“No, we’re not waterboarding him, Luke.”
“But like… what if the rag just slipped in his mouth…”
Jeremy heard the distant sound of words as his brain slowly woke up, confused for a moment by the pain flashing across his whole body. Especially his head. He tried to move his hands, but something was binding them tightly to his chest, and when he tried to push his legs, he realised they weren’t even touching the ground.
It took a moment for his brain to register the strain on his body that wrapped around him before he realised he was hanging in the air. He tried to breathe and only managed to spit out blood that left the taste of rust in his mouth. Then he tried to open his eyes, only for them to be met with darkness.
Complete and whole.
Panic started to set in then. When his brain was too concerned with the pain to remember how he got here the darkness seemed all too familiar. Like the inky black waste, those things outside the Globe left behind in their wake. Logic told him to calm but he flailed despite it, trying to pull himself out of the holdings with the strength he remembered having.
But it wasn’t there. The metal chains wrapped around him, which he could start to see clearly, held him up, hanging off the ground slightly. That explained the swinging when he tried to move.
Where the hell am I? Jeremy questioned, calming slightly. Chains meant people, which was a much better alternative to the horrors beyond the Globe.
The last thing he remembered was… being beaten over the head with a gas bottle. After being set on fire. After being thrown out of a building.
Through a wall.
Not a fun time. Not a fun time at all. He vaguely recalled thinking Crypt set him up, and that could be the case, but such things hardly mattered anymore. If it was intentional, then he couldn’t trust Crypt, and if it wasn’t then the Fixer was simply too incompetent for his needs.
Now calmer, Jeremy stilled himself, hoping his previous thrashing wasn’t too obvious to whoever the voices belonged to. Probably random grunts, considering how wealthy Bloom was. If they were planning on interrogating him, he would much rather they give him a few minutes to think, believing he was still unconscious.
The situation is pretty bad, take stock of what I can work with. He tried to squint in the darkness, hoping to make out something that might give him a hint of where he was. The indistinct shapes gave him the impression he was in a warehouse of some kind, typical of a kidnapping, but besides that, he couldn’t tell anything else.
It’s pitch black outside. Which meant he’d been unconscious for at least an hour or so, considering the permanent dusk of their world had settled.
I don’t have my powers either.
He could feel the silence in his heart as the resonance of Sports Icon had no outlet. Jeremy subconsciously hoped it was simply them taking precautions and not that somebody had figured out his unique powerset. One of the biggest benefits with having a Specialist power-type like his, was the fact that other didn’t know the exact rules of how it functioned.
So… no powers, no back up and I’m chained up in someone's warehouse. That was almost as bad as it could get, but ever the optimist, Jeremy took solace in the fact that he was still in the Globe. So long as he was, the supervillain was pretty confident he wouldn’t die. Getting fleeced for all he had was definitely on the table, though, along with numerous other things that were almost as bad as dying without breaking the Exodus Accords.
Taking all that in, Jeremy realised he only had one option. Escape. However, when he tried to start shimming the chains loose, he had to bite down on his teeth just to bear the pain. Tender burns all across his body, screaming in resistance whenever he tried to move much, demanding he stay still.
Forgot how much that hurt. The image of that weak piece of shit sitting in front of him as he was burning still pissed Jeremy off more than anything. It made him so mad it was hard to think… of anything other than tearing that balaclava off and squeezing the life out of whoever was under it.
Come to think of it, why the hell had Bloom sent a minion in need of protection into the house when she could’ve just restrained him from a distance at the start of the fight? On top of that, what the hell did Bloom want with him? He’d never robbed any of her posse, not that he could, and he’d never attacked one of her grunts. Jeremy hadn’t even interacted with anyone related to her.
The supervillain couldn’t recall a single thing he could’ve done to piss her off other than slowly accumulating a name in the same area as her-
The motel. The one he’d paid a visit to complete his best payday yet. That was her motel, wasn’t it?
That could be bad. That could be really, really bad. If that dude he’d beat up was a grunt of hers… and she was getting payback… there was definitely a loophole in the Accords that said she could off him.
