best to keep things interesting.
"- so then the puppy jumped right out of my hands and landed on Ames' face. I should have taken a picture. It was adorable." He gushed. Amy immediately corrected the boy's version of events.
"It did not land on my face. It jumped into my arms because someone scared the poor thing by stepping on a squeaky toy and almost popping it."
The blonde teen 'pshawed', over-acting his response.
"It was cute. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it, officer." He snarked.
It went on like that, back and forth, for the entire dinner. Marcus going about and exaggerating something they did together and Amy poking holes in his embellishiments.
It was…fun. And the way everyone else pointed out inconsistencies as the teen started pulling out more and more impossible tales made the whole table laugh.
By the end, they had apparently ended world hunger, punched Eidolon, and shook hands with the Vice President (after the original president had died via choking on broccoli). All this before lunch on Saturday.
Things settled pretty quickly as dinner ended. But it wasn't the end of the night, of course. There was still cleanup.
"Amy, do you mind taking a look at Neil? He might have had one too many." Aunt Sarah asked, patting her husband on the shoulder as he yawned. Hearing his wife, however, shook the sleep from his expression.
"One too many? Honey, I haven't had enough!" He joked, his face flushed from the alcohol. Placing her hand on the man's own, she activated her power and took a look. She'd gotten intimately familiar with her family's biology by now. A quick cursory scan, and she had her diagnosis.
"He's drunk. Nothing too bad, but you should probably lie down for an hour or two, Uncle Neil." She pushed things along a bit by having his liver produce extra enzymes to break down the alcohol in his system. A simple enough fix, and it still let him keep his buzz for a bit.
"Thank you, Amy. Crystal, Victoria? Mind helping me get him to the couch?" She waved the other two blondes down, getting a couple of nods as they assumed a position on each side of the man. Vicky grabbed him under his right shoulder as his daughter and wife lifted the other side. Given that he was seven feet tall, Neil was pretty hefty.
"Sarah - It's fine. I'm fine. I'm the man of the house; I should be helping clean up." He complained as he wobbled a bit on his feet before his niece steadied him.
"No worries, Neil, I've got this. You did a good chunk of the cooking, so it's the least we can do." Amy's dad interrupted, patting the man on his shoulder as he started taking dirty plates to the kitchen. A few more half-hearted complaints were heard from the giant as he was pushed into the living room.
"I'll go ahead and get the leftovers stowed. Amy, could you help your father?" Carol asked her daughter. She was about to say yes before she was interrupted by her friend.
"I'll go and help him. I'm pretty sure there's still a setup outside that needs to be broken down, and I don't want to sit on my butt just because I'm a guest." Marcus offered.
Carol eyed the teen up and down for a moment before seemingly agreeing.
"Very well, thank you for doing so. We'll clean up the leftovers then." She said before turning to Amy.
"See if Sarah still has that large container she uses for ribs. You know how your uncle gets about wasting bones." She said as she started scraping trash onto one plate for ease of disposal. Knowing the exact container her mother was talking about, Amy followed Marcus into the kitchen. The two separated as the healer started looking through the cupboards as her friend offered to help with the dishwashing.
Feet scurried back and forth between the dining room and the kitchen as dirty plates were piled and leftovers stuffed in the fridge and freezer. Eventually, everything on the table itself was handled, with Amy taking the last set of dirty plates down the hall as her mother joined the rest of the family in corralling a drunken uncle with super strength.
"Hey, this is the last of it," Amy said, setting the last pile of plates on the counter next to Marcus. The teen was handling all the straightforward things like plates and serving dishes, as her father power-washed the various cooking tools, and the humongous frying pot in the larger sink.
"Thanks, Ames." He muttered, focusing on scrubbing a glass casserole dish.
"Thanks, sweetie. Would you mind going and checking on your uncle? He's usually better about this sort of thing, but that new IPA must hit like a truck if he's drunk after only a few." Her father asked. Amy shrugged. It wasn't like she minded. Drunk Uncle Niel was kind of funny, if she was being honest. He loved singing.
Usually Jingle Bells.
She made it about halfway down the hall before she heard the man's belting of 'Batman smells, and the Joker got awaaaaay!'. Hmm, she should probably grab some water for him so she could speed it up a bit.
Turning back, she made it to the doorway -
"- she really works too hard. But I don't know how to broach the subject. I mean, she's been raised on 'hero responsibility' since she was little. So… it really means a lot that you try so hard to be her friend." Her dad's voice carried over the sound of running water and clattering dishes.
