“I’m not an exemplar; I don’t have any special abilities. I’m nobody. And I just want to come clean with you. You don’t have to stay with me any longer. You or Obsidian…”
“Are all men from Centralia this dramatic?” she asked.
“Dramatic?”
Turquoise slipped into her bra, which buckled at the front. She was still nude below, and Kevin couldn’t help but look at her sex, that familiar urge swelling inside him, his mouth watering ever so slightly.
“In the Western Province, it doesn’t matter how one obtains power. The only thing that matters is the power they have obtained. This ring of yours,” she said, reaching for his hand, “is a power you have now obtained.”
“So you don’t think any differently of me?”
“No, and I don’t think Obsidian would either. That said, you should keep this between you and me, Kevin.”
“I really don’t know why you two have stayed with me…”
She brought a finger to his lips. “We are long past the point of that mattering, and self-doubt is unflattering on you. Come, I have prepared a bath.”
Kevin had already noticed the floral scent in the air. Stepping into the bathroom, he found the air humid, the floral scent stronger, and petals floating on top of the bathwater.
“I prepared it for myself, but you can go first.”
“Okay,” said Kevin as he carefully got into the tub. The water was up to his shins, and he was just about to sit down when Turquoise stopped him.
“Let me clean you first,” she said, getting on her knees.
The beautiful cat girl dipped the sponge into the bathwater, squeezed it a few times and brought it up to Kevin’s penis as he turned to her. She rubbed the sponge on the front and side of his cock, more blood rushing to the appendage as Kevin took in the scene.
She lifted his testicles and he felt a finger moving closer to his asshole, Kevin spreading his legs just a little bit to allow her to reach it.
He was breathing heavy now, tensing as she brought her hand away and scraped her claw along the inside of his thigh, drawing blood.
“Oops,” she said, lifting just a little bit to kiss the cut she’d just made.
Her lips now on his inner thigh, Turquoise began sucking his wound and excreting her toxin, which instantly relaxed Kevin, his shoulders slumping forward.
He brought his hand behind her head and started to lead her face to his penis.
She took the tip in her mouth, bit down lightly on it so as not to draw blood, and looked up at Kevin, her eyes slightly dilated. She removed her mouth and smiled, Kevin’s proof of manhood now throbbing.
“Later,” she said as she tapped one of her claws on the tub. Kevin got in, suppressing the urge to beg. It was early anyway, and he needed to get a plan together.
His mouth started running again, anything to cover the silence in the bathroom. “I just want to get organized,” he was saying as Turquoise rubbed the sponge over his chest. “And figure out what it is we should really try to do.”
“Well, you said there were some people you needed to take care of,” said Turquoise. “Maybe we should start there.”
“Yeah, and I still want to do that,” he admitted, thinking of his enemies at the immigration office.
“We’re here for you, Kevin, and we know you’re here for us. The three of us together could be a formidable force, especially with that ring of yours. But we may need another member or two to even things out.”
“What about that teleporter, the one who helped us?”
“Monica. She could be persuaded, but may need money.”
“Then let’s get some money,” Kevin said. “If that’s what we need to start, we can easily get some from a bank.”
Turquoise considered this for a moment. “Hmmm… my only concern is that we would risk exposing ourselves to exemplar teams and investigation if we did something like that. Do you know another way to get money?”
Kevin nodded, relaxing even further into the tub, the water coming up to his neck.
Even though she had just put it on, Turquoise took off her bra and got into the tub as well, facing Kevin from the other direction, her feet now close to his face.
She dipped a toe toward him, and Kevin opened his mouth, sucking it for a moment.
Beneath the water, Kevin pressed forward on the base of his penis, moving it toward Turquoise.
He felt confident all of a sudden, sure of himself.
Kevin knew exactly where to get some money, and it wouldn’t be long now before they had another member in their small group.
Chapter Eleven: Mister Fist and Necromancy
A masked man stood across from Roman, muscles rippling down his neck, veins popping off his arms, fists curled at his sides.
He was easily a head taller than Roman, bearing down on him as he smashed his fists together, letting Roman know he was more than ready.
“Now that is a fucking man,” said Casper, who was in Roman’s pocket, but not his jacket pocket this time.
No, the tiny cat-eared woman was in the pocket of his gym shorts, leaning out the side and holding on to the fabric with both hands.
“He isn’t the first one we’ve taken down,” Roman said, waving his hand to Coma.
The red-eyed former sex doll stood still, waiting for the concrete to slither up her legs and arms, forming large fists.
But Roman wasn’t done.
He glanced over to Celia, who sat on a single chair against the wall. The life left her body as Roman mentally pressed more power into Coma, giving her as much as he could and imbuing in her the ability to also modify inanimate objects.
Her fists now encased in thick concrete, Coma lifted her hands. A section of the wall responded, curling a bit, ready at a moment’s notice to leap into action.
The strongman bent his legs and hit the air, his arms flailing as he attempted to leap directly on top of Roman.
