Wannabe Witcher | Worm OC-SI

[DiscardedNotes]

CHAPTER 1

My journey through the city was nothing special.

I wasn't threatened by any muggers wanting to take my money, nor was I stopped by an unmasked parahuman begging me for help, like so many fanfictions had shown Brockton Bay to be like.

Honestly, it makes sense.

I didn't trek through any alleyways after being dropped in Earth Bet, so I didn't spend hours wandering around the bad parts of town, nor did I allow myself to visibly show my confusion and disorientation when I was in the open streets and figuring out my location. I made sure to always scan my surroundings and avoid anything that even slightly twigged my gut instinct.

Why would a mugger try their luck with someone who looked like they knew what they were doing when they could just wait for some clueless tourist instead? I didn't have a backpack, my wallet wasn't visible, and my jacket was big enough that I could've been concealing a gun — I definitely wasn't, but I sure acted like I was.

Even if they could take me down, it would've been too much effort for probably too little reward considering I'm wearing some pretty basic stuff; boots, jeans, white shirt, brown jacket, and a safari hat that's just a little darker than the one Indiana Jones wore in the movies, but it's otherwise identical. I didn't look like I had anything on me that'd catch more than a few bucks aside from the hat.

Honestly, If I did get mugged, I'd be more upset about the hat being stolen than anything. It's my favorite.

Still, it's not like the average mugger has any chance of taking me down and it's not important right now. What is important is that I've finally reached my destination: the richer section of Brockton Bay's residential area. There's a difference between the cheap housing areas in Brockton Bay and the more expensive ones, but I'm still not in the truly rich part yet.

No Alcotts or Stansfields on this road, no siree, just the lucky fellas who happen to have well-enough paying jobs at big businesses, like Medhall, to get themselves out of the really dangerous parts of town. Turns out that most people walking down the street are helpful for directions if you offer them a buck or two for their services.

I make my way toward a nearby house with a car and, after checking for cameras on this house and others, knock on the door firmly.

After a few minutes and another round of knocks, a bald man with a beard finally opens the door, but before he can speak, I quickly flash my hand through the gestures of the Axii sign in his face. The Axii symbol flashes in the air for an instant before fading as quickly as it appeared.

"Hello," I greet reflexively, "I am nobody important. We're going to have a conversation and after we're finished you're going to forget about my face and description because the conversation was just that boring and disinteresting." The words tumble out of me like a torrent, rushing to be heard.

I have no idea if that'll work without any levels in Delusion, but I really hope so. I know that Axii works in dialogue without Delusion slotted in, but I'm not sure if I can influence the mind to that degree without it. Still, I've already mastered him, no harm in trying some damage control, right?

I continue on, "Answer my questions honestly and concisely. Is there anybody else in the house with you?"

The man looks at me blankly for a second before responding. "No. I live alone and none of my friends are visiting today."

"Are there any cameras that you know of that are or could be recording this interaction?" My biggest worry is that this is recorded, but either way, I'll just have to live with the result if I get unlucky.

"No. I don't own any cameras aside from my dash cam and, as far as I know, all of my neighbors' cameras are focused on their front and garage doors." That's not a certainty, as he could be wrong, but I'm still gonna take his word for it. I'm in too deep at this point to run away.

"Do you have your car keys and wallet on you?"

"I have my wallet, but my keys are on my nightstand."

"Go get your keys and come back here quickly; don't dawdle."

The man turns around and steps into his house, not closing the door behind him as he disappears around a corner. I focus on maintaining the influence Axii gives me, but as he moves away, it becomes increasingly tiring. I can actually feel the drain creeping in on me, but, thankfully, he comes back into view quickly with his keys in hand.

This is dragging on a bit longer than I thought it would and I can feel my nerves acting up. I use Axii on him again to reassure myself that its control is firm before I continue speaking.

"Gi– Hand me your car keys and the cash money in your wallet. Don't worry, you know that these will be returned to you in time." I hope that making him feel 'reassured' with my commands will make him less likely to break out of his trance.

Axii doesn't work well on strong minds and it's taxing to make people do things that are against their nature, like murder. Turns out, telling somebody to give their money to a stranger is against a lot of people's natures. I even changed my wording to make it more palatable — after all, it sounds nicer to 'hand' something to someone instead of 'giving' it to someone. 'Giving' implies permanence, but 'handing' is basically the same thing as lending in a lot of people's minds.

Thankfully, he passes them over without a fuss. Either my idea worked or he's just particularly weak-willed.

"Go back inside and continue whatever you were doing before you came to the door. You don't feel the need to think about this encounter any longer as it isn't that important to you, but make sure you don't report your car as stolen if you notice it missing from your driveway. You're certain that it'll be returned, after all." I don't know if any of these commands will stick, but I sure hope so. It'd make life significantly easier for me if they do.

As he closes the door, I turn and make my way towards his —now my— car, a small grey vehicle of an unknown model with a little eagle hood ornament. I'm not knowledgeable enough to name it, but I'm positive that I've seen this kind of car on the roads in the past.

As I get in the driver's seat, I'm happy to see that the gas is full. I check the cash he gave me —around two-hundred bucks, who the fuck ever has this much money in their wallet? Were you trying to donate to the local pick-pocket?— before stashing it away in my own wallet, adding to my small collection of bills. Well, so long as I just don't get stolen from I won't be a hypocrite.

