The Scumbag's Guide To Heroism

It was a fair question.

"They’ll remember I got the job done," I said. "Same as my parents did."

Something flickered in her eyes—respect, maybe? She leaned closer.

"Your parents were mid-tier at best," she said quietly. "Good people, sure. But they never cracked the top hundred. Is that what you’re aiming for? Mediocrity with a moral compass?"

My fingers tightened around my cup.

"At least they died heroes," Sloane snapped. "Not corporate sellouts shilling energy drinks on Instagram."

Grande Dame’s smile didn’t waver, but her eyes hardened again. "Careful, little girl. You’re not licensed yet. I’d hate for the Halloran committee to hear about your attitude problem before you even apply."

"Are you threatening her?" I asked.

"Of course not." Grande Dame’s hand landed on my thigh under the table, squeezing lightly. "Just offering friendly advice. The hero world is political, Lukas. Best you learn that early."

Her hand stayed on my thigh, thumb moving in small circles. I shifted uncomfortably, but she didn’t take the hint.

"Tell you what," she continued, "if you’re serious about Halloran, I could give you some pointers. My agency has connections there. We could meet for coffee sometime."

"That’s really not necessary," I said, carefully removing her hand from my leg. "I’ve got all the support I need."

Grande Dame’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Suit yourself. But my offer stands." She slid a business card across the table. "When you decide you want to play in the major leagues instead of the Fitzgerald farm system, call me."

She stood up, smoothing her crop top. "Enjoy your little date. And Sloane? Do tell your mother I said hello. I’m sure she thinks about me often."

With that parting shot, she sashayed away, immediately surrounded by fans wanting selfies.

"I hate her," Sloane said the moment Grande Dame was out of earshot. "I hate her so fucking much."

"I gathered that. What’s the real story between her and Diane?"

Sloane sighed, deflating a bit. "It’s exactly what I said. Grande Dame approached my mom’s agency after her last representation dropped her. Mom met with her, assessed her brand potential, and turned her down."

"Why? Grande Dame is ranked fourteenth nationally. That’s a big client."

"Mom said she was a bad investment. Too volatile, too self-centered. Said her power was impressive but her character wasn’t. That she’d never be a top-five hero because she cared more about looking good than doing good."

I whistled. "Diane actually said that to her face?"

"Apparently." Sloane stabbed a fry into ketchup with unnecessary force. "Grande Dame didn’t take it well. She’s had it out for our family ever since. Tries to poach Mom’s clients, talks shit about her in interviews."

"And now she’s hitting on her daughter’s boyfriend?" I raised an eyebrow. "That’s commitment to a grudge."

Sloane’s face turned pink again. "So I’m your girlfriend now?"

"I mean..." I rubbed the back of my neck. "I thought that was happening already? With the kissing and everything?"

"You never asked me properly."

"Do you want me to get down on one knee in the middle of an arcade food court?"

She kicked my shin under the table. "No, idiot. Just... ask me."

I reached across the table and took her hand. "Sloane Fitzgerald, will you be my girlfriend? Despite the fact that I will definitely lose to you in any dance game ever invented?"

A smile broke across her face. "Yeah. I guess I will. Despite your complete lack of rhythm."

"That’s very generous of you."

"I know." She squeezed my hand. "Now let’s get out of here before Grande Lame comes back for round two."

We cleared our trays and headed for the exit. As we walked through the arcade, I spotted Grande Dame across the room, still taking pictures with fans. She caught my eye and blew me a kiss, making sure Sloane saw it.

"That woman has a death wish," Sloane muttered, her hands heating up enough that I could feel the temperature change.

"Easy," I said, putting my arm around her shoulders.

Sloane leaned into me as we walked out into the afternoon sun. "She put her hand on your leg, didn’t she? Under the table."

I hesitated. "Yeah."

"I knew it. Fucking shameless." Sloane’s face was flushed with anger. "She’ll sleep with anything that moves if she thinks it’ll hurt my mom."

"Good thing I don’t move much, then," I joked.

She punched my arm. "Not funny."

Ow. "A little funny."

"If she ever touches you again, I’m blowing her up. I don’t care about the legal consequences."

"My hero," I said, kissing the top of her head. "But maybe let’s not commit felony assault on a ranked hero."

We reached her car, and she unlocked it with a beep. Before getting in, she turned to me, her expression suddenly serious.

"Did you mean what you said? About having all the support you need?"

"Of course."

"Because she wasn’t wrong about everything. Halloran is brutal. And your Aspect..." She hesitated. "It’s good, but it’s not flashy. The entrance exam judges notice the spectacular stuff first."

"Then I’ll just have to be spectacular in other ways."

She studied my face for a moment, then nodded. "Okay. But we’re stepping up your training. Starting tomorrow, we go twice as hard."

"Looking forward to it," I said, meaning it.

As we drove home, I thought about Grande Dame’s words. The hero world runs on spectacle. She wasn’t wrong about that. My telekinesis—or rather, my Spectral Reach masquerading as telekinesis—was functional but not impressive. Not compared to Sloane’s Detonation or Grande Dame’s size-changing.

I needed more. Better abilities. Higher stats. If I wanted to survive Halloran and become the kind of hero who mattered in this world, I’d need every advantage I could get.

"We’ll figure it out together," she said firmly. "You’ve got me now."

"Yeah," I said, squeezing her hand. "I do."

What she didn’t know was that I also had a parasitic ability that could steal powers, a gacha system that awarded abilities based on how many women I seduced, and stats that increased through sexual activity.

The System wasn’t wrong. The tutorial had been easy mode. The Fitzgerald household was a controlled environment with women who already cared about me.

Halloran would be something else entirely.