-
The site has now migrated to Xenforo 2. If you see any issues with the forum operation, please post them in the feedback thread.
-
Due to issues with external spam filters, QQ is currently unable to send any mail to Microsoft E-mail addresses. This includes any account at live.com, hotmail.com or msn.com. Signing up to the forum with one of these addresses will result in your verification E-mail never arriving. For best results, please use a different E-mail provider for your QQ address.
-
The rules regarding NSFW links have been updated. See here for details.
Sneaking His Way into the Multiverse (RWBY Jaune, WC-lite mechanics)
- Thread starter LazyAutumnMoon
- Start date
Party2tehArth
Getting out there.
- Joined
- Jan 15, 2024
- Messages
- 15
- Likes received
- 80
Ikr? What's up with that. I for one agree with that other guy about her falling to Jaune's lab energy
Robin_Ruken
The Punchiest of Princesses
- Joined
- Dec 6, 2022
- Messages
- 154
- Likes received
- 15,447
They should totally give it Aura before selling it. What's more valuable than an adorable murder machine? An adorable murder machine with a forcefield and random superpower!
Peke
Getting sticky.
- Joined
- Apr 26, 2022
- Messages
- 57
- Likes received
- 453
They would probably die if they did that. They not only struggled with it at its base but it's already gotten loose again at the end of the chapter. Aura makes you tough, faster and stronger. Sure that would raise the value but that's like giving a wild predator that's already mauled you super serum and expecting to still be able to handle it.
View: https://youtu.be/W7pYu5lJqOw?si=l2aOeJOzEOu3eaTY
LazyAutumnMoon
We all need Sundancer in our life.
- Joined
- Jun 6, 2024
- Messages
- 60
- Likes received
- 5,180
It absolutely can backfire on Lisa. This very much depends on if she can resist grabbing it all and running, and has the potential to spiral beyond her control, burn all the bridges, and end up in tears.
Although, while she can be dumb, she can also be smart. There are a few extra steps to the plan that I see a canon Tattletale would have thought about.
1. Let Jaune be the first to drain the joint account. Let him set the precedent, not her.
2. Obfuscate her purchases. As an example:
Jaune spends 400
Lisa spends 200, then 300
Jaune spends 3k
Lisa spends 2k, then 1k, then 1k
Jaune spends 12k
Lisa spends 4k, then 6k, then stops. She waits.
Jaune spends another 12k
She spends 4k, then 4k, then 6k, then 3k
Taking and taking without giving back is amateur hour. That's a fast track to alerting Jaune that something's amiss.
So, the scheme is designed in a way where they both gain from it.
On the surface, Jaune would see himself benefiting from this arrangement. He's able to buy everything he could ever want, or at least things that Lisa convince him that he wants. Problem is, ultimately, Lisa would gain a greater share than Jaune under this plan.
It's a long con, in essence. Something right up her alley.
2. Obfuscate her purchases. As an example:
Jaune spends 400
Lisa spends 200, then 300
Jaune spends 3k
Lisa spends 2k, then 1k, then 1k
Jaune spends 12k
Lisa spends 4k, then 6k, then stops. She waits.
Jaune spends another 12k
She spends 4k, then 4k, then 6k, then 3k
Taking and taking without giving back is amateur hour. That's a fast track to alerting Jaune that something's amiss.
So, the scheme is designed in a way where they both gain from it.
On the surface, Jaune would see himself benefiting from this arrangement. He's able to buy everything he could ever want, or at least things that Lisa convince him that he wants. Problem is, ultimately, Lisa would gain a greater share than Jaune under this plan.
It's a long con, in essence. Something right up her alley.
It's been quite a fun challenge. I hope you're enjoying it.
A couple thousand points, thereabout.
Thanks for reading, reader XD
Build a bridge out of her!
Guh. Now I want to see that, too
Lol. There's an idea. A fight with Bugs Bunny.
Would end very different for Jaune and Tattletale.
For most, the Beast of Caerbannog was just a rabbit. But for him...
If we consider Lisa alone, a study of the character says there is a high potential for such actions in her, which makes everyone worry.
That rather takes place in a vacuum, though.
I was going to have Aqua from Konosuba buy it. Poor Kazuma.
Find out next time, on Sneaking His Way Into The Multiverse: Episode 19!
Frenchman—Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of eldeberries!
Tattletale—I concur! 100%! Curse them out more!
You evil, evil genius.
Last edited:
Desu-Vult2ElectricBugaloo
Know what you're doing yet?
- Joined
- Mar 5, 2019
- Messages
- 227
- Likes received
- 7,530
Bro thats devious.... I love it.
Phantom Blaster
A Gentlemanly Dragon.
- Joined
- Dec 29, 2015
- Messages
- 14,057
- Likes received
- 191,181
You monster!
...I admire you and hope you keep cooking I almost die of laughter.
Agent Orange
Experienced.
- Joined
- Dec 2, 2016
- Messages
- 4,196
- Likes received
- 37,693
Today a rabbit monster tomorrow a bunny girl!
Jokes aside this was a bit of a slippery slope.
I don't know if there a gateway drug equivalent to slave trading but it feels like this is it.
What Measure Is a Non-Human?
Idovelicus
I trust you know where the happy button is?
- Joined
- Aug 2, 2021
- Messages
- 942
- Likes received
- 9,155
Look, the Beast of Caerbannog is a bunny. And there's no real sign of sentience there. Selling it is no more morally questionable than selling a gun or selling a goldfish. It's just that the goldfish is a gun, in this instance.
Phantom Blaster
A Gentlemanly Dragon.
- Joined
- Dec 29, 2015
- Messages
- 14,057
- Likes received
- 191,181
Also is scary as fuck, it knows where you live now and is hungry for human blood!
tarrangar
Versed in the lewd.
- Joined
- Jan 11, 2015
- Messages
- 1,311
- Likes received
- 9,016
Not really, the gateway drug equivalent would be trading somewhat sapient but either only barely so or limited for points, such as trading Buffy vampires because they are inherently evil anyway, or trading beings such a Wow Troggs who max out Intelligence at a few broken sentences and being able to wield simple melee weapons.
Selling animal level intelligence monsters is just trading livestock, not a gateway into trading people.
Another gateway could be trading intelligent objects say you get to Zero no Tsukaime and buy Derflinger from the weaponshop, well on one hand he's a sword being sold, so you might feel selling him is okay, but he's also a fully sapient person, which make it rather less okay.
Last edited:
ujub77
Know what you're doing yet?
- Joined
- Nov 17, 2023
- Messages
- 204
- Likes received
- 2,130
Very original WC story. Binged it in couple evenings.
I hope that if romance will hapen it will be on equal grounds. Maybe make Lisa contractor like Jaune
(after healthy dose of character development of course). Because if not she always will be one step from becoming his slave. And no matter type of brainwashing it is icky to read and is slippery slope for Jaune as well.
I hope that if romance will hapen it will be on equal grounds. Maybe make Lisa contractor like Jaune
(after healthy dose of character development of course). Because if not she always will be one step from becoming his slave. And no matter type of brainwashing it is icky to read and is slippery slope for Jaune as well.
Last edited:
Tohu
Getting some practice in, huh?
- Joined
- Aug 16, 2024
- Messages
- 9
- Likes received
- 44
It would be nice to see this duo visiting the world of "Delicious in dungeon" for one of future short trips. Jaune being amazed by monster food while Tattletale losing her mind in the background to eventually start enjoying her meal too. Nothing special just some sweet time for relaxation. It would be especially nice if they came after the final event and joined the feast.
Jaune: Everything here is so delicious! What kind of ingredients did you use?
Laious: Oh, you know, the usual stuff. Mandrake, fruits from carnivores plants, my sister's flash and other things.
Jaune: Wow, I have never thought about using monsters for... YOUR SISTER'S WHAT!?
Tattletale: I told you not to eat it!
Jaune: Everything here is so delicious! What kind of ingredients did you use?
Laious: Oh, you know, the usual stuff. Mandrake, fruits from carnivores plants, my sister's flash and other things.
Jaune: Wow, I have never thought about using monsters for... YOUR SISTER'S WHAT!?
Tattletale: I told you not to eat it!
Last edited:
Kazumaa23
Versed in the lewd.
- Joined
- Aug 13, 2022
- Messages
- 1,559
- Likes received
- 10,419
I hope they visit Konosuba but the Adventurer cards are a little too broken a "bad beginner class" giving basically power copying is ridiculous.
Also i really dislike tattletale bordering on hate, really... trying to fuck over/take advantage of someone giving her that much trust and good will.
Also i really dislike tattletale bordering on hate, really... trying to fuck over/take advantage of someone giving her that much trust and good will.
Last edited:
Agent Orange
Experienced.
- Joined
- Dec 2, 2016
- Messages
- 4,196
- Likes received
- 37,693
Actually, I'd think Jaune would be just as if not more put off by it as Marcille. He comes from a world where the main association with the term are grimm. Not sure if anyone but nutjobs tried eating grimm.
Last edited:
ExpWarlock
Exp
- Joined
- Mar 13, 2023
- Messages
- 1,168
- Likes received
- 16,190
I think he'll think it's cool, after all it'll be like a fairytale, and also, he did want to eat the Beast of Caerbannog
Faralis
Well worn.
- Joined
- Jul 9, 2017
- Messages
- 6,616
- Likes received
- 57,023
Grimm disintegrate in seconds. You can't it nothing.
Grand Munchkin
Know what you're doing yet?
- Joined
- Oct 7, 2021
- Messages
- 202
- Likes received
- 966
Nooo! I mean, of course I'll read, but oh, the unfulfilled instant gratification! Curses! I must adult.
Thanks again for writing
Misoby
Know what you're doing yet?
- Joined
- Apr 15, 2019
- Messages
- 109
- Likes received
- 1,620
This is not a standard WC story where waifus fall prostrate before the main character, it is a story about a "loser" hunter forced to work with what he has in order to survive and prosper. And sometimes in such situations you have to tolerate people like Tattletale
Kazumaa23
Versed in the lewd.
- Joined
- Aug 13, 2022
- Messages
- 1,559
- Likes received
- 10,419
I know but Tattletale is shit anyway and she is always the same no matter if she is stamped or not is not like she stops being shit if she is stamped or in love
ujub77
Know what you're doing yet?
- Joined
- Nov 17, 2023
- Messages
- 204
- Likes received
- 2,130
This is not about Tattletale being shit or not. But about Jaune not becoming generic asshole horny protag like in any other wc story.
Kazumaa23
Versed in the lewd.
- Joined
- Aug 13, 2022
- Messages
- 1,559
- Likes received
- 10,419
So people don't become assholes by being surrounded by shit people like Tattletale?
ujub77
Know what you're doing yet?
- Joined
- Nov 17, 2023
- Messages
- 204
- Likes received
- 2,130
I dont deny that Lisa is not a good person. But in this fic she was shown to experienced some character growth already and still can improve. Its not like she member of s9 and is irridimably evil.
What i meant is if Jaune uses stamp even once he will inevitably slide to more ammoral acts. This is bad for Jaune characterisation and also for narrative because why limit on single waifu. He begans stampin and rapin and collects wifus to his "collection". I mean author could explore topic of power corrupting everyone but this story doesn't seem the type.
Kazumaa23
Versed in the lewd.
- Joined
- Aug 13, 2022
- Messages
- 1,559
- Likes received
- 10,419
I never mentioned the stamp you and misobi were the ones that mentioned it i just said that Tattletale was a terrible person, even with the stamp she would only start liking/loving Jauned but her shit personality would remain, even villains like let's say Esdeath don't become better or "good" by just being stamped they remain the same just start loving the person that stamped hem.
ujub77
Know what you're doing yet?
- Joined
- Nov 17, 2023
- Messages
- 204
- Likes received
- 2,130
Can i ask you why you picked this story? Is it smut with fictional heroines,plot in broad sense or other reason?
Kazumaa23
Versed in the lewd.
- Joined
- Aug 13, 2022
- Messages
- 1,559
- Likes received
- 10,419
I think i you need better reading compresion, i never said i didn't like the story, the stamp or standard WC fics i just said that Tattletale is a shit person. I would rather see other girls as companions.
But i like the world traveling aspect and i like Jaune as a MC.
ujub77
Know what you're doing yet?
- Joined
- Nov 17, 2023
- Messages
- 204
- Likes received
- 2,130
I just asked question why you chose story not whether you like it or not. Thanks for answer even though you started it with insult.
I too picked this story for same reason but i also like interractions between characters from different settings. Said interactions would be nonexistent beyound ordering waifus around if this fic goes classic wc routes. Thats why i kinda rooting for Lisa who i again add is not irredeemable and unchanging.
Columbiad
Getting out there.
- Joined
- Jul 9, 2024
- Messages
- 20
- Likes received
- 262
No they don't. The only way that people surrounding you can make you like them is if you let them.
Chapter 19: Super Ethical
New
LazyAutumnMoon
We all need Sundancer in our life.
- Joined
- Jun 6, 2024
- Messages
- 60
- Likes received
- 5,180
After a good night's rest, Jaune can say with confidence that he had almost put the ordeals of yesterday behind him. Almost, because he will probably never see rabbits the same way again.
They're not innocent. That cuddly, fluffy, 'look at me, I'm adowable' appearance was but a sham, he now knew, a disguise those murderbeasts put on in order to lure in prey. Catch them when you're alone in the woods, and their true nature comes out. Keep them in captivity and they will await the day you make a mistake, and they break free. They yearn for nothing more than to feast on the flesh of the unsuspecting.
What? Who's traumatized? Not him. No, he had been enlightened. Rabbits were the greatest enemy facing his world. Any world.
They do sell for a lot, though, or at least the Beast of Caerbannog had, so there's that going for them. 2,100 Points, to enable serious considerations where there were once mere daydreams on the subject of acquiring greater power. For that very purpose, Jaune sat in a chair with the multiversal Marketplace opened before him. While Lisa leaned on his back to take a peek, he hovered his thumb above the screen of the scroll.
"You definitely won't mind?" he asked again to be sure.
"Pshh, of course not! Like I said, the account is for both of us to use and benefit from, and this clearly applies."
"Still, I'm technically spending your Points—"
"And my generous self is giving you permission, so quit worrying." She grabbed his shoulders, and shook him in that sort of badgering manner he experienced too much of growing up. "Now do it, do it, do it, do it!"
"Yeah yeah, I am." He turned his head to look at her. "You're as bad as my sisters sometimes, you know that? No patience, whatsoever."
