Chapter 39 Red Hot Chilli Peppers Attacks! Part 1

“Yeah, you do your thing while I do my thing, just don’t bother me.” - Pele, B Class Cape, when asked to improve the survival rate of her students.

Crows crowded the roof of the apartment complex, cawing and squawking in equal measure as they fought over a few crates of grapes.

“That is a broken power,” Ranpo murmured as he pecked a bowl of assorted nuts and grains.

“It is indeed,” Aiden agreed, taking a bite out of his own sandwich.

“Still, not as dangerous as these Extended Techniques you tell me about,” Ranpo continued.

And Aiden nodded.

Aiden felt it wash over him.

Pure Hume, simple, normal reality elevated to truth.

The serpent he kept hidden in his cast writhed invisibly, no longer able to animate the form it took, fleeing off of the bandages and back onto the safety of his skin.

The shadows in the room lengthened as the cat eyes.

But notably, not a single tattoo disappeared.

They still swam on his body, his skin still felt scaly where Oros lay, and Aiden could still somewhat see in the dark.

.

“Odd,” Isaac remarked, “Your ability has an abnormally high Priority level.”

“It does?” Aiden asked, rubbing his head, feeling the beginnings of an odd dizziness.

“Yeah, base reality, the Beatles Bar can be considered a Priority level of 1, most abilities manifest at 1.2 - 1.5 per Fincher’s Rule, but your ability is displaying a resistance equivalent to something around the 1.8 range, not something I can easily fully nullify.”

“And that is strange?” Aiden asked, his eyes closed and slowly tightening.

“I expected at least 1.4, given your higher Hume level, but Hume would only let you brute force your Priority to 1.5 or so. Past that you have to start adding Conditions. This resistance must mean you have at least three to four difficult innate conditions or rules to your abilities. There is also Typhon’s Principle, abilities that manifest on or very close to the user’s own body tend to be difficult to affect regardless of Priority level.”

“I see,” Aiden answered. “I think-”

And he stumbled, his body felt… fatigued. Slower, harder to move, like a limp log he fell against a desk, knocking down numerous stacked pages.

Isaac withdrew his Hume, and Aiden gasped a breath of relief.

“You alright there?” the older man asked.

Aiden raised his hand, “Sorry, just give me a moment…”

“I told you it would be unpleasant,” Isaac said, “especially for a Manifested, your types tend to get secondary body enhancements unrelated to your primary power. When I hit you I’m hitting that as well, affecting your body in weird ways.”

“My regeneration?” Aiden asked after gathering his breath.

“Most likely.”

“Which of the three are you planning?” Ranpo asked. “Imbuement and Expansion sounds like the most dangerous.”

Aiden swallowed the food in his mouth, “I’m thinking I should skip Imbuement actually.”

“Hmm?”

With his thumb, he slightly pulled the outer part of his cast, revealing his Umbrella plastered underneath, right next to his arm.

“My ability already works on the basis of Imbuement,” he continued. “If I’m looking to invest my own power into something, I can already do that for other powers.”

Taking another bite out of his sandwich, he continued with his mouth full, “It’s just that right now, I am unaware of the conditions it takes for me to create something with supernatural properties.”

“Actually,” Ranpo cut in, “I have an idea for that. If we try it we would be able to rule out a lot of possibilities.”

“Hoh?”

Ranpo told him his idea.

Aiden nodded, “That could work, we should try it somewhere isolated though, I don’t want to mess anything up.”

“Your school’s training rooms sound pretty tough,” Ranpo pointed out.

“Then we’ll use those.”

He wiped a bit of jam from his cheek, “Reinforcement is a must regardless, its Meta Technique version is essential.”

“As defence?”

Aiden nodded, “If I understand this right, an Extended Reinforcement version of my own ability would protect me against some attacks that directly affect me. The ones that directly oppose my own.”

But it wouldn’t defend against Sterling’s ability, which attacked wakefulness rather than anything related to his ability.

“However,” he continued, remembering how Isaac fully nullified his ability on everything except his body, despite being a gadgeteer, “pure Hume is a general counter to all abilities, even if I don’t pursue it to Savant level, I would have a defence against every ability type, whereas my own would only counter specific abilities that are similar to mine.”

