Cherry Blossom Girls Box Set

by Harmon Cooper

  Build: 008

  Base height: 181 Centimeters

  Base weight: 54 Kilos

  Strength: 1

  Intelligence: 9

  Constitution: 4

  Wisdom: 8

  Dexterity: 3

  Charisma: 6

  Main: Psychic

  * Omnikinesis

  * Second Sight

  * Psychometry

  * Telepathy

  * Clairsentience

  * Psychokinesis

  * Hypnosis

  Main Second: Shifter

  * Speed of Change

  * Texture Consistency

  * Opacity

  * Voice Match

  Ken’s info didn’t list her new ability, nor did it list any actual levels, just the base abilities on her drive. Still, it was super fucking helpful.

  I checked Veronique next, first typing in her name, which of course brought up her information and then typing in the word ‘metal,’ which also led to Veronique and a few others. I wondered how many on the list were still alive, but I had no way of knowing.

  I selected Veronique’s name and her basic info was displayed:

  Veronique, Subject V

  Build: 2.7341

  Base height: 171 Centimeters

  Base weight: 50 Kilos

  Strength: 4

  Intelligence: 6

  Constitution: 7

  Wisdom: 5

  Dexterity: 6

  Charisma: 2

  Main: Metal Absorption and Modification

  * Wielding Capacity

  * Adaption Speed

  * Alloy Integrity

  * Blood Metal Conversion

  I went back to the main search bar and typed in ‘teleport.’ There were others with similar abilities, and again, I didn’t know if they were dead or alive. As I pulled up Dorian’s stats, I got to thinking that I’d never actually played around – at least extensively – with modifying the CBGs’ base strength or intelligence or anything like that.

  I knew I was able to do it, but I didn’t see how it would help much. And how was that even possible anyway?

  Dorian’s stats read:

  Dorian Gray, Subject DG

  Build: 7.543

  Base height: 170 Centimeters

  Base weight: 49 Kilos

  Strength: 2

  Intelligence: 6

  Constitution: 7

  Wisdom: 3

  Dexterity: 6

  Charisma: 8

  Main: Ergokinesis

  * Overcharge

  * Charge Capacity

  * Charge Integrity

  Main Second: Teleportation

  * Tele-Sphere Radius

  * Conscious Spatial Awareness

  * Recharge Speed

  * Restoration Speed

  * Teleportation Rapidity

  * Teleportation Distance

  * Empathetic Teleportation

  * Banishment

  * Overcharge

  I thought I heard some movement in the closet. Rather than go and see if Angel was awake, because I hoped to hell he wasn’t, I searched for him on my new app.

  “There you are,” I said, remembering our first standoff on the rooftop of the Rose-Lyle Facility. If I could say there was a point where I had officially broken bad – not counting all the other shit that had happened before that standoff – I would say it was when I challenged Angel.

  And sure, if you’re thinking he would have killed me had I not been saved by Veronique and Grace, you are a hundred percent right. I was a writer with my back against an air conditioning unit; he would have snapped me in half in a heartbeat.

  Angel, Subject A

  Build: 1.2

  Base height: 185 Centimeters

  Base weight: 97 Kilos

  Strength: 8

  Intelligence: 7

  Constitution: 8

  Wisdom: 4

  Dexterity: 6

  Charisma: 3

  “Just like I thought, you asshole,” I said. “You’ve got about as much charisma as someone who was homeschooled. Damn, I wish I could plug into your neck and turn that charisma up. Maybe you would be friendly. Hell, maybe you’d want to join us. I could totally use a guy like you.”

  “Fuck you!” a muffled voice called from the closet.

  Hearing Angel’s voice caused my heart to skip a beat, my breath catching in my throat.

  He’s just a head, I thought to myself.

  Don’t antagonize Angel, Grace thought to me.

  Yes, ma’am. Also, someone needs to come drain him again. And that someone is Veronique.

  I’ll send her now.

  I returned to his deets, just so I could get a better understanding of them.

  Main: Cell Regeneration

  * Speed

  * Disease Detection

  * Limb Regrowth

  * Power Recovery

  Main Second: Flight

  * Aerobatics

  * Motion Defiance

  * Self Exertion

  * Atmospheric Adaptation

  Main Third: Enhanced Strength

  * Peak Human

  * Enhanced Muscle Usage

  * Disproportionate Force

  * Gravity Immunity

  * Power Balance

  He is definitely a tank, I thought as I skimmed through the abilities again.

  Veronique entered the room, startling me.

  Rather than head straight for the closet, she came over to me and sat on my lap, her arm going around my shoulder. She was out of breath, and I could smell the sweat on her body. There was a little dirt in her hair, and a root sticking out of the space behind her ear.

  I smiled and removed the root. “Does this belong to you?”

  “Grace said you were having fun in here antagonizing Angel.”

  I was keenly aware that her hand had started to charge red; she wasn’t actually absorbing any of my lifeforce yet, but I could tell she was hungry.

  “You wouldn’t dare,” I said.

  “Wouldn’t I?” she asked.