The car starts without trouble and I slowly pull out from the man's driveway and onto the residential roads. After reaching a stop-light, I roll down the window and throw out the dash cam that was attached to the windshield, and turn on the GPS to input my destination — Stetsonburg, Texas.

Fucking hell, a twenty-seven hour drive? Jesus, I guess I'm in for a cross-country road trip.

I turn on the radio and am promptly greeted by an awful song I've never heard before. I don't even know whether this is because I just didn't listen to it before or because this is an Earth Bet original.

God, if I have to listen to eighties music forever because Earth Bet music sucks, I am going to be furious.

---

As the hours pass by and the scenery changes from the cityscape to mountains, to finally the empty plains, I think about my circumstances.

Honestly, I really think I'm blazing a new trail with this. I mean, how many people get dropped in Brockton Bay and actually get to leave?

Most tend to stick around for some god-forsaken reason, but when I arrived in Brockton Bay I knew immediately that I didn't want any part of their cape scene. It's a hodge-podge of racists, wannabe Yakuza, the largest gathering of violent junkies on the East Coast, and a guy who looked up to Bond villains way too much as a child.

Sure, it'd be nice to know the future, but it's not like I need that to live my life. Maybe it'd be different if I was given god-like power and could do whatever I wanted without fear, but that's not the case. I've got something that just barely qualifies as a 'system'.

I've got the perk menu from The Witcher 3.

Though, putting it like that is a massive disservice to what it's already given me. I've got the basics of a Witcher's toolkit —I know how to use a sword effectively, I can use the Signs, and I know how to make potions, decoctions, and bombs— but aside from that? I've got nothing.

I don't have a Witcher's strength or senses, nor do I have monster parts to use for my alchemy in the first place. What's the point in knowing how to create a Swallow potion if I can't even make it?

Worse than that, though, is that I wouldn't even survive a Swallow potion.

I don't have a Witcher's body to filter through the toxins, so the "best" case scenario is that I end up like that girl from the game who got her mind melted by the potion and ended up a vegetable, or I die in unbearable agony.

Honestly, that's the part that really irks me.

If it had just ignored the alchemy part of my system and given me the Signs and swordsmanship, I'd be significantly less annoyed, even if I'd be wishing for more, but this is like putting a wad of cash in a box of dirty needles and then putting that behind some bars out of reach. I can't use it anyway, but even if I could I'd be horrifically injured before I got any kind of benefit out of it.

That's not to say that my system is useless —the Axii Sign has already proven its worth with how it got me this car, after all— but I can't actually improve it. I'm 'Level One', so that means I have zero ability points to buy perks, and thus can't actually use my system.

I didn't get anything for using Axii on that man, unlike in the game, so that means that spamming Axii on people won't let me level up. No level up, no ability points. I'm really hoping that it's not some kind of combat experience system because I'm not willing to brawl with countless people for experience points.

Well, either way, that's a problem for Future Me. Present Me is on my way home.

Even if it's not actually 'home'. I know where my family is living at this point in time, so I'm going there.

My Grandfather owned a house that he gave to my Dad in 2010 and we lived in it for almost a decade. That house was owned by my Grandfather longer than my Dad had been alive, which means it's certainly pre-Scion era. That means that if I go to that address now, in 2011, I'm guaranteed to make contact with my family in some form.

Either my Dad owns the house now and I've already been born, or the arrival of Scion has managed to disrupt my parents' initial meeting and I'll only be able to make contact with my Dad's side of the family. I don't know what my Mom's former surname was before she got married, so beyond the vague knowledge that she was born in Georgia, I don't know where she could possibly be.

Sure, it's not exactly my family, but, even if they're not quite them, I want to make contact. I don't get why the other inserts into Worm always ignore the fact that even if Scion disrupted the timeline, your family still exists.

I spent plenty of time freaking out about my arrival in a 'death-world' when I realized I'd been dropped in Worm and before I figured out my powers, but I never stopped thinking about my family. They're important to me, after all.

I know that I could do impactful things with my powers, but I just… don't want to. Joining the Protectorate would let me be a hero and save people, but I don't think that I want anything to do with that group. If I just live my life with my family, or at least in such a way that it doesn't involve the hero-villain game, I doubt I'd butterfly away canon and get everyone killed.

I can already imagine the response to that idea. "Why would you ever let Taylor go through all that! She'll die at the end if you do nothing!" Like, I get it, it sucks that Taylor goes through all that shit, but —genuinely— why should it be put on me to do anything? And don't give me that 'if you have the power to change it, it's your responsibility' shit, either!

What the fuck could I do? I'm just one guy! A fully-fledged Witcher can still die to a goddamn pitchfork, so what could I do against a fucking God!?

…Christ, I'm arguing with myself like a crazy person.

I'm just going to focus on the road and the music. 'Somebody That I Used to Know' is apparently the fresh 'Hot New Single' for Earth Bet, going by the narration of this radio host, and it's nice to hear something familiar that isn't from the goddamn eighties.

---

As the sun slipped under the horizon and the sky filled with stars, I pulled off the road out of the way of any possible cars and turned off the engine.