“So tattoos?”

“Possibly,” Aiden nodded, “it could be memory, or life giving, or all of them. Again, we still don’t understand the full mechanics of my ability, that’s why we need to test it out.”

Suddenly, a crow flew towards them, as Aiden focused on it, he noticed a particularly strange thing held in its beak.

The crow placed a five-dollar note in front of Aiden and looked at him expectantly.

“Ranpo,” he began slowly. “What is the meaning of this?”

Ranpo turned away, looking almost embarrassed. “Well… see, I got bored and…”

“Go on.”

“Well, I accidentally,” he insisted, “taught them how money works.”

“How do you ‘accidentally’ teach someone how money works?” Aiden asked incredulously.

“Look, they kept pestering me about the debts I owed, so I needed to distract them with a tangential topic that’ll get them off my feathers for a bit.”

“How did it even get five dollars?” Aiden asked, eyes darting back and forth between Ranpo and the crow.

“That is a good question,” Ranpo remarked, before cawing at the other crow.

The other crow cawed back, and Ranpo winced.

“Yeah, I don’t think you want to know.”

The crow cawed again, this time sounding impatient.

“It wants your sandwich,” he added.

Aiden blinked and sighed as he handed the half-eaten sandwich to the crow. The crow in question immediately went to town on the bread.

“You are surprisingly on board with the idea of corvids participating in the economy,” Ranpo remarked.

“Why does that sentence sound so absurd yet at the same time completely in line with my situation?” he sighed, mourning the loss of his normalcy. “Five bucks was worth more than my sandwich at least.”

“That’s the spirit,” Ranpo encouraged.

“Don’t even start,” he replied as he pocketed the note.

Aiden entered the room with his best clothes and his hair mildly groomed.

“Hello hello!” a middle-aged caucasian male warmly welcomed him from his desk. “I see you’re here for the interview.”

“I am,” Aiden replied with a practised smile.

“Well, well, take a seat, introduce yourself!”

“Well, I am Aiden Bu, I’m currently studying as a student and your advertisement for a receipt filer attracted me.”

The man nodded, “Where are you from by the way?”

Aiden slightly raised an eyebrow at that, though his slight smile didn’t waver, “Where I’m from? Well, I’m from this city.”

“No no,” the man corrected, “where did you really come from?”

“I was born here?” he answered, a bit of confusion seeping into his practised tone.

“Ah no no,” the interviewer shook his head, “where did your parents come from?”

Aiden’s eye twitched, as some part realised. “They were born and raised in this country as well.”

“But where were they really from?”

A few minutes later, Aiden sped out of the room a step faster than his normal, practised gait. His smile twitching slightly at the edges.

The reason for rejection?

“I don’t think we can hire a person with such small eyes.”

Aiden followed a smiling man up the stairs.

“It’s a good thing you chose us,” the man laughed, “you would find yourself in no better place than Vynar Industries, we’re just like one big family here!”

Aiden politely chuckled along as they walked, seeing the warehouse complex beneath them, dozens of workers carried and loaded boxes into delivery trucks.

“You can see we are a very productive company!” the man boasted. “Everyone works hard and plays hard!”

The man continued to talk, though Aiden’s eyes paused slightly at a sight underneath.

A delivery worker, male, was pissing into a bottle as he walked, balancing several large cardboard boxes with one hand as he held the bottle with the other.

When the worker finished, he zipped up and flicked the bottle with practised ease into a bin.

Looking around, there were several bins full of bottles of piss.

His eyes quickly turned back to the interviewer showing him around as they walked up another level.

And Aiden noticed something strange.

“Why are there nets attached to the walls outside?”

The guide paused, then nervously laughed as he looked out the window, where large sprawling white nets covered the area between warehouses. “Well, our workers get a bit stir crazy and get some fresh air upstairs, you know how it goes, and they, sometimes, very rarely, almost never happens, slip and fall off the building. It’s the strangest thing! But we can’t let family go after all, so it’s a safety precaution.”

Aiden’s eyes twitched.

How many fucking times did a worker ‘get some fresh air’ that they needed to install nets?

A woman shook his hand as he entered.

