The Scumbag's Guide To Heroism

It wasn’t really a request.

Sloane shot me a look that clearly said this is it before following her mother back outside. The screen door swung shut behind them with a soft click that somehow felt louder than a slam would have.

I stood alone in the living room, listening to the muffled sound of their voices through the open door. Couldn’t make out the words, but I didn’t need to. The tone carried everything. Diane speaking in that calm, measured way that suggested she was managing the conversation three moves ahead of where it currently sat. Sloane responding with shorter, sharper replies that indicated she was barely holding onto her composure and losing ground with each exchange.

The Oracle Feed offered nothing helpful. Just a quiet hum in the back of my mind that felt almost sympathetic, which was more unsettling than its usual trolling.

They came back inside together after what felt like an hour but was probably closer to ten minutes. Diane set her overnight bag by the stairs with practiced efficiency. Sloane looked like she wanted to bolt for her room and barricade the door behind her.

"Living room," Diane said pleasantly, the kind of pleasant that brooked no argument. "All of us. Now."

We filed in like students called to the principal’s office, each claiming our territory with the careful precision of people who knew this was about to get complicated. Sloane took the armchair, curling into it defensively with her knees drawn up like armor. I claimed one end of the couch, leaving enough space to suggest I wasn’t presuming anything. Diane settled into the other end with her usual grace, crossing her legs and folding her hands in her lap.

The picture of composed professionalism preparing to handle a delicate negotiation.

"So," she began, her voice carrying that particular quality that meant she’d already decided how this conversation would go and was just waiting for the rest of us to catch up. "I think we all know why we’re here."

"Because you and Lukas have been screwing behind my back for two weeks?" Sloane’s voice came out harder than she probably intended, but she didn’t try to soften it.

"Sloane." The name carried just enough edge to register as a warning.

"What? You wanted to talk about boundaries and expectations. That seems like a relevant starting point."

Diane’s expression didn’t change by so much as a micro-expression. Professional to her core, even when the professional situation involved her daughter discovering she’d been sleeping with the boy who’d been living in their house for nine years.

"You’re angry," she said evenly. "You have every right to be. But if you want this conversation to be productive, you’re going to need to put that anger aside for twenty minutes and actually listen to what I’m telling you."

"I’ve been listening." Sloane’s voice climbed half an octave. "That’s how I found out you’re sleeping with my boyfriend."

"He wasn’t your boyfriend when we started."

"That doesn’t make it better, Mom."

"I know." Diane’s voice softened slightly. "Sugar, I know this is complicated. But I need you to trust that I’m trying to find a solution that works for everyone."

Sloane opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again. Her hands were fisted in her lap. I could see the tension in her shoulders from across the room.

Diane turned her attention to me. "Lukas. How are you feeling about all this?"

The question landed like a trap disguised as concern.

"Confused," I said honestly. "And guilty as hell."

"Good. You should be." She said it matter-of-factly, without malice. "You’ve been lying to Sloane for two weeks. That’s not something we can just brush aside."

"I know."

"But—" She held up one perfectly manicured finger. "I’ve been lying to her for just as long. So if we’re assigning blame here, it belongs to both of us equally."

Sloane made a sound that might have been agreement or protest.

"Here’s what I know," Diane continued, her voice taking on that particular quality that meant she was about to present her carefully constructed argument. "You care about my daughter. You’ve proven that today by actually talking to her instead of running away. And Sloane cares about you, which is obvious to anyone with functional eyes."

"Mom—"

"Let me finish, sugar." Diane’s gaze stayed locked on me. "I also know that you and I have something. Something that neither of us was looking for but found anyway. Something that’s been beneficial for both of us in ways that go beyond just physical satisfaction."

My stomach dropped. She knew about the power boost. She had to. There was no other reason to phrase it that way.

"So here’s my proposal," she said, and I could practically hear the System purring in satisfaction. "We stop pretending this is a situation where someone has to lose. We establish clear boundaries, maintain honest communication, and figure out how to make this work for all three of us."

Sloane stared at her mother like Diane had just suggested they all join a cult. "You want us to share him."

"I want us to stop forcing an ultimatum that hurts everyone involved." Diane’s voice remained calm. Reasonable. "You love him. I care about him deeply. He cares about both of us. Why should any of us have to give that up just because society says relationships are supposed to look a certain way?"

"Because it’s weird, Mom. It’s really, really weird."

"Most valuable things are." Diane finally turned to look at her daughter properly. "You’re going to Halloran in less than two weeks. You’re going to be surrounded by ambitious Hero candidates who will absolutely try to pursue Lukas the moment they realize what he’s capable of. Would you rather face that knowing you have support at home, or face it alone because we forced an impossible choice?"

The logic was airtight. Manipulative as hell, but airtight.

And it aligned perfectly with what the System wanted.

〘 Analysis: Subject Diane Fitzgerald has constructed optimal framework for quest completion. Recommend acceptance with minor modifications to establish host agency. 〙

"What kind of boundaries are we talking about?" I asked carefully.

Diane smiled. "Smart question. Here’s what I’m thinking..."