In response, she stuck out her tongue. "Nyeh."
"See, that's really not convincing me otherwise."
Was this his fate? To suffer Annoying Blondes for the length of his life? He mulled on it to reach the happy—yet bothersome—conclusion that should everything go well then, yes, it was. Success meant coming home to his family. (And what horror that prospect brought, of his sisters and Lisa Wilbourn meeting. Maybe he should pick up some souvenirs for them to ensure their loyalty, and prevent the creation of that unholy alliance.)
The wistful smile got him a puzzled look from the girl. He waved a hand to indicate it was nothing, and refocused on the scroll.
"Last chance to change your mind," he warned. Silence greeted him, and he took it as an answer. "No regrets now, Lisa."
Jaune gave the screen a quick tap to confirm the purchase. In a blink, much of the Points that they've risked life, limb, and dignity to gain vanished with the wind, draining the joint funds and dipping into his stash to take all but 20 Points. As trade, [Dimensional Pockets] became his to own.
[Dimensional Pockets]
You have deep pockets. Heck, you could fit a body in there! What a totally unrelated coincidence. Wink. Wink.
p.s. At Level 1, the available inventory space measures 1m by 1m by 3m—or about 3ft by 3ft by 9ft for bizarro worlds deprived of the metric system.
p.p.s. Time does not move within the inventory space.
p.p.p.s. Ignore line. Reserved for future patches.
(Keep shoving those worrying implications aside, Jaune. Just keep ignoring them for your peace of mind.)
Little fanfare marked the milestone. No flashy bursts of light or catchy tunes, only a vague sensation of something settling into his mind, knowledge that did not belong to him scratching at a metaphorical door for an opening to slip inside. It left an odd chill skating up and down his back, though that faded within a couple of seconds.
"Soooo?" Lisa asked. Piqued by curiosity, she began poking and prodding him at different spots, as if searching for a hidden button to activate his new ability.
"It worked, I'm pretty sure. Every time I think about using the Pocket, it sort of pings back to let me know it's there."
"Interesting. And where would 'there' be?"
"Oh, it's right over… If you would look… Huh, how do I explain this?" To better illustrate, he enlisted the use of gestures. His finger started out pointing towards his head, before sliding behind him and higher up. After a moment of musing, he spun it in a circle, and flicked the digit back and forth. "...with a forward-sideways-down motion, if that makes sense."
"That was singularly unhelpful, and terrible, and now my head hurts. Does it at least feel like a three by three by nine feet space as the description says?"
Jaune shrugged. "No idea."
The thing's a box with no sides floating in an empty spot of his imagination. Shapes and measurements did not translate in a pure blankness.
Lisa tsked at the non-answer, and raised a hand to massage her forehead—the sign of a budding frustration. Her dislike of being ignorant in a matter was coming to the fore, and it confirmed to Jaune that he had made the correct choice to buy the [Dimensional Pockets] ability for himself. Had she acquired it instead, her head might have exploded as she tried to pin down details on something formless.
To forestall her from dragging him into the inane minutiae, Jaune redirected the subject to more practical concerns, "What I'm interested in, is how the Pocket performs. Why don't we test that out first?"
He reached for Crocea Mors. On contact, nothing happened. It stayed in his hand as he swung it back and forth.
"Think about storing it in a container," Lisa suggested.
One moment, Crocea Mors was there. The next, Jaune held air, the sword disappearing without a trace before their eyes. Such a subtle display, yet the sight brought awe, for a power impossible a minute earlier had with a press of a button become a mundane, everyday thing.
"Whoooa."
"Whoooa—" It occurred to Jaune just then, that his sword was for all intents and purposes no longer in existence, and that he did not know how to retrieve the weapon. A shot of fear squeezed him tight until he could barely breathe as Jaune panicked right the hell out. Bring it back! Bring it back! Crocea Mors reappeared in his grip, and he heaved a sigh of relief.
Assured that he wouldn't lose the family sword by accident, Jaune repeated the process in a calmer state. This time he detected the weapon, not quite in the back of his mind but present nonetheless whenever he turned his thoughts towards the Pocket. By calling on it, he could grasp the size and shape of it as clearly as if it rested on the palm held in his lap. A further impulse and it did so, manifesting.
Gone. Not gone. Gone. Not gone. Gone. Not gone. This will never get old.
Meanwhile, Lisa was plucking items from the table, ending up with a jumbled assortment. "Here, try to store all of these."
One by one, the items entered the Pocket. As before, the space catalogued them to a startling degree of clarity, with him now recalling each object in detail despite having spared only a passing glance in the physical world. The observation, once conveyed, garnered him quite a bit of jealousy from Lisa. Not that she'd admit the truth.
"It doesn't mean that you're any smarter!"
"Yes, yes, you don't have to go on about it. Anyway, care for a piece of chocolate? I have five in this Pocket, along with two teacups, three fountain pens, thirty-two pieces of paper, a crossbow, a carton of sleep darts—there's twelve of those by the way, my personal scroll, a sack of two hundred forty seven gold coins…"
"Grrrr."
Her expression seemed amusing, so Jaune summoned his scroll mid-speech, and snapped a picture. (She flipped him off as he took it.)
Heh. Jelly Lisa get.
The scroll went back in his Pocket, and he returned the rest of the items outside, though Lisa stopped him from cleaning up. The next experiment involved him attempting to store the goods without touching them. That one bore no results beyond him looking silly.
"Contact's needed, then. Bummer." He could think of a few uses otherwise. Pranks, sleight-of-hand magic tricks, stealing snacks out of vending machines. Life-changing stuff.
"Bummer indeed. Hm."
"What's up, Lisa?"
Tapping her chin, she replied, "I wonder what other restrictions this Pocket operates on… Oh! I know!" She held out her hands, making grabby motions. "Gimme your sword, I want to test what happens when someone else is in contact with the object before you put it away."
"Sure, take it." He offered Crocea Mors by the handle to her, still sheathed. "Just don't try to brain me with it like the first time we met."
Lisa stopped short. A mischievous smile crept onto her face, and she yanked the sword from him.
"Or maybe I should do exactly that~? Because it's extremely important we confirm whether or not you can steal weapons straight out of an opponent's hand."
"I mostly agree, but I don't believe for a second it's your real reason."
"Too late, that's what you deserve for making fun of me! Take this!"
Wielding Crocea Mors with both hands, she swept it back for a mighty overhead swing, earning her a hum of acknowledgment from Jaune because while lacking in technique the wind-up contained every ounce of her righteous fury (or was it petty vindictiveness?). This was a maneuver that, were the resulting blow to connect, could deal lasting injury to the Aura-less foe. Quite impressive in his opinion when taking into consideration her current level of physicality. It held promise.
Except, at the apex of the arc, the sword slipped out of her fingers and went whirling off to bounce against the back wall.
Girl and boy stared at the weapon in silence. Her composure broke before he did.
"Ummm, I meant to do that," muttered Lisa, as a crimson blush suffused her cheeks. It rather undercut the claim, not that Jaune fell for the lie in the first place.
"I am never letting you own a melee weapon."
"That's…okay, fair enough."
He walked over to pick up the sword, and passed it to Lisa again. Learning from the previous mishap, he supervised this time, helping adjust her grip to fit proper form. As he led her through the motion of the attack—not so far that she strains her arms and not so low that momentum suffers—Lisa began to appreciate the lesson for what it was, and she flashed a smile at him during a moment when their eyes met.
Then, he promptly invalidated all of it by popping Crocea Mors into his Pocket.
"Look at that, it worked!"
"I hate you so, so much right now," Lisa deadpanned. "What was even the point of teaching me to hold a sword?"
"Because"—he manifested Crocea Mors and handed it to her— "your idea was a pretty good one. Let's see how viable this power is in practice. Raise it slowly. Remember to retain control."
Lisa grumbled, but in the end she followed his instruction. The blade descended at a safe speed (as a sword can be at any rate) on a trajectory for Jaune's shoulder.
Smack! It landed to send up a small jolt of pain, vanishing into thin air an instant later as he activated the Pocket.
Lisa tried, not very hard, to suppress her snickering. "Heh. Hehehe. You were a little late there. Just saying."
Jaune shot her an unamused look while rubbing at his smarting shoulder. As she so 'constructively' criticized, the maneuver could use some tweaking on his end; he had reacted half a second behind the strike. Taken in broad strokes, though, it should fare well amidst combat and stood a decent chance of becoming a key strategy in his playbook.
Eager to put his new power to use, Jaune navigated from the Marketplace to the Portal app.
"Suit up, Lisa. I think it's about time we go for a—"
She cut in, "Hold up! Stop! Pause! Who said we were done?"
Caught off guard, Jaune fumbled the device. It hit the table with a clatter. He looked from it, to Lisa.
"Well, weren't we?" he asked.
"Someday, I'll definitely teach you to quit that stupid habit of rushing off half-cocked on the first idea to lodge in your head. Leave the phone there. I have a couple more experiments that should get us good data on the limits of the Pocket."
"But…" my call to adventure.
"No buts. We need to know what we're dealing with so it doesn't cause you problems."
He changed tack. "How about we go to a new universe to do that, for efficiency's sake? Think of the shinies we can snatch up along the way."
The effect must have been rather lacking, as Lisa leveled at him an unimpressed look, before pointedly sitting down on a chair. Then she smirked, and crossed her legs.
"Remember our deal yesterday? We still have eight and a half hours left of rest. You promised. And you wouldn't go back on your word, would you?"
Oh no! She has gotten a grasp of the methods to getting her way around him!
Caught in her trap and seeing no recourse, Jaune slumped down in another seat, and settled in for the longest hours of his life.
"Good boy. Now, paw!"
He raised a hand, and flipped Lisa off.
The myriad colors of their portal swirled to life.
"Something still feels off about this," Tattletale voiced her doubts once again.
Clink. Clink-clink. Clink. Stacks of gold coins grew and shrank on Jaune's palm as he enjoyed his new pastime, listening with half an ear. Idly, he said, "The place is apparently ethical, super ethical even, so it can't be that bad."
"Super suspicious is what it is. You ever seen those amusement parks with names like 'Happy Friendship Funtime'? Guaranteed, there's a killer clown running around after dark." She shivered. "Ask me how I know."
He shrugged his shoulders. "Alright, sure, but the big mistake there is to hire clowns in the first place. As for here, every sign points to this being a game show. They get weird with their names sometimes. It's part of the fun."
"I dunno if that's any better. Those programs love to humiliate their contestants." Judging by her expression, Tattletale would prefer the killer clown over the possibility of people laughing at her, and Jaune patted her on the back in comfort.
"Think of it this way. What do game shows have? Trivia, logic puzzles, the brainy stuff that you excel at. And what's usually at the end? A prize."
That calmed her some. The prospect of a chance to shine soothed Tattletale of her jittery nerves, and she stood just a little straighter.
Now, Jaune didn't mention it aloud, but he assumed they'd also meet a number of physical challenges. A Danger Rating of 2/10, from his experiences in Dunwall and Caerbannog, indicated at least some levels of hazard in the world during the event—whether that's disease, political instability, or untamed wildlife. That said, he was quite confident that he could handle whatever this universe dished out. Any one of those above things could make for a bad time, yes, but they constituted general concerns which faced the population at large in their day-to-day (even if the Beast of Caerbannog pushed that envelope), as opposed to Lordran where everything was hostile and trying to kill him or Brockton Bay where Leviathan almost drowned the entire city.
The portal achieved stability, putting their debate to rest. Jaune took point, advancing with his shield and sword held in loose grips at his sides—though ready to snap up in a guard at a moment's notice. Tattletale stuck close to him as she followed a step behind.
Upon arrival, the first thing to greet them was a handgun laying on a display stand.
"I don't think this is going to be very ethical," said Jaune with a whimper.
The room that the portal deposited them inside featured two gates. Colorfully painted in green, white, and pink, they contrasted the simple brick walls, and imparted a sense of whimsy to the ambience. (The handgun very much undercut that whimsy.)
With a loud buzzing noise, the gate at their back opened, and in walked a man with a shaved head and dressed in an outfit of red shirt under casual black suit. Tattoos peeked out of his collar and sleeves. It's a look that exuded danger except for the incongruous pink tie; the thing threw the entire balance out of whack in Jaune's opinion. There was no opportunity to comment on it, as the room broke out in a cacophony.
"An Ee Eighty Eight?" Tattletale shouted in alarm as the buzzing noise resumed, and the gate slammed shut.
The man, meanwhile, expressed bewilderment at their presence. "Who the flying fuck—" Surprise became a scowl, and a spittle-spraying snarl. "Oh hell naw, this is my million dollar shot!" He pulled out a gun tucked in his pants.
Before the muzzle so much as twitched in their direction, a sleep dart sprang out of the wristbow worn by Tattletale, and jabbed the man in the neck. Anger left his face, replaced by a woozy daze, followed shortly by him slipping to the floor in unconsciousness. Peace returned to the room.
"No Aura," Jaune noted. "We'll have an advantage over any hostile parties in this Instance."
Tattletale fired back, "Which is obviously not a typical game show."
"He could have been an outlier." The protest lacked conviction, and they both knew it. "What's Ee Eighty Eight, again? It sounds familiar."
"The nazi gang from Brockton Bay." She scrunched her nose in distaste. "Red and black are their colors, along with the shaved head."
"Are you suggesting—"
"No, the pink tie isn't their thing. Like, at all. So on a second glance this is probably a different group that happened to have a similar motif. Definitely a gang. He was ready and willing to kill us."
Rifling through the man's wallet uncovered dollar bills of a slightly altered design to the ones Tattletale were used to seeing. It confirmed that they were in a variation of her planet, Earth. She also deduced the password to his scroll (or 'phone', as Tattletale and the locals call it), claiming the fingerprints on the screen betrayed the numbers—they will never speak about the two failed attempts where she inputted them in the incorrect sequence. From the device, they gained a name for the gang, Morningstar, and a couple of tidbits that identified the man as being near the bottom of the totem pole. Oh, and he had gambling debts, hence the game show entry.
A detailed search through the scrollnet ('inter-net'? More strange Earth vocabulary) would have allowed them a better grasp on this world, but they were interrupted by the second gate swinging open. Beyond it laid a large concrete space broken up by barriers, walls, and pillars of the same material. The area rather resembled one of the paintball courses in Vale, colored in pink and blue candy cane stripes. On the far wall, Jaune spotted another set of doors.
