Ryan felt sick as he stared down at the last, empty wrapper of 'Swoll Smores Surprise' from the now-empty box of Dr. Flex's protein bars in front of him. He'd pulled three boxes of 24 each off of the basement supply shelf and, thus far, had only managed to down one completely. Two more to go. He had water to help, plenty of that. And his power appeared to consume most of it, but not all. A flashback of the hospital restroom aftermath from the last time he'd eaten these immediately came to mind. With it came a rumbling from deep in his stomach that he just didn't trust.

Then, the gurgling got worse. “Ughh…” He groaned, clutching his stomach with one hand. Whatever was left in his digestive tract after being used up by his power was… not something his body much agreed with.

Not willing to take any chances, Ryan scooped up the other two boxes in his other hand and headed to the bathroom. Once properly seated upon the porcelain ‘safety zone’, he figured he might as well continue.

Each of these bars were worth about 65 points, give or take the odd bar of 64. Scarfing 24 smores bars - which tasted more like marshmallows stuffed with peanut butter rather than graham cracker - had thus netted him 1,550 points to spend, though he still couldn't store over his max of 230 at a time.

One down… two to go.

All told, it took him about an hour and a half to finish the rest, flush down the remnants, and spend the points. The results - both in terms of his status and sheer splashback velocity - were impressive… even if he did feel like a half-finished science experiment afterwards.

Ryan loaded up the truck with a rifle, three road flares, another box of protein bars (Strawberry Synergy this time), and a case of water. Enough to last him for a while, even if he did plan on being back soon. Then again...

Spare toilet paper roll in hand, Ryan locked the door behind him and looked at the truck. It was a dark blue that blended in well, but if he was going back into town it'd be silly to show up in the same vehicle.

Which is why he had some changes in mind. Ryan just had to figure out what he could afford.

List of desired vehicle modifications:

Paint swap from dark blue to green (10 points); Addition of a forward-mounted brush guard (40 points); Reinforced steel crash plating (66 points); Crash-resistant chassis upgrade 54 points); Forward-mounted automatic drill with separate power source (250 points); Side-mounted push-to-fire machine guns with 150 round .50 cal ammo belt (310 points); Flamethrowers (side or front mounted) with 1 tank of fuel each (452 points per attachment).

"Hoo boy… Mad Max, here I come." Ryan whistled. He hadn't expected those changes to be so… affordable. Though he was curious as to why the flamethrowers were so expensive.

Probably the fuel… Since it's basically just a really angry aerosol can otherwise. Ryan pondered that as he looked around. Then his eyes fell on the scrap metal heap his uncle kept by the shed.

If this was the cost to create it, what would the costs look like if he had the raw materials? Ryan decided to check that hypothetical against his power. This time he imagined adding enough scrap metal into the equation to build it by hand if he knew how. For kicks, he also added in two propane tanks for Chris' gas grill he'd seen in the basement - just to see if that brought down the flamethrower's cost a bit.

If this works, I'm sure he won't mind as long as I add some firepower to his jeep, too. Heh. Fire power.

List of desired vehicle modifications (adjusted to use available materials):

Paint swap from dark blue to green (10 points); Addition of a forward-mounted brush guard (20 points); Reinforced steel crash plating (33 points); Crash-resistant chassis upgrade (27 points); Forward-mounted automatic drill with separate power source (125 points); Side-mounted push-to-fire machine guns with 150 round .50 cal ammo belt (160 points);

Flamethrowers (side or front mounted) with 1 tank of fuel each (113 points per attachment).

…………….

Half?! It reduced it by half?! Ryan felt his inner engineer swoon. Immediately he began collecting the parts he'd need and putting them next to the truck. He had almost written the flamethrower off as unnecessarily expensive and not worth the effort. But at a 75% point discount?

Let's just say Ryan was about to go all Twisted Metal on this truck.

A few more bars and a pit stop later, Ryan confirmed the upgrades. A second later, he was glad that Bonberry Farm was located outside of town and didn't have a neighbor for at least mile in any direction.

Steel screamed and groaned as it was pulled up out of the pile and melted, bent, or welded into place. And while the whole thing only took a few seconds, Ryan's ears didn't stop ringing from the cacophony of metal until he was almost back to his former captor's house.

Ryan hadn't lied when he'd told Chris he was going to go back and search for his friends tomorrow. He'd just tactfully omitted the plan to go back tonight and beat the information out of 'Renee' and whatever-that-woman-with-the-angel-voice's name was.

Honestly, the smarter - and no doubt, safer - plan would've been to wait on the farm. Eat as much as he could, upgrade himself out the ass (not literally), and only go back to face them after he'd figured out an effective defense against a pair who could effectively disable him with a thought.

Problem was, his friends may not have that kind of time. He imagined that right about now his former captors had either given up on finding him until morning or were trying to figure out where the other two had gone. Haruko and Jack's ashes had mixed with the water from the alarm, so it'd be hard for the pair to guess what had happened to their unfortunate comrades as nobody but Kurt had really seen Ryan dust somebody up close.