“Greetings,” she said with a smile. “I see you’re here for the Assistant position?”

Aiden nodded with a smile, “Yeah, I am.”

Both sat down by a table. “I was just wondering, however, the job advert seemed a bit vague, what does the position actually entail?”

The woman shrugged, “Don’t worry about it, we’ll work it out as we go.”

His eye twitched.

“I read that the position was occupied by someone else previously, what happened to them?”

The woman shrugged again, “They left with only a two-day notice, but don’t worry about it, I think you are perfect for the role!”

“And what does the role entail?”

“We can figure it out later,” she said with a smile.

Aiden’s hand clenched underneath the table. “And how much does the position pay?”

After a few minutes, Aiden stormed away from the massive red flag of a company, somehow knowing less of what they wanted or paid.

This interview was going well. No massive red flags, the interviewer seemed like a sane well adjusted person, and he was perfect for the role described to him!

“We’ll contact you on Monday regarding the position.”

Smiling genuinely, he left.

Aiden never heard from that company again.

Aiden returned home, silently passing Ranpo who greeted him.

He passed his room and briefly considered slamming his face into his pillow and screaming into it.

But he did not, instead, slumping into a chair with a sigh.

Despite the late hour, he boiled water for a cup of coffee.

“No luck?”

Aiden nodded, “It seems along with death, there is another multiversal constant. Having a shit time looking for a job.”

“It’s that bad?” Ranpo asked, flying off his position at the desk covered with zoology books.

Aiden massaged his forehead, “Honestly? Compared to my previous world this was rather tame, it’s just been a while since I’ve experienced this.”

The kettle dinged as the water finished boiling, and Aiden glanced towards the balcony, where there was a bowl filled with dirt.

George had said the paper would grow into a flower.

“Remind me again, what options he gave me,” he asked Ranpo as he stood up and made his coffee.

Ranpo’s expression was inscrutable, as he listed off.

“First one you genuinely considered, Adams and Gruts Homes, a construction company that hires a lot of metas with abilities useful to construction. Most of them are unlicensed and undocumented immigrants, so it's considered largely illegal but because they’re damn useful at rebuilding and do it cheaply, no one actually bothers to arrest them, according to the paper at least.”

“Second one you slightly considered, Jericho Pharmaceuticals. Produces a lot of basic off the shelf medicines. Needs meta humans for an unknown reason, will reportedly pay for a lot, but we know nothing about them.”

“Third,” this time Aiden spoke. “The Hatters, a security consultant company made up of licensed metahumans. They break into client’s locations to test security and assist in improvement. Sometimes they hire unlicensed metas for a role one of them cannot fulfill, I’ve read up about them, they can’t be considered consistent income due to their strictly commission status for unlicensed.”

“Fourth one, bit more iffy,” Ranpo picked up again, “Keter Casino, hires metahumans as bouncers and has an active offer for luck metas to ensure the ‘fairness’ of the game. They also run a drug operation on the side and is known as the Eighth Draw in criminal circles. Again, a largely illegal operation, which the paper noted to be due to massive bribes to officials.”

Aiden poured sugar and milk, then drank the still scalding coffee in one gulp.

Putting the cup down with more force than intended, he muttered, “Let’s go out.”

Aiden wore a hoodie as he climbed onto a rooftop, octopus tattoos disappearing from his clothing as he beheld the lights beneath. He tightened the white scarf around his neck, his breath creating misty puffs in the cold night air.

Ahead of him was a massive crater, the Crater. An almost two-kilometre wide relic of some battle ages past, inside it, ramshackled and old buildings stood, their lights few compared to the city behind him.

He drew in a deep breath, as he looked at the myriad rooftops, mentally mapping out a route.

He’d been doing a lot of parkour in this body already, a byproduct of just needing to get to school.

Aiden walked a step forward, then another, slowly increasing in speed, before he jumped.

There was a brief moment where he was in the air, nothing but momentum carrying him forward.

Then he landed hard on the concrete roof, the force jolting up his legs as he continued to run.

He jumped from roof to roof, swung off balconies and dashed into the Crater City under moonlight. Actions he once thought himself too old or unathletic enough, now coming to him easily as he landed on tiled roof instead of concrete.