In the middle of observing these new surroundings, Jaune heard the overhead speakers set in the corners crackle to life, blaring voices.
The first voice flowed smooth and crisp in the cadence of an experienced sportscaster, conveying an infectious sense of anticipation. "Welcome to Professor Genki's Super Ethical Reality Climax! Murder-time is fun-time, right, Bobby?"
Murder-time is what? Jaune turned to his companion.
"I take it back. Funtime? You might have a point about this place."
"I told you so!"
Oh great, she's making that face again. The smug one.
A second voice came over the speakers, this one gravelly and less-practiced. "You got it, Zach. If our contestant can survive the deadly traps"—the pair of blonds blanched as nozzles embedded on the sides of the concrete pillars spat out electricity or fire throughout the course—"armed mascots"—Jaune mouthed 'armed mascots?' to Tattletale, getting a shrug in reply—"and those freakishly huge Hunters"—roars resounded somewhere in the depths of the building—"they can win a hefty pile of cash."
"Should we quit and go home?" asked Jaune, peeking over his shoulder at the portal. "This wasn't what I expected from a game show. Exaggerated or not, it's too morbid."
Tattletale considered it, biting her bottom lip in thought. Her gaze alternated between the portal and the open gate, and it soon settled on the latter. "I'm not so sure that they're playing it up. Still, they said 'survive', and Aura makes us uniquely suited for that. We can win, grab the prize, and get out before they start asking questions."
"We're not strapped for cash," he reminded her, playing devil's advocate. Or was it angel's advocate in this case?
"Yeah, I know. But a payday is a payday, and we can take a closer look at this universe. There might be tinkertech or magical toys lying around."
"Good. Point." Money has somewhat lost its value due to the gold bar in his Pocket, but Marketplace sellables? That, he can use. "Okay, I'll head in first, and you stay close."
The pilfered cash went in his Pocket. While he was at it, Jaune swiped the two handguns and dropped them inside, too. The 'phone', Tattletale fiddled with for a minute and ultimately tossed back on top of the unconscious gangster.
"We're leaving that?"
She gave a dismissive wave at the device. "The thing's loaded down with so much porn and viruses that I feel sick just holding it. I doubt it'd work outside this world anyway."
"Fine with me. Let's go."
Their entrance to the game show was immediately met with confusion.
"What's this? I do believe we have ourselves a last minute tag in. Is that allowed, Bobby?"
The gate shut behind them, locking tight.
"Well, Zach, since the rulebook is a single piece of paper with the line 'Ded peeps = $ $ $' scrawled in crayons, I'm gonna make an executive ruling: Whatevs fam!"
" *Sniff, sniff* You have such a way with words. And there you have it, folks. Tonight will feature two contestants to double their chances!"
"Or double their bodies that we have to mop up."
"Indeed, Bobby. Now, I have to ask, do you see what I'm seeing?"
"You talking about the chick in a fetish outfit? I've said it before, I'll say it again: morals and decency are falling year after year in Steelport. God do I love this city!"
"I meant more the LARPer who brought a knife to a gunfight, but sure I suppose we can discuss the less pretty one between the two."
"Fuck you!" shouted Tattletale, as the second voice—Bobby—picked up the conversation.
"That's what I like about you, Zach. You tell only the truth. But on the plus side, she's female and wearing skintight spandex, which is going to do great things for our ratings!"
"On the other hand, I'm placing my bet that because of the spandex, she will last half a minute tops, so our viewers better tune in fast to send her their goodbyes!"
"Ignore them. There's no point in taking what they say to heart, they're just trying to get a rise out of you," advised Jaune to Tattletale.
She scoffed, affecting nonchalance; it's not exactly persuasive with her hands bunched into fists. "Hey, who's upset? Not me! I'm not offended in the least." She then muttered under her breath, "We'll see who's laughing in the end. Keep talking, idiots. Give me the ammo to ruin your whole career. Hehehehehe…"
Scary.
As they moved further into the room, Tattletale's ire faded to the background, and she fell quiet. Her gaze, having caught on some small detail Jaune could not hope to notice, began to bounce wildly around the area. A sniff of the air, and she gagged. One of her hands reached out to Jaune, pinching the back of his jacket.
"A lot of people died here, Jaune." She drew closer to him, eyes flicking back and forth. Her breath came in shallow gasps. "A lot. They never quite managed to wash the blood away."
…That was a joke, right? She had to be kidding, or wrong. A few unfortunate accidents sounded more realistic, especially as the banter overhead continued between the two emcees. Juxtaposing Tattletale's claim, their blasé attitudes stretched credulity in her tale to the point of surrealness; it was not how people talk when they send others to their death.
"It looks like the arm candy is having second thoughts. What's your take, Bobby?"
"Four words, Zach: all tits, no heart. I didn't realize there were still people like this in Steelport. I mean, if my gal was here, she would have already gotten started on wiping out everything that dares to move!"
"Let's not mention your girlfriend, Bobby. I still get nightmares from that barbecue at your h—Oh ho, contact in three! Two! One!"
"Finally, some action! C'mon mascots, make Genki proud!"
A pack of four people rounded the bend, coming into sight of Jaune and Tattletale. Unarmed and dressed in generic animal mascot costumes, they shouted and holler as they ran. He spied a dog, a pig, a gorilla, and—Jaune narrowed his eyes. A click, and his shield converted to sheath-form; he stowed his sword inside. Then, he set himself in a fighting stance, winding up a fist.
And as the rabbit at the head of the pack arrived within range, he popped the mascot in the face with a punch to send him flying, missing his cohorts by inches as they hastily dodged out of the way. Landing, the rabbit continued to slide the entire length of the passageway until he smashed into a concrete barrier and was knocked unconscious.
Jaune beamed. "Wow, that was satisfying."
The remaining mascots looked at their fallen comrade, then at each other, then at him. A whispered conversation broke out among them, one that he was content to wait to finish; now that he had established his bona fides, perhaps there's a chance they would back off.
He cocked an eyebrow as the mascots instead decided to renew their charge, rushing at him with a mighty warcry on their lips and fists swinging.
Bomf! Bomf! Bomf! Bomf!
…It didn't do much. The padding of their gloves softened the punches to the point that they barely registered on his Aura. After a little while, the mascots started to realize that, too. The attacks slowed in their pace, before stopping altogether.
"Uhhh…" said one of them.
Cheerily, he replied, "You done? My turn, then!"
Being normal civilians with little training, it required all of five seconds to subdue the rest of the pack. Afterward, Jaune dusted his hands, and threw a victory sign at Tattletale.
"That was too easy! Come on, let's keep going." He pivoted on his heels, and took a step.
Tattletale leapt for his arm, yanking him with all her strength and causing him to stumble backward. Before he could ask what her deal was, a wall of flames erupted in front of his face, nearly singing his hair.
"Pay attention to the traps, will you!?"
"And a quick save from Arm Candy!"
"Good eye, spotting that. Pretty Boy almost lost the only thing he's got going for him."
Bullets struck the wall next to Jaune, alerting him of combatants ahead—and cutting away a bit more of his belief that this was a staged performance. As the flames shut off, he hurried past the trap and ducked behind a pillar, with Tattletale joining him. There, he studied the trajectories of the gunfire to approximate the directions of the shooters.
"One's on the catwalk up top, you can use the half-wall over there"—Tattletale pointed to the left side of the room—"to reach him! There's two more standing at the far back. They're firing haphazardly, no pattern, no alternation. Wait for when they reload at the same time, and you'll have a clear path."
Or he could just, you know, let the Thinker handle that part for him.
Following her plan, he dashed out of cover, bullets trailing but never quite hitting—he had been faster than they expected, inhumanly so. A step on the half-wall, a jump, and he swung over the railings to land on the catwalk.
A purple…soda can…thing…cursed as it noticed him. In the mascot's hand was an assault rifle, and the relevant details absorbed through lessons at Beacon drifted to the top of his mind. High rate of fire, strong impact, getting hit would not be fun. To avoid losing a chunk of his Aura, Jaune rushed him, grabbing under the gun's muzzle and jerking the weapon to point upward.
"And now, for my magic trick!" he grandly declared, activating [Dimensional Pockets] in order to steal the rifle out of his opponent's very grasp itself!
"..."
"..."
"Why are they just standing there making doe-eyes at each other?"
"Shhh. Don't ruin the moment, Zach."
Jaune stared agog at the rifle that had not gone anywhere. He was holding onto one end while the soda can held the other end, and try as he might, he cannot change that fact no matter how many times he tried to shove the gun in his Pocket.
The fist striking his nose woke Jaune from his stupor. He returned the favor with a gut punch, and the mascot let go of the gun, falling to his knees and clutching his stomach. Judging from the retching noises and a growing stink rising inside the costume, he wouldn't want to be that guy right about now.
Peering down at the rifle he was still hanging on to, Jaune gave the Pocket another shot, and was left blinking in utter befuddlement. This time, the firearm had vanished into the inventory space with nary a problem.
A possible explanation reared its head, and to confirm, he set his sight on the remaining gunmen. The moment he spotted the opening Tattletale described earlier, he leapt over the balcony and hopscotched the concrete pillars and walls on a beeline for his targets. [Third Arm] bridged the final distance, and upon landing he slapped his hands against the guns.
Once again, the Pocket failed to do its work, only succeeding after he dispatched his foes and removed the weapons from them.
Finders keepers, losers weepers. That was the key.
Uncontested ownership, by physical possession if not by legal rights, was required for him to claim an object. So long as someone else maintained contact, the Pocket would refuse to accept the item. Which was odd, because that was not how it functioned during testing.
What was the difference between Tattletale and these guys?
For the time being, he put the matter out of mind; it was enough to know he cannot rely on the Pocket to disarm people mid-combat. Of more immediate concern was the nearby gate that had opened to grant entry to a corridor. An identical gate sat on the opposite side, and the lack of a prize suggested that this skirmish may not be the last. As Tattletale picked her way across the traps and regrouped with him, he listened to the running commentary for hints on the situation.
"That's a wrap for the first round, and what a round it was! The feats of strength and acrobatics. The fearlessness in the face of death. That creepy arm that might or might not have been me tripping. Inspiring stuff. Bobby! What's the score now?"
"Well, Zach, after carrying the two and multiplying by the sexy Halloween costume coefficient, I put the current score at aroooound…NOTHING! Because as you know, viewers, in Professor Genki's Super Ethical Reality Climax the only way to rack up them dollars is to rack up them bodies!"
"It's the one rule we have to this game, and I for one never thought I'd see the day that somebody breaks it—we didn't expect anybody could be that dumb! News flash for Pretty Boy, murder-time is not just fun-time, it's money-time! Do better in the next round!"
"This place is so fucked up," Jaune murmured. "Forget ethical, the show can't even be legal."
Evidently, the room came equipped with hidden microphones, as he got an answer in return.
"Oh, you sweet summer child. Did you take the wrong exit and end up in Steelport by accident? The only part not legal about this entire enterprise is the tax evasion! Whoooooo!"
"Whoooo—is exactly right, Bobby. Here at Genki's, we pride ourselves on running a tight ship and providing good, clean fun for the whole family. Now, let's move away from the tax evasion bit and start the second round before people ask questions we aren't prepared to answer. Contestants, advance!"
No further responses were forthcoming, not even when Jaune taunted them at the top of his lungs. In the end, a nudge from Tattletale got him moving, and they walked down the corridor.
"I don't think I like Earth very much," he remarked.
Where was the heroism? Where were the people who banded together to defend a city? Yes, Armsmaster tried to kill him, but he had chalked that down as an outlier; the man clearly wasn't supposed to have done it. The callous disregard shown here was painting an altogether different, altogether worse, picture on the nature of Earth people, and he was having trouble reconciling that with Sundancer, Laserdream, Shielder, and the like.
(Tattletale…belonged to a category of her own.)
"It's not normal," Tattletale protested, having discerned a little of what was running through his head. "None of the things they said were. Murder isn't legal so far as I know, and families don't watch this stuff."
"They were lying, then?" Please let it be so.
"I… can't tell for certain. Earth Bet does have sketchy shows run by capes like Uber and Leet; They film their crimes, themed around videogames. No killings, though, since that would get them sent to the Birdcage—a maximum security prison for parahumans," she explained for his benefit. "Then we have the monsters, like… the Slaughterhouse Nine." Her voice dropped to a low whisper when speaking the name, as if it would somehow summon them. "H-Honestly, the attitude I'm getting from those emcees would be right up the Nine's alley. Hearing them talk, they're literally not seeing this as anything wrong."
Jigsaw puzzle pieces slammed into place, each one somber as a gravestone. Jaune released a shuddering breath. A theory danced upon his thoughts.
"They asked if we 'took the wrong exit'. We really might have."
A society where murder has become commonplace. What a vast multiverse it was that he traveled in.
"Um, so what's the plan now?" asked Tattletale, fidgeting. "Do we…" She mimed a finger gun firing.
Do we join in on the 'fun'.
"No!" Jaune answered firmly. "If they fight me, I'll fight back, but I don't intend to follow these guys' rules. It's not like I care about the money they're promising." He stopped in front of the gate. "That said, the mascots are aiming to kill us. Your crossbow is a bit lacking in our current situation, which could end badly, so"—a handgun materialized in his palm, and he held it out to her—"here, for if it comes down to you or them. Are you familiar with using one of these?"
"Yeah!" Her strong response quickly lost its confident tone. "Well, I've taken a shot here and there…once…on a cape who I knew had a force field protecting herself…" Tattletale squirmed in discomfort under his curious gaze. "T-To tell you the truth, a gun's always been more of a-a prop for me in the superpowered game of cops and robbers. I haven't ever…"
Her hand darted towards the gun. Pulled back. She fretted, repeating the routine twice in indecision before wrapping her fingers delicately around the grip.
Looking at how nervous she was, Jaune offered her an out. "You could stay back, and I'll go on ahead."
His words became the spark to set off the girl, igniting her willful spirit. Her gaze took on a harder edge.
"No way!" she denied. "I can handle this!"
"You don't have to feel as if you need to put on a tough front, you know."
"Ahhh quit it already, and get a move on!" Tattletale circled behind him, and began pushing on his back. "Seriously, listen to yourself, spouting lines about feelings like you're… my… therapist… oh crap."
The set of doors had opened to expose the new arena, and Jaune and Tattletale were currently finding themselves the target of a few dozen guns aimed their way. Laser dots traced along the ground, in the process of zeroing on the pair.