Alright, fuck the pain. I’m getting out of here. Jeremy thought. The benefits of being just a little bit psychotic were that he could ignore the pain if he wanted to. It was a hindrance, but nothing he couldn’t work through. The supervillain bit down and prepared to work through the pain planning on-
Light flashed in his eyes, blinding Jeremy before he could think to blink.
Bright white radiance stole the darkness, forcing Jermey to blink as his eyes adjusted to it. When they did, he saw that the warehouse was empty except for a chair and a duffle bag sitting right in front of him. His hockey mask was resting on top of the chair. If only his power could just reach out and channel through it he could tear the chains off and escape.
Next to his mask was the same black masquerade mask the dead man who knocked him out wore.
Maybe if I try and swing forward-
“Enjoying the view, Jeremy?” A voice he recognised all too well called as a figure stepped into the light. He was wearing the same get-up as before, only now he seemed much more relaxed.
And he knew Jeremy’s name. For some supervillains, that wasn’t that bad because after a certain amount of notoriety, anonymity naturally became both harder and almost unnecessary. But for a small-time start-up like himself, anyone who knew him as anything other than the Puck was either dead or one of the rare few in his personal life.
He was a little confused about how this grunt had found that out, considering not even Crypt knew his name, but then he saw his wallet in the man’s hands. Which meant they’d found his car because Jeremy wasn’t stupid enough to have that on his person during a job, but he was stupid enough to leave it in the car. He cursed at his own lack of caution.
“You know.” The grunt said, flashing his wallet. “There was quite a bit of cash in this thing. So thanks for that, will help pay for all the shit you broke.”
I knew I should’ve deposited that. His last client had paid in cash, unlike Crypt, and Jeremy didn’t have a method to clean dirty money yet, and he sure as hell wasn’t depositing it unless he could. Venus City had a pretty strict policy on dirty money; it wasn’t illegal, but it was taxable, and Jeremy was not losing his first decent payday to the government.
Also what shit did I break? Was he talking about Joanna’s house? Because getting thrown through a wall wasn’t really intentional on his behalf. Whatever. It didn’t matter.
“I worked for that money, dude,” Jeremy said, trying to appeal to his sympathy.
“Oh, I’m well aware.” The grunt said sarcastically, pulling out his I.D. “Jeremy Lindale, says here you're from outside the Globe. What's that like?”
“Worse than this,” Jeremy said, spitting at the grunt.
The grunt glanced down at where the spit had landed on his foot, then smiled. “How hygienic. Anyway, as I was saying-”
“What the hell does Bloom want? In fact, where is she?” ” Jeremy interrupted, cutting him off.
There was no one else in the wide halls of the warehouse besides himself and the grunt. It was so quiet when neither of them spoke that you could hear the squeaking of chains straining to hold him up and the buzz of the giant lights.
“She’s around.” The grunt said, reaching into the duffle bag and pulling out a pair of pliers. “But she doesn’t need to be here for this. After all, it’s between us, and I want answers.”
Between us? Was that some weird way of saying that the integration that those pliers were clearly meant for was supposed to be personal? How? He couldn’t see under the balaclava but Jeremy was damn sure he’d never met this guy before. His cautious eyes stayed glued to the pliers in the grunt's hand as he spoke, just a bit more carefully this time.
“Look dude, if this is about doing a job near that motel, I promise it wasn’t intentional. I would’ve bagged the guy on the street if I knew.” Jeremy said, trying to make himself seem at least a little innocent.
“So you do know what this is about.” The grunt said with a nod. “That makes things easier.”
“Yeah, I kind of figured,” Jeremy said. “If you can get Bloom here, I promise I can explain-”
Something sharp stabbed into his stomach before he finished, sending waves of hot pain through his body. It took Jeremy a second to recover from the shock and realise it was the grunt who had stuck the pliers right beneath his rib all of a sudden. For what reason? Jeremy had no idea, but it hurt like shit.