Hell, for that matter, they still didn't know what Ryan's power was. Only that he had disabled Haruko with one hand and poofed that table into smoke. If he were them, based on what they'd seen, he would probably guess some sort of touch-based disintegration. Which wasn't too far off what he'd told Chester, really.

Either way, those sadists probably weren't expecting him to come after them. Especially just a few hours after having escaped scott-free.

Ryan wasn't a fool. He preferred to be optimistic, but this wasn't some fantasy tale where the hero forgives everyone who does them wrong or lets the villains live only for them to come back again at the most dramatic moment.

People like Renee didn't just give up when they lost. From the little he'd heard from her, she was probably taking his new freedom as a personal affront.

Which meant if he didn't want to be hunted down… Ryan would have to take her out first.

And seeing as how Ryan had been beaten, shot, and quite literally threaded to a table by this gang of idiots… that was just fine by him.

************

The truck, now affectionately dubbed the 'Big Green Monster' (BGM for short) by Ryan, slammed into the front half of 245 Center Street going a relatively modest 75 mph.

On TV, particularly on something with a laugh track, this might've meant the heavy vehicle would stop at the first wall. Maybe get halfway in. It might even knock down some furniture or give a suburban housewife a good enough scare to make her drop her fresh-baked pie.

Such notions were rather divorced from reality, however.

BGM caved in the bedroom wall, snapping a load-bearing stud and sending jagged shards of construction material in a wide spray throughout the room. Of course, it didn't stop there. That much mass with that much momentum wasn't about to be stopped by a few wooden beams held together by a handful of screws. The heavily armored truck kept going as if it had only been politely asked to stop. An inquiry which it happily ignored.

Several more walls, including a sizeable swath of the ceiling, got the same timber-reduction treatment as Ryan kept the pedal on the floorboard all the way through. BGM effectively bulldozing half the house in a single run that took it clean through the unfenced backyard into the neighboring street. He didn't even have to worry about collateral damage as 245 was a corner property. Which meant he could turn around and be back for another run in a minute or so.

Which was more or less the plan.

Ryan had given considerable thought as to how he might gain entry to the house without being seen. He'd considered a number of different upgrades that might give him the upper hand or increase his chances of taking them by surprise. He had even considered trying to give himself that blast power and going all Big Bad Wolf on 'em.

Ultimately though, he'd had to admit that without anything even remotely resembling actual training or experience, playing at being a one man army was a good way to get himself killed.

Which is why he'd settled for high-speed vehicular demolition. It might be messier than that fancy special agent stuff, but it damn sure worked.

And it was cathartic as hell, too.

"Woooooo hoooo!!" Ryan yelled gleefully as he swung BMG around for a second pass. "How do you like me now, huh?!"

He'd spent a good half hour staking the place out before going all demo-derby on it. About 20 minutes in he'd watched the two women, Stella (the one he'd referred to as 'angel' before who he'd finally been able to analyze) and Renee, have an argument in the kitchen before storming off to another part of the house. Ryan was also pretty sure he'd seen Stella return to the kitchen right before he put pedal to metal. She'd seen him - or at least, BGM - coming and dove the other way.

Thus the need for round two. Besides, part of the house was still standing.

"Metaaal Mulishaaaaa!!!" Ryan shouted as BGM slammed into the house again and reduced another wall down to its component parts. A second later the steel-reinforced wedge-shaped plating turned a couch and table into kindling before ramming full steam into - and through - the kitchen. Metal on metal screeched, tore, and was hurled across the front lawn as the budget appliances were unceremoniously ejected from the house. Somewhere in all that chaos a scream rang out but he couldn't even begin to place it.

Before he could even swing BGM around again, Ryan saw the roof collapse in on itself in the rearview mirror. He slowed the big truck down and parked on the lawn next to what remained of the fridge.

Oh honey, I'm home~ He thought with just a touch of adrenaline-fueled dark humor. Before getting out he grabbed his rifle from the backseat, checked to make sure the safety was off, and then hopped out onto the shrapnel-filled grass.

Thank God Chris had an extra pair of boots. Ryan reflected absently as he headed over to the rubble-pile that had only recently been a house. His enhanced eyes immediately picked up a patch of quivering rubble in what was roughly where the dining room had been. The rest of the house seemed comparatively still, so he went there first.

Even if he hadn't had enhanced vision, it wouldn't have taken long to find her. The screaming helped.

Stella was on the ground only a half dozen feet into the rubble. Doing her best to keep the jagged, splintered wooden beam pinning her down from puncturing any further into her bloodied stomach. The roof hadn't quite fallen in on her yet, it'd formed a partial covering between the countertops she had likely dove behind on the first or second pass.