I'm not a good enough driver to trust that I wouldn't miss a turn and end up in a ditch in this darkness. I don't even have a driver's license yet; I only know how to drive because my Dad started teaching me to prepare for the test a few months ago…

God, I'm probably never going to see my original family again, am I?

…Let's be realistic here, there's no possible way I'm making it back home. It's not a hard task, it's not a titanic undertaking that'd take up most of my life, it's straight-up impossible to do.

I'm not Ciri, blessed with the Elder Blood, so there's probably no way back home — hell, even if I was blessed with the Elder Blood, how would I even find it?

There's a literally infinite number of alternate Earths to sort through and it's not like I knew what made mine different from the others beyond the extremely obvious. The difference between my universe and another one could be that some guy in New Jersey decided that he should eat dry cereal instead of crackers one night while he was high.

It's incalculably worse than trying to find a specific grain of sand in the Sahara Desert.

After a few minutes of staring at the car ceiling, I slip my hand into my pocket and pull out my phone.

Seventy-four percent battery? I guess that'll have to do.

After scrolling through the picture gallery for a bit and immortalizing the important ones in my brain, I turn on airplane mode and completely shut down the device. My phone uses a USB-C cable to charge, which is a type of port that didn't exist in 2011. When my phone finally dies, it'll turn from a sophisticated device into a decently heavy paperweight. I'm not sure if airplane mode will help with battery conservation in any way, but it doesn't hurt to turn it on regardless.

...Not like I'm expecting any calls, right?

When I get settled into a more permanent situation, I'll have to figure out some way to transfer the photos onto some form of Cloud or USB stick. It's got my last photos of home, after all, along with some of my downloaded music, but that's not nearly as important as the photos.

Outside of purely sentimental reasons, however, I also know that those photos are the only way to prove that I'm from another Earth to this version of my family. If I don't show them, I might as well be some stranger or crazy person trying to worm my way into their lives. The fact that I look like a younger version of my Dad could help, but look-a-likes exist and so do parahumans, so the photos are the only real guarantee outside of my knowledge of their lives — which could be drastically different, and thus wrong.

I've been avoiding thinking about what it's going to be like when I actually do see them, but no matter how hard I try these thoughts just keep creeping in. Will they even be the same people as I remember?

I know they'll be different —it's an alternate world, after all— but would my Dad be the same kind of man that I remember? Would he have married a different woman and had different kids, or is he unmarried and continuing the woodcarving business he was unhappy with? Did my Mom ever follow her passions in this world and try music? Are they entirely different people who I could never understand?

I don't know, I really don't, but it doesn't stop me from obsessing over it. When I find them I'll just try to make do with what I'm given. At least I'll still have them in some form, even if they're not what I'm familiar with.

…Fuck, I really need to get some sleep. I'll be driving for another twenty hours tomorrow. Hope I find a gas station soon, though.

I'd hate to get a replacement car so soon, after all.

---

Spoiler: AN and what to expect:

Hello, QQ! I have finally crawled out of my box to post another story.

Some things that I want to get out of the way before the story continues. I figure that this is the best spot.

So, first off, Scion is one-million-percent dead. I don't want him interfering with the story and the ever-hanging threat of 'the world will end' is such a dampener on what I'm trying to do. If I didn't kill Scion, Jack(the MC) would never do anything with any impact for fear of throwing Canon off its rails and stopping Khepri from saving everyone.

No Titans, no broken triggers, this story is not about that. If you really want an answer for how he died, Scion slipped on a cosmic banana peel and broke his eldritch neck on a particularly sharp rock.

Cauldron... I don't think I'm going to interact with them. Just assume they're doing their thing in the background trying to keep the world together and imagine them having freak-outs about Scion vanishing. Maybe I'll use them if Jack ever gets to the level that requires their attention, but I doubt it. Contessa isn't going to find Jack, but he's not immune to thinker powers. I just don't want the Contessa problem, just like I don't want the Scion problem.

Big one; This story is not taking place in Brockton Bay.

Jack immediately left and I don't want to be tied down by the canon characters. It'll be, essentially, an OC-story taking place in Worm. If you're not interested in that sorta thing, that's fine, I completely understand, just don't act surprised later because I'm telling you now. Stetsonburg, Texas is a fictional city, same with all the other cities that Jack will encounter, along with the parahumans he meets.

This story is for me to have fun above all else, I didn't write this so I could do homework and re-read 1.6 million words for perfect characterization and then still listen to the inevitable tide of character haters and purists bitching at me because I dared to interact with Taylor or got someone mischaracterized.

Maybe, maybe, maybe in the future, Jack will interact with the Canon characters, but I don't want to do that so early on and I haven't planned that far ahead. It's actually really hard to plan a story in advance, but that's my self-appointed goal for this story; to plan chapters in advance and not just write directly from my brain. I've improved with each story I've posted, so I'm hoping that trend continues.

I'll make an Index post later that gives a basic run-down of what Jack can do. I'll try to make it friendly to non-Witcherverse folk, but don't be afraid to ask for clarifications. Some things are a bit wobbly at the moment, so I might not have a perfect answer for some questions, but I'll try to answer regardless.

