The Scumbag's Guide To Heroism

The shower water hit hot enough to hurt. I stood under the spray and let it beat the sweat off me. Every muscle in my body screamed about the training session. My shoulders ached. My legs felt like they were made of jelly.

Worth it though. Two more stat points. A new side quest that actually made sense. And Sloane’s Temptation Gauge climbing without me having to do anything creepy.

Well. Mostly without doing anything creepy.

I soaped up and rinsed off, trying not to think about the quest timer still counting down in my vision. Twelve hours and forty-three minutes. Plenty of time. I’d figure something out during tonight’s session.

The hot water ran out faster than I expected. I finished up and grabbed a towel, drying off while condensation fogged up the mirror. My reflection appeared in patches through the steam. Still strange seeing this face instead of my own. Sharp cheekbones. Amber eyes. The scar through my left eyebrow.

I threw on clean clothes. Dark joggers and a grey t-shirt. My standard hoodie stayed on the bed. Too hot for that right now.

Downstairs, I headed straight for the kitchen. My stomach growled loud enough to echo off the marble countertops. Training burned calories like crazy. I needed food. Lots of it.

The fridge was packed. I grabbed what I needed for a protein shake. Milk, banana, peanut butter, protein powder. Tossed it all in the blender and hit the button.

The Oracle Feed lit up.

〘Target approaching from upstairs. ETA: 47 seconds. Subject status: relaxed, recently showered, wearing minimal clothing.〙

I ignored it. Poured the shake into a glass and took a long drink. Tasted like chocolate peanut butter. Not bad.

The living room called to me. There was a massive TV mounted on the wall, easily seventy inches. I hadn’t watched TV in this world yet. Didn’t even know what shows existed here.

I settled onto the couch with my shake and grabbed the remote. The TV flickered to life. I scrolled through the streaming apps until I found something that looked interesting.

Movie thumbnails flashed past. Action films, comedies, dramas. One caught my eye. The poster showed a guy behind the wheel of a sports car, sunglasses on, city lights blurred in the background. Title read "Drift King."

Close enough to Baby Driver. I clicked play.

The opening sequence started. Synth music pumped through the surround sound. The driver tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the beat. The camera panned across his face. He was waiting for something.

A bank heist crew piled into the car. The driver didn’t speak. Just nodded and turned up the music.

The heist went down. The crew ran out with bags of cash. Sirens wailed in the distance. The driver peeled out before everyone was even inside.

What followed was five minutes of the most insane driving I’d ever seen on screen. The car slid through traffic like water. Drifted around corners at impossible angles. The music never stopped, never broke rhythm. Every movement synced to the beat.

I leaned forward. This was good. Really good.

Footsteps sounded behind me.

"What are you watching?"

I didn’t turn around. "Movie."

Sloane walked into view. She stood directly between me and the TV. Her pink hair was damp from her own shower. She was wearing an oversized band t-shirt that hung past her hips. I couldn’t tell if she was wearing shorts underneath. The shirt was long enough that it didn’t matter.

Except it did matter. Because now I was looking. And trying not to look. And definitely looking.

"Can you move?" I asked.

She leaned to the left. I leaned right to see past her.

She shifted right. Blocked my view again.

"Seriously?"

"Can I help you?" she asked. The picture of innocent confusion.

"Yeah. Move."

"Aren’t you forgetting something?"

I racked my brain. Showered. Brushed my teeth. Cleaned up the bathroom. Even put the wet towels in the hamper like a civilised human being.

"Hm? Nah. I brushed my teeth and cleaned my room and the bathroom."

Sloane’s eyes narrowed. "What did you forget?"

Oh shit.

"Breakfast," she said slowly. "For two weeks. Chop chop."

I blinked. "Right now?"

"Yes, right now. I want french toast and eggs and orange juice and turkey bacon."

"You being deadass?"

"Yes I’m being deadass, dumbass. Now get up and make me my breakfast like a good boy."

The words hit different coming out of her mouth. My brain short-circuited for a second. I looked her up and down without thinking about it.

"The fuck?"

Smoke curled from her hands. Literal smoke. The air around her fingers shimmered with heat.

I stood up fast. Saluted on reflex. "Yes ma’am. Right away ma’am."

When someone could beat your ass, you chose your battles.

Sloane’s hands stopped smoking. She smirked. "That’s what I thought."

She dropped onto the couch in the spot I’d just vacated. Picked up my protein shake and took a sip without asking. Made a face.

"This tastes like chalk."

"Then don’t drink it."

"Too late. Already contaminated with my germs." She took another sip just to prove her point.

I headed back to the kitchen. The movie played behind me. Car sounds and synth music filled the living room.

French toast. Eggs. Orange juice. Turkey bacon. Got it.

I pulled ingredients from the fridge. Bread, eggs, milk, cinnamon. The bacon was in the meat drawer. Orange juice in the door.

Cooking was one of the skills that transferred clean from my old life. Muscle memory worked the same regardless of which body I was in. I cracked eggs into a bowl. Added milk and cinnamon. Whisked it together.

The griddle heated up on the stove. I buttered it and dipped the first slice of bread.

〘Domestic capability demonstration increases subject comfort. Temptation Gauge +1%. Current level: 30%.〙

I flipped the french toast. Golden brown on both sides. Perfect.

The bacon went into a separate pan. It sizzled and popped. Smelled incredible.

"Smells good," Sloane called from the couch.

"Don’t get used to it."

"Two weeks, remember? I’m getting very used to it."

I plated the first batch of french toast. Started on the eggs. Scrambled, since she didn’t specify. Easier that way.

The bacon finished. I drained it on paper towels and started the second round of french toast.

Ten minutes later, I walked into the living room with a full plate. French toast stacked three high. Scrambled eggs on the side. Bacon arranged neatly. Orange juice in a glass.

Sloane looked up. Her eyes widened.

"Holy shit."

"What?"

"This looks professional."

I shrugged. "It’s breakfast."

She took the plate. Balanced it on her lap. Cut into the french toast with the side of her fork.

The first bite went in. Her eyes closed.

"Oh my god."

"It’s just french toast."

"No. This is actual restaurant quality french toast." She took another bite. "Where did you learn to cook like this?"

Good question. One I didn’t have a clean answer for.

"Just picked it up over the years."

She didn’t look convinced but didn’t push. Too busy eating.

I sat on the opposite end of the couch. Picked up the remote. The movie was still playing but I’d lost the thread of the plot.

Sloane demolished the food faster than I expected. She ate like someone who’d just finished a hard workout and needed fuel. No small bites. No pretence.

She drained the orange juice in three long swallows. Set the empty plate on the coffee table.

"That was amazing."

"Glad you liked it."

"Liked it? I’m upgrading the deal. You’re making all my meals for two weeks."

"That wasn’t the agreement."

"New agreement. Better agreement."

I gave her a flat look. "What do I get out of this?"

She thought for a second. "Extended training sessions?"

"I already asked for a second session today."

"Fine. Three sessions a day instead of two."

That was actually useful. More training meant more chances to complete the quest. More opportunities to build stats. Better progress on the side quest.

"Deal," I said.

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[A/N:]

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