"Hang onto me, Tattletale!" Jaune ordered, brooking no disagreement.
Her arms wrapped tight around him, and Jaune activated [Third Arm] to pull them towards the block of concrete directly in front of the pair as their previous spot was lit up by gunfire. They did not escape entirely unscathed, though his position meant he blocked most of the impacts. Which wasn't a good thing.
"Fuuu-u-uuck!" he groaned and hugged his body, waiting behind cover for the pain to fade. An individual bullet, he can shrug off; his tolerance for injury has come a long way. Once the number got to twenty bullets thereabout in the span of a few seconds, that's the time to take a pause and just curl into a ball for a while.
Next to him, Tattletale likewise whimpered.
"Were you hurt badly?" he asked in concern.
"The side of my head, and my thigh. You?"
"I tanked the shots with my face. It's not as badass as it sounds." A hand patted his head comfortingly, and he felt a little better.
"Take a rest. I'll scope out the situation."
"Thanks. Can you figure out what's with the huge difficulty spike?"
She laughed without humor. "That's obvious. The show tries its damndest to avoid shelling out the prize money. Now, shoosh. Let me do my power thing."
The continuous salvos prevented Tattletale from peeking out of cover for longer than a split second at a time. She instead relied on her sense of hearing for the most part. The hollering and whooping of the mascots—along with the gunfire—made parsing individual words impossible. The tone of voice, however, carried through and Tattletale soon heaved a sigh, rubbing her forehead. Jaune passed her a Pietro's Remedy from his Pocket, which she gratefully took and and sipped from.
"Well, there's no talking them down. They're here of their own volition. They're happy to be taking part, in fact, and enjoy the chance to shoot people." Something exploded on the other side of the concrete block and, hitting the limit of her tolerance, Tattletale shouted at the top of her lungs, "What the hell kind of place is this!?"
A distant voice yelled back at them above the din. "'Murica, bitch!"
And the mighty cry of an eagle rang out over the arena.
"Sorry! Sorry, folks! I could not help myself."
"Don't worry, Zach. I would have done it if you hadn't."
The pain had ebbed to a dull ache by this point, and Jaune hopped to squat on the balls of his feet, poised to spring out of hiding. He tapped Tattletale on the shoulder to get her attention, and outlined his plan.
"I'll split off to draw their fire. You stay here, and put a dart in anyone you can get a shot at, alright? Those snipers up top, especially." He made no mention of the handgun, leaving that to her to decide. (And pretended to not notice the relief with which she put down the thing.)
"I know what you're trying to do, by the way," she said, narrowing her eyes at him.
He feigned a cherubic smile. "No clue what you're implying, Tattletale."
"Tch. Whatever. I can admit when things are a little too high-intensity for me. Good luck, Jaune."
"Mmhm."
A shadowy limb stretched out of the concrete block, latching onto a long half-wall that led closer to the mascots. Jaune skidded across the floor a moment later. Before the gunmen could adjust their aim, he dove past a fire trap, letting the flames obscure his form. Once the trap shut off, he had vanished from sight.
After a short time, a sudden cry went up.
"Here! He's over h–erk!"
Blind gunfire bombarded the general area where the voice emanated from. On the other side of the wall withstanding that onslaught, Jaune tapped a beat on the cold concrete, waiting for the arrival of the mascots. A laser dot flashing overhead winked out, soon followed by a second, a result he attributed to Tattletale doing her part.
The mascots came pouring into the maze-like section. Animals, soda cans, beer bottles, and even a hotdog, they jostled for place in the narrow, trap-filled corridors. Each one were eager to be the first to find Jaune.
He smacked the winner of that race the instant they rounded the bend, causing a pileup as the mascots tripped over their brethren. The shock trap then activated to zap the group.
"Cleanup on aisle nine! Boy am I glad it's not my job to do the laundry. Those brown stains will be somebody else's nightmare…Hello, what's this?"
Jaune kicked the twitching, screaming mascots out of his path (and outside the range of the shock trap), then stepped past them to meet the cautious ones who brought up the rear. Giving them no time to mount a counter, he laid into the mascots with Crocea Mors, the scabbard breaking bones with terrifying ease. His free hand, he used to pluck weapons left and right, whether that be assault rifles, handguns, or…the rest. Whatever those stubby ones that shoot really fast were called.
Sue him, he was a swordsman.
A commotion behind him revealed the presence of reinforcements; those mascots had doubled around to trap him in a pincer tactic. They met the same problems as the first group. A tight space to hamper their shots. Fallen bodies providing tripping hazards.
Bullets flew. A few pinged off him, but more were striking their allies to add to the general mayhem.
In the midst of the fight, he caught a flash of purple as some sort of club swung for his head. Absentmindedly, he grabbed it and snapped out a kick to deal with the hotdog mascot, tossing the club into the inventory before he moved on to incapacitate a shotgun-wielding gorilla. (Really, respect to the guy for opting to go melee in a firefight, but Jaune had to concede it was a tad foolish when done without protection, such as Aura.)
The threats subdued, he exited the maze.
"I…well, we have two confirmed fatal casualties, although our contestants don't seem to have done much to make that happen. Should we count those, Bobby?"
"Hell no! Oi, what's with the pansy-ass bullshit, Pretty Boy? Get back in there and score those points!"
My, my. Seems he was ruining Bobby's good time. That's great, because he didn't like Bobby anyway. Or Zach.
A furtive scan of the arena, and Jaune was sprinting back to Tattletale; judicious use of [Third Arm] kept him ahead of the gunfire. He barreled his way amidst the squad advancing on her position, granting her the reprieve to dispatch the ones trying (and failing) to catch her by surprise.
"Good job, J—" she choked on her spit. Pointing, she croaked out a warning, "Rocket launcher. Rocket launcher!"
Jaune whipped his head to look where she indicated, spotting a rabbit mascot on the distant catwalk arming the weapon. Yep, time to run.
Or perhaps not.
"He's making a big show of it, but he can't do anything!" Jaune slipped between the mascots, and continued fighting. "Stick close to his allies, and we have nothing to fear!"
The mascot raised the rocket launcher, and fired the shot.
"Uh-oh."
Jaune hopped over the concrete block, threw Tattletale on his shoulder, then raced for new cover. The blast as the rocket struck sent them hurling the last couple yards to land behind a barrier. Ears ringing, they tucked themselves close to the wall in order to avoid the…splashes. Things were becoming awfully red in the immediate area.
"Scratch that," he amended himself. "We have nothing to fear, except for a psycho rabbit that doesn't care about friendly fire."
"He's a problem. One good shot can exhaust my Aura, and probably yours too by now."
Eh, Jaune doubted it. He was tough. Two shots, maybe.
"Quit thinking macho thoughts," Tattletale ordered with some measure of affection.
"I wasn't. Honest!" He did not expect her to believe him, and she didn't. "Still, you're right. I'd rather not eat a bomb to the face. Here's the plan: I'll run over there—"
She quirked an eyebrow. "And eat a bomb to the face?"
"No. Maybe. It's a risk."
"Too much. The other mascots, there's about half their numbers remaining. They'd get in your way." Tattletale looked down at her hand. Jaune followed her gaze to see the girl studying the handgun he gave her. Gradually, hesitation transformed to resolve. "Let me give it a try. Cover me."
"Hang on…"
Tattletale ignored him and closed her eyes in concentration. The gun rose, aimed at nothing. It seemed to him a bad combination, shooting with one's eyes shut, but he refrained from commenting as she made a series of adjustments to her form.
The muzzle pointed higher. A bit to the right. Back to left. Her body tilted on an angle at the waist.
She took a step to the right, pulled the trigger, then returned to safety whilst breathing out a long sigh.
"Done. Hit him in the hip. Go take care of it, would you?"
A quick peek verified that she had been correct. The rabbit mascot laid in a heap, screaming.
Idly, he said, "What a scary girl you are."
"And don't you forget it."
He emerged from hiding, forgoing defense in favor of reaching the far wall as fast as possible. His shield repelled most of the shots, and the glancing bullets hardly slowed him down. Tattletale pitched in, with the occasional body slumping over before they could fire on him. He vaulted onto the catwalk just as one of the rabbit's allies got there. Smashing the bulldog's face into the balcony did the trick, and the rocket launcher entered his Pocket to prevent anyone else from bringing it back in play.
From the catwalk, Jaune gazed down at the mascots still in the game. None of them were behaving as wildly as at the start of the round, with many trying their best to slide out of his view. They came here to enjoy a spot of murder, and instead found themselves participating as the hunted, the losers of the show.
The 'fun' was gone. Or rather, it was all on his side now. He flashed a vicious grin at them, and leapt off the balcony.
What followed was a game of cat and mouse as Jaune ran the gauntlet, neutralizing the escaping mascots one by one. It also served as good practice for Tattletale in using her Aura-enhanced capabilities to fight. An eager student, she absorbed his demonstrations and tips, then employed them on the mascots with wonderful enthusiasm. The girl was beaming by the time her last costumed opponent fell to the floor. Full of energy, she shadowboxed an imaginary foe.
"I can probably beat Brian now if I try," she boasted. "God, what I would give to meet Glory Girl again. It'll be my turn to show her force field bullshit for once." She hopped up and down. "Ughhh, I'm still in the mood to fight something!"
KA-THUNK! Hisssss.
Heretofore hidden trapdoors, composed of half a foot of thick steel, slid open along either sides of the room. Freezing vapors leaked out to obscure the contents. What those contents were, Jaune could not say, only that efforts had gone in to keep them frozen—dormant—behind extremely sturdy doors.
"Never say that our show does not deliver. Give a warm welcome, those of you without the survival instincts to run away screaming, to our strongest challenge. The Huuuuu—"
"—uuuuuuu—"
"—uuuuuu—"
"—uuuuuuuunters!"
A meaty hand, the palm bigger than Jaune's head, grabbed the edge of the cell. The fingers dug in, denting the steel. On the opposite side, a huge boot stepped out from within the vapors, and its stomp shook the surroundings. The bald heads were next, ducking to fit through the thresholds, then straightening up to tower over a normal person. The two men bore identical faces along with mountains of muscle for bodies, and there was a certain caveman cast to their features. As big as Ursas, the so-called Hunters glared at the pair with angry scowls.
Jaune addressed his companion, "Tattletale?"
He vaguely gestured in the direction of the Ursa-like brutes.
"What!?" she squawked, hands waving in a denial as she instantly understood his meaning. "Are you crazy? They'd kill me!"
"You sure? It could be good training." He took a big backstep to put her in front of him, snickering as Tattletale squeaked and rushed to hide behind him, and attempted with all her might to push him forward.
"Nope. Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope. You do it, Jaune!"
Chuckling, he relented, stepping forward to present himself as a target. Not much seemed to go on up top for the Hunters, because they immediately locked onto him.
Raising both hands, he said, "Hey fellas. How's life in the fridges treating you? Good I hope. So, here's the thing. You missed it, but I just whooped, like, thirty dudes before you showed up. I brought a knife to a gunfight, and won. You really don't want to mess with me."
Throwing back their heads, the two men roared twin animalistic roars.
"I take it you are not convinced."
As one, they charged at him, and Jaune reached for Crocea Mors in reply. As they entered his range, huge fists swinging, he twirled out of the way and—in a blink—moved to put one in front of the other. As a warning, he gave the closer Hunter a whack on the arm with his weapon. A blow that normally would have crushed bones displayed little effect on this occasion, and Jaune tsked.
"I was afraid of that," he said, drawing his sword out of the scabbard. The last trace of his mirth faded away. Something colder took its place.
With the mascots, talking them down from attempted murder might be futile, yet they at least had to listen to such persuasive arguments as 'broken limbs', 'concussion', and 'needing to drink through a straw'. These guys here were too tough for that, limiting the options available to Jaune.
Yes, he'd win, but…
Brute One went for a tackle. Jaune sliced off one of his arms, the titanite-reinforced blade parting muscle and bone with hardly any resistance at all.
…it was going to be bloody.
As Brute One flopped on the ground, the man still attempted to kick out a foot. Jaune lopped that off, too. He quelled a shiver upon hearing the man's piteous wails; Brute Two hadn't given up despite the sight of his brethren lying in pieces, meaning that the job wasn't done.
The second Hunter swiped with one hand, then the other, arms scything air instead of their target. All that strength, with nothing to hit. Jaune gave him a chance to realize the futility of his actions. It didn't take, so Jaune removed his arms.
Then, a leg, when he still wouldn't get the hint.
And that was that. He stood victorious after a short and rather unnecessary exchange, blood staining his shoes.
"There's the kickass action I was looking for! Pretty Boy's got guts after all!"
"I would have liked to see that gumption a bit earlier, Bobby, but I suppose the strong finish did offset the lukewarm performance somewhat. The brutality of the medieval weapon adds a certain je ne se quois, don't you think?"
Tuning out the emcees (who kept jabbering on instead of shutting up!), Jaune took a deep, calming breath to recenter himself. He wiped clean Crocea Mors, and returned it to his hip. Out came the Company scroll, as he waited for Tattletale to rejoin him. Once she arrived, he made a request, holding out the device to her.
"Hey, Tattletale? Can you chip in for stimpaks?"
"Hah?" She stared at him, incredulous. "Why—for them? Seriously?"
He gestured at the two men's injuries. "They're dying."
A flash of worry crossed her face, buried again just as quick.
"What happened to 'if it comes down to you or them' and giving me a gun? They chose to attack us. You didn't have a problem with k-killing people in Dunwall."
"That's different. They were betraying everything they stood for. Their kingdom, their people. These guys were just hired hands for a job."
"And killing us for money is…preferable?"
They did sound rather terrible when she put it like that.
"Someone else can explain it better than me," Jaune admitted. "My point is, the battle's over. We've won, so that puts us in the position to decide what happens, and while they might only be a little better than the likes of Havelock, they are better. I don't think Steelport is a very nice place."
His words didn't seem to have changed much, and her reluctance was obvious. She dithered over the scroll, frowning.
With downcast eyes, he tried again in an earnest plea. "...Please?"
He did not want to leave this universe on such a bloody note. He hated how impressed, how vindicated, the emcees sounded as they harped on about his performance. As if he had finally done something right in their eyes.
"Frigging unfair—whatever!" Tattletale stomped the ground. There was the sound of tapping on glass, and a familiar delivery box materialized in the air. She pulled out the medkit, and shoved it into his hands.
Jaune looked down at the stimpaks, then at her. "Thanks a lot, Tattletale. I owe you."