 

[DiscardedNotes]

Jack Lurie

Spoiler: AI + MSPAINT Picture

The jaw is a bit too pointy for how I imagine Jack, but it's the best I could get. The eyes were a pain in the ass to paint, though.

Okay, imgur is a pain. Here's the raw link. https://imgur.com/a/ZM63MLv

Level One

Abilities:
Swordsmanship (Decently skilled, but not at Geralt's level due to a weaker body)
Alchemy (Includes Potions, Decoctions, and Bombs)
Signs (Aard, Igni, Quen, Yrden, Axii)

Perks Unlocked:
None

Spoiler: Explanation of Signs

These are just to inform people of what they do. I won't chain myself to hard rules about them because I have some ideas about how to use the Signs and their weaknesses. All 'Alternates' are from Perks, so don't expect them from day 1.

All Aard and Igni are stronger the closer to the origin point (The casting hand).

Aard: The 'Force Push', in lay-man's terms. Force is exerted in a cone slice from the user's hand. Can be used to push back enemies.

Alternate Sign Mode: Exchanges the cone for a 360-degree blast emerging from the user. The chance to knockdown enemies is lower, as the force is dispersed. Very useful when surrounded.

Igni: A strong burst of fire that only lasts for a second but ignites things easily. Does decent damage on its own and can set the enemy/target on fire.

Alternate Sign Mode: Exchanges the short burst for a flamethrower emerging from the user's hand.

Quen: A shield that will take all damage until it breaks. Quick to use and persists for a time, so it can be used with other Signs. Will last for a duration and doesn't require concentration to maintain.

Alternate Sign Mode: Makes the shield active. Blocking attacks takes stamina and hits on the shield heal the users Vitality. It does require concentration to maintain

Yrden: A magic circle that slows down targets and makes immaterial things corporeal. Will last for a duration and doesn't require concentration to maintain.

Alternate Sign Mode: Exchanges the circular trap and the corporeality affect for essentially a magic sentry that slows and damages enemies. Destroys all projectiles that enter its range.

Axii: Relaxes the subject and makes them more willing to speak. If used in combat, incapacitates one target by making them relax and stop moving. Axii is unique in that it requires three hand gestures to use.

(Jack has to make A, X, and I in ASL to use Axii. That's the hand-signs in the Witcher 3, and I really liked that weakness for the 'you stop fighting now' sign.)

Alternate Sign Mode: Axii still functions as normal, but in combat, instead of incapacitating one enemy, that enemy will turn on their allies and fight with you as long as they are under the influence.

 

[DiscardedNotes]

CHAPTER 2

I woke to a quiet clunk but as I opened my eyes, I saw that it was someone knocking on my door window.

"Hey, uh, you okay in there, buddy?" The person said as I tried to get a look at him, but the sun was rising behind him leaving most of his body obscured as I failed to adjust.

"Hm, yeah, I'm alive. What's the deal?" I said back acidly. Shit, that was really rude.

"Well, my car stopped for some reason and I came to ask for some help. I'm no mechanic, but since I saw you parked here, so… uh, yeah." He —because it's definitely a guy's voice— responds nervously. Oh man, did I just bitch at someone asking for help?

"Oh, uh, that's fine. I'll give you a hand and if we can't get it working, I'm pretty sure I can give you a ride to the nearest town." I spoke, grabbing my keys as I unlocked my door and stepped outside, making the man back up because I hadn't warned him. Whoops.

The moment that he wasn't creating an eclipse by standing in the sunlight, my eyes adapted instantly to the light level. I noticed that it was faster than usual, but it wasn't important beyond that.

True to his word, a tow truck was parked about half a mile behind where I parked, near the treeline.

"Alright, 'spose we should head on over." I locked the door behind me and pocketed my keys as I took in the man's appearance.

He looked like a punk — that's the general impression I get from him, at least. He's got that stupid half-side cut for his hair and he's wearing a black denim jacket with the sleeves torn off on top of a black tank top with a painted-on skull decal. He's actually younger-looking than me, which is weird. Why's a teenager driving a tow truck?

"Uh, yeah… yeah, let's go." He responded nervously. Why is he so tense?

As we moved to his truck, I felt myself growing more and more wary. I survived going through the bad parts of Brockton Bay by following my gut instinct and right now it's telling me that there's something fishy about this.

What are the chances that some punk teen has his car stop working so close to mine? We're in the middle of nowhere, miles away from the closest town, and he just so happens to stop here?

Why's a teen even driving a tow truck, anyway? That's not something that a punk teen would drive, even if they were strapped for cash. A tow truck is more expensive because it's a work truck for businesses, and I'd imagine that someone so obvious about their tastes and preferences would spring for a more 'cool' ride than a goddamn tow truck.

As we approached, I slowed my pace so that we stopped walking side-by-side and ended up a step behind. Not such a big difference that he noticed, but I wasn't gonna let him behind me. If I'm wrong, then I was just worked up over nothing, but if I'm right? That's an entirely different story.

The truck was… well, it looks like a piece of shit. It was big enough that I felt like it could hold four people comfortably, which was surprising for a tow truck, but its white paint was chipped in large chunks near the edges, revealing the metal underneath with edges covered in a light rust. It's either uncared for or got bought at some kind of junkyard.

