On His Way Home

“Hey, watch it asshole! The light was red!” Trent’s shout went unheard by the driver of the yellow-cab that had nearly flattened his foot when he stepped off the curb to dart across the street. Even if he’d had his window open, the din of New York City would have swallowed up his cry before it ever existed.

[That was quite uncouth, Chosen. No harm was done.] Well, maybe not totally unheard. The teenager was still getting used to the fact that there was a millennia old witch-woman dwelling in his head. Taking showers was mildly creepy, these days, and abusing himself, as she liked to call it, was completely out of the question. [I was not a witch, Chosen; I was a priestess of-]

“Yeah yeah yeah, a priestess of Isis during the reign of Tutenwhatsit, I know, I know,” he cut her off aloud, a bit breathily as he hopped up onto the opposite curb. He was just off work, wearing the black pants and white long-sleeved shirt that waiting tables at a mid-scale bistro required. He contemplated stripping down to the wife-beater beneath for the rest of his walk; the unseasonable warmth and humidity that had rolled in was making him sweat a little even at this late hour, and getting sweaty meant he’d need to take a less-than-private shower.

[As I’ve told you daily, Chosen, your genitals are of very little interest to me.

“Well, you not talking to me while I’m washing them is of the utmost interest to me.” A bag-woman pushing an over-laden shopping cart with a single squeaky wheel gave him an odd look, a sort of look he was getting more and more used to receiving. Just great. Crazy homeless people are looking at –me- funny.

[You should be more compassionate for the less fortunate, Chosen.]

He sighed in defeat and started unbuttoning his shirt. “Could you at least knock off that ‘Chosen’ crap? My name is Trent now, remember? Trent. I’m having a hard enough time juggling one extra name, never mind two."

[But you are the Chosen, the Throne, Champion of Isis-]

It was about then that Trent started singing Katy Perry’s Teenage Dream less-than-quietly. When his mind focused on the song, it was pretty easy to drown the priestess out. She gave up, with a mental angry huff, somewhere around the skin-tight jeans line in the chorus. Probably not the most mature way to handle the conversation, but he’d had a lousy night at work and wound up with about half the tip money of the other servers.

He was almost home, he realized- home being a shitty apartment with hot-and-cold running cockroaches. The glamorous life of a super-hero, indeed.

He frowned slightly; he’d walked about six blocks without even noticing. If the priestess could distract him that much when he was just walking, what would happen in the heat of battle? He was lucky he hadn’t barged into someone or been hit by a truck or worse.

He slung his shirt over his shoulder and sighed yet again, turning his attention outward. The neighborhood he’d wound up in wasn’t the best, with it's squat tenements in disrepair and boarded up businesses scrawled with grafitti. He’d broken up more than a few drug deals and lesser assaults since moving in, more because people didn’t know what to make of a scrawny white kid barging in than the fact that he was imbued with the power of the Pesedjet. Maybe there’d be some action tonight, as well.

I seemed that Ethan was in a bit of a good mood today, as he was able to get out of bed as soon as he woke up, rather than simply sit and loaf around for an hour or two in bed, playing with his phone. He let out a big yawn, and pulled on his black tank top, and then pulled his light weight metallic looking jacket over himself, before heading out. He usually slept in sweats, so it was fine that he went right outside, although it was a bit hot today. He was also lugging around a slightly heavy briefcase with him wherever he went, making sure to keep careful care of it when he walked. He didn't want it bumping into anything. As he walked the streets, he started getting into the bad neighborhoods, where the news cameras stayed away from because of the all too frequent crimes that went on in the area. This was probably the perfect place to find another of the super beings, as it was quite off the radar, no matter what they did. It was too dangerous for reporters to get out here, and the slums were the slums, even when something amazing happened in them. They would rather post a story about how a rich white kid drowned in a swimming pool after getting too drunk. As he was walking down the street, a couple of people stared his way, obviously eying the extremely clean white metallic briefcase with the electric blue stripes.

As he walked further into the streets, a group of people approached him, with what appeared to be malicious intent. "Yo, what's in the briefcase, whitey? Bet you got a bunch a money in there for some sort of ransom or something huh?"