"Yeah, yeah." She crossed her arms, and turned up her nose, peeved.
The two men needed the full box of syringes between them to successfully stabilize their wounds. The limbs remained lost, and there's not much Jaune could do for that; he also did not sympathize with them to the extent of overly caring, since they had tried to murder him.
The important thing was that he had ended this day with…well, not clean hands, but at least a semi-clear veneer that would let him sleep at night. Nobody was dead because of him, that he didn't want dead because of him.
And, standing in front of the last gate, the duo of Zach and Bobby let him have it for—as they say—being just the worst buzzkill. He won't tell them how happy it made him to have pissed them off to this degree. Their raging tirades were as music to his ears.
"—no balls—"
"—our ratings are fucked because of you idiots—"
"—wouldn't last a day in Steelport—"
"—I should sue—"
"Gents! Gents! We get it, you're a bunch of spoiled manchildren. What's our final score?" Tattletale asked, voice sweet as sugar. The joy she gained from the emcees' discontent more than compensated for the lost Points, in her view, and it had earned Jaune back her favor.
"A big, fat zero!"
"You are getting nothing!"
She grinned. "Reeeally? In that case, I think my friend and I will go up to your office to discuss this, then."
Tattletale nudged him and, getting the hint, he stared directly at a camera. Drawing on the proper (depending on how one looked at it) mindset, his expression turned…unfriendly. It's a face the men were familiar with, the one he had worn earlier. He smiled, yet it failed to reach his eyes.
The shakedown went over well. Despite their big talks, Zach and Bobby changed their tunes mid-sentence, and promised the moon to avoid a face-to-face meeting. Jaune almost felt sorry for them as Tattletale shook her head at each progressively-growing number the men tossed out.
"One hundred thousand! That's our limit!"
"Any higher and you might as well come up here to chop off our arms!"
"Hmmm. Is that enough?"
Jaune pretended to think about it, then said one word. "Nah."
"Fuck…"
Zach's miserable tone conveyed what Jaune and Tattletale wanted to know. The emcees had spoken the truth; $100,000 truly was the limit. They shared a glance, and a nod.
"I feel sorry for them," said Tattletale, not looking all that sorry. "Let's be nice, and settle for this much." Needless to say, she did not look all that nice, either.
The emcees, spotting a lifeline, jumped on it.
"D-Deal! We'll send our interns down there right away!"
Ten minutes later, the doors swung apart, granting entrance to a room strewn with ribbons and confetti. A table had been set at the center of the space, atop which rested an open briefcase, the money lying in even rows. Tattletale took great pleasure in dragging out the process of counting the bills.
"Everything seems to be in order," she concluded in the end. Shutting the briefcase, she passed it to him. "We can go now, Jaune."
"Good riddance."
Tattletale paused at Zach's unwise whispered comment. Turning her head, she peered into the camera in the corner.
"Zaaaach?"
"..."
There was no answer, just two men trying their best to not let out a peep. Seeing her quarry refuse to play along, Tattletale forged ahead on her own.
"Your ex cheated on you."
They heard the sound of a hitched breath. Then, a wry chuckle as the man responded.
"...Cute try. Too bad I already came to terms with that. I'm over it."
"Oh? But did she ever tell you that she cheated on you… with Bobby?"
"How did you—I mean, that's obviously false. She's lying, Zach."
"..."
"Z-Zach? Now calm down, man, and we can talk—PUT DOWN THE CHAIR, PUT DOWN THE CHAIR!"
Jaune winced at the sound of a hard impact, and the screams that shortly followed thereafter. "Ouch. Guess you got your revenge after all."
"Hehehe! Yeah…" she happily sighed. "Their little bromance will never recover."
"How did you figure that out? What gave the secret away?"
She smirked, strutting back to the portal. "Wild ass guess. As I hear it, morals and decency are falling year after year in Steelport city. For someone who revels in that vibe, they must have accrued some skeletons in their closet. Good riddance."
Night has fallen, and the pair of Jaune and Lisa sat slumped over the table, exhausted in both mind and body. Having showered, eaten, and rested, all they wanted to do now was chill. Decompress. Think happy thoughts. The day had been, in Lisa's eloquent words, kinda sucky.
"Never have I been so glad I lived on Earth Bet."
"Same. I'll take the Grimm over death games any day."
"Did you at least manage to steal something good?"
"Requisitioned," he corrected her.
"Whatever."
He could hear her eye-rolling from here. Somehow.
Putting out a hand, he began summoning the looted items on the table.
"I wouldn't say they're good. It's just a whole lot of firearms. Nothing fancy either."
Lisa shifted through the growing pile. "Mmhm. They're mass-produced stuff. Then again, a gun is a gun. We can use them, or sell them off in a different univeeeeerse?"
Lost for words, she—and Jaune—blinked blankly at the object he held. The bottom section looked like a simple baseball bat handle, nothing strange there. The rest of the club was…purple. Yes, that's a nice, safe word he can use. The weapon(?) had a sort of guard between the handle and the…shaft, that may be best characterized as bulbous. The length of the…tool was semi-rigid up until the last foot, where it turned soft and yielding. There was a knob on the end.
Okay, he was running out of family-friendly ways to describe the thing. It was a three-feet long, extremely detailed, floppy, rubbery dildo attached to a handle. There we go.
The Penetrator
Universe: Saints Row
Big. Veiny. Throbbing. The absurdity of a sex toy, the lethality of a baseball bat.
Lisa did not stay silent for long.
"Is, is—pffft!—is that big enough for you, Jaune?" She pounded the table, laughing to the point of tears.
Jaune opened his mouth to retort, thought over what he could possibly say that did not result in her laughing harder and his dignity in shreds, and closed his mouth. Instead, he waited for her to recover.
When she finally raised her head, he looked her straight in the eye.
"Here."
And tossed her the bat. On instinct, she grabbed it.
Her mind caught up to her body, and Lisa squawked, "What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?"
"Well, I'm not heading into battle holding a dildo-bat, so I don't really have a use for it."
"And you think I do!? This would kill me!" She then realized she was still holding the bat, and with an "Eep!" she flung it to a corner in a hurry, as if her hands had been scalded.
Neither of them knew what to do with it, so the weaponized sex toy stayed in that corner from then on.
Author's Notes: Hate teleporters. Hate dual-wielders. Hate rabbits. Love me sun. Simple as.
Jaune's collecting traumas like it's going out of style.
They're not innocent. That cuddly, fluffy, 'look at me, I'm adowable' appearance was but a sham, he now knew, a disguise those murderbeasts put on in order to lure in prey. Catch them when you're alone in the woods, and their true nature comes out. Keep them in captivity and they will await the day you make a mistake, and they break free. They yearn for nothing more than to feast on the flesh of the unsuspecting.
What? Who's traumatized? Not him. No, he had been enlightened. Rabbits were the greatest enemy facing his world. Any world.
They do sell for a lot, though, or at least the Beast of Caerbannog had, so there's that going for them. 2,100 Points, to enable serious considerations where there were once mere daydreams on the subject of acquiring greater power. For that very purpose, Jaune sat in a chair with the multiversal Marketplace opened before him. While Lisa leaned on his back to take a peek, he hovered his thumb above the screen of the scroll.
"You definitely won't mind?" he asked again to be sure.
"Pshh, of course not! Like I said, the account is for both of us to use and benefit from, and this clearly applies."
"Still, I'm technically spending your Points—"
"And my generous self is giving you permission, so quit worrying." She grabbed his shoulders, and shook him in that sort of badgering manner he experienced too much of growing up. "Now do it, do it, do it, do it!"
"Yeah yeah, I am." He turned his head to look at her. "You're as bad as my sisters sometimes, you know that? No patience, whatsoever."
In response, she stuck out her tongue. "Nyeh."
"See, that's really not convincing me otherwise."
Was this his fate? To suffer Annoying Blondes for the length of his life? He mulled on it to reach the happy—yet bothersome—conclusion that should everything go well then, yes, it was. Success meant coming home to his family. (And what horror that prospect brought, of his sisters and Lisa Wilbourn meeting. Maybe he should pick up some souvenirs for them to ensure their loyalty, and prevent the creation of that unholy alliance.)
The wistful smile got him a puzzled look from the girl. He waved a hand to indicate it was nothing, and refocused on the scroll.
"Last chance to change your mind," he warned. Silence greeted him, and he took it as an answer. "No regrets now, Lisa."
Jaune gave the screen a quick tap to confirm the purchase. In a blink, much of the Points that they've risked life, limb, and dignity to gain vanished with the wind, draining the joint funds and dipping into his stash to take all but 20 Points. As trade, [Dimensional Pockets] became his to own.
[Dimensional Pockets]
You have deep pockets. Heck, you could fit a body in there! What a totally unrelated coincidence. Wink. Wink.
p.s. At Level 1, the available inventory space measures 1m by 1m by 3m—or about 3ft by 3ft by 9ft for bizarro worlds deprived of the metric system.
p.p.s. Time does not move within the inventory space.
p.p.p.s. Ignore line. Reserved for future patches.
(Keep shoving those worrying implications aside, Jaune. Just keep ignoring them for your peace of mind.)
Little fanfare marked the milestone. No flashy bursts of light or catchy tunes, only a vague sensation of something settling into his mind, knowledge that did not belong to him scratching at a metaphorical door for an opening to slip inside. It left an odd chill skating up and down his back, though that faded within a couple of seconds.
"Soooo?" Lisa asked. Piqued by curiosity, she began poking and prodding him at different spots, as if searching for a hidden button to activate his new ability.
"It worked, I'm pretty sure. Every time I think about using the Pocket, it sort of pings back to let me know it's there."
"Interesting. And where would 'there' be?"
"Oh, it's right over… If you would look… Huh, how do I explain this?" To better illustrate, he enlisted the use of gestures. His finger started out pointing towards his head, before sliding behind him and higher up. After a moment of musing, he spun it in a circle, and flicked the digit back and forth. "...with a forward-sideways-down motion, if that makes sense."
"That was singularly unhelpful, and terrible, and now my head hurts. Does it at least feel like a three by three by nine feet space as the description says?"
Jaune shrugged. "No idea."
The thing's a box with no sides floating in an empty spot of his imagination. Shapes and measurements did not translate in a pure blankness.
Lisa tsked at the non-answer, and raised a hand to massage her forehead—the sign of a budding frustration. Her dislike of being ignorant in a matter was coming to the fore, and it confirmed to Jaune that he had made the correct choice to buy the [Dimensional Pockets] ability for himself. Had she acquired it instead, her head might have exploded as she tried to pin down details on something formless.
To forestall her from dragging him into the inane minutiae, Jaune redirected the subject to more practical concerns, "What I'm interested in, is how the Pocket performs. Why don't we test that out first?"
He reached for Crocea Mors. On contact, nothing happened. It stayed in his hand as he swung it back and forth.
"Think about storing it in a container," Lisa suggested.
One moment, Crocea Mors was there. The next, Jaune held air, the sword disappearing without a trace before their eyes. Such a subtle display, yet the sight brought awe, for a power impossible a minute earlier had with a press of a button become a mundane, everyday thing.
"Whoooa."
"Whoooa—" It occurred to Jaune just then, that his sword was for all intents and purposes no longer in existence, and that he did not know how to retrieve the weapon. A shot of fear squeezed him tight until he could barely breathe as Jaune panicked right the hell out. Bring it back! Bring it back! Crocea Mors reappeared in his grip, and he heaved a sigh of relief.
Assured that he wouldn't lose the family sword by accident, Jaune repeated the process in a calmer state. This time he detected the weapon, not quite in the back of his mind but present nonetheless whenever he turned his thoughts towards the Pocket. By calling on it, he could grasp the size and shape of it as clearly as if it rested on the palm held in his lap. A further impulse and it did so, manifesting.
Gone. Not gone. Gone. Not gone. Gone. Not gone. This will never get old.
Meanwhile, Lisa was plucking items from the table, ending up with a jumbled assortment. "Here, try to store all of these."
One by one, the items entered the Pocket. As before, the space catalogued them to a startling degree of clarity, with him now recalling each object in detail despite having spared only a passing glance in the physical world. The observation, once conveyed, garnered him quite a bit of jealousy from Lisa. Not that she'd admit the truth.
"It doesn't mean that you're any smarter!"
"Yes, yes, you don't have to go on about it. Anyway, care for a piece of chocolate? I have five in this Pocket, along with two teacups, three fountain pens, thirty-two pieces of paper, a crossbow, a carton of sleep darts—there's twelve of those by the way, my personal scroll, a sack of two hundred forty seven gold coins…"
"Grrrr."
Her expression seemed amusing, so Jaune summoned his scroll mid-speech, and snapped a picture. (She flipped him off as he took it.)
Heh. Jelly Lisa get.
The scroll went back in his Pocket, and he returned the rest of the items outside, though Lisa stopped him from cleaning up. The next experiment involved him attempting to store the goods without touching them. That one bore no results beyond him looking silly.
"Contact's needed, then. Bummer." He could think of a few uses otherwise. Pranks, sleight-of-hand magic tricks, stealing snacks out of vending machines. Life-changing stuff.
"Bummer indeed. Hm."
"What's up, Lisa?"
Tapping her chin, she replied, "I wonder what other restrictions this Pocket operates on… Oh! I know!" She held out her hands, making grabby motions. "Gimme your sword, I want to test what happens when someone else is in contact with the object before you put it away."
"Sure, take it." He offered Crocea Mors by the handle to her, still sheathed. "Just don't try to brain me with it like the first time we met."
Lisa stopped short. A mischievous smile crept onto her face, and she yanked the sword from him.
"Or maybe I should do exactly that~? Because it's extremely important we confirm whether or not you can steal weapons straight out of an opponent's hand."
"I mostly agree, but I don't believe for a second it's your real reason."
"Too late, that's what you deserve for making fun of me! Take this!"
Wielding Crocea Mors with both hands, she swept it back for a mighty overhead swing, earning her a hum of acknowledgment from Jaune because while lacking in technique the wind-up contained every ounce of her righteous fury (or was it petty vindictiveness?). This was a maneuver that, were the resulting blow to connect, could deal lasting injury to the Aura-less foe. Quite impressive in his opinion when taking into consideration her current level of physicality. It held promise.
Except, at the apex of the arc, the sword slipped out of her fingers and went whirling off to bounce against the back wall.
Girl and boy stared at the weapon in silence. Her composure broke before he did.