"I don't need to be thanked for that…" Marcus deflected. He was probably embarrassed. Her friend could spend days chattering if he was prompted.
"No, you do. I can't do as much as I want to. Or as much as I should. So knowing that she has someone else in her corner besides her mother - it's important." Her dad continued, ignoring Marcus' refusals.
"Look it's - it's not a big deal. I'm just doing what she deserves."
"Really? Cause it looks like you're going above and beyond to me. You've known her for two months. I remember being a teenager, as crazy as it sounds. I was a self-absorbed moron for half a decade." Her father pointed out.
"Yeah, well, Ames is special." The teen deflected again.
"I know that. God, do I know that. I'm not trying to grill you; you pass the smell test, and Amy can handle herself. I'm just trying to understand you a bit better. Amy… hasn't had friends in a while, at least none she felt close enough to introduce to Carol and me." Her father explained. There was silence between them for a few minutes, as the sound of cleaning intermingled with the half-heard tune of her uncle's caroling.
"Alright. I - if it's that important, I don't mind explaining, I guess." Marcus grumbled.
"Please, go ahead." Mark encouraged the teenager.
"I think it's like you said, she deserves someone in her corner. I don't - it's not like pity." Marcus sighed in frustration as he tried to put his thoughts together.
Her dad patiently waited as the other blonde was thinking. A few moments passed before Marcus spoke again.
"Have you ever seen someone and thought for a moment, 'I think that person's the same kind of lonely that I am.'?"
"When I'm with Ames, it's like she lets herself be at peace. In that moment, she knows it's just not herself against the world. And before I know it, I'm smiling, I'm goofing off, I'm messing around with her - because I'm feeling the same way. I try so hard with Ames because I don't want her to feel alone. Because that would mean that I'm alone too." Marcus rambled.
"That's the core of it. I want Ames to know that someone out there sees her, even if it's just a little bit. Because it's what I would want."
"Jesus, Marcus. I was expecting puppy love or maybe a crush - that's - I don't even have words - " Amy didn't hear whatever her father was scrambling for, because she bursted into the kitchen herself.
"You're an asshole, you know that?!" Words spilled out of her mouth. Marcus flinched and Mark's mouth dropped into an 'o', both of them realizing that their entire conversation had a very relevant third party.
"Like, what the hell am I supposed to do with what you just said?! You just - you just dump all these expectations on me! Am I some kind of weird mirror for you? Just because I'm alone - it doesn't mean - it doesn't mean - I'm not! I'm not lonely! I'm not…" She had too much she wanted to say, but seeing Marcus' hurt face quenched that pretty succinctly.
"I think I'll take my leave here." Mark mumbled before excusing himself. A dark part of the girl, still reeling from overhearing the reason for Marcus' friendship, thought that it was just like her father to run when things were tough.
Both teens waited silently as the man walked out of the kitchen, hesitating once at the doorway before deciding it was for the best that he leave.
Amy turned towards her friend. Hazel eyes bored into her own, uncertainty shining in his gaze.
"Sorry. For calling you an asshole. I'm - I thought we were friends because - because - I don't really know why. It just seemed right, I guess." Marcus nodded.
"Thanks. I want to say sorry too, but I want to mean it. Can't apologize if I don't know why." He muttered. Amy took a deep breath to calm herself.
It was shakier than she liked, but it wasn't like she was any more in the right here after eavesdropping. So she started talking, sorting out her feelings, trying to put to words the landmine Marcus had unintentionally set off.
"It's the expectations. Every moment of my life, since I got my power, has been about what people are expecting from me. I didn't even get to choose my own name. Panacea. The cure-all. I was given that by the press. Did you know I can actually do brains? I choose not to. Because then people would start expecting me to fix their brains. Do you know how insane that is? Even surgeons can't do it right, and I'm fucking seventeen."
Marcus nodded, absorbing each word as she spoke. It was the one aspect of his personality that didn't fit with his chatterbox ways.
"It's just - hearing what you said, what it sounded like? It was more expectations, but this time for me. For Amy. That I should be responsible for you feeling alright. You're my only real friend. How sad is that? And… it drove me crazy. That my only friend is using me as a lever for their happiness. That they can't be happy unless I'm happy. That it was somehow my responsibility." She let out one more shuddery breath, her feelings finally spent and out in the open.