  “You know what, Veronique, I’m glad you’re here. And I want to show you something.” I turned my phone to her, demonstrating how the new app worked. “This means we may be able to see the details of the person we’re fighting, in real time. It’ll really help with planning and strategizing.”

  She gave me a wry look. “Are you fighting people now?”

  “You know what I mean. It doesn’t show weaknesses, so that’ll take a little parsing. But at least knowing what we’re up against will help, especially if you three aren’t very familiar with the person.”

  “That would be awesome if it showed weaknesses,” she said and took the phone from me.

  “Careful,” I told her, afraid she would use her abilities by accident and strip the phone of its parts.

  “If you haven’t figured out already, Gideon, I’m usually in control.” She gave the phone back to me.

  “In control of what?”

  “My power. What did you think I meant?” General confusion had spread across her face, and I realized that, despite her harsh nature, she’d totally missed what I was hinting at.

  “Are you guys playing safe out there?” I asked.

  “Safe enough.” Her hand came up and she moved her hair to the side, tucking a few locks behind her ear.

  “Remember, the real fight is tonight,” I said.

  “We’re playing it safe, trust me, Gideon.” Veronique placed her hand on my cheek, touching my scar with her thumb. She removed my glasses and put them on, staring at me, her eyes slightly larger than before. “I’m so glad I don’t have to wear glasses,” she finally said as she pulled them off and gave them back to me.

  “Yeah, you should be glad.”

  Veronique stood and moved to the closet.

  As soon as her hand touched the closet door, the backpack flew out, knocking her in the stomach and sending her into the wall.

  On my feet in a matter of seconds, I kicked the shit out of the bag, punting
it into the hallway.

  I heard Angel groan and the backpack didn’t do any more flying after that. It simply lay in the hallway, twitching, as Angel tried to recover from my Pelé-style kick.

  My god, was Veronique pissed. She stomped over to the backpack, lifted it, and slammed it onto the hardwood floor.

  She did that again and again.

  “Please stop!” Angel said, his voice sounding nasal now, like his nose had been broken.

  “Just drain his lifeforce,” I told her. “You don’t have to beat him up anymore.”

  “Listen to Gideon,” Angel said as Veronique crouched in front of the backpack.

  She glared at me.

  I knew what the glare meant; it meant for me to shut my goddamn mouth, which I did as she slammed the backpack against the floor one final time. She unzipped the top portion of the backpack and hovered her hand over it, rather than reach inside.

  Angel was unconscious again.

  I didn’t know how long we’d have Angel in a backpack, but it seemed like it would be for a good amount of time. It was interesting to see that he could actually fly as a severed head – didn’t see that in his stats! – and for a split second, I pictured his ears fluttering, doubling as wings. The mental image almost made me laugh out loud.

  Pretty sure that came from a Studio Ghibli movie, but I could be wrong.

  Veronique tossed the bag back into the closet. “I’m going back out to train,” she said, but instead of heading for the door, she approached me, hips swaying with each step. She was in her bulletproof vest and impossibly short jean shorts, which just didn’t seem to go with the whole outfit.

  “Where’s your helmet?” I asked, suddenly remembering she had it on when I’d seen them in the back yard earlier.

  She sat back down on my lap. “Dorian blew it off.”

  “I thought you guys were playing nice?”

  “We were. Now, we’re going to be training harder for the next hour and a half or so. Dorian and I are quite sure of what to do, but Grace can only learn so much by reading our thoughts and understanding the training we’ve been through. I want you to write; you seem like you need some motivation.”

  She lifted her hand to my cheek again.

  “Yeah, I need some motivation. I’m kind of stuck at ten thousand words and –”

  Veronique pulled her hand back and slapped the shit out of me.

  “Hey!”

  She hit me again before I could buck her off.

  “I hope that’s enough motivation for you,” she said as she stood. “How many words can you write in an hour?”

  “Two or three thousand,” I yelled, my face on fire from how hard she’d smacked me. “Damn, Veronique, you don’t have to …”

  She narrowed her dark eyes at me. “If you don’t have four thousand words written in the next hour and a half … well, you won’t like what I do next.”

  When she reached the doorway, she looked over her shoulder and gave a wolfish grin. “Grace said you could use a little pressure.”

  “The slap was Grace’s idea?”

  With that, she was gone.

  Chapter Eight: Luke, I Am Your Writer

  “What’s going on, Gideon?”

  I smiled at Luke’s face on the screen. The Wi-Fi reception in the study was a little wonky, but I could still make out his blondish-brown hair and beard. His beard was still thicker than mine, but I was catching up.

  “Bro, I just tore through four thousand words,” I told him, and to emphasize my point, I shook my hands out.

  “Oh yeah? That’s good, I’m still having issues with an opener. I got the whole story figured out for Star Defacer 3, but I can’t figure out this intro chapter. Maybe I need a prologue.”

  “Boo, no prologues. Whatever happened to action, action, action?”

  “A prologue with action, maybe?” Luke mused. “Sounds like a plan. How are things with the ladies?”

  “Things with the ladies …” I didn’t know what I should tell Luke, or better, I didn’t know where I should begin. “I got a tattoo last night,” I finally told him, going with the first thing that came to mind.

  “A tattoo, eh?”