“You’re not getting it, Jeremy. Bloom isn’t coming, and it isn’t about where you did it.” The grunt said with a smile that looked manic. His yellow eyes almost glowed as they stared into Jermey’s own, burning with such a raging intensity. “It’s about who you did it to.”
“The Normie?” Jeremy choked out, trying his hardest to reach for the pliers. His hands must’ve been handcuffed under the chain because he couldn’t pull them apart. “What the hell does that have to do with this? It was just a job, nothing personal.”

Was Bloom mad that he’d attacked one of her residents? From what he’d heard, she wasn’t the type to be so emotional or go out of her way for something that small. All of this didn’t make any sense. Was this guy related to that poor bastard? Is that why? Had the grunt convinced Bloom to come after him, and this was revenge.
It didn’t make any sense.
And it was pissing Jeremy off more and more because if he didn’t know what he did wrong, he had no clue how to get himself out of this mess…
…Those eyes. The yellow eyes that stared into his with so much venom, such hate. He remembered them vividly, staring up at them the same way they were now.
“See.” The grunt- no, his victim said, pulling off his balaclava to reveal familiar features and messy blonde hair. “Now you’re starting to get it. Shoe’s on the other foot now, jackass.”
He shoved the pliers deeper, and Jeremy had to hold back a scream. He could feel them scratching against his ribs. The young man didn’t spare a glance at the pliers, staring at him with unending malice.
****************
“I want you to tell me exactly how Darkspark put you up to this,” Luke said, not exactly enjoying the sensation of his pliers piercing into Puck’s skin. The mix of pressing and squeezing it through tough muscle and soft flesh sent shivers up Luke’s arm.
But so long as he saw pain in Puck’s eyes, it was a disgust he would bear. Puck had a name, but mentally Luke refused to acknowledge him by it. To do so was like letting Puck become more than just a monster, and Luke refused to do that. He couldn’t do that.
Puck looked at him, and it wasn’t fear that was present on his face; Luke wasn’t convinced he could even feel it, but there was anxiety there. There had been panic earlier, and Luke was sure if he pushed the psycho enough, he could mould that anxiety into dread. That might be the best he would get out of Puck, but he would surely savour it…
…Why am I thinking like this? Luke shook those much more morbid than usual thoughts away, focusing back on the task at hand.
“I can’t just tell you that,” Puck said. “That was my client.”
“Well, you’re not exactly in a position to refuse,” Luke said, almost laughing at Puck’s backward version of a morale code. “And why is that the hill you choose to die on? You were fully willing to assault an elderly lady, but you won’t sell out Darkspark.”
“You wouldn’t understand, dude.” Puck refuted.
“And I don’t want to.” Luke agreed. “But I need to know everything you know about Darkspark. I wanna know how he contacted you, what he wanted from you, where he lives, and how much he paid you. Everything. I want to know it all.”
“Not gonna happen. Now do what your gonna do or fuck off.” Puck spat.
Luke wrenched the pliers out from under Puck’s ribs, eliciting a pained curse as he shivered forward in pain, rattling the chains holding him up. Blood dripped from the pliers and created a smell so pungent the cashier dared not look down. He was okay with blood. For now.
Wouldn’t be so sure of that if I were you. He took in the wilful defiance present in Puck. He was the type of person who rebelled simply for the sake of rebelling. Spiteful. Which meant getting answers would be hard.
Also, apparently equipped with an unfounded sense of code. He would not give up his clients. They would see about that.
Luke opened his mouth to speak but halted when he felt his phone buzz. That was weird.
It could be Winter. He hadn’t heard from them in a while, but that wasn’t exactly strange. Over the past couple of months, their schedule seemed to be packed. Something about Architecture? Luke never really got the whole picture because he was hesitant to ask about personal details.
I’ll deal with it later. He thought before he got another buzz.
“Why now?” The cashier questioned, waving off Puck for a moment to check who wanted him.
It was not who he expected.
Where are you? - Lil Sis
We need to talk are you home - Lil Sis
Look Luke I'm just here to make sure you're okay now let me IN!!! - Lil Sis
Didn’t expect that. Luke thought to himself, remembering in great detail how awful their last interaction was. He was somewhat surprised Lucy still had his number. No, he was extremely surprised she hadn’t just given up on him completely.