Coma’s tentacles were the first to attack, more material stripping down from the wall and wrapping around the masked man, only to bury him in a hole Roman was already forming on the ground.
With the floor and everything beneath it now swirling like a cyclone, Roman attempted to completely bury the strongman, going for the death strike to end the fight before it could really get started.
And he thought this would do. When Roman was sure the man was completely buried, he looked to Ava to call the match when a mist lifted from the ground.
At first, Roman was confused.
For a split second, he thought he had done something to hurt the man, his immediate reaction being to clear the ground, freeing the strongman from his entrapment.
Only, no one was there.
And Roman had to take a double look at this, knowing full well it was the exact spot where he had buried the man.
The mist turned back into the man, and the muscled exemplar whose mouth was completely covered by his featureless black mask crouched, rolled, and jumped into the air again, his body returning to its mist form.
Holy shit! Roman thought, realizing instantly what was happening.
Strongmen were hard to classify in Centralia’s power classification system. There were clearly type IIs, some of them even type Is, but there’d been debate as to whether they should be considered Class C: organic manipulation or elemental mimicry, or Class D: kinetic-based energy.
Roman remembered hearing his former coworker, Kevin Blackbook, complain about the Centralian classification system multiple times, saying it was much more complicated in real life than the five types and potential seven classes available.
And immigration-paperwork-wise, Roman had seen them classified as either class C or Class D, which only added to the confusion. But this guy, especially with his ability to turn to mist, was a Class C, and as Coma went to meet him, Roman started thinking of a way he could contain the misty fucker.
If he could really change from mist back into a muscled fighter, it would be damn near impossible for Roman to b
ury him or strike him with something.
And while Roman could potentially affect the man’s bone structure, as he had done to Ian Turlock, the guy could simply morph into his mist form and move to another part of the room.
No more time to think.
The strongman brought his fists into Coma’s stomach and sent the doll flying into the air, where she hit the ceiling and came crashing down to the floor.
“Coma!” Roman cried out, his power dial flashing in the corner of his eye.
Red is dead, he remembered, sucking in a deep breath as he prepared to meet the strongman with everything he had.
The man jumped for him, and Roman brought a wall up between them, which the man moved through using his mist form.
“Run, you idiot, run!” Casper shouted from her place in his pocket.
Roman took off to the sidewall, the ground rising with each step he took until he was running sideways.
He hadn’t really experimented with this type of movement before, but now that he was in the thick of it, it was his only option.
He made a jump for it right as the strongman cannonballed into the wall, bouncing off and returning to his mist form. Roman used his power to take glass from windows at the top of the gymnasium.
“This is crazy!” Casper shouted from his pocket as Roman jumped into the air, leading the strongman toward Coma’s position.
Now a fluid rope, Roman swung on the glass directly over Ava, who did little to get out of his way.
When he landed, the big man landed across from him and Coma came running, her concrete fist connecting with the man’s back.
The man was mist before she could punch her hand through him, and this threw Coma off balance, her momentum sending her forward where she hit the ground, her head twisting at a weird angle.
Roman brought the glass in front of him, forming a sphere over the mist, taking what little power he’d put into Casper away. It was worth a shot, but it was only a second later that the man burst out of the sphere of glass, going from gas to solid and shattering it.
“You see, Roman,” Ava began to say over the mayhem, “all exemplars have a weakness, even someone like you who can theoretically wield anything.”
As Coma got to her feet, Ava placed her hands behind her back and took a few steps forward. Roman stuck his hand deep in his pocket, making sure lifeless Casper was secure.
“It is very difficult to judge exemplars through skill assessment matches like this,” said Ava. “If I were a good telepath, I could take Mister Fist down right now without having to fight him or deal with his mist form.”
Still catching his breath, Roman looked from Ava to his opponent. Mister Fist was a clever codename for a super like him, Roman had to give him that.
The strongman was also an actual hero, part of a team of exemplars who handled large-scale issues in the northeast quadrant of Centralia. From natural disasters to attacks by villainous exemplars, Mister Fist’s team had seen things Roman could only dream about.
It was the exact type of situation Roman hoped to one day find himself in, helping those in need, with the secret hope that it would somehow curb his innermost desires, his appetite for destruction, his overall indifference.
Redemption through public service? Something like that.
Roman tuned back in to what Ava was saying. “So in a skill assessment test like this, the fight can go to the better, stronger super, or it can go to an exemplar with an intelligence-based power, or something that doesn’t have anything to do with sheer strength. My point? Find his weakness and exploit it.”
Mister Fist snorted. “That’s what I’m trying to do,” he said, the first words to leave his mouth since teleporting here.
Roman’s ears twitched for a moment, trying to place the voice. But there was no time, not with the big man charging at him, half of his body already turning to mist.
While Ava had been speaking, Roman had come up with a small plan, but he would need to get Mister Fist in his mist form to make it work.
“Coma, attack!” he shouted.
The masked doll skidded to a halt in front of the man, punching her fists forward and then ducking one of his blows as his form solidified. She came back with a quick series of jabs to Mister Fist’s gut, distracting him.