Now, Ethan wasn't the nicest of people, he was rather sarcastic and rude in fact, especially to these kinds of people. "Nah, I'm not that rich man, I can barely afford your mom every night." Ethan replied with a smug smile, before reaching his hand behind his back. He was always prepared for a fight, and if they wanted it, he was going to show him just what kind of damage a spinning blade could do. He was still in a bit of trouble, since there was about 4 of them, meaning he could probably only slash one before he had to make some hasty adjustments. If he wanted to cause a scene for a super, this was it.

“-We drove to Cali, and got drunk on the-e beach/Got a hotel room, and made a fort out of sheets…” He hadn’t noted anything particularly interesting, at first, and that infernal melody was still playing in his head. Well, at least it wasn’t California Girls. He was just about to turn down the side-street that would have brought him to his door when he noticed something peculiar out of the corner of one of his remarkable emerald eyes.

Some dude with a jacket out of an 80’s music video surrounded by a group of thugs. Definitely trouble, he decided, noting the hungry way the thugs were eyeing the brief case. Mr. 80s said something that apparently pissed the group off, judging by the way that their eyes widened and then narrowed, and then he reached behind his back…

“Definitely trouble,” he mumbled, taking off across the street on a course that would bring him right into the confrontation. For the sake of reference, Trent didn’t appear all that super. Just an average teenager, not built or particularly slender; kind of a hottie, in a Zac Effron way, were it not for the nasty scar stretching across the left side of his face. He broke into just more than a jog, then remembered he had a shirt hanging off his shoulder and clamped down on it with his hand before it could fly off into traffic.

It would be another few seconds before he was able to intercept; hopefully, they’d break up before he got there, or at least wait to start the party until he was close enough to do some good.

[Understanding is the greatest weapon in the war for balance, Chosen.]

“Whatever the fuck that means,” he mumbled, arms and legs pumping as he kept jogging toward the clump of people he was intent on.

Ethan was about ready to throw down, but instead of that, there seemed to be some random kid running over to the group as fast as he could, and the other people took notice of this as well, as they stopped and looked at him, probably saying things like 'what the f***' and etc, because they were simply foul natured. Ethan didn't really want to do anything now, because he wanted to see what this person was doing running towards thugs so fast, and Ethan hoped this was a daring rescue by a super, as that would be fun. One of the thugs wasn't really focused on the running person, and instead, hit Ethan in the stomach with a clenched fist, and then held him by his collar. Ethan simply cracked a smile and winced from the blow, pressing the button on his weapon, which caused the curved blades to spin. He then simply slashed the man's arm, which caused him to yell, which would most likely cause some chaos within them. One guy was rushing them from the side, and one had a spinning blade. He didn't cut the man too deep, it wouldn't need stitches, but it was still probably shocking and painful. Ethan then sat back in a defensive stance with his spinning blade, making sure the thugs didn't try anything stupid.

The best laid plans…

He’d hoped his intervention would diffuse the scuffle before it even started. Whether by dint of weirdness, the fact that he was an extra witness, or possibly even his actually being pretty good at getting people to do what he want, he’d been hoping for some kind of amicable disbursement of the gang-bangers and the dude in the weird jacket.

He managed to get most of their attention, but one took advantage of the distraction he posed to sock Mr. 80s in the gut. Juuuust great. Things only got worse when the dude drew what looked like a knife but seemed to be whirring and cut at the one that had bunched him.

“Hey, hey, woah,” he interjected as he skidded to a stop, interposing himself between the knife-wielder and the street toughs, arms spread out as if to keep them from running at each other. “Why don’t we all just calm down and go our separate ways, okay?” His green eyes fell on the gash that Ethan had wrought on the man’s bicep and he frowned. “You should really get that looked at.”

His eyes slipped to Ethan and his weird weapon. The teenager’s expression was fairly unreadable, but more than anything, he seemed to be getting a measure of the man in the metallic jacket. Odds were that his jumping in had at least had the element of surprise, enough so for him to get his little speech out, but he was bracing himself for the worst.

He got an idea, and then quickly lashed out with his left hand, clamping it over the wound on the thug’s arm. He channeled Sekhem, raw life-force, into the shallow cut, and a few seconds later it was no more. “Huh, look at that, just a scrape. Not even bleeding anymore.” He mustered a big ole grin. “What do you say we just let bygones be bygones, fellahs?”