Ranpo landed beside him. Silently, he now moved through the old neighbourhoods, only a few street lamps offering light.

At one lamp, he sighted a figure, their face hidden with a hoodie.

Another figure stepped into the light.

They exchanged greetings, shaking hands, and Aiden caught the brief reflection of plastic as a ziplock bag and money exchanged hands.

Suddenly, four more figures showed up, each wearing a skull mask.

The man who brought the drugs from the figure also pulled out a mask as the dealer slowly edged away from the street light.

They tried to run, but was run down, slammed into the ground, the dealer scrunched into a ball as the five jumped him, shouting as they kicked and punched the prone figure.

“The Pitters, a gang located with the Crater, runs a protection racket for areas without police presence.”

“He has good form,” Aiden noted.

Ranpo turned to him, “Who?”

“The dealer,” he replied. “He quickly scrunched into a ball, protecting his head underneath his body. His back is faced outwards and his arms are held defensively.”

Even with the five kicking and punching the curled up figure, they wouldn’t get anything more than a few hard bruises.

“They are definitely used to being jumped,” he assessed.

Suddenly, one of Pitters raised his voice, “THAT’LL TEACH YOU TO SELL DRUGS HERE!”

And drew a gun.

Aiden rose, his cast unravelling into a serpent-

And he paused, as he saw the gun tip.

The Pitter fired into the prone back of the dealer.

“What the fuck?” Ranpo almost yelled, the Pitter was firing multiple rounds into the dealer! Ranpo flapped his wings to rise, before Aiden said.

“The sound is wrong.”

Ranpo paused.

He was right.

The sound wasn’t loud, more like a puff of air.

“It’s an airsoft gun,” Aiden remarked. “It would hurt at such a close distance but shouldn’t harm greatly.”

“Rubber bullets?”

Aiden snorted, “Hell no.”

Before he shook his head, “Ah, sorry, was just reminded of something.”

“What?” Ranpo asked, landing back on the roof. Eyes still glued on the gang jumping the man.

“Remember the friend I told you about? The one who liked zombie movies.”

The crow tilted his head, “Yeah?”

“Rubber bullets are about the size of soda cans, some even have metal cores,” Aiden remarked, “I learned that when a union protest he was a part of was put down. He wore an eyepatch to work after that.”

The Pitters finished beating the dealer, now running through his pockets and taking whatever they had. A wallet, a phone, and several ziplock bags of something grassy looking, which one took with obvious disdain.

“They followed the rules of no-killing,” Aiden murmured, glancing at the scrawled body of the dealer as the five left, one giving a final kick before leaving.

“The one that implied you wouldn’t get anything more than a slap on the wrist so long as you don’t kill anyone?” Ranpo remarked.

Aiden nodded. “I half expected I had to stop a murder.”

‘Or report one,’ he grimly thought. With the distance, there was little chance he would’ve made it before the first few shots were fired. It would’ve been awkward if that was the case, he didn’t even know the person.

“We’re done here.”

Aiden dropped down from the roof, landing on the concrete pavement underneath.

And the concrete splashed like water as his feet sunk.

His eyes went wide, as his cast fully unravelled into a serpent, dashing out to the side of him as his Umbrella fell into his hand.

Where slowly, a figure in an ancient diving suit, the type with a large round copper helmet, rose from the very concrete itself.

The concrete rippled like water as the entity seemed to rise as if walking up stairs.

“Who are you?” Aiden asked, his Umbrella in one hand, his other a brown snake hissing at the figure before him.

“I am Urban Guerilla,” they answered, their voice deep and clearly synthesized on some level. Whatever they looked like underneath was completely hidden by the large and baggy suit, the helmet’s opaque glass obscuring even their face.

Still, Aiden could catch the change, “You named yourself after your ability?”

They did not answer, instead, asking, “What were you doing here?”

Both of his legs were completely trapped, the concrete, despite splashing like water around the figure, was cold and hard as stone to his touch.

“I was on a stroll, then decided to watch what was happening.”

His face was thankfully obscured by his scarf, its fabric slightly scaly as Oros disguised itself.

“Who are you?” they asked.

“Do you want my real name or a cape name?” he asked in return. “I would rather not give the former, and I haven’t thought of a good one for the latter.”