Then again, I have a supposed health emergency going on. In light of it being the weekend he’d kind of forgotten that the rest of the world believed he was on the verge of death. Including his workplace. Those were mundane thoughts he tried not to let ruin the high that was his life at that moment.
A new message beeped before he could reply to his sister.
Why is Cure-Re-Gen outside my motel? - Plant lady/Rent Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
There was a picture attached of a very annoyed-looking Lucy knocking on Luke’s door. Poor timing seemed to be trending as somewhat of a theme in Luke’s life at his point. He sighed and prepared to try and disarm Lucy before his phone pinged again.
If you don’t open this door right now I’m gonna have to buy you a new one - Lil Sis
“Uh-oh,” Luke mumbled.
“Get cold feet?” The chained Puck laughed behind him.
“I wish, man,” Luke muttered, rubbing the back of his head like a genie lamp, hoping a magical response would come out.
How to explain himself away. Hmmm.
Don't open door. Me. Girl. Couch. Naked. Explain later. He sent, hoping that might scare her away. Because what was scarier than seeing your sibling naked?
There was a pause in the chain of texts. How Bloom knew his sister was there when she was on standby to help him, Luke could only guess. Probably had something to do with those eye-stalk plants straight out of a horror movie.
He hoped that simple text would work. At least deter her.
Lies. - Lil sis
It didn’t.
Fine. Am busy and fine. Definitely not kidnapped. He sent back.
That’s what someone that was kidnapped would say - Lil sis
I promise no kidnap. He sent back.
Call me now or im breaking into your apartment to search for clues - Lil sis
“Shit.” Luke cursed, diving into his duffle bag as his phone started to ring. “Shit, shit, shit.”
He pushed aside different torture methods he’d planned on using one after another, looking for his safety hazard. A special device he’d brought in case the handcuffs, chains and rope would hold Puck.
There you are. He thought as he pulled the duct tape out just as the third ring went off. Luke knew he’d have to buy a new door if he didn’t work quickly. He put a few layers of duct tape over Puck’s mouth just to be safe and then grabbed the phone and answered.
“Yo!” Luke said, waving at the camera as a very suspicious-looking Lucy appeared. “Not kidnapped, as you can see.”
“Where are you?” Lucy asked, ever the inquisitive pain in his ass.
“I'm at a…” Think of a good excuse. Something dark that happens in warehouses. “...a rave.” Luke blurted out, flicking himself immediately after.
Lucy squinted at him through the phone. “I don’t hear music.”
“Yeah, well, I was enjoying my time in the bathroom until somebody started barraging me with texts,” Luke responded, praying she’d buy it.
Lucy stayed silent for a moment before nodding. “I was wondering what the groaning noise was.”
Unconsciously, Luke looked away from the phone, which was just close enough to his face to not capture the flailing Puck trying to scream through the duct tape.
“Yes… poor guy in the stall next to me.”
“Listen about yesterday.” Lucy started. “I know you and I don’t see eye to eye but please at least go back to the hospital and see what they can do. I’ve got money if-”
“No thanks, feeling fine. Bye.” Luke said hurriedly before hanging up the phone.
Why did I do that? Luke regretted it internally immediately after he set the phone down, feeling that sinking in his gut that only ever came around when his sister was involved. Why was he so hesitant to talk to her? Why did he absolutely despise the idea of accepting her help? Was it pride? Arrogance? Or did he just feel bad about making his sister worry?
The cashier's thoughts were cloudy for a moment before he decided to just worry about the task at hand. He’d text her later. He had information to get and he knew how to do it. Luke wasn’t much of a people person, but he could grasp the vibe of a person pretty well if he spent a long enough time around them. Puck wasn’t the type to bend to pain. Maybe it was because he was a psycho, maybe it was because he was code-bound. But he wasn’t going to falter to all the various means of pain Luke had bundled up in his duffle bag.
No.
