The Scumbag's Guide To Heroism

We shook on it. Her hand was still warm from holding the plate.

〘Physical contact registered. Temptation Gauge stable.〙

She leaned back into the couch. Pulled her legs up under her. The shirt rode up slightly. Definitely wearing shorts underneath. Black and short enough to qualify as underwear.

Don’t stare. Don’t be that guy.

I forced my eyes back to the TV. The driver was in another chase sequence. This time the cops were gaining on him.

"This movie is pretty good," Sloane said.

"Yeah." 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦

She shifted closer to get a better view of the screen.

We watched in silence for a while. The driver pulled off an impossible drift through an alley. The cop cars crashed trying to follow.

Sloane laughed. "No way that’s possible."

"It’s a movie. Physics are optional."

"Still. The car would flip."

"You’re thinking too hard about it."

She elbowed me in the ribs. Not hard enough to hurt. Just enough to be annoying.

I elbowed her back. Gentle. Playful.

She went still. Looked at me with an unreadable expression.

"What?"

"Nothing." She turned back to the TV. "You’re just being weird today."

"How am I being weird?"

"I don’t know. Different. More..." She trailed off.

"More what?"

"Present. Like you were actually here instead of just existing in the same space."

That hit deeper than it should have. She was right. The original Lukas was quiet. Withdrawn. Spent most of his time in his room or at the library. Didn’t engage much with the household.

I wasn’t him. Couldn’t be him. And apparently Sloane noticed.

"Is that a bad thing?" I asked.

She shook her head. "No. It’s just different."

We fell back into silence. The movie played out. The driver got caught eventually but escaped during the transfer. Drove off into the sunset with the girl he fell for during the heist planning.

Credits rolled.

"Want to watch another one?" Sloane asked.

I checked the quest timer. Eleven hours and seventeen minutes.

"Can’t. Got some stuff to take care of."

"What stuff?"

"Research. Halloran prep."

Her expression shifted. The playful energy drained away.

"You’re really doing this."

"Yeah."

"Even though it’s stupid and dangerous and you’re going to get hurt."

"Even though."

She stood up abruptly. Grabbed her empty plate.

"Fine. Do whatever you want. Not my problem."

She stormed into the kitchen. The plate clattered into the sink louder than necessary.

〘Warning: Subject emotional state destabilising. Temptation Gauge decrease risk elevated.〙

I followed her into the kitchen. She was standing at the sink with her back to me. Her shoulders were tense.

"Sloane."

"What?"

"I’m not trying to piss you off."

"Could’ve fooled me."

"I mean it. I know you think this is a bad idea but I have to try."

She spun around. "Why? What’s the point? You’re Unmarked, Lukas. Halloran doesn’t want you. The Hero system doesn’t want you. Why force it?"

"Because I’m tired of being useless."

"You’re not useless."

"Yes, I am. I’ve been living off Diane’s charity for nine years. Taking up space. Contributing nothing."

"That’s not true."

"It is. And you know it." I took a step closer. "I need to do this. For me. Not for my parents. Not for anyone else. For me."

Sloane’s hands curled into fists at her sides. Her eyes were bright. Angry or hurt or both.

"And when you fail the exam? When you get rejected in front of everyone? What then?"

"Then I try again."

"There is no trying again. Halloran entrance is once a year. You get one shot."

"Then I better make it count."

She stared at me. Searching for something in my face.

"You’re serious."

"Completely."

"You’re an idiot."

"Probably."

She shook her head. Wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Fine. If you’re going to be stupid about this, then I’m training you properly. No more going easy."

"You were going easy?"

"Yes, dumbass. That was me being nice." She stepped forward. Poked me in the chest. "Starting tonight, you’re getting the real training. The kind that makes people quit."

"I’m not going to quit."

"We’ll see."

She pushed past me. Headed for the stairs.

"Eight o’clock," she called over her shoulder. "Don’t be late."

Then she was gone. The sound of her door closing echoed through the house.

I stood alone in the kitchen. The sink dripped. The refrigerator hummed.

〘Temptation Gauge update: 31%. Subject emotional investment increasing. Recommended strategy: continue current approach. Sincerity reads as vulnerability to target demographic.〙

"Shut up," I muttered.

I headed back upstairs to my room. Needed to do more research. Figure out what skills I should prioritise. What Gacha pulls would be most useful.

The quest timer glowed in my vision. Ten hours and fifty-two minutes.

Tonight’s training session was my last real shot at completing this without being creepy about it. I needed a plan that didn’t make me hate myself.

I opened my laptop and started searching. Combat skills for Unmarked Heroes. Successful Halloran applicants without Aspects. Training regimens that didn’t require powers.

The more I read, the clearer it became. Speed and timing. Those were the advantages I could develop. Not strength or durability. Those required either genetics or an Aspect.

But speed came from technique. Timing came from pattern recognition. Both things I could learn if I focused.

The Oracle Feed might give me an edge there. Real-time analysis. Threat assessment. Movement prediction.

I spent the next few hours diving deep into combat theory. By the time I looked up, the sun was lower in the sky. The quest timer read seven hours and nine minutes.

My stomach growled. I never made breakfast for myself. Just Sloane.

I headed back downstairs. Made myself a sandwich. Turkey and swiss on wheat. Simple.

Sloane’s door was closed. Music played faintly from behind it. Something with heavy drums and aggressive vocals.

I ate standing at the counter. Thought about tonight’s training. What Sloane meant by "real training."

One hour and seventeen minutes until training. Just under three hours until quest failure.

I finished my sandwich. Cleaned up. Headed back to my room to change into workout gear.

The quest timer counted down. Relentless. Unforgiving.

This was fine. Everything was fine. I had a plan.

Sort of.

〘Confidence levels detected: 34%. Survival probability unchanged.〙

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

〘Confidence is not required for success. Only execution.〙

I grabbed my water bottle. Headed for the stairs. Seven fifty-nine.

Sloane’s door opened. She stepped out in training clothes. Black leggings. Sports bra. Hair tied back tight.

"Ready?" she asked.

No. Not even a little bit.

"Yeah," I said. "Let’s do this."

===

[A/N:]

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