When I first found out that superpowers were real in this world, my first question was 'do I have any?'. After clenching my ass cheeks and trying to go super Saiyan in the library's bathroom, I had thought no...
Apparently, I was wrong, as I found out just after I'd found a relatively empty area in an alleyway to get some shut-eye. I hadn't even realised it until I'd sat down, the fact that I wasn't tired at all, despite exerting myself all day.
Not only that, I wasn't hungry or thirsty either... Even scarier, I didn't even have to breathe, and I was only doing so by habit alone.
So... I had a superpower, an albeit weak one. What now?
Well, to start, my plans to live as a homeless vagrant went right out the nonexistent window. There was no point in seeking shelter or wasting resources on sleeping or resting when it wasn't necessary. Not to mention the inherent danger it brought. I had no worldly possessions aside from my stolen guitar, so setting down roots anywhere, for even a night would be dangerous and pointless.
Besides, I wanted to make something of myself in this world, so using the extra seven hours or so a day afforded to me by my power would assist things greatly. Of course, I couldn't do anything 'official' as never visibly sleeping or getting tired would raise alarms very quickly. I imagined detection systems for capes were pretty advanced given the incentives for the PRT... Catching capes and indoctrinating them while they're young would be the first thing to do, especially given how triggers 'supposedly' occurred.
The Wards were a prime example, teams of underage capes heavily managed by higherups in the PRT. From what I'd seen on the internet they were basically celebrities paraded around to reassure people that things were fine, as if even children could face criminals safely, so could they.
I'd tried to see if there was anything more to my power but it seemed like not sleeping, breathing, and eating was what I had... Pretty shit compared to other capes, who could build moon-destroying weapons, stop time, or simply be invincible.
So, my schedule looked something like this.
Busk, research, and 'live' during the day.
Exercise, practise my singing and playing during rest, and keep out of the way.
Getting this childish body back up to my standard would be easy with hours of free exercise time a day. Plus, I'd found that running was pretty fun when you didn't have to consider breathing at all. There was no experienced exertion aside from the stress on my muscles, making it as enjoyable as any strength-based exercise.
Who would have thought I'd be one of those freaks who liked leg day? Or leg night, to be more accurate...?
I did occasionally use gyms in the day, mostly for the shower, but also to have access to the machines. There was only so much intensity you could get with bodyweight exercises after all. Thankfully there were gyms that didn't require memberships, simply entry fees which I could easily cover now.
My busking was lucrative enough with my lack of needs. I made around fifty to a hundred dollars a day on weekdays and a hundred to three hundred over the weekends. Of course, this was limited by the fact I had to 'act' my age, I couldn't really be in public while school was on as that, again, would raise flags.
Over the week I'd made a tidy sum, around six hundred and fifty dollars, which for a 'thirteen-year-old' was kind of crazy.
Unfortunately, on Sunday evening the good times came to an end... I was sitting in my usual spot on the steps of the mall when a couple of cops came my way, fingers casually resting in their belts as they approached.
"Excuse me, son?"
"... Yes? Got a request?" I ask quizzically.
The older of the two let out a sigh and shakes his head, "Not quite, the city has received reports about you, but you're not in our systems... Could you come with us to clear this up? A call to your parents maybe?"
I frown, slowly standing and letting my guitar hang behind me by its strap. "What reports?"
"Well, we're not supposed to talk about it-"
"A talent agency." the other cop shrugs uncaringly.
"Those guys?" I growl, recalling the two hipster-looking guys who'd asked for my contact information that one time. I told them to buzz off, but clearly they hadn't got the message.
The older one sends his partner a side-eye, eventually lowering himself to a knee to match eye level with me. "I'm sure this all seems a bit much, but people are worried about you. I promise it'll only take an hour, two hours tops if we're quick about it."
...
"Okay..." I reluctantly say and begin following them back to their patrol car. Only, before we reached it I tug on the older gentleman's arm and nod at the nearby fast food place, "I need to use the bathroom."
"Ah... Alright, I 'spose. I'll get the car ready, Jerard'll go with you."
"Me...?"
"Someone has to accompany him, just wait outside the door til' he's done." he says before shutting the door.
'Jerard' trails behind me as I enter the bathroom, specifically the disabled bathroom which just so happens to have a lock and a slit window above the toilet. I'd scoped it out beforehand just in case this happened, along with around fifteen other escape routes.
I carefully pass my guitar through the window before slipping through myself, then running through some sidepaths to get out of Downtown. I knew the authorities would find a reason to speak with me, but I'd thought I could arrange an identity before that.
Looks like it's time for plan B.
My initial idea was to make enough money to buy an identity, which apparently wasn't that hard if you involved capes. There are a number of code, information, and computer-based Tinkers that would easily be able to alter government databases.
Sure, Dragon, 'the most powerful Tinker in the world' did monitor that stuff, but not to the extent that she'd notice the appearance of an 'orphaned child'. The existence of the Endbringers made it all too common for people to be displaced and lost. Taking one of their identities for my own wouldn't be all that difficult.