Ability Used:

The man that had rushed in was a bit of a talker, asking if they would get along, and all this stuff about peace, and Ethan was rather annoyed, and simply held his spinning blade in hand, thinking that he was just some guy wanting to be nice. Then of course, he expectations were met, and it was revealed that he was a man with superpowers, as he instantly healed the man's arm. Well, healing energy was indefinitely useful, and he wondered if he could convince this man to give him some of his energy and maybe even his body to study.

It seemed so good, that Ethan simply pressed the button again, and the blades instantly stopped and retracted into the small tennis ball like object. "He hit me first." Ethan then looked at the thugs, which were in shock at what just happened, the man they were trying to shake down has some crazy weapon, and this super powered guy came in, so it was best if they just left. after saying some derogatory remarks to Ethan, the thugs simply walked away.

Ethan wasted no time in thanking the man. "Thank you, not for saving me, I could have easily diced them up, no. I was simply looking for interesting people, and amazingly I found one. Allow me to simply set this up." Ethan was an honorable businessman, and he would pay this person in whatever way he wanted, as long as it was within his reach at the time. He set his briefcase down, and then pressed the button, allowing it to unfold, and started sucking in the healing energy.

As that was happening, he would address the man once more. "Sorry, how rude of me. I'm Ethan, and I study supernatural energy. You have given me a sample to study just now, and I wouldn't be proper if you weren't payed. What would you like. I am a weapon specialist, and a bio-engineer, so anything you can think of I can probably make it as payment."

Ethan talked fast and was straight to the point, as it seemed this man was fairly nice and easy to work with, so he patiently waited for a response.

Spoiler:

“Yeah, that’s right. I’m totally a bundle of sticks!” This was Trent’s defiant retort to the thugs’ denunciations. Rolling his eyes, he turned to regard Mr. Metallic Jacket, a.k.a. Ethan, as the man soon revealed.

The teenager’s expression shifted to one of equally mixed anger and confusion. It was sort of funny to watch, in all likelihood; the way his mouth set sourly, but his eyebrows rode up on his forehead. He didn’t know what to make of the man, what he said, or the doohickey that was apparently collecting the Sekhem he’d used for his healing spell. Odds were it would be pretty useless to Ethan; after all, it was just life-force, not some kind of specific restorative energy. It didn’t do anything special without some serious sorcery.

“Are you fucking retarded?” he finally blurted. “You could have gotten us or them seriously hurt. For… a freaking experiment? Why don’t you get a job at a university or something, I’m sure there’s plenty of clandestine programs poking and prodding at freaks. And I didn’t give you anything, you took it. Do I look like I know the first thing about weapons or bio-whatevers? I’m pretty much playing this hero shit by ear.” Yes, Trent could definitely be talkative.

[Perhaps you should not be so quick to dismiss this one, Chosen. It may be that his work is for either good or ill, and if it is the latter, he made need dealing with.]

He sighed, and counted backward from three, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes as he did. His eyes snapped open and alit on Ethan. “Fine, okay, whatever. Sorry, I had a friggin’ lousy day at work, and I’m allergic to stupidity. You’re welcome to what you took, but, I don’t really know what I’d need from you. I’m not really the… fighty type… if you want to use technical terms.” He folded his arms across his chest and continued staring Ethan down.

As his machine was collecting the energy, the young man spouted off about how they all could have gotten seriously hurt, and that he was fairly new to the whole super hero deal. Well well, this was a rather fun turn of events, a young hero that Ethan could deck out with the coolest weapons and armor, perhaps not so much the weapons part, simply because he was a medic after all, it seemed, even though he had a bit of a mouth on him. As soon as the young man mentioned that they all could have gotten seriously hurt, Ethan quipped back.

"Ahh, but nobody did get hurt, hmm? Besides, the only way science is going to advance is by experimentation. The infinite wonders of the universe described and defined, and of course harnessed for their power. " As the man sort of apologized, he said that he wasn't the type to actively seek out fights. Well this was all fine and good, but then again someone interrupting him while he tried to heal, or even those that were unresponsive, every problem that he could have on the battlefield could be solved with science, as long as he could envision it, and perhaps learn how to properly utilize the energy he had received.