As we arrived at the front of the truck, I spoke to the teen. "So, do you think the problem is with the engine or the wheels?"

I cast my gaze his way as he started talking. "Uh, the— the back wheels, I think."

"Alright, lead the way," I respond. He seems to still for a moment, eyes looking past me for a second before backing up in a quick step.

Something inside of me screams and I drop to the floor in an instant, dodging the baseball bat that swings through where my head was a moment before. I do a sort of spider-crawl movement to the side, away from both them and the truck, before quickly getting back on my feet, hands ready to use a sign.

A bald man in a worn-out biker jacket without sleeves stands where I was a second ago, holding a baseball bat. "Boy! I told you what you were supposed to do and everything you were supposed to say, word for fuckin' word, and you still fucked it up!" He belts out at the boy, who seems to curl into himself at the words, but he never turns his eyes away from me as he recovers his balance from the swing.

He must've been hiding in the treeline, waiting for me to drop my guard to ambush me. What an asshole!

"S—Sorry, Dad. I swear, Dad, he didn't suspect a thing! I don't know why he dodged!" He responds.

"It's 'cause you backed up, boy! He dodged 'cause of you! Pull out that knife I gave you and give me a hand with this one!" The father commands in a deep voice as he slowly advances on me, bat at the ready.

So, this was a father-son robbery? Guess it makes some level of sense. We're in the middle of nowhere, no way that any help would be coming even if I could call for it. Still, fuck them! They tried to kill me!

"You know, we don't have to do this! We can just go our separate ways, no hard feelings!" I say to the pair in contention with my feelings, walking backward but never letting my hands drift from their position.

The father doesn't even acknowledge me, but the son looks at the dirt guiltily before sliding a switchblade out of his back pocket and flicking out the blade. "S—sorry, dude." He apologizes but is immediately yelled at again by his father. "Boy! Be quiet! I need to focus!" He turns to me and we stare at each other, both waiting for the other to approach before my boot shuffles against the ground, making a gravelly noise.

The father, as if that was his cue, rushes forward, closing the distance between us in a second, and swings the bat right for my shoulders. Instead of ducking again like he probably expected me to, my hand changes into the sign of Aard, and a blue wave of telekinetic energy blows the man back. Both father and son yell in shock, but the father is noticeably more shocked as he's pushed back several feet.

"Shit! He's a cape? We fucked with a cape?!" The son yells in a panic, but as the father stands back up he falls silent.

"Don't worry! It's fine! Just hit a bit harder than usual!" The father loudly says, but he's not speaking to his son.

Just as the question of who he's speaking to enters my mind, my leg is swept out from under me by a different baseball bat. I have a split-second to register that I've been hit before the pain of a baseball bat to the knee hits and I howl in pain.

"Ffffuck! Fuck you! Pieces of shit!" I scream back intelligently after my head smashes into the ground. The pain takes most of my attention and it's almost so much that I can't hear them speak.

"Good swing, Bill! I was getting worried for a second there!" The father says jubilantly as he approaches with the son.

"You good, George? I saw you get thrown back by whatever he did." A new voice, apparently Bill, responds.

"Yeah, I'm good. I was only thrown, but it was a damn surprise. Can't believe this guy's a cape; what poor fuckin' luck!" The father, George, says back before continuing. "And you, boy, I coulda sworn I told you not to move! I swear, this is the last time I'm taking you out to work!"

"Go a lil' easier on him, George, it's his first time. We made all sortsa mistakes on our first time, 'member?"

As they speak, I eventually regain my focus and piece things together. The new man, Bill, must've been hiding in the treeline too, just like George was. George gets the first hit and then Bill comes in as back-up when George misses! What a family of bastards! It's obviously not their first time, judging by their words.

Bill is standing over me with his bat, but he hasn't made any more moves to take me out while I was incapacitated. He must've assumed I was out for the count. That's a mistake and I'm gonna make this piece of shit pay for it!

I twist my palms away from the ground and aim them both directly at Bill before casting Aard again with both hands. A feeling reminiscent of swallowing too much liquid in one gulp, but reversed, runs through my body and I can feel something important strain for an unbearable instant before it goes through. Twin blasts of force send Bill a dozen feet into the air, screaming all the way.

I quickly roll away from the other two and try to get to my feet, but the sharp agony in my knee stops me. I face the father-son duo prepared to block an attack when I'm weak, but they're both looking up towards the screaming Bill in the air before a moment later George drops his bat and runs for where Bill's probably going to land as the son stays frozen in place.

While they're preoccupied, I try to get to my feet once more, bracing for the pain. My knee is still weak, but as I get to my feet I can feel the adrenaline rushing through my veins, dulling the pain.

I can hear George catch Bill and their yelling in the background, but it's not important right now. I have to take out one of their numbers and George has graciously left the weakest link alone for me.

I rush toward the teenager —whose name I realize I never heard— as he turns me and tries to swing his knife at me before I throw a punch directly into his nose with all the force I can muster, stopping him in his tracks. There's a crunching sound as the boy screams and falls backward. While he's distracted by that, I turn to the adults.

George is looking particularly angry, probably because I just punched his kid in the face, and Bill is already preparing to charge at me with his bat. Apparently, he didn't let go of it mid-air, which is surprising considering his screams.