But with my main mode of income stopped, that plan was looking pretty sunk. I wouldn't dare try to busk in any gang territory either. The Empire might leave me alone, or recruit me... The ABB might capture and torture me for being a 'white boy' making money on their turf. And the less said about the Merchants the better, what those psychos would do to a 'relatively good-looking' young boy was anyone's guess. Becoming a drug mule or a gopher was probably the best fate I could hope for if that happened.
My plan B was to pay off an immigrant to claim me as their child, if I could find an Endbringer survivor willing to take the deal, even better. The U.S.A. had weird laws regarding citizenship, but the one I wanted to take advantage of was 'Amendment XIV, Section 1, Clause 1 of the U.S. Constitution', which states "All persons born in the United States are U.S. citizens".
Since there's no evidence of my existence outside the country, there's only one conclusion to be drawn. My 'parents' will both get paid, and will gain citizenship alongside me, as due to the Endbringers steadily whittling down the population, allowances can be made for immigrants who have children here.
The only real problem with my plan is the fact that I need to enter ABB territory to enact it. The Empire despises immigrants, and the few white Europeans that come are all but forced into its ranks, which would mean bad business for me.
Anyone rich enough to live Downtown or in any territory under PRT protection wouldn't be an immigrant in the first place, forcing me to venture to the Docks.
Through the boardwalk and down some lonely street, the signs of ABB graffiti signalling their turf. It was still early afternoon so the Chinese market was going strong, but the few people hanging around in red and green forced me to keep my head down.
I glance up once to check my surroundings for a viable target but unintentionally catch the eye of one gang member, prompting him to stand and approach from where he was leaning. "Hey, Orokamono! Where'd you think you're looking!?"
I speed up my pace but end up with a hand on my shoulder, turning me around to face the guy and his two buddies... "I'm talking to you!"
Nearby people were ducking their heads and going about their day, ignoring my plight, but I couldn't really blame them... Child or not, no one stranger was worth dying for, or bringing trouble to your family.
"Sorry? I have trouble hearing-, I lost my hearing aid..." I hurriedly say, hoping to get this guy to back off.
Now looking at him, he's only around seventeen, a mangy stubble covering his face and his black hair tied into a tight topknot.
He sniffs mockingly at my response, glancing at his buddies in amusement before refocusing on me, "Do you know where you are, kid?"
"I know. It belongs to the ABB, I've lived here for a while." I state.
He quirks a brow, "I ain't never you see you,"
"Me neither, bet he's lyin'." his buddy remarks.
"What do you want?" I say outright, not wanting things to progress somewhere they shouldn't. I'd seen it before, peer pressure leading to escalation. In a large group, a single punch could lead to a stabbing or worse. With guys like this, gangs like this, the pecking order was decided by who had the most power and influence, be it through reputation, or fear.
"ABB demands tribute, and I've been looking for a piece like that." he gestures at the guitar sitting on the strap on my side.
I wet my lips, leaning backwards slightly and fingering the hammer hidden under my shirt and in my trouser waistband behind me. If these fucks wanted my guitar I'd test how dense their skulls are against stainless steel.
"Takata! Leave the poor boy alone!" someone calls over in heavily accented English. Looking over, it was the short brown-skinned woman that'd been manning a food stall on the outskirts of the market. Black hair and a face weathered from either age, stress, or a combination of the two.
"Mind your own business, Indo-bitch!" he spits at her.
"Is this what the ABB is? Stealing from children!?" she rather loudly questions, drawing some looks from those that'd previously been trying to ignore the confrontation.
"It's none of your fucking busi-" Takata starts but trails off as he spots a tall Korean man wearing ABB colours stomping through the crowd towards them.
"Damare! Bakayaro!" he growls.
"A-ano, Kiyoshi-san-, I was just saying-"
"Saying nothing! Bullying women and children!? Walk!" he angrily points over to an alleyway, momentarily turning to me and the woman who 'saved' me. "Gomen, not everyone behaves like they should. New members try to make themselves the opposite of the Eighty-Eight, thugs in our colour."
I shrug and don't reply, allowing the woman to speak, "It is no problem, Mr Kiyoshi, thank you for your help..."
He smiles lightly and nods, "Do try to stay out of trouble Tiêuve, I can not be everywhere at once." he glances at me, "And I would stay away showing valuable items in this city. child. Much less in a gang's territory."
"I'll keep it in mind."
"Do so." with that, he walks after the Takata and his friends, his friendly smile morphing into one of malice.
At least one ABB member isn't a piece of shit, I suppose?
"Are you hurt at all? Did they take anything?" the woman, Tiueve? asks.
"I'm fine. You should worry for yourself more." I say, looking at her stall. I could've run, but her? She'd be stuck here dealing with douchebags who'd had their pride hurt. That was probably still the case, as 'Mr Kiyoshi' said, he wouldn't always be around to help, and I assumed discipline wasn't all that valued for the ABB anyway.
"Let the adults worry for themselves." she smiles, showing dimples. "Do your parents know you're here?"
I blink at the question, thinking back to the reason I'm here... "Do your children know you're here?" I probe.
"Children? I wish!" she laughs good-naturedly, smiling wistfully at something unseen. Her attention snaps back into place after a moment however, "Child, why are you avoiding the answer...?"
Alright, Plan B!
"I-I'm an orphan, miss. I made money playing music in Downtown but I got kicked out. I needed to find somewhere else to go." I shrug.
...