The more the cashier thought about it, the more that fog in his head settled over his thoughts, moulding them into answers that were easy to understand. Puck didn’t care about people. He didn’t care about pain. But Luke could take a pretty solid guess at what he did care about.
The cashier picked up the hockey-masked and tore the duct tape off of Puck’s face, taking most of his budding facial hair with it.
“Why the hockey mask?” Luke asked, shaking it in front of his face.
The supervillain tried to hide it but the Luke could see him almost inching towards it. One might think it was simply because the thing held value to him, but Luke knew better. Or at least, he thought he did.
“My name is Puck. Hockey and pucks kind of go together. Or did your dad not love you enough to drag you to a game?” Puck jabbed at him.
Luke just gave him a toothy grin.
“Now see, you say that. But I found out a neat little fact while you were sleeping.” Luke said. “I tried testing some of my knives on you while you were out just to see what would happen and the funniest thing happened. They broke. Not much of a surprise I suppose considering how much damage it took to knock you out. But then I took this mask off and bam, the knife goes right through your skin.”
He tossed the mask away to emphasise his point.
“A bit weird, doncha think?” Luke laughed, enjoying the shock Puck desperately tried to hide growing over his face.
“I don’t follow.” Puck lied, colour draining from his face for the first time.
Luke’s smile grew wider. Much wider.
“Oh, I think you do. Now, I’m not going to say I understand the exacts of your power.” Luke admitted. “But I know it relies on you wearing a mask like this. Maybe a power specific to hockey? Although Puck is probably too on the nose for a power like that.”
“What’s your point?” Puck said, grimacing.
“Well, your boss only knew what your power did, not how it worked and Bloom wasn’t exactly paying attention when I figured this out. So my point is that I’d wager I’m the only one besides yourself who knows at least a little about how your power works.” Luke warned. “Sure, it might not be exactly what I think it is. But I give this helpful slice of information to… Crypt, yeah that guy. Let him spread that all over the street and then suddenly small-time muscle Puck isn’t so scary anymore.”
Luke dropped the mask onto the ground and stomped on it. “Imagine it, flyers all over the streets of Venus City telling people exactly how to cancel out your superpower. Bye-bye, life of crime. Bye-bye plans. Bye-bye, Puck. Unless, of course. You tell me what I want to know.”
Puck held his gaze even as the thought of his life crumbling in front of him was forced into light. Even when Luke threatened him with his biggest secret, Puck refused to yield. Instead, he rebelled. As was his nature.
“If you did that, my life would get a lot harder. I’d probably have a lot less to lose and I’d have one person to blame.” Puck spoke with such venom that Luke could almost feel it. “ One Normie who fucked up my life. You may think Bloom can protect you, but I’ll get you. I might die doing it, but you’ll be coming with me to whatever hell those demons in the sky have waiting. Are you sure that’s what you want?”
A scary thought. One that, before last nigh,t would’ve certainly made Luke think twice. One that would’ve made him doubt. One that would’ve brought that infuriating reality into view. That Luke, for all his plans, effort and promise, was nothing in the face of real superpowers. He was just a person. A paper life easily burned away by a blaze of power like Puck.
But.
He wasn’t a normal person anymore.
He wasn’t the Luke of yesterday.
You’re not a threat to me.
No, he hadn’t been.
But now?
Now he was super. A genuine supervillain in the making.
And real supervillains weren’t afraid of peons like Puck.
Luke felt that welling of something super building up in his heart. It carried him forward, with confidence, power and purpose. The cashier slammed his hands into the sides of Puck’s head, grasping his head and pulling on his short black hair.
“You might’ve been right,” Luke said, smiling like a madman. “But yesterday, the funniest thing happened. Would you like me to tell you about it? Since I know your secret, it’s only fair you know mine.”
“What are you-”
“I died. Or to be more specific, I was beaten to death by a low-life piece of shit failure of a supervillain.” Luke clawed into his head with his nails, forcing Puck to look at him. “And then I woke up different.”
“Different how?” Puck grunted.