This is actually the first time I've gotten a good look at Bill. He's a thinner man than George wearing a similarly worn-out biker jacket, but unlike George, he still has his sleeves. I can see the similarities between George's and Bill's faces. They're probably brothers, but definitely related even if they're not.

God, what a fucked up family. I can see it now; the brothers go out and kill people on this road regularly and now it's time to pass down the family tradition to their son and nephew? Christ…

"We don't have to keep doing this, you know? We can end this here, but this is the last chance I'm gonna offer you before I start beating your shit in!" I'm offering them a way out, but it's up to them to take it. I don't want to accidentally kill anyone.

Bill and George both look at the teen who's curled up and writhing on the ground before facing me again. Oh. I think this is the first time that he's been hit like that before from his reaction… Shit, that's not a good look for me.

"Uh… Would an apology for what I did to the kid work?" I ask, but my tone shows that I'm not really counting on it.

"No. I don't think that's gonna work for us. I am gonna rip your fuckin' fingers off, though! That'd work for us!" Bill started calmly before transitioning into a yell as he ran forward with his bat and George swiftly following his lead after pulling a knife from his boot. I guess they're going lethal, then?

There's a decent bit of space between me and the brothers — too much for Aard to be of any use, so I duck down and grab the bat that George dropped and wait for their arrival, off-hand at the ready.

The brothers split apart, trying to flank me from both sides. Shit, I didn't think that these guys would be the strategic type in a fight! I swiftly decide that Bill is the more dangerous one at the moment and blast him away with Aard. George looks concerned for his brother but uses the moment I forced his brother away to charge me. Double shit. I can't cast signs right after the other!

My mind races as I grab the bat with both hands and swing at George, but he seems to have been waiting for it and he lowers his head under my attack, trying to slice at my torso. I counter by kicking my knee directly into his forearm, making his hand reflexively drop the knife, as I release my off-hand from the bat and swing into his face, carrying the momentum as I bring it back from my swing. He's thrown to the side and the hit clearly disorients him.

The carried momentum does add damage to the hit, but it's also the final straw that throws me off balance. The combo of my foot off the ground, the bat swing, and the twist I made to hit George makes me fall backward as the competing forces collectively decide that backward is the way to go.

It's like I'm in slow motion as I fall. I can see George already getting his bearings from the admittedly weaker hit to the temple than what I gave his son, but as I fall back I can see Bill come into vision, already running toward me with his bat at the ready.

I take the fall hard, but I immediately scramble away from both of the brothers to my feet and cast Quen as soon as I'm able — and not a moment too soon, as the instant that it takes form, I feel the baseball bat slam into it and shatter the shield, but it's served its duty and given me a chance to slam my fist solidly into Bill's gut.

As Bill reflexively curls in on himself, I follow it up by grabbing his face and bringing it down into my knee, breaking his nose like I did to his nephew. Unable to keep up with the sudden injuries, Bill falls to the side with a nasally yell, but before I can take advantage of his weakness, I'm tackled from behind by George. We both fly forward for a moment before I slam into the ground and get crushed by the heavy weight.

George, taking advantage of my pinned form, begins to jab my side several times. Pain blooms from each impact, each worse than the last as he tenderizes my side. Adrenaline kicks in and the world slows once more as my mind races through everything I could do to get him off me. Quen won't help, it'd just delay the inevitable. Yrden wouldn't do a thing. Igni would burn me, and Aard would send us both flying.

Axii it is.

It's taxing to cast Axii, my arm barely able to twist to the correct angle, but I manage to shape my hand into the familiar gestures and the hits immediately stop. I breathe for a moment, unable to do anything more, but I remember that Bill could still fight and force my body to push the immobile George off me.

I shift around on my knees to see Bill slowly pushing himself up to his knees, staring at George.

"Che fuch did ou do cho 'im!?" His words are wet and blood gushes down his face as he speaks, but I get the gist of what he's saying.

I ignore his words but don't break eye contact as I breathe in and out deeply, regaining my strength while maintaining my influence over George. Deep breath in, deep breath out.

"I took him out of the fight, numbnuts. What, did you expect me to just take it?" I bite back, but my voice is barely more than a raspy whisper as my sides scream at me for daring to exert them in any capacity.

"Ah'll hill ou!" He gargles at me, seemingly finding a previously unearthed inner strength to get to his feet and charge at me like a bull, all sense lost to him.

You know what?

I think I'm fucking done with this.

I raise my hand and, instead of casting Aard or Axii again, blast him with Igni. The burst of fire sprays onto Bill, burning him harshly and immediately igniting his clothes. He falls forward, choosing to stop charging in place of screaming and rolling around on the floor.

Seeing him, a man that ambushed and hurt me, writhing on the floor surprisingly brings me no joy. In the moment, I really thought that when I cast Igni I'd feel satisfied, but I only feel exhausted. George slowly coming to his senses beside me snaps me out of my thoughts.

I blast him with Aard, propelling him away from me as he rolls uncontrollably across the ground, yelling all the while until he hits one of the bats on the ground and gets the breath knocked out of him.