"Ummm, I meant to do that," muttered Lisa, as a crimson blush suffused her cheeks. It rather undercut the claim, not that Jaune fell for the lie in the first place.
"I am never letting you own a melee weapon."
"That's…okay, fair enough."
He walked over to pick up the sword, and passed it to Lisa again. Learning from the previous mishap, he supervised this time, helping adjust her grip to fit proper form. As he led her through the motion of the attack—not so far that she strains her arms and not so low that momentum suffers—Lisa began to appreciate the lesson for what it was, and she flashed a smile at him during a moment when their eyes met.
Then, he promptly invalidated all of it by popping Crocea Mors into his Pocket.
"Look at that, it worked!"
"I hate you so, so much right now," Lisa deadpanned. "What was even the point of teaching me to hold a sword?"
"Because"—he manifested Crocea Mors and handed it to her— "your idea was a pretty good one. Let's see how viable this power is in practice. Raise it slowly. Remember to retain control."
Lisa grumbled, but in the end she followed his instruction. The blade descended at a safe speed (as a sword can be at any rate) on a trajectory for Jaune's shoulder.
Smack! It landed to send up a small jolt of pain, vanishing into thin air an instant later as he activated the Pocket.
Lisa tried, not very hard, to suppress her snickering. "Heh. Hehehe. You were a little late there. Just saying."
Jaune shot her an unamused look while rubbing at his smarting shoulder. As she so 'constructively' criticized, the maneuver could use some tweaking on his end; he had reacted half a second behind the strike. Taken in broad strokes, though, it should fare well amidst combat and stood a decent chance of becoming a key strategy in his playbook.
Eager to put his new power to use, Jaune navigated from the Marketplace to the Portal app.
"Suit up, Lisa. I think it's about time we go for a—"
She cut in, "Hold up! Stop! Pause! Who said we were done?"
Caught off guard, Jaune fumbled the device. It hit the table with a clatter. He looked from it, to Lisa.
"Well, weren't we?" he asked.
"Someday, I'll definitely teach you to quit that stupid habit of rushing off half-cocked on the first idea to lodge in your head. Leave the phone there. I have a couple more experiments that should get us good data on the limits of the Pocket."
"But…" my call to adventure.
"No buts. We need to know what we're dealing with so it doesn't cause you problems."
He changed tack. "How about we go to a new universe to do that, for efficiency's sake? Think of the shinies we can snatch up along the way."
The effect must have been rather lacking, as Lisa leveled at him an unimpressed look, before pointedly sitting down on a chair. Then she smirked, and crossed her legs.
"Remember our deal yesterday? We still have eight and a half hours left of rest. You promised. And you wouldn't go back on your word, would you?"
Oh no! She has gotten a grasp of the methods to getting her way around him!
Caught in her trap and seeing no recourse, Jaune slumped down in another seat, and settled in for the longest hours of his life.
"Good boy. Now, paw!"
He raised a hand, and flipped Lisa off.
-o-
The myriad colors of their portal swirled to life.
"Something still feels off about this," Tattletale voiced her doubts once again.
Clink. Clink-clink. Clink. Stacks of gold coins grew and shrank on Jaune's palm as he enjoyed his new pastime, listening with half an ear. Idly, he said, "The place is apparently ethical, super ethical even, so it can't be that bad."
"Super suspicious is what it is. You ever seen those amusement parks with names like 'Happy Friendship Funtime'? Guaranteed, there's a killer clown running around after dark." She shivered. "Ask me how I know."
He shrugged his shoulders. "Alright, sure, but the big mistake there is to hire clowns in the first place. As for here, every sign points to this being a game show. They get weird with their names sometimes. It's part of the fun."
"I dunno if that's any better. Those programs love to humiliate their contestants." Judging by her expression, Tattletale would prefer the killer clown over the possibility of people laughing at her, and Jaune patted her on the back in comfort.
"Think of it this way. What do game shows have? Trivia, logic puzzles, the brainy stuff that you excel at. And what's usually at the end? A prize."
That calmed her some. The prospect of a chance to shine soothed Tattletale of her jittery nerves, and she stood just a little straighter.
Now, Jaune didn't mention it aloud, but he assumed they'd also meet a number of physical challenges. A Danger Rating of 2/10, from his experiences in Dunwall and Caerbannog, indicated at least some levels of hazard in the world during the event—whether that's disease, political instability, or untamed wildlife. That said, he was quite confident that he could handle whatever this universe dished out. Any one of those above things could make for a bad time, yes, but they constituted general concerns which faced the population at large in their day-to-day (even if the Beast of Caerbannog pushed that envelope), as opposed to Lordran where everything was hostile and trying to kill him or Brockton Bay where Leviathan almost drowned the entire city.
The portal achieved stability, putting their debate to rest. Jaune took point, advancing with his shield and sword held in loose grips at his sides—though ready to snap up in a guard at a moment's notice. Tattletale stuck close to him as she followed a step behind.
Universe: Saints Row. Location: Steelport Film Studios.
Event: Professor Genki's Super Ethical Reality Climax.
Event: Professor Genki's Super Ethical Reality Climax.
Upon arrival, the first thing to greet them was a handgun laying on a display stand.
"I don't think this is going to be very ethical," said Jaune with a whimper.
The room that the portal deposited them inside featured two gates. Colorfully painted in green, white, and pink, they contrasted the simple brick walls, and imparted a sense of whimsy to the ambience. (The handgun very much undercut that whimsy.)
With a loud buzzing noise, the gate at their back opened, and in walked a man with a shaved head and dressed in an outfit of red shirt under casual black suit. Tattoos peeked out of his collar and sleeves. It's a look that exuded danger except for the incongruous pink tie; the thing threw the entire balance out of whack in Jaune's opinion. There was no opportunity to comment on it, as the room broke out in a cacophony.
"An Ee Eighty Eight?" Tattletale shouted in alarm as the buzzing noise resumed, and the gate slammed shut.
The man, meanwhile, expressed bewilderment at their presence. "Who the flying fuck—" Surprise became a scowl, and a spittle-spraying snarl. "Oh hell naw, this is my million dollar shot!" He pulled out a gun tucked in his pants.
Before the muzzle so much as twitched in their direction, a sleep dart sprang out of the wristbow worn by Tattletale, and jabbed the man in the neck. Anger left his face, replaced by a woozy daze, followed shortly by him slipping to the floor in unconsciousness. Peace returned to the room.
"No Aura," Jaune noted. "We'll have an advantage over any hostile parties in this Instance."
Tattletale fired back, "Which is obviously not a typical game show."
"He could have been an outlier." The protest lacked conviction, and they both knew it. "What's Ee Eighty Eight, again? It sounds familiar."
"The nazi gang from Brockton Bay." She scrunched her nose in distaste. "Red and black are their colors, along with the shaved head."
"Are you suggesting—"
"No, the pink tie isn't their thing. Like, at all. So on a second glance this is probably a different group that happened to have a similar motif. Definitely a gang. He was ready and willing to kill us."
Rifling through the man's wallet uncovered dollar bills of a slightly altered design to the ones Tattletale were used to seeing. It confirmed that they were in a variation of her planet, Earth. She also deduced the password to his scroll (or 'phone', as Tattletale and the locals call it), claiming the fingerprints on the screen betrayed the numbers—they will never speak about the two failed attempts where she inputted them in the incorrect sequence. From the device, they gained a name for the gang, Morningstar, and a couple of tidbits that identified the man as being near the bottom of the totem pole. Oh, and he had gambling debts, hence the game show entry.
A detailed search through the scrollnet ('inter-net'? More strange Earth vocabulary) would have allowed them a better grasp on this world, but they were interrupted by the second gate swinging open. Beyond it laid a large concrete space broken up by barriers, walls, and pillars of the same material. The area rather resembled one of the paintball courses in Vale, colored in pink and blue candy cane stripes. On the far wall, Jaune spotted another set of doors.
In the middle of observing these new surroundings, Jaune heard the overhead speakers set in the corners crackle to life, blaring voices.
The first voice flowed smooth and crisp in the cadence of an experienced sportscaster, conveying an infectious sense of anticipation. "Welcome to Professor Genki's Super Ethical Reality Climax! Murder-time is fun-time, right, Bobby?"
Murder-time is what? Jaune turned to his companion.
"I take it back. Funtime? You might have a point about this place."
"I told you so!"
Oh great, she's making that face again. The smug one.
A second voice came over the speakers, this one gravelly and less-practiced. "You got it, Zach. If our contestant can survive the deadly traps"—the pair of blonds blanched as nozzles embedded on the sides of the concrete pillars spat out electricity or fire throughout the course—"armed mascots"—Jaune mouthed 'armed mascots?' to Tattletale, getting a shrug in reply—"and those freakishly huge Hunters"—roars resounded somewhere in the depths of the building—"they can win a hefty pile of cash."
"Should we quit and go home?" asked Jaune, peeking over his shoulder at the portal. "This wasn't what I expected from a game show. Exaggerated or not, it's too morbid."
Tattletale considered it, biting her bottom lip in thought. Her gaze alternated between the portal and the open gate, and it soon settled on the latter. "I'm not so sure that they're playing it up. Still, they said 'survive', and Aura makes us uniquely suited for that. We can win, grab the prize, and get out before they start asking questions."
"We're not strapped for cash," he reminded her, playing devil's advocate. Or was it angel's advocate in this case?
"Yeah, I know. But a payday is a payday, and we can take a closer look at this universe. There might be tinkertech or magical toys lying around."
"Good. Point." Money has somewhat lost its value due to the gold bar in his Pocket, but Marketplace sellables? That, he can use. "Okay, I'll head in first, and you stay close."
The pilfered cash went in his Pocket. While he was at it, Jaune swiped the two handguns and dropped them inside, too. The 'phone', Tattletale fiddled with for a minute and ultimately tossed back on top of the unconscious gangster.
"We're leaving that?"
She gave a dismissive wave at the device. "The thing's loaded down with so much porn and viruses that I feel sick just holding it. I doubt it'd work outside this world anyway."
"Fine with me. Let's go."
Their entrance to the game show was immediately met with confusion.
"What's this? I do believe we have ourselves a last minute tag in. Is that allowed, Bobby?"
The gate shut behind them, locking tight.
"Well, Zach, since the rulebook is a single piece of paper with the line 'Ded peeps = $ $ $' scrawled in crayons, I'm gonna make an executive ruling: Whatevs fam!"
" *Sniff, sniff* You have such a way with words. And there you have it, folks. Tonight will feature two contestants to double their chances!"
"Or double their bodies that we have to mop up."
"Indeed, Bobby. Now, I have to ask, do you see what I'm seeing?"
"You talking about the chick in a fetish outfit? I've said it before, I'll say it again: morals and decency are falling year after year in Steelport. God do I love this city!"
"I meant more the LARPer who brought a knife to a gunfight, but sure I suppose we can discuss the less pretty one between the two."
"Fuck you!" shouted Tattletale, as the second voice—Bobby—picked up the conversation.
"That's what I like about you, Zach. You tell only the truth. But on the plus side, she's female and wearing skintight spandex, which is going to do great things for our ratings!"
"On the other hand, I'm placing my bet that because of the spandex, she will last half a minute tops, so our viewers better tune in fast to send her their goodbyes!"
"Ignore them. There's no point in taking what they say to heart, they're just trying to get a rise out of you," advised Jaune to Tattletale.
She scoffed, affecting nonchalance; it's not exactly persuasive with her hands bunched into fists. "Hey, who's upset? Not me! I'm not offended in the least." She then muttered under her breath, "We'll see who's laughing in the end. Keep talking, idiots. Give me the ammo to ruin your whole career. Hehehehehe…"
Scary.
As they moved further into the room, Tattletale's ire faded to the background, and she fell quiet. Her gaze, having caught on some small detail Jaune could not hope to notice, began to bounce wildly around the area. A sniff of the air, and she gagged. One of her hands reached out to Jaune, pinching the back of his jacket.
"A lot of people died here, Jaune." She drew closer to him, eyes flicking back and forth. Her breath came in shallow gasps. "A lot. They never quite managed to wash the blood away."
…That was a joke, right? She had to be kidding, or wrong. A few unfortunate accidents sounded more realistic, especially as the banter overhead continued between the two emcees. Juxtaposing Tattletale's claim, their blasé attitudes stretched credulity in her tale to the point of surrealness; it was not how people talk when they send others to their death.
"It looks like the arm candy is having second thoughts. What's your take, Bobby?"
"Four words, Zach: all tits, no heart. I didn't realize there were still people like this in Steelport. I mean, if my gal was here, she would have already gotten started on wiping out everything that dares to move!"
"Let's not mention your girlfriend, Bobby. I still get nightmares from that barbecue at your h—Oh ho, contact in three! Two! One!"
"Finally, some action! C'mon mascots, make Genki proud!"
A pack of four people rounded the bend, coming into sight of Jaune and Tattletale. Unarmed and dressed in generic animal mascot costumes, they shouted and holler as they ran. He spied a dog, a pig, a gorilla, and—Jaune narrowed his eyes. A click, and his shield converted to sheath-form; he stowed his sword inside. Then, he set himself in a fighting stance, winding up a fist.
And as the rabbit at the head of the pack arrived within range, he popped the mascot in the face with a punch to send him flying, missing his cohorts by inches as they hastily dodged out of the way. Landing, the rabbit continued to slide the entire length of the passageway until he smashed into a concrete barrier and was knocked unconscious.
Jaune beamed. "Wow, that was satisfying."
The remaining mascots looked at their fallen comrade, then at each other, then at him. A whispered conversation broke out among them, one that he was content to wait to finish; now that he had established his bona fides, perhaps there's a chance they would back off.
He cocked an eyebrow as the mascots instead decided to renew their charge, rushing at him with a mighty warcry on their lips and fists swinging.
Bomf! Bomf! Bomf! Bomf!
…It didn't do much. The padding of their gloves softened the punches to the point that they barely registered on his Aura. After a little while, the mascots started to realize that, too. The attacks slowed in their pace, before stopping altogether.
"Uhhh…" said one of them.
Cheerily, he replied, "You done? My turn, then!"
Being normal civilians with little training, it required all of five seconds to subdue the rest of the pack. Afterward, Jaune dusted his hands, and threw a victory sign at Tattletale.
"That was too easy! Come on, let's keep going." He pivoted on his heels, and took a step.
Tattletale leapt for his arm, yanking him with all her strength and causing him to stumble backward. Before he could ask what her deal was, a wall of flames erupted in front of his face, nearly singing his hair.