“Super,” Luke answered, pointing to his heart. “You can try and kill me, but that won’t change what I’ve done. If you want to play this game, we can. Mutually assured destruction sounds exhilarating.”
There was a moment of unease between the two of them. Silence pervaded as they both stared at each other, unsure where this mess would lead. It was as if Puck was trying to decide exactly how far his code went. How much was it worth?
Puck yielded first, lowering his head with a sigh.
Then he said something that sent a shiver through Luke’s body.
“It wasn’t Darkspark.”
What?! There was a moment of mental whiplash and Luke tried to wrap his head around what Puck was admitting.
“What do you mean?” Luke pushed, in desperate need of clarification.
If it wasn’t him then who else? Who else could possibly hold something against Luke enough to send someone after him? Puck hung his head, probably feeling some sense of sorrow at breaking his code.
“It was a tall dude. Taller than you. He came to me personally, which I found weird at first. I don’t have my own contacts out there, so people can pretty much only get to me for work through Crypt.” Puck answered, clearly torn. “He paid good money too. Almost double my usual rate. Said he just wanted me to rough you up and to make sure you thought it was Darkspark that did it. Not sure why he wanted a superhero to cop the blame but hey, it was a lot of money so I didn’t ask.”
“You’re lying,” Luke said, smile fading. For some reason, even he didn’t believe his accusation.
“Ha, like I’ve got any reason to.” Puck muttered. “He didn’t say much besides that, I think his name was Reginald… no, just Reggie. Yeah, obviously a fake name but you know.”
Reggie. The name reverberated in Luke’s head like a bell. It sounded familiar… so, so familiar. But it was also distant like something was barring him from remembering where he’d heard that name. He wasn’t sure where he recognised it from but it was there. Even as Luke racked his brain at something that sounded so familiar, he was sure. Absolutely sure that Puck wasn’t lying.
He wanted to hate Darkspark. He did hate Darkspark and desired to destroy him in the worst ways imaginable. But he hadn’t done this. Luke knew the Supe was definitely petty enough to have done it, but something deep in his psyche made him sure it wasn’t. The name. The name was like a piece to a puzzle he didn’t know he was solving.
It just clicked, and for some reason, it made sense.
Even if for a second he doubted it, he couldn’t see any reason Puck would lie in a way that was elaborate like this. Especially with that name, that name that felt almost… intentional. Like Reggie wanted him to find this out. Like this was all a giant circus act.
Luke gripped his hands so hard his knuckles turned white. He was so close to getting the information he wanted, just to be led to another mystery. Now he wanted to kill Darkspark and this random asshole, but he knew nothing about either of them.
“I ain’t lying dude-”
“Shut it!” Luke shouted, silencing Puck. “I’m thinking.”
He kicked the chair next to his duffle bag, sending it skittering across the warehouse floor. He was that close. So close he could almost feel it and now he was back to fucking square one. Luke struggled to suppress his instinct to take out all of this on Puck. The psycho certainly deserved it, and this was all in part his fault.
But no. There was someone actually responsible for this. Someone who benefited from him being beaten half to death on his way home from the hospital. Someone who benefited from him thinking it was Darkspark. Were they simply shifting the blame? That made the most sense. He wasn’t enough of a threat for it to matter before. Not enough of a threat to find out who actually put out the hit on him.
That made the most sense then, no? Something that mundane.
No.
It couldn’t be that. Luke refused to accept it because he knew for a fact he’d met this Reggie. So why would this person want him beaten and roughed up on his way home? What was he missing?
Luke could figure this out. He was sure.
I just have to think… think… The Thinker. The whole reason he was in the hospital, to begin with. Presumably, the person who had somehow infected a Taken like himself with Ether. The Thinker. The Thinker. The fucking Thinker.
“I’ma kill that sonofabitch!” Luke roared.
He remembered wondering if Puck had been sent by the Thinker originally, then dismissing it as paranoid. But what if Reggie was working with this Thinker? What if the reason he couldn’t remember where he knew this Reggie from was because he was the Thinker?
But then why?
Why injure him instead of killing him?
Why bend his memories?
Why make Darkspark take the blame?