"So, you don't like to fight? Well then, there must surely be some problem I could help you with, as you seem the type to rush in. Armor, energy shields, disabling or paralyzing agents such as a flash bang, maybe some knockout gas for uncooperative patients you heal? There are an infinite number of things I could help you with, it's not just about the combat aspect." Ethan finished and thought about it for a moment. What would a person that could heal people want the most. "How about something that could grab people towards you? You never know when someone will be out of reach so you can't heal them." Ethan wanted to pay the man, and even if he didn't he got what he came fore.

"As for the energy, is there anything specific you would like to share about it before I attempt to study it?" Ethan was of course curious about any and all new energy sources, so this man might be something of a godsend to his research. "Also, I could give you a job, I am rather wealthy, and you seem like the type that could do good work." Ethan needed to branch out and start making allies anyways, considering he was making a list of sorts for when he eventually took over Shield, it was all a matter of time.

Trent really wasn’t sure what to make of this guy. He was a reckless knife fighter who spoke… with an odd degree of formality. If the guy was smart enough to make some kind of energy drainer, no doubt he was in genius territory, but still, the formal tone threw him off. He shook his head and tried to focus on the stuff that actually mattered.

What do you think? he mentally asked Nefeki. It sounds pretty good, but can we trust him? He smiled tersely at Ethan, the way someone might when they were on a phone-call when someone walked up and started a conversation.

[That is for you to decide of discover, Chosen. Remember what I said earlier.]

Something about understanding? Alright. He’d let the guy talk.

“It isn’t that I don’t like to fight… just I’m… not really suited to it, yanno? I mean, all of that stuff sounds pretty cool.” He blinked; he wasn’t just blowing smoke. It all did sound cool, and useful. He’d run into a few situations where such devices would undoubtedly prove helpful. Shifting his weight from his right foot to his left, he pursed his lips in thoughtfulness.

“To be honest, I don’t… really know how I do what I do. If I told you what I do know, you’d probably think I was totally bonkers. I think it most days, so I wouldn’t hold it against you.” He grinned earnestly at his self-deprecation. In the very least, he could try to get this Ethan character to trust him; maybe that would lead to a two-way street?

“A job?” His right eyebrow hiked up into an arch. “I didn’t even finish high school, I wouldn’t be much use in some super-science facility or whatever. Plus my hours are kind of crazy, what with the whole saving the day schtick I fell into. I can’t say I’m not interested though. Waiting tables sucks.”

Ethan narrowed his gaze, as the man said he was ill equipped, well then, this was going to be fun. "You aren't suited for it hmm? Well then, that's where I would come in. All of my gadgets and gizmos made specially for you, but again, this is all situational." Ethan decided to drop it there as the young man explained that he didn't really know how he healed people. He then went on to say that Ethan would find him crazy if he said what he could do.

"Haha, listen. I've seen people who could teleport and manipulate lightning, so whatever you say won't be any surprise to me." Wthan said jokingly, and then went on to mentally check himself of all the items necessary to study this energy. His device was finished collecting the ambient energy, and so he pressed the button again, and it became a briefcase once more. He picked it up and slid it over to his side before balancing it.

"Not a super science facility, but the exact job would be discussed later, if you're interested. As for the tech, I'll give you my card, and you can call me anytime with an idea or two, and I'll try and write you up some cool stuff. As for now, I think I should bid you a farewell, and go and study this." Ethan then grabbed a card with his professional number on it, and handed it to the man.

Ethan would then pick up his briefcase and simply walk on off, giving a playful wave behind him, not caring if the man would see it or not. He had gotten what he wanted, and it was time for a lot of work in his lab.

“Any of those teleporters or lightning throwers the champion of an Egyptian goddess?” he responded with a wink, sounding jokey, but not joking at all. His features resolved into thoughtfulness once more as Ethan continued speaking and readied to take his leave.

He reached forward to accept the card and tucked it into his pocket for safe-keeping. “Yeah, I’ll… think about it, I guess. Do some brainstorming or whathaveyou. Try not to incite anyone to kill you before I call, alright?” He smirked, returning the man’s off-hand wave lazily. Shaking his head, he turned and waited for a passing car before ducking across the street to head home.

-Exit-

-Prestiged-