Sharp spikes dropped from the ceiling, and one nearly touched the top of Mister Fist’s head before he turned to mist again, which was exactly what Roman wanted him to do.
With a sweep of his hand, Roman sent the glass flying in Mister Fist’s direction.
But the big man turned solid again and gave a kick to Coma’s chest that sent her spinning backwards, where she broke through the glass Roman was firing off and smashed into him.
“Sorry,” Coma began to say as she tried to scramble off Roman’s body, both of them grounded.
But it was too late. A mist had formed around them and Mister Fist’s body took shape, his foot lightly pressed against Roman’s chest.
“Death strike,” Ava said, calling the match.
“I hope you’re ready for your next test, Roman. It will be easier than this last one.”
Ava stood before the same table she had set items on before, and like last time, there were a few items for his usage.
The flame-haired exemplar had her hands pressed together in front of her chest, her fingers pointing at Roman. Mister Fist stood next to her, and due to the fact that his face was completely covered with a black mask, Roman couldn’t read the expression on his face.
Celia was still deactivated, sitting in a chair on the other side of the room. Coma was next to him and Casper sat on his shoulder, one leg crossed over the other, her hands at her side clinching the fabric of his shirt.
Casper had already given him hell for taking away her life force, and while he could’ve just taken it away again, Roman simply apologized. He recognized parts of himself in his three dolls, so he knew she was playing with him.
“We know that you can animate dozens of different materials,” said Ava, “and apparently you can take over certain elements as well. With this test, we will see the limitations of what you can do. Let’s start with a block of ice.”
Roman narrowed his eyes on the cubic foot of ice sitting on the table, a small amount of water now pooling around its edges.
A hole began to form in the center of the ice, the center mass pressing out of the bottom. Before the ice could completely topple over, Roman extended the corners, making a sort of tripod.
From there, he pulled out two sheer layers from the top, almost like wings, and retracted them.
“More,” said Ava, an absolutely delighted look on her face. Mister Fist grunted, his arms now crossed over his chest.
Roman willed the ice to flatten and slide to the ground, moving along the floor like a magic carpet.
The flat sheet of ice slid under Coma’s feet, and Roman’s most powerful doll braced herself to be lifted into the air. She wasn’t lifted very high, maybe a few inches, but Roman was able to hold her and keep her stable, transporting her around the room and back.
“I don’t see how that will be handy, but it does look cool,” Casper commented.
“How’s this?” Roman asked as he set Coma down and used the ice to form a thin blade, which Coma now held in her hand.
“Okay, that’s a little more interesting,” Ava said, “but stabbing someone with an ice rapier probably won’t do very much.”
“You would be surprised how sharp ice can be,” Roman told her, recalling Centralia in the winter, and the time an icicle had fallen on him as he’d been leaving a building. It hadn’t cut him, but it had hurt like hell.
“You can clearly use ice,” Ava said, “so let’s move on to the next item.”
Roman was more reluctant about the next one.
As he approached the table and Coma set her ice rapier on the ground, Roman brought his hands before him, cracking his knuckles. He looked at Mister Fist, trying to gauge how the strongman felt about this, but was unable
to get a read.
“I’m pretty sure you can do it,” Casper said with a smirk. “I mean, you can do all these other things—why wouldn’t you be able to do that?”
“Thank you, Casper, for pointing that out, but in this field everything has to be tested. It’s either yes, you can do something, or no, you cannot. If he’s done it once, then there’s a clear indication he could maybe do it again. Have you attempted something like this yet?” Ava asked Roman.
“No.”
“Have you attempted anything on a living being?”
Roman thought of his wife, her eyes twitching open as she lay in the funeral parlor.
“Well?”
“No,” he finally told his teacher.
“Then let’s get on with it.”
Roman focused on the dead cricket. With an eye on his power dial, he pressed his power forward, and it was only a few seconds later that the cricket’s antennae began to twitch.
The black insect started to tremble, its legs curling forward as it turned itself over. Its shimmering wings came to attention and relaxed, loosening up.
“Go on…” Ava said, trying to mask the look of awe moving across her face.
“Make it fly,” Casper said, also entranced.
The cricket pressed onto its back legs and hit the air, its wings beating rapidly as it flew across the room.
“Can you control it?” Ava asked.
Roman took another look at his power dial, seeing that the green bar had risen.
The cricket leapt back into the air and landed on Coma’s head. Her red eyes looking up, the doll slowly lifted her hand toward the insect. She took the cricket from her head and dropped it in her other palm.
“Can she control it?” Ava whispered, her eyes fixed on the insect.
“Try,” Roman told Coma. He let out a deep sigh as he moved more of his power into the doll. Looking down at the cricket in the palm of her hands, a cricket that was still trembling, alive, Coma extended her arm forward.
The revived cricket took off.
This time it landed on Mister Fist’s shoulder, the big man a little uncomfortable with this fact, evident in the way he tensed up.
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