Why why why why
[New Quest unlocked]
[(Medium)Quest available]
[Down the Rabbit Hole:
Description:
Through effort and dedication, you have found answers to your own origins, but something has fogged the whole truth. The person who sent Puck upon you. The person who caused you to become the villain you are now.
You have a name. A Thinker who tinkered with your mind, not knowing the magnitude of whom they dealt with.
Find the answer.
Find Reggie.
And become his undoing.
 
Reward: Favour with the Architect, advanced control over System Seven, 10000EXP and a major increase to Infamy.
Punishment: You’ll stay royally pissed off until you find the prick
Deadline: Evil is patient, not lazy.]
Hello, beautiful. Luke thought, perking up as he saw the System Seven acknowledge his plight and respond. He didn’t even realise it could do that, but apparently, quests weren’t reserved for just things System Seven wanted him to do. There were also things he wanted to do that System Seven encouraged.
Like hunting down Reggie, which sounded like exactly the type of thing a supervillain would do.
Reading over it calmed him a little, especially the punishment. It seemed like a self-inflicted problem that reflected how he’d feel instead of System Seven literally making him permanently pissed off. That seemed unlikely. The deadline was also a happy change of pace.
But there was still the boiling indignation that the man who had caused all the fuckery of the last few days was out there, carefree. Luke thought he was taking a step forward, but he was just walking into another question.
At least I know where it stems. The Thinker. It was all that damned Thinkers fault. He needed to find out more about them. He needed to find out more about what had happened during Bright that had been erased from his memory. He needed Crypt. That was the only Fixer he’d ever heard of that was local and probably his best chance at finding out about any underground Thinkers.
That was a problem for later, though. This whole quest was something that Luke couldn’t tackle right here and now. As much as it vexed him, the cashier could see clear as day he wasn’t gonna get what he wanted tonight.
Luke skimmed over System Seven’s newest quest one last time before mentally dismissing it. A neat trick he’d learned when he was playing with the deadline counter.
Speaking of deadlines. Luke thought, returning his attention back to Puck. He might not be able to get exactly what he wanted tonight, but he would be getting something almost as sweet.
Power… and vengeance.
“I really don’t like the way you’re looking at me.” Puck admitted, watching him warily.
“I take it that means you want the good news first,” Luke replied, leaning down and grabbing Puck’s baseball bat. There was a little bit of blood caked into the grip.
“Is there bad news?”
“Yep.”
“Can I have that first?”
“Nope.”
“Then good news, unless you’re planning on killing me,” Puck said, his voice devoid of emotion.
“Well, then, part one of the good news is you’re a winner Puck. You don’t get to cark it today, and trust me from experience, let me tell you.” Luke said, inspecting the bat and lining it up to his Puck's knees. “Not missing out on much. The afterlife is pretty weird, if I’m honest. Part two, you can leave after this, and I won’t tell people about your powers. This will be us even, at least in my eyes.”
There seemed to be just a hint of relief in Puck’s expression before he asked. “And what’s the bad news then?”
“The bad news,” Luke muttered, taking a test swing at Puck's oh so human kneecaps. “Is that you were wrong?”
“Meaning?” Puck asked, eyes glued to the baseball bat loftily swaying towards his knees.
In response, Luke showed the most villainous smile he could, correcting Puck on the one vital miscalculation he’d made yesterday.
“I am a threat.”
The baseball vibrated with energy as it slammed hard into brittle kneecap, reverberating a sickening crunch all across the dark warehouse, shortly followed by Puck’s pained screams. It was like music to Luke’s ears. But he didn’t stop with one swing. He pulled back the baseball bat, enjoying the pain across Puck’s face.
Good people would’ve stopped there. No, good people wouldn’t have done it at all.
But Luke was not a good person.
He was a villain.
A supervillain.
So with a mad smile on his face, cackling to the sound of crushed ligament and bone, Luke swung his baseball bat.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Deep into the night.
Until System Seven itself had to pump the brakes, flashing across his vision.
[Congratulations, you have completed quest {Daily Dose of Evil}]