Seeing that she wasn't going to continue, Marcus took a deep breath himself before answering.
"I'm sorry that I made you feel like that. I wasn't - that's not what I was trying to say at all. It's just that when I see you, Ames, I see someone who I can relate to. Someone who looks at the world and thinks 'No one else should carry this.' I just wanted to be there next to you, and show you that we can carry it together. Whether its your world or mine." He said softly, stepping up to her and wrapping her in a hug. Even if she was still residually mad, she let him.
Amy snorted, though it was muddled by a few hiccups.
She wasn't crying.
Marcus was just really shitty at keeping himself dry while washing dishes.
"That's just it, you idiot. I don't want to carry the world. It's shit. People always asking for more, and more. It's just - I needed it to save Vicky. I'll never regret that. But why couldn't I get something else? Something easy. Instead of being expected to save every single person in front of me." She mumbled into his chest.
"But you still do it anyway. Cause you think to yourself, 'I need to do this.' Really bad personality trait, if you ask me. Heroic doesn't really go with grumpy cute, you know?"
"Yeah, well, obnoxious doesn't go with dumb nice guy."
\-\
Vicky wasn't exactly sure what happened between Ames and Marcus, just that her dad said they had a serious talk in the kitchen after cleanup was done.
She'd bet her bottom dollar it was some kind of confession, though. Those two were made for each other, even if the thought of Ames dating someone who looked exactly like Vicky herself was a little squiggy.
Personality-wise, they were completely different at least, so they only really looked superficially similar - smart, popular, blondes who spend an extraordinary time with a grumpy healer.
"Ames, you alright in here?" Vicky asked. They'd gotten home about thirty minutes ago, and although their parents went straight to bed, neither sister was all too tired yet. Vicky stepped into her sister's bedroom, tiptoeing around the door in case she had actually managed to fall asleep.
The sight that greeted her pretty much confirmed the opposite. Amy was sat on her bed, covers folded over head and body like a giant coat. She honestly sort of looked like an anthill made of blankets sitting on the bed with just her hair sticking out as she looked at her phone.
" 'm fine." Amy mumbled, eyes locked onto the device even though they were starting to droop. Vicky took a peek at the screen that had stolen her sister's focus.
It was some banter, flirting (that Ames vehemently denied) and - oh.
As the foremost relationship expert among the Dallon sisters, this was big news.
Two words were printed on the last text. Well, she had to give it to Marcus. He had more balls than Dean, at least.
It took Dean at least five months of straight dating before she got anything more than a 'Have a goodnight', even though she was pretty sure he was smitten by the third date. She was awesome like that.
Vicky totally didn't accidentally say it on the fourth date and completely throw off their rhythm.
Never happened.
Anyways, back to Ames' dilemma.
"So, you gonna leave it on 'Read'? Cause, I'll back you up on it sis, but that means Dean's going to take Marcus' side and I'd rather not spend December pissed at my boyfriend over something that actually isn't his fault this time." Vicky quipped. It would be a real dick move of her sister to not say anything back, but what were sisters for besides backing you up on morally and socially questionable decisions?
Aunt Sarah still maintains that Vicky's mom was totally in the right for smashing that one henchman in the nuts, despite it being a clear cut case of hero brutality.
Though he did deserve it, considering the shit he was saying about Crystal.
"Don't know. Feelings suck." Yeah, that tracked for her sister.
"Well, then let me share some sisterly wisdom. I love Dean, as hard as he makes it sometimes. Which is the whole point of it. Does that help?" She tried to explain it as simply as possible, but sometimes Ames was just terrible with this stuff.
"Yeah." Her sister mumbled, before typing out a few words.
Vicky looked over her shoulder.
Shutup, idiot.
Yeah, looks like Dean was going to spend Christmas alone this year.
Shame, she bought a really cute outfit to surprise him with, too.
Anyways.
"Night sis, love you." She said, heading back to her room.
"I love you, too."
\-\
Capture Target: Panacea - 160 Credit Reward
Capture Successful!
Love Confession!
\-\
A/N: Once again, Dean catching strays that aren't even feasible, since Wildbow stole all this man's luck. My goat's catching strays from beyond this realm of existence. He's catching strays so hard, Sukuna's World Slash looks like piddly shit compared to what Dean's getting hit with.
Man tries to do right thing, is rewarded with more pain than he thought possible.
I will add more actual author notes later. I am pooped.