As Bill tries to put himself out and George tries to get his breath back, I tremble to my feet and, after making sure that each of them is far enough away, start to walk toward their truck. I want to leave, but I can't have them following me.

Every step aches, but I eventually reach the truck and see the crumpled form of the teenager. He seems to have passed out at some point, but he's breathing so I don't care. I still don't even know his name. I stare down at him for a minute, my mind completely empty.

I come back to my senses when I hear George walking toward me, holding a bat this time. It seems he picked it up when I sent him tumbling.

"We don't have to continue, you know? This'll just end badly for you." I rasp at him.

"You burned my brother, you broke my boy's nose, and you beat the shit outta me. This is fuckin' personal, you hear me?" He bellows, the sound loud and strong, a stark contrast to me. He's out of range of all of my Signs — but I know something he cares about that isn't.

I point my hand at the prone teenager and form the gesture of Igni. He freezes immediately, going stock still.

"You know that my power comes from my hands, right?" I ask him, redundantly. He doesn't respond, still frozen.

"Answer me," I hiss at him.

"Y-Yeah. I noticed it comes outta your hands." He responds, much quieter than before.

"Oh, where's that bravado now? 'It's personal', right?" I mock, "Fuck you all. If you come near me, I'll roast him like your brother, only worse, ain't nothing you can do to fix that."

It's a bluff. Pieces of shit —all of them— but I won't burn the kid. Either he leaves me alone because he thinks I'll burn him, or he gets closer trying to stop me and I roast him instead.

I walk around the truck to its side, keeping one hand aimed at the unconscious teen, and use Igni at close range on the wheels. They pop and flatten near-instantly, melted holes releasing the trapped air.

I maintain eye contact with George throughout, but he doesn't move after I use Igni. Seems he hasn't figured out my cooldown. A quick glance behind him at Bill shows that he's put himself out, but he's lying on the ground, moaning in pain from his burns.

As I reach the teen again, I reach down and grab the dropped switchblade with my other hand, not moving the threatening hand away from him.

"What was even the fucking point of this all? Why go through all this hassle just to kill me when I've never even met you before?" I ask, a surprisingly strong need for answers compelling me.

After a moment, he opens his mouth to speak. "...We, uh, me and my brother… We've got an arrangement with an uncle of ours, set up by our old man when they were young. We bring him cars —working, not working, doesn't matter— and other things and, uh, he'll pay us good —great— money for everything." He says, pausing throughout as he keeps trying to find how to word murder-for-money in a better light and failing.

I don't know why I would care that he gets 'great' money instead of 'good' money for murder, but it's not making me feel any better.

He continues, visibly getting lost in memories as he reminisces. "Found out about this place in '89. People like to park here on long trips to and from the city 'cause it's out of the traffic, but not too off the road. There're lotsa murders around Brockton, so, uh, we pop by once a week until we catch one, then we go to the other spots for a few months and rotate between 'em. Let the heat die down, you know?" He seems to come to himself and remember that I'm holding his son hostage, which is a fucked-up thing to forget, even for a moment.

What utter pieces of filth.

I've heard about things like this, warnings about the rural south —things like nail traps and carjackings— but holy shit are people like this vile. I'd be doing the world a favor by killing them, but I don't think I'm physically capable of doing that right now if he gets in melee range. If I had known this when I started, I'd have just come out with Igni and blasted them from the start.

"Get to the other side of the goddamn truck, go on the side opposite of me, or I swear to God, you won't have a son after this," I demand, unwilling to listen to any more of this vile shit. He gives a long look at his prone son, but after a quick shake of my threatening hand, he obeys. "Stay the fuck back when I leave for my car. Your boy'll be outta range, but not your brother — keep that in mind when I go."

My injuries start hurting even more as I leave the area, my adrenaline finally beginning to leave me. The walk is slow going, maintaining a constant awareness of George and Bill —because I will not get jumped by him again— while managing a limp from the initial strike on my leg slows me down heavily, but I eventually make it to my car without incident. In the distance, I can see George checking on his family, but I don't care as long as they don't follow me.

I unlock the car, slip into the driver's seat, and start it up immediately. Despite my body screaming that I take it easy, I know I can't when those three are behind me. I drive off, checking the time.

It's only been half an hour since I got woken up by the teenager.

The thought that all of that was only half an hour seems to be the tipping point and I can feel my body trembling as the last remnants of adrenaline exit my system and my hands start shaking, a dangerous prospect on the road, but I'm unwilling to park in case they follow me. I'm in no condition to fight them off for a second time.

I know I'm calm because I don't feel anything bad right now except my injuries, but my heart is pounding so strongly that it's physically painful and I feel kind of lightheaded. It's no matter — I'm fine.

I'm completely fine.

---

I drive for about an hour before I come to a stop, finally reaching my limit.

After coming to a resting point, I tilt the seat backward as far as it'll go and try to get as comfortable as possible without getting in the back of the car. Once all the adrenaline ran out and what happened had time to set it, I can only say that this morning really fucking sucked.

I thought that once I left Brockton Bay, I'd be fine —safe, even— from the vast majority of assholes looking to kill me for no reason, but apparently not even the outskirts of Brockton are safe. I'm seven —now eight— hours away from Brockton and this was still considered in range of it by those assholes. Is Earth Bet really just so bad that everyone could be a threat?