“A newbie then, that is why I do not recognise you,” they remarked. “Retract your weapons, I shall free you.”

Aiden considered them warily, slowly he put away his Umbrella, flat sticking to his stump arm as his serpent wrapped back around it, hiding both.

Urban Guerilla took another step up, concrete splashing like water around them as they stood on the rippling concrete as if it were solid once again.

They approached, placed their hands around Aiden’s waist, and pulled.

The concrete slipped off his feet like water, and Aiden plopped back onto normal, solid ground.

He took a few steps back, still watching Urban Guerilla warily.

“This is the Pitter’s home,” they told him, their form slowly sinking into the concrete. “If you do not bring good, do not come here.”

“That is your one warning.”

And they sunk completely into the ground. The concrete still rippling and bubbling like water.

The concrete slowly ceased its liquid like movement, leaving only its watery deformities as proof of the metahuman’s passing.

Aiden walked through a waking district under the light of dawn.

Chinatown woke around him, it had a different name in this world, though to Aiden Lu, the red gates, stone lions and colourful architecture would always be Chinatown to him.

This district was located next to a port, where ships came in from far off lands, delivering goods from across the world.

Some, more illicit than others.

“The Scarlet Letter, a large scale illegal smuggling operation. Their current leadership came in recently and oddly they seem to lack metahumans compared to other groups of their size. Rumour has it they escaped Qin Land as it fell to civil war, and they smuggle in some ‘choice products’ for government officials to stay under the radar.”

But his steps slowed to a stop, as he sensed something familiar in its unfamiliarity.

Bleed.

He hastened towards it until he arrived at a small park at the centre of Chinatown, where sitting on the edge of a fountain was a woman in the lotus position.

She was the source of the Bleed.

She was an Invader, Aiden was sure about it. There was no sense of normalcy coming from her at all, and though she appeared human it just meant she was likely from an Earth-like world.

Her appearance was also… strange. It was too perfect. Her skin was clear and pale, lips full and red, form lithe and healthy, hair sleek and black, her clothing, though normal, appeared ethereal under the dawn. Almost like she was a porcelain doll.

Or perhaps, a doll made of pure white jade.

One single eye opened from her meditation, black and beatiful, “It is strange, this Bleed they speak of,” she remarked to no one in particular. “Even when I withdraw my Breath, you Gifted ones can still seek me out.”

“Who are you?” Aiden asked warily. She did not feel that strong to his senses, not to the level of Johnjohnjohnjohn, or even a normal goblin. Reality barely felt disrupted by her presence.

“I am the Rain that Beholds the Morning Grass, many simply call me Rain.”

She spoke with an almost regal tone, a quiet voice of serene confidence and superiority. And Aiden realised the movements her mouth were making, did not correlate to the words he heard.

“You are not speaking English right now,” he stated simply.

She did not seem to be speaking any language that Aiden knew, yet he could parse her words in any language he did.

“I speak the First Tongue, known to all who cultivate the Breath,” she told him simply.

“Why are you here?” he asked.

“You do not hide your weapon well.”

She was right next to him.

Not even the blink of an eye, yet Rain stood beside him, Aiden’s form stiffening in surprise.

And he realised he had made a crucial mistake.

A nuclear bomb wouldn’t register to his Hume sense, despite its immense power and danger, because it worked off the rules of base reality.

The goblins, however, would, for they were ability users. Metas in contriving. So was Johnjohnjohnjohn, being a contrived creation. Isaac too, having that level of Hume broke reality, even if he enforced it.

But this woman wasn’t an ability user. She wasn’t a metahuman.

She didn’t have a high Bleed level, because she didn’t use that.

“Mage,” he whispered. What need did she have to break reality? When the laws of her home reality functioned well enough?

“No,” she chided, “I am a Cultivator.”

And on her hands, on those soft and jadelike fingers, was a ring of pure gold, carved into a dragon biting its own tail. From it, she drew a sword, raising it in the air and letting it fly, dancing in the air in mesmerising circles.

Suddenly, it was almost as if it were softly raining swords all around them.

“I don’t seek violence,” Aiden said. If he drew Umbrella he should be able to make it through the sword rain, but she was already too close to him. If he ran for it she had an opportunity to attack.

