The Scumbag's Guide To Heroism

The Oracle Feed pinged in my peripheral vision.

〘 Subject’s elevated heart rate and aggressive positioning indicate emotional investment masked as interrogation. Physical dominance display suggests insecurity regarding information asymmetry in relationship dynamic. 〙

In other words, Sloane was worried I was keeping secrets from her, and she was handling it the way she handled everything—by pinning me to a mattress and demanding answers.

"I’m not hiding anything." The lie came out smooth because technically it was true. I wasn’t hiding the Force Manipulation classification. I was hiding approximately seventeen other things, but not that specifically.

"Then why did you look so relieved when Dr. Weber approved it?" She shifted her weight again, and this time there was no way she didn’t notice my body’s reaction to having her straddling me. Her eyes widened slightly, and a flush crept up her neck. "Why did my mom jump in with that explanation before you could answer?"

"Because your mom is better at this than I am," I said honestly. "She’s been managing Hero PR for two decades. She knew what classification would work best for my application."

Sloane stared down at me, her expression conflicted. The aggressive interrogation stance was faltering, replaced by something else entirely. Something that made my pulse kick up for reasons that had nothing to do with being caught in a lie.

"You’ve been different," she said quietly. "Ever since you manifested. Ever since that night in the training room when I—when we—"

"When you walked in on me naked?"

"Before that." Her face went red but she didn’t look away. "When we were training. When you wouldn’t stay down no matter how many times I knocked you on your ass. You were different then."

She leaned down until our noses almost touched. Her breath was warm against my lips.

"Maybe you’ve been holding out on me this whole time." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Maybe there’s more to your Aspect than what you showed Dr. Weber today."

My heart hammered against my ribs. She was too close. Too warm. Too fucking perceptive for someone who was supposed to be the impulsive explosive type.

"What if there is?" I asked, testing the waters.

Her eyes searched mine. "Then I’d want to know why you didn’t trust me enough to tell me."

The Oracle Feed notification appeared again.

〘 Temptation Gauge Update: Sloane Fitzgerald - 60% (+1%) - DEVOTED THRESHOLD REACHED

Subject emotional state: Conflicted attachment. Jealousy of information asymmetry competing with protective instinct. Physical positioning indicates desire for intimacy masked as confrontation.

Warning: Devoted stage subjects prioritize host wellbeing over personal comfort. Emotional vulnerability window detected. 〙

Sixty percent. She hit Devoted while pinning me to my bed and demanding to know my secrets.

The System really had a sick sense of humor.

"I trust you," I said, and meant it more than she could possibly know. "But some things are complicated to explain. Some things are still developing and I don’t fully understand them yet."

"Like what?"

"Like the fact that sometimes when I use my Aspect, I feel like there’s more there than just moving objects around." The lie mixed with truth smoothly. "Like there’s potential I haven’t tapped into yet. Your mom recognized that. Dr. Weber recognized that. The Force Manipulation classification gives me room to grow into whatever my Aspect actually is."

Sloane’s expression softened slightly. "So you’re not hiding some crazy secondary power from me?"

"Nothing I’m aware of," I said, which was technically true if you didn’t count Blitz, Boundless Stamina, False Data, Dampen, Sexercise, and the Faceless Veil currently sitting in my inventory.

She studied my face for a long moment, then slowly released my wrists.

"Fine," she said. "But if you develop something new, I want to know about it. Immediately."

"Deal."

She didn’t move off my lap. Her hands rested on my chest now, her weight settling more comfortably against me. The interrogation was over but she wasn’t leaving.

"Dinner’s probably ready," I said.

"Probably."

Neither of us moved.

Her eyes dropped to my mouth. My hands found her waist like they had a mind of their own, thumbs brushing against the strip of skin where her tank top had ridden up.

"Sloane—"

She kissed me before I could finish the thought. Harder than she had in the theater, more desperate than she had in the gym this morning. Her fingers tangled in my hair and her body pressed flush against mine and suddenly having her on top of me wasn’t about interrogation anymore.

I kissed her back, one hand sliding up her spine while the other gripped her hip. She made a sound against my mouth that shot straight through me.

The Oracle Feed was probably having a field day with this data but I couldn’t have cared less.

Sloane broke the kiss, breathing hard. Her face was flushed and her eyes were unfocused and she looked at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.

"I’m still mad you didn’t tell me everything," she said.

"Noted."

"And I still think you’re hiding something."

"Probably."

"But I—" She stopped herself, biting her lip.

"You what?"

She climbed off me abruptly, running a hand through her messy pink hair. "Dinner. We should go downstairs before my mom comes looking for us."

"Sloane—"

"Don’t." She held up a hand. "Just... don’t make me say it yet. Okay?"

I sat up slowly, watching her retreat toward my door. The Oracle Feed helpfully informed me that her Temptation Gauge was still at sixty percent and her emotional state registered as flustered.

No shit.

"For what it’s worth," I said, "I’m not trying to hide things from you. Not the important stuff."

She glanced back at me, and for a second that aggressive confidence cracked completely. She looked young and uncertain and absolutely beautiful.

"You better not be or I’ll kill your ass," she said. Then she was gone, the door clicking shut behind her.

I fell back onto my bed, staring at the ceiling again.

Sixty percent. Devoted stage. Sloane Fitzgerald was officially at the point where her emotional attachment to me would override her better judgment in critical situations.

And I had absolutely no idea what I was doing.

The Faceless Veil sat in my inventory, waiting. A mask that would let me be someone else entirely. Someone who didn’t have to navigate the complicated mess of Sloane’s feelings or Diane’s suspicions or the System’s increasingly fucked up quest requirements.

Just me and the night and whatever trouble I could find.

"Later," I promised myself. "After Halloran. After I’m licensed and have actual backing. Then I’ll figure out what to do with you."

〘 Recommended course of action: Maintain current progression trajectory with primary heroine. Devoted threshold crossed successfully. Continue building attachment while pursuing secondary objectives.

New main quest available soon. 〙

I could work with that.

I dragged myself off the bed and headed downstairs, where Sloane was already loading her plate with pad thai and pretending she hadn’t just kissed me senseless thirty seconds ago.

Diane looked between us with knowing eyes and a smile that promised future conversations I absolutely did not want to have.

"Thai food makes everything better," she said cheerfully.

"Amen to that," I muttered, and grabbed enough spring rolls to avoid making eye contact with either of them for at least five minutes.