  “Yeah, it’s a typewriter with some cherry blossoms around it.”

  I pulled the smartphone back to show him the piece. I’d already put some of that medication on it that the tattoo artist gave us, so it was a little glossy, the skin still fresh. Running my finger over it, I could feel the ridges of the tattoo and the scab that was forming.

  “That’s pretty awesome,” Luke said. “Where’d you get it done?”

  Well, he asked, so I figured I’d give him the lowdown on what happened last night, sans the sex scene.

  “You were almost killed in an explosion?” Luke laughed nervously. “I’m sorry, it’s just that every time I think I’ve heard it all from you, you have something else to tell me. So I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing with you? That doesn’t make sense, you’re not even laughing, but I think you understand what I’m trying to say.”

  “Yeah, and that’s just the stuff I’m telling you, man,” I said with a grin on my face.

  “Oh? Are you leaving some details out?”

  “I will save those details for the adult version of Mutants in the Making.”

  “Let me guess, you and the teleporter?”

  “Are you sure you don’t have a superpower?”

  “Well, if you consider being pretty adept at playing MMOs, then yes, I do have a superpower. And you’ve already hooked up with the other two, so I figured it would happen at some point. Like I said: Harem. I called this a harem before it was a harem, when you only had two. Or … I shouldn’t say you had them, but you know what I mean.”

  “Superheroes have different concepts of relationships.”

  “As you are likely learning,” he said. We both laughed.

  “Okay, okay, you got me. But I’m not one to kiss and tell.”

  “You’re more of a guy who kisses and writes. Speaking of which, you said you cranked out four thousand words. How long did it take?”

  “I did it in an hour. It was either write four thousand words or get my ass kicked. I chose the former.”

  The phone cut out for a moment and Luke’s image reappeared. “Veronique? She seems to be the one who threatens, am I right?”

  “You aren’t wrong.”

  “Well, on the writer front, there are a bunch of people trying to copy what you’re doing. So expect a lot of knockoff books coming out, because everyone’s looking at your sales data and seeing that there’s an opportunity in creative nonfiction sci-fi – which is ludicrous because all the stuff is actually happening to you. I keep trying to tell everyone that, but they think I’m crazy. They think I’m part of the scheme.”

  “I thought you were part of the scheme,” I said. It was true. Luke knew way more writers than I did, had been to cons, and was more social with them. I usually didn’t like communicating with other writers; it got too weird after a point.

  “You know the one author, Dustin Cody, the one who always rips off everyone’s covers and ideas and regurgitates them and appears in their ‘also boughts’ and people have mistaken his work for their favorite authors and they buy them both?”

  “Yeah, Dustin Cody; that dude made like half a million dollars last year.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing you’re making a deal with EBAYmazon, and they can push your book to the digital storefront. Hold on, I’ll show you a cover he posted in one of the writer groups I’m in.”

  “That’s not a bad cover,” I said with a hint of irony in my voice.

  “It’s a direct rip off of Mutants 2.”

  “I see that; even used the same image.”

  “He sure did. The thing is, he’s going to take readers away from your stuff, and his is made up bullshit. Yours is actually true!”

  “I know, but what can I do? It’s the game. All self-published authors have to play this game. As soon as you have some type
of success, as soon as you see a market that others haven’t seen yet, or maybe hadn’t recognized it quite the way you did, the vultures swoop in. It seems like your safest bet is to just put your best work out there and hope it gets visible before the others come in to steal your thunder.”

  Luke scratched his beard. “Yeah, you are right there.”

  I heard some commotion outside and had an idea. “Want to see something interesting?”

  “You bet your ass I do.”

  I took the smartphone outside to find Grace with her eyes white, focused on a car-sized sphere of purple energy she’d encapsulated in a telekinetic bubble about ten feet above the ground.

  “They’re training right now,” I said as I steadied the smartphone on the action.

  “Holy hell, man!”

  Protecting Veronique was a proverbial wall of metal bits that she’d stripped from anything she could find. She stood behind the wall, ready to pounce or protect herself from the blast.

  Dorian disappeared, reappeared behind Grace, grabbed her, and zipped away again, popping about thirty feet up in the air and leaving the psychic shifter there to freefall.

  Grace shifted her focus to catching herself, forgetting about the ball of energy she’d contained.

  The explosion sent everyone flying, including me.

  I was tossed backward onto the deck, my smartphone sailing off to the right; Veronique’s wall of metal did little to stop the explosion and she was thrown into a dirt patch; Grace just barely managed to stop herself from slamming into the house.

  “Oh my god! Oh my god!” I heard Luke’s voice ring out from the phone.

  I crawled over to it, my head spinning a bit. “We’re cool,” I told him with a lopsided grin.

  I could only imagine what Luke saw at that moment: the camera sideways, me belly-down on the deck, Veronique behind me and staggering to her feet, and Grace approaching as if nothing had happened.

  Dorian materialized next to me on the deck, propping her elbow against my lower back. It was almost a sexy pose, if not for the fact that she was wearing body armor and a ballistic helmet, and there were scratches on her face.

  “We’re okay!” she told Luke, and me, for that matter.