“Yet you prepare for it,” she remarked.

“It is a smart thing to do when dealing with the unknown.”

She shrugged, “Perhaps. I was taught respect for the strong, yet like many of your kind, you cannot sense Breath.”

“And how would I show respect?” he asked.

“Your name for one, and a bow.”

Aiden tilted his head down, “My name is Aiden. I do not seek battle.”

“A poor bow,” she remarked, seeming bored, “though it shall do.” Raising her hand in the air, the flying sword flew back into her ring.

“May I ask why the Rain that Beholds the Morning Grass is here?” Aiden asked, head still slightly lowered.

“I am here until I can return home, though I do have to repay a benefactor before I do.”

“A benefactor?” he couldn’t help but ask.

Rain slightly pulled away the collar of her shirt, revealing a large red A on her nape.

“You’re with the Scarlet Letter then?” he asked.

“They have been kind to me,” she answered. “For one, they told me I would not be unduly bothered if I do not grievously hurt anyone here.”

And Aiden’s eyes narrowed.

A warning and a boast in one.

“Then I will go with your leave.”

She flicked her wrist, waving him away, and Aiden left that place.

On Friday, Aiden bade farewell to his friends, as alone he strode towards a large mall near the centre of the city.

Passing through numerous stores, he found one where children crowded outside, staring wantingly at the displays inside.

A candy store.

The price tags were daylight robbery, yet one child proudly displayed a grey wrapped candy, popping it into his mouth to the dismay and jealousy of others, he temporarily grew wolf ears.

Another candy let another child blow bubbles with burning flames in them, while another child swam through the air.

“The Sweets Shop. Sells meta toy candies to the general public, but doubles as commission centre for anonymous handymen. Generally focuses on taking out Invaders and other threats whom the capes and military police don’t bother with due to it being low threat. That or commissioners don’t want official actors involved. Some criminal gangs hire from this place.”

Looking inside, Aiden saw an old woman, greying hair tied into a bun as they managed the store with a kitchen apron. She looked, by all accounts, like someone’s sweet old grandmother.

But one of her legs was a metal prosthetic, and when she pulled up her sleeves she revealed heavily scarred arms, missing fingers.

“The owner is a former vet, though her license has been revoked. She produces the candies and the paper warns she is dangerous in every sense of the word.”

This time, Aiden did not have an encounter before leaving.

“What do you think of the city,” Ranpo asked as the sun began to set.

“You’ve definitely seen more of it than me,” Aiden remarked, massaging his forehead. “I didn’t think it was this weird.”

“Well, now you know,” Ranpo tilted his head, “It is odd though, how there are so many unlicensed metahumans out there.”

“Maybe they don’t want the massive student debt,” Aiden replied, only half-jokingly.

“I am curious though,” he continued, “the Law considers earning money with your ability without a license as a serious misdemeanour, worth up to several decades in prison.”

“Yet plenty of people blatantly break that rule,” Ranpo finished.

“So you have to wonder,” Aiden said, tapping his foot, “why the Law doesn’t change in response. Adams and Gruts Homes are basically completely legal, save for the metahuman license part. It would be easy to fully legalise them, so why has this system remained for so long?”

Why was it necessary for a meta to spend years in study and participate in years long military service before they can be considered legally allowed to earn money with their ability?

It was a lot of hoops to jump through when plenty of people just ignored it and make money anyways.

Aiden’s phone rang then, a message from the group chat.

JunMoon: YO! @AIDEN1507! Dar found a rlly cool mukbang place! Come join!

He paused, hesitation in his eyes as he glanced at Ranpo.

The crow shrugged, “Go, not having friends is a bad look for people your age.”

Aiden smiled slightly, whether the crow meant his appeared or actual age, he wasn’t sure. Regardless, he replied to the group chat in affirmative.

He felt the ‘ping’ soon enough, as Darius cracked open the milkis coffee can he had.

Instantly stepping into the restaurant from an unobserved spot, he laughed as he took the can, quickly downing it as he asked what they would be having.

Five minutes later, Josh lay on the ground, writhing uncontrollably, and Aiden felt a burning pain spread throughout his body.