My Dad and I have helped strangers on the side of the road before, like when they get caught in a ditch and need to get winched out or a tire pops. This was supposed to be a simple good deed, not a fucking bandit attack. If I hadn't listened to my gut, I'd have been instantly knocked out by that first bat swing and then easily killed as some sort of fucked-up initiation for a teenager.

I could've died for nothing— No, for some fucking money because the car I drive is worth more than me in their eyes. In my anger, I take too deep a breath and pain shoots up my side. Fucking hell.

Every movement I make sends jolts of pain through my sides and my face is scratched up from getting tackled into the dirt. Thankfully, it doesn't seem like anything got stuck in the wounds and a water bottle from the middle compartment helped clean out most of the dirt I could see, but it still stings like a bitch.

The worst fight I've ever been in before this was rough-housing with my friends in junior high —nothing even close to that fight for survival— and the last genuine punch I threw was at some jackass who insulted my Mom in —you guessed it— junior high. I'm a graduate now, for reference on how long ago that was.

The only good thing to come of this is that I earned some experience, but it's not nearly enough to justify fighting for it. That whole fight —the struggle for my life— was worth twenty-five experience to my system. Great. I'm now twenty-five points towards the one-thousand needed to level up a single time.

Honestly, I might just have to give up on getting ability points in any reasonable timeframe. At this rate, I'm going to have to do that whole fight again forty different times for a single point, and I'm not willing to do that. God, I barely survived one fight, and this thing expects me to do it forty more times?

Alright, that's enough rest. If I stay lying down any longer, my body will never want to move again and I'm not entirely safe yet.

I need to get to town and if I can find a hospital, that'd be great. If I can't find a way to get treatment, I'll just shoplift a medkit and medical book. One thing I learned as a summer cashier? They do not care if you take shit — it's just not their problem.

The GPS says that the closest town is a city called Caulview. Wish I had more info, but I truly feel that literally anywhere would be better than Brockton Bay.

---

Spoiler: AN

Hurray, I finished Chapter 2 in a decent margin of time! This does wonders for my ego, don't hesitate to feed it more.

Alright, so some of you may be wondering 'Why was there a fight in this chapter? Isn't it unnecessary?' and I'll respond with a couple reasons.

First off, I wanted to show how inexperienced Jack is along with how he fights with his abilities. He'd have done significantly better with a sword, but he still managed to survive a 2v1 (Calvin, the teen who got instantly knocked out, doesn't count outside of XP) against some experienced ambush killers, even if he still got heavily injured. Mundane humans remain a danger to Jack, even if he's got powers.

Secondly, I wanted to, as the chapter title says, plant the seed of doubt in Jack about human decency. Jack has some misconceptions about Earth Bet and the people in it. He's a good man raised in a good family in a good environment with friendly people, so he has the subconscious expectation of people being kind.

There was never going to be a 'nice' way to break that delusion, but this was an easier start to write than having him be conned again and again because he'd never realize he's been conned. He left Brockton and immediately let down his guard, which was a mistake.

Thirdly, these kinds of people are real. There are genuinely people in the rural south who will set spike traps out to get you to leave your car before they beat you to death and steal everything you had. I've heard stories from a relative of one of their experiences with people like that and it impacted me at a young age. Be safe people.

Fourthly, I wanted to write a fight because that's cool. Sue me.

Now, some of you may be wondering about the EXP system and how that works. I'll put that in a spoiler thing so that people who want to not know can ignore it and learn when Jack figures it out.

Spoiler: EXP Distribution

So, for a combat encounter, the default is 10XP + 5XPx per person. Difficulty does not factor into the calculation, just enemies defeated. It's not super rewarding, but it's a reward for fighting regardless. Death isn't a mandatory component for 'defeat', by the way.

The main Experience giver is 'Quests'. Wait, don't worry, I'm not doing the typical gamer thing of 'do X and receive Y' from a screen that pops up in front of him.

A 'Quest' is a journey or job that Jack does, but he has no way to know that he's doing a Quest until it's finished, and he gets the XP reward.

Story Quests are rewards by me for him doing overarching story things.

For instance, he is currently doing the quest 'Thicker than Water' for the reward of 1,000XP when he finds his family/finds out what happened to them depending on how I take it. Are they dead, are they alive? That's for him to discover, but he'll be given the XP once he has completed that journey.

I'll endeavor to give quests cool sounding names relating to various sayings because that's badass.

Job Quests are created by people asking Jack to do something for them. 'Kill this man', 'Arrest those people', 'Save my daughter', ect. Witcher Contracts, essentially.
They'll have various levels of EXP given depending on the difficulty of the job. Harder = More XP, obviously.

Jack cannot manipulate the XP system outside of doing things with the goal of obtaining it as a reward, like fighting or doing contracts. He can't ask for people to give him easy jobs for XP because I won't give him XP for that. Story Quests are decided by me and are 'finished' at my discretion, so Jack can't try to specifically finish those because he doesn't know what causes them.

Anyways, hope y'all enjoyed this chapter. Next one, Jack will be in Caulview city. He'll be sticking around there for a while because I plan to introduce some people over time, and finally expand the cast beyond 'Here's the MC'