"Pay attention to the traps, will you!?"
"And a quick save from Arm Candy!"
"Good eye, spotting that. Pretty Boy almost lost the only thing he's got going for him."
Bullets struck the wall next to Jaune, alerting him of combatants ahead—and cutting away a bit more of his belief that this was a staged performance. As the flames shut off, he hurried past the trap and ducked behind a pillar, with Tattletale joining him. There, he studied the trajectories of the gunfire to approximate the directions of the shooters.
"One's on the catwalk up top, you can use the half-wall over there"—Tattletale pointed to the left side of the room—"to reach him! There's two more standing at the far back. They're firing haphazardly, no pattern, no alternation. Wait for when they reload at the same time, and you'll have a clear path."
Or he could just, you know, let the Thinker handle that part for him.
Following her plan, he dashed out of cover, bullets trailing but never quite hitting—he had been faster than they expected, inhumanly so. A step on the half-wall, a jump, and he swung over the railings to land on the catwalk.
A purple…soda can…thing…cursed as it noticed him. In the mascot's hand was an assault rifle, and the relevant details absorbed through lessons at Beacon drifted to the top of his mind. High rate of fire, strong impact, getting hit would not be fun. To avoid losing a chunk of his Aura, Jaune rushed him, grabbing under the gun's muzzle and jerking the weapon to point upward.
"And now, for my magic trick!" he grandly declared, activating [Dimensional Pockets] in order to steal the rifle out of his opponent's very grasp itself!
"..."
"..."
"Why are they just standing there making doe-eyes at each other?"
"Shhh. Don't ruin the moment, Zach."
Jaune stared agog at the rifle that had not gone anywhere. He was holding onto one end while the soda can held the other end, and try as he might, he cannot change that fact no matter how many times he tried to shove the gun in his Pocket.
The fist striking his nose woke Jaune from his stupor. He returned the favor with a gut punch, and the mascot let go of the gun, falling to his knees and clutching his stomach. Judging from the retching noises and a growing stink rising inside the costume, he wouldn't want to be that guy right about now.
Peering down at the rifle he was still hanging on to, Jaune gave the Pocket another shot, and was left blinking in utter befuddlement. This time, the firearm had vanished into the inventory space with nary a problem.
A possible explanation reared its head, and to confirm, he set his sight on the remaining gunmen. The moment he spotted the opening Tattletale described earlier, he leapt over the balcony and hopscotched the concrete pillars and walls on a beeline for his targets. [Third Arm] bridged the final distance, and upon landing he slapped his hands against the guns.
Once again, the Pocket failed to do its work, only succeeding after he dispatched his foes and removed the weapons from them.
Finders keepers, losers weepers. That was the key.
Uncontested ownership, by physical possession if not by legal rights, was required for him to claim an object. So long as someone else maintained contact, the Pocket would refuse to accept the item. Which was odd, because that was not how it functioned during testing.
What was the difference between Tattletale and these guys?
For the time being, he put the matter out of mind; it was enough to know he cannot rely on the Pocket to disarm people mid-combat. Of more immediate concern was the nearby gate that had opened to grant entry to a corridor. An identical gate sat on the opposite side, and the lack of a prize suggested that this skirmish may not be the last. As Tattletale picked her way across the traps and regrouped with him, he listened to the running commentary for hints on the situation.
"That's a wrap for the first round, and what a round it was! The feats of strength and acrobatics. The fearlessness in the face of death. That creepy arm that might or might not have been me tripping. Inspiring stuff. Bobby! What's the score now?"
"Well, Zach, after carrying the two and multiplying by the sexy Halloween costume coefficient, I put the current score at aroooound…NOTHING! Because as you know, viewers, in Professor Genki's Super Ethical Reality Climax the only way to rack up them dollars is to rack up them bodies!"
"It's the one rule we have to this game, and I for one never thought I'd see the day that somebody breaks it—we didn't expect anybody could be that dumb! News flash for Pretty Boy, murder-time is not just fun-time, it's money-time! Do better in the next round!"
"This place is so fucked up," Jaune murmured. "Forget ethical, the show can't even be legal."
Evidently, the room came equipped with hidden microphones, as he got an answer in return.
"Oh, you sweet summer child. Did you take the wrong exit and end up in Steelport by accident? The only part not legal about this entire enterprise is the tax evasion! Whoooooo!"
"Whoooo—is exactly right, Bobby. Here at Genki's, we pride ourselves on running a tight ship and providing good, clean fun for the whole family. Now, let's move away from the tax evasion bit and start the second round before people ask questions we aren't prepared to answer. Contestants, advance!"
No further responses were forthcoming, not even when Jaune taunted them at the top of his lungs. In the end, a nudge from Tattletale got him moving, and they walked down the corridor.
"I don't think I like Earth very much," he remarked.
Where was the heroism? Where were the people who banded together to defend a city? Yes, Armsmaster tried to kill him, but he had chalked that down as an outlier; the man clearly wasn't supposed to have done it. The callous disregard shown here was painting an altogether different, altogether worse, picture on the nature of Earth people, and he was having trouble reconciling that with Sundancer, Laserdream, Shielder, and the like.
(Tattletale…belonged to a category of her own.)
"It's not normal," Tattletale protested, having discerned a little of what was running through his head. "None of the things they said were. Murder isn't legal so far as I know, and families don't watch this stuff."
"They were lying, then?" Please let it be so.
"I… can't tell for certain. Earth Bet does have sketchy shows run by capes like Uber and Leet; They film their crimes, themed around videogames. No killings, though, since that would get them sent to the Birdcage—a maximum security prison for parahumans," she explained for his benefit. "Then we have the monsters, like… the Slaughterhouse Nine." Her voice dropped to a low whisper when speaking the name, as if it would somehow summon them. "H-Honestly, the attitude I'm getting from those emcees would be right up the Nine's alley. Hearing them talk, they're literally not seeing this as anything wrong."
Jigsaw puzzle pieces slammed into place, each one somber as a gravestone. Jaune released a shuddering breath. A theory danced upon his thoughts.
"They asked if we 'took the wrong exit'. We really might have."
A society where murder has become commonplace. What a vast multiverse it was that he traveled in.
"Um, so what's the plan now?" asked Tattletale, fidgeting. "Do we…" She mimed a finger gun firing.
Do we join in on the 'fun'.
"No!" Jaune answered firmly. "If they fight me, I'll fight back, but I don't intend to follow these guys' rules. It's not like I care about the money they're promising." He stopped in front of the gate. "That said, the mascots are aiming to kill us. Your crossbow is a bit lacking in our current situation, which could end badly, so"—a handgun materialized in his palm, and he held it out to her—"here, for if it comes down to you or them. Are you familiar with using one of these?"
"Yeah!" Her strong response quickly lost its confident tone. "Well, I've taken a shot here and there…once…on a cape who I knew had a force field protecting herself…" Tattletale squirmed in discomfort under his curious gaze. "T-To tell you the truth, a gun's always been more of a-a prop for me in the superpowered game of cops and robbers. I haven't ever…"
Her hand darted towards the gun. Pulled back. She fretted, repeating the routine twice in indecision before wrapping her fingers delicately around the grip.
Looking at how nervous she was, Jaune offered her an out. "You could stay back, and I'll go on ahead."
His words became the spark to set off the girl, igniting her willful spirit. Her gaze took on a harder edge.
"No way!" she denied. "I can handle this!"
"You don't have to feel as if you need to put on a tough front, you know."
"Ahhh quit it already, and get a move on!" Tattletale circled behind him, and began pushing on his back. "Seriously, listen to yourself, spouting lines about feelings like you're… my… therapist… oh crap."
The set of doors had opened to expose the new arena, and Jaune and Tattletale were currently finding themselves the target of a few dozen guns aimed their way. Laser dots traced along the ground, in the process of zeroing on the pair.
"Hang onto me, Tattletale!" Jaune ordered, brooking no disagreement.
Her arms wrapped tight around him, and Jaune activated [Third Arm] to pull them towards the block of concrete directly in front of the pair as their previous spot was lit up by gunfire. They did not escape entirely unscathed, though his position meant he blocked most of the impacts. Which wasn't a good thing.
"Fuuu-u-uuck!" he groaned and hugged his body, waiting behind cover for the pain to fade. An individual bullet, he can shrug off; his tolerance for injury has come a long way. Once the number got to twenty bullets thereabout in the span of a few seconds, that's the time to take a pause and just curl into a ball for a while.
Next to him, Tattletale likewise whimpered.
"Were you hurt badly?" he asked in concern.
"The side of my head, and my thigh. You?"
"I tanked the shots with my face. It's not as badass as it sounds." A hand patted his head comfortingly, and he felt a little better.
"Take a rest. I'll scope out the situation."
"Thanks. Can you figure out what's with the huge difficulty spike?"
She laughed without humor. "That's obvious. The show tries its damndest to avoid shelling out the prize money. Now, shoosh. Let me do my power thing."
The continuous salvos prevented Tattletale from peeking out of cover for longer than a split second at a time. She instead relied on her sense of hearing for the most part. The hollering and whooping of the mascots—along with the gunfire—made parsing individual words impossible. The tone of voice, however, carried through and Tattletale soon heaved a sigh, rubbing her forehead. Jaune passed her a Pietro's Remedy from his Pocket, which she gratefully took and and sipped from.
"Well, there's no talking them down. They're here of their own volition. They're happy to be taking part, in fact, and enjoy the chance to shoot people." Something exploded on the other side of the concrete block and, hitting the limit of her tolerance, Tattletale shouted at the top of her lungs, "What the hell kind of place is this!?"
A distant voice yelled back at them above the din. "'Murica, bitch!"
And the mighty cry of an eagle rang out over the arena.
"Sorry! Sorry, folks! I could not help myself."
"Don't worry, Zach. I would have done it if you hadn't."
The pain had ebbed to a dull ache by this point, and Jaune hopped to squat on the balls of his feet, poised to spring out of hiding. He tapped Tattletale on the shoulder to get her attention, and outlined his plan.
"I'll split off to draw their fire. You stay here, and put a dart in anyone you can get a shot at, alright? Those snipers up top, especially." He made no mention of the handgun, leaving that to her to decide. (And pretended to not notice the relief with which she put down the thing.)
"I know what you're trying to do, by the way," she said, narrowing her eyes at him.
He feigned a cherubic smile. "No clue what you're implying, Tattletale."
"Tch. Whatever. I can admit when things are a little too high-intensity for me. Good luck, Jaune."
"Mmhm."
A shadowy limb stretched out of the concrete block, latching onto a long half-wall that led closer to the mascots. Jaune skidded across the floor a moment later. Before the gunmen could adjust their aim, he dove past a fire trap, letting the flames obscure his form. Once the trap shut off, he had vanished from sight.
After a short time, a sudden cry went up.
"Here! He's over h–erk!"
Blind gunfire bombarded the general area where the voice emanated from. On the other side of the wall withstanding that onslaught, Jaune tapped a beat on the cold concrete, waiting for the arrival of the mascots. A laser dot flashing overhead winked out, soon followed by a second, a result he attributed to Tattletale doing her part.
The mascots came pouring into the maze-like section. Animals, soda cans, beer bottles, and even a hotdog, they jostled for place in the narrow, trap-filled corridors. Each one were eager to be the first to find Jaune.
He smacked the winner of that race the instant they rounded the bend, causing a pileup as the mascots tripped over their brethren. The shock trap then activated to zap the group.
"Cleanup on aisle nine! Boy am I glad it's not my job to do the laundry. Those brown stains will be somebody else's nightmare…Hello, what's this?"
Jaune kicked the twitching, screaming mascots out of his path (and outside the range of the shock trap), then stepped past them to meet the cautious ones who brought up the rear. Giving them no time to mount a counter, he laid into the mascots with Crocea Mors, the scabbard breaking bones with terrifying ease. His free hand, he used to pluck weapons left and right, whether that be assault rifles, handguns, or…the rest. Whatever those stubby ones that shoot really fast were called.
Sue him, he was a swordsman.
A commotion behind him revealed the presence of reinforcements; those mascots had doubled around to trap him in a pincer tactic. They met the same problems as the first group. A tight space to hamper their shots. Fallen bodies providing tripping hazards.
Bullets flew. A few pinged off him, but more were striking their allies to add to the general mayhem.
In the midst of the fight, he caught a flash of purple as some sort of club swung for his head. Absentmindedly, he grabbed it and snapped out a kick to deal with the hotdog mascot, tossing the club into the inventory before he moved on to incapacitate a shotgun-wielding gorilla. (Really, respect to the guy for opting to go melee in a firefight, but Jaune had to concede it was a tad foolish when done without protection, such as Aura.)
The threats subdued, he exited the maze.
"I…well, we have two confirmed fatal casualties, although our contestants don't seem to have done much to make that happen. Should we count those, Bobby?"
"Hell no! Oi, what's with the pansy-ass bullshit, Pretty Boy? Get back in there and score those points!"
My, my. Seems he was ruining Bobby's good time. That's great, because he didn't like Bobby anyway. Or Zach.
A furtive scan of the arena, and Jaune was sprinting back to Tattletale; judicious use of [Third Arm] kept him ahead of the gunfire. He barreled his way amidst the squad advancing on her position, granting her the reprieve to dispatch the ones trying (and failing) to catch her by surprise.
"Good job, J—" she choked on her spit. Pointing, she croaked out a warning, "Rocket launcher. Rocket launcher!"
Jaune whipped his head to look where she indicated, spotting a rabbit mascot on the distant catwalk arming the weapon. Yep, time to run.
Or perhaps not.
"He's making a big show of it, but he can't do anything!" Jaune slipped between the mascots, and continued fighting. "Stick close to his allies, and we have nothing to fear!"
The mascot raised the rocket launcher, and fired the shot.
"Uh-oh."
Jaune hopped over the concrete block, threw Tattletale on his shoulder, then raced for new cover. The blast as the rocket struck sent them hurling the last couple yards to land behind a barrier. Ears ringing, they tucked themselves close to the wall in order to avoid the…splashes. Things were becoming awfully red in the immediate area.
"Scratch that," he amended himself. "We have nothing to fear, except for a psycho rabbit that doesn't care about friendly fire."
"He's a problem. One good shot can exhaust my Aura, and probably yours too by now."
Eh, Jaune doubted it. He was tough. Two shots, maybe.
"Quit thinking macho thoughts," Tattletale ordered with some measure of affection.