"I'm not as sick as you two, so I'll make this quick." Ryan snarled as he positioned himself behind and out of her sight, aiming his rifle between a crack in the fallen roof straight at her back. Stella froze as he spoke.

"There were four other people in the van you attacked yesterday. Tell me where they are. Now." He commanded with every bit of malice he could muster.

"Go... fuck yourself." She spat. She tried swivelling her head around towards him, but that proved to be a fatal mistake. The beam shifted, her arms gave, and the 'angel' was staked through to the ground. Her screams rent the morning air of the neighborhood once more.

Ryan briefly considered trying to save her, but that was a fool's game. Her superpowers were 'Telepathic Suggestion' and 'Mental Obstruction'. All it would take is a single thought and she'd have him drooling in the ground. Maybe permanently, maybe not. Either way he wasn't exactly eager to risk ending up on another table again.

Still, even after what she'd done, even if she'd done it to him… he wasn't about to let her suffer like this. It sounded like a miserable way to go.

His mercy shot echoed loudly across the street, silencing the poor woman.

Waste not, want not. Ryan reminded himself as he reached through the hole in the rubble to absorb the dead woman. He already knew where her points were going to go.

Or, where he had hoped they would go. He didn't have enough points to make the change he wanted. But the attempt also came with a message he hadn't expected.

Warning! Giving yourself the superpower "Mental Immunity" will also make you permanently immune to all further edits to your mental attributes, powers, and other faculties. This choice cannot be taken back.

Hu-uh. Does that mean I can't edit Smith? Or, at least, not any of his physical stuff? He wondered.

Ryan tucked that nugget away for later and tried a different angle. Interestingly, this one also came with additional information.

Would you like to channel the energy remaining in this corpse to grant yourself the Mental Resistance power? Energy remaining: 1,145. Power cost: 1000 points. Yes, or no?

Mental Resistance: Provides additional resistance to mental attacks, control, and influence in addition to the normal resistance granted by the respective mental attributes intelligence, wisdom, and charisma.

After digesting that, Ryan decided to make increasing his mental stats a bigger priority in the future. He accepted the change. Then, he braced for the inevitable pain-parade as Stella melted and crawled up his arm.

Nothing happened. No pain, no strange feeling, no profound insight into erecting mental telepathic defenses…

Frowning, Ryan pulled up his full status screen, making a quick adjustment for future legibility as he did so. This was maybe not the best time, but he was curious. And he didn't hear any sirens. Looking around he saw no other rubble was moving, so he doubted Renee was going anywhere. Assuming she was still alive, that is.

Name: Ryan Richards

Age: 26

Race: Human (Super)

Attributes:

Strength: 11

Dexterity: 14

Constitution: 12

Intelligence: 15

Wisdom: 13

Charisma: 12

Alterations:

Tiger Eyes: Eyes replaced with those of a Bengal Tiger.

Living Diamond Skin (Malleable At-Will): 25% of total skin surface area upgraded to match the physical properties of diamond. Able to relocate patches of diamond skin in 1% increments to different areas of the body.

Superpower(s):

Editor: Grants the capability to edit anything or anyone, to shape the universe itself to suit one's desires. Requires an output of energy commensurate to changes made. Provides information relevant to prospective changes. Current energy total: 230 / 230.

Mental Resistance: Provides additional resistance to mental attacks, control, and influence in addition to the normal resistance granted by the respective mental attributes intelligence, wisdom, and charisma.

Physical Status: Adrenaline rush exhausted, tired

Mental Status: Confused

I guess, since it's there, I must have it, right? Maybe increased mental defense doesn't require any chemical changes? That could be why I didn't feel anything…

Leaving that matter for another time, Ryan went looking for his other target. The wannabe bigshot who had gotten all mouthy with him before.

He found her out cold underneath a collapsed wall in the bathroom. Apparently, she'd been in the bathroom when he drove BGM through and guessing from the bloody shower tile next to her it looked like she'd taken one to the dome.

Mental Status: Concussion, Asleep, Under Suggestion

That last one raised more questions than it answered. After a moment of thought, Ryan decided to take her back with him for questioning. Worst case, he'd have some more points to spend later.

At least she can't vegetable me with her mind. He reasoned, then Ryan got his arms under her shoulders and began dragging her to BGM.

Ryan was about to load her into the armored truck bed when he noticed a blur coming at him from down the road. By the time he'd dropped Renee and gotten his rifle back in hand - it was already on him.

An 8 foot tall silver-grey wolf stopped not ten feet away from him, standing on both of its heavily muscled hind legs barely five feet away. Wickedly sharp claws extended for several inches beyond each finger. It was humanoid, but only just. Ryan didn't need to pull up his power to identify it. Anyone who had seen popular culture in the last thirty years could.

It was a werewolf. An honest-to-God, massive werewolf.

And judging by the way its far-too-big teeth were bared in those shaggy jaws… it was either angry… or hungry.