"I wasn't. Honest!" He did not expect her to believe him, and she didn't. "Still, you're right. I'd rather not eat a bomb to the face. Here's the plan: I'll run over there—"
She quirked an eyebrow. "And eat a bomb to the face?"
"No. Maybe. It's a risk."
"Too much. The other mascots, there's about half their numbers remaining. They'd get in your way." Tattletale looked down at her hand. Jaune followed her gaze to see the girl studying the handgun he gave her. Gradually, hesitation transformed to resolve. "Let me give it a try. Cover me."
"Hang on…"
Tattletale ignored him and closed her eyes in concentration. The gun rose, aimed at nothing. It seemed to him a bad combination, shooting with one's eyes shut, but he refrained from commenting as she made a series of adjustments to her form.
The muzzle pointed higher. A bit to the right. Back to left. Her body tilted on an angle at the waist.
She took a step to the right, pulled the trigger, then returned to safety whilst breathing out a long sigh.
"Done. Hit him in the hip. Go take care of it, would you?"
A quick peek verified that she had been correct. The rabbit mascot laid in a heap, screaming.
Idly, he said, "What a scary girl you are."
"And don't you forget it."
He emerged from hiding, forgoing defense in favor of reaching the far wall as fast as possible. His shield repelled most of the shots, and the glancing bullets hardly slowed him down. Tattletale pitched in, with the occasional body slumping over before they could fire on him. He vaulted onto the catwalk just as one of the rabbit's allies got there. Smashing the bulldog's face into the balcony did the trick, and the rocket launcher entered his Pocket to prevent anyone else from bringing it back in play.
From the catwalk, Jaune gazed down at the mascots still in the game. None of them were behaving as wildly as at the start of the round, with many trying their best to slide out of his view. They came here to enjoy a spot of murder, and instead found themselves participating as the hunted, the losers of the show.
The 'fun' was gone. Or rather, it was all on his side now. He flashed a vicious grin at them, and leapt off the balcony.
What followed was a game of cat and mouse as Jaune ran the gauntlet, neutralizing the escaping mascots one by one. It also served as good practice for Tattletale in using her Aura-enhanced capabilities to fight. An eager student, she absorbed his demonstrations and tips, then employed them on the mascots with wonderful enthusiasm. The girl was beaming by the time her last costumed opponent fell to the floor. Full of energy, she shadowboxed an imaginary foe.
"I can probably beat Brian now if I try," she boasted. "God, what I would give to meet Glory Girl again. It'll be my turn to show her force field bullshit for once." She hopped up and down. "Ughhh, I'm still in the mood to fight something!"
KA-THUNK! Hisssss.
Heretofore hidden trapdoors, composed of half a foot of thick steel, slid open along either sides of the room. Freezing vapors leaked out to obscure the contents. What those contents were, Jaune could not say, only that efforts had gone in to keep them frozen—dormant—behind extremely sturdy doors.
"Never say that our show does not deliver. Give a warm welcome, those of you without the survival instincts to run away screaming, to our strongest challenge. The Huuuuu—"
"—uuuuuuu—"
"—uuuuuu—"
"—uuuuuuuunters!"
A meaty hand, the palm bigger than Jaune's head, grabbed the edge of the cell. The fingers dug in, denting the steel. On the opposite side, a huge boot stepped out from within the vapors, and its stomp shook the surroundings. The bald heads were next, ducking to fit through the thresholds, then straightening up to tower over a normal person. The two men bore identical faces along with mountains of muscle for bodies, and there was a certain caveman cast to their features. As big as Ursas, the so-called Hunters glared at the pair with angry scowls.
Jaune addressed his companion, "Tattletale?"
He vaguely gestured in the direction of the Ursa-like brutes.
"What!?" she squawked, hands waving in a denial as she instantly understood his meaning. "Are you crazy? They'd kill me!"
"You sure? It could be good training." He took a big backstep to put her in front of him, snickering as Tattletale squeaked and rushed to hide behind him, and attempted with all her might to push him forward.
"Nope. Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope. You do it, Jaune!"
Chuckling, he relented, stepping forward to present himself as a target. Not much seemed to go on up top for the Hunters, because they immediately locked onto him.
Raising both hands, he said, "Hey fellas. How's life in the fridges treating you? Good I hope. So, here's the thing. You missed it, but I just whooped, like, thirty dudes before you showed up. I brought a knife to a gunfight, and won. You really don't want to mess with me."
Throwing back their heads, the two men roared twin animalistic roars.
"I take it you are not convinced."
As one, they charged at him, and Jaune reached for Crocea Mors in reply. As they entered his range, huge fists swinging, he twirled out of the way and—in a blink—moved to put one in front of the other. As a warning, he gave the closer Hunter a whack on the arm with his weapon. A blow that normally would have crushed bones displayed little effect on this occasion, and Jaune tsked.
"I was afraid of that," he said, drawing his sword out of the scabbard. The last trace of his mirth faded away. Something colder took its place.
With the mascots, talking them down from attempted murder might be futile, yet they at least had to listen to such persuasive arguments as 'broken limbs', 'concussion', and 'needing to drink through a straw'. These guys here were too tough for that, limiting the options available to Jaune.
Yes, he'd win, but…
Brute One went for a tackle. Jaune sliced off one of his arms, the titanite-reinforced blade parting muscle and bone with hardly any resistance at all.
…it was going to be bloody.
As Brute One flopped on the ground, the man still attempted to kick out a foot. Jaune lopped that off, too. He quelled a shiver upon hearing the man's piteous wails; Brute Two hadn't given up despite the sight of his brethren lying in pieces, meaning that the job wasn't done.
The second Hunter swiped with one hand, then the other, arms scything air instead of their target. All that strength, with nothing to hit. Jaune gave him a chance to realize the futility of his actions. It didn't take, so Jaune removed his arms.
Then, a leg, when he still wouldn't get the hint.
And that was that. He stood victorious after a short and rather unnecessary exchange, blood staining his shoes.
"There's the kickass action I was looking for! Pretty Boy's got guts after all!"
"I would have liked to see that gumption a bit earlier, Bobby, but I suppose the strong finish did offset the lukewarm performance somewhat. The brutality of the medieval weapon adds a certain je ne se quois, don't you think?"
Tuning out the emcees (who kept jabbering on instead of shutting up!), Jaune took a deep, calming breath to recenter himself. He wiped clean Crocea Mors, and returned it to his hip. Out came the Company scroll, as he waited for Tattletale to rejoin him. Once she arrived, he made a request, holding out the device to her.
"Hey, Tattletale? Can you chip in for stimpaks?"
"Hah?" She stared at him, incredulous. "Why—for them? Seriously?"
He gestured at the two men's injuries. "They're dying."
A flash of worry crossed her face, buried again just as quick.
"What happened to 'if it comes down to you or them' and giving me a gun? They chose to attack us. You didn't have a problem with k-killing people in Dunwall."
"That's different. They were betraying everything they stood for. Their kingdom, their people. These guys were just hired hands for a job."
"And killing us for money is…preferable?"
They did sound rather terrible when she put it like that.
"Someone else can explain it better than me," Jaune admitted. "My point is, the battle's over. We've won, so that puts us in the position to decide what happens, and while they might only be a little better than the likes of Havelock, they are better. I don't think Steelport is a very nice place."
His words didn't seem to have changed much, and her reluctance was obvious. She dithered over the scroll, frowning.
With downcast eyes, he tried again in an earnest plea. "...Please?"
He did not want to leave this universe on such a bloody note. He hated how impressed, how vindicated, the emcees sounded as they harped on about his performance. As if he had finally done something right in their eyes.
"Frigging unfair—whatever!" Tattletale stomped the ground. There was the sound of tapping on glass, and a familiar delivery box materialized in the air. She pulled out the medkit, and shoved it into his hands.
Jaune looked down at the stimpaks, then at her. "Thanks a lot, Tattletale. I owe you."
"Yeah, yeah." She crossed her arms, and turned up her nose, peeved.
The two men needed the full box of syringes between them to successfully stabilize their wounds. The limbs remained lost, and there's not much Jaune could do for that; he also did not sympathize with them to the extent of overly caring, since they had tried to murder him.
The important thing was that he had ended this day with…well, not clean hands, but at least a semi-clear veneer that would let him sleep at night. Nobody was dead because of him, that he didn't want dead because of him.
And, standing in front of the last gate, the duo of Zach and Bobby let him have it for—as they say—being just the worst buzzkill. He won't tell them how happy it made him to have pissed them off to this degree. Their raging tirades were as music to his ears.
"—no balls—"
"—our ratings are fucked because of you idiots—"
"—wouldn't last a day in Steelport—"
"—I should sue—"
"Gents! Gents! We get it, you're a bunch of spoiled manchildren. What's our final score?" Tattletale asked, voice sweet as sugar. The joy she gained from the emcees' discontent more than compensated for the lost Points, in her view, and it had earned Jaune back her favor.
"A big, fat zero!"
"You are getting nothing!"
She grinned. "Reeeally? In that case, I think my friend and I will go up to your office to discuss this, then."
Tattletale nudged him and, getting the hint, he stared directly at a camera. Drawing on the proper (depending on how one looked at it) mindset, his expression turned…unfriendly. It's a face the men were familiar with, the one he had worn earlier. He smiled, yet it failed to reach his eyes.
The shakedown went over well. Despite their big talks, Zach and Bobby changed their tunes mid-sentence, and promised the moon to avoid a face-to-face meeting. Jaune almost felt sorry for them as Tattletale shook her head at each progressively-growing number the men tossed out.
"One hundred thousand! That's our limit!"
"Any higher and you might as well come up here to chop off our arms!"
"Hmmm. Is that enough?"
Jaune pretended to think about it, then said one word. "Nah."
"Fuck…"
Zach's miserable tone conveyed what Jaune and Tattletale wanted to know. The emcees had spoken the truth; $100,000 truly was the limit. They shared a glance, and a nod.
"I feel sorry for them," said Tattletale, not looking all that sorry. "Let's be nice, and settle for this much." Needless to say, she did not look all that nice, either.
The emcees, spotting a lifeline, jumped on it.
"D-Deal! We'll send our interns down there right away!"
Ten minutes later, the doors swung apart, granting entrance to a room strewn with ribbons and confetti. A table had been set at the center of the space, atop which rested an open briefcase, the money lying in even rows. Tattletale took great pleasure in dragging out the process of counting the bills.
"Everything seems to be in order," she concluded in the end. Shutting the briefcase, she passed it to him. "We can go now, Jaune."
"Good riddance."
Tattletale paused at Zach's unwise whispered comment. Turning her head, she peered into the camera in the corner.
"Zaaaach?"
"..."
There was no answer, just two men trying their best to not let out a peep. Seeing her quarry refuse to play along, Tattletale forged ahead on her own.
"Your ex cheated on you."
They heard the sound of a hitched breath. Then, a wry chuckle as the man responded.
"...Cute try. Too bad I already came to terms with that. I'm over it."
"Oh? But did she ever tell you that she cheated on you… with Bobby?"
"How did you—I mean, that's obviously false. She's lying, Zach."
"..."
"Z-Zach? Now calm down, man, and we can talk—PUT DOWN THE CHAIR, PUT DOWN THE CHAIR!"
Jaune winced at the sound of a hard impact, and the screams that shortly followed thereafter. "Ouch. Guess you got your revenge after all."
"Hehehe! Yeah…" she happily sighed. "Their little bromance will never recover."
"How did you figure that out? What gave the secret away?"
She smirked, strutting back to the portal. "Wild ass guess. As I hear it, morals and decency are falling year after year in Steelport city. For someone who revels in that vibe, they must have accrued some skeletons in their closet. Good riddance."
-o-
Night has fallen, and the pair of Jaune and Lisa sat slumped over the table, exhausted in both mind and body. Having showered, eaten, and rested, all they wanted to do now was chill. Decompress. Think happy thoughts. The day had been, in Lisa's eloquent words, kinda sucky.
"Never have I been so glad I lived on Earth Bet."
"Same. I'll take the Grimm over death games any day."
"Did you at least manage to steal something good?"
"Requisitioned," he corrected her.
"Whatever."
He could hear her eye-rolling from here. Somehow.
Putting out a hand, he began summoning the looted items on the table.
"I wouldn't say they're good. It's just a whole lot of firearms. Nothing fancy either."
Lisa shifted through the growing pile. "Mmhm. They're mass-produced stuff. Then again, a gun is a gun. We can use them, or sell them off in a different univeeeeerse?"
Lost for words, she—and Jaune—blinked blankly at the object he held. The bottom section looked like a simple baseball bat handle, nothing strange there. The rest of the club was…purple. Yes, that's a nice, safe word he can use. The weapon(?) had a sort of guard between the handle and the…shaft, that may be best characterized as bulbous. The length of the…tool was semi-rigid up until the last foot, where it turned soft and yielding. There was a knob on the end.
Okay, he was running out of family-friendly ways to describe the thing. It was a three-feet long, extremely detailed, floppy, rubbery dildo attached to a handle. There we go.
The Penetrator
Universe: Saints Row
Big. Veiny. Throbbing. The absurdity of a sex toy, the lethality of a baseball bat.
Lisa did not stay silent for long.
"Is, is—pffft!—is that big enough for you, Jaune?" She pounded the table, laughing to the point of tears.
Jaune opened his mouth to retort, thought over what he could possibly say that did not result in her laughing harder and his dignity in shreds, and closed his mouth. Instead, he waited for her to recover.
When she finally raised her head, he looked her straight in the eye.
"Here."
And tossed her the bat. On instinct, she grabbed it.
Her mind caught up to her body, and Lisa squawked, "What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?"
"Well, I'm not heading into battle holding a dildo-bat, so I don't really have a use for it."
"And you think I do!? This would kill me!" She then realized she was still holding the bat, and with an "Eep!" she flung it to a corner in a hurry, as if her hands had been scalded.
Neither of them knew what to do with it, so the weaponized sex toy stayed in that corner from then on.
Universe: Saints Row. Location: Steelport Film Studios.
Event: Professor Genki's Super Ethical Reality Climax.
Loot: $100,000. Assorted firearms. A dildo-bat.
Event: Professor Genki's Super Ethical Reality Climax.
Loot: $100,000. Assorted firearms. A dildo-bat.
Author's Notes: Hate teleporters. Hate dual-wielders. Hate rabbits. Love me sun. Simple as.
Jaune's collecting traumas like it's going out of style.