Notice 1.5

Novice 1.5

Sitting quietly in an alley, Thomas Wolf seemed to have fallen asleep sitting still, but in truth he was merely distracted of his surroundings by what went on within his mindscape. A little focus following some time to rest revealed a pair of pools brimming with power, in seemingly liquid form. Arcane, and Divine magic, as he had already labeled them. Though it was quite possibly inaccurate as he did not receive them from a deity but a ROB, but it was the closest analogue he had.

One of them was full of powerful evocations, transformations, illusions and general trickery, a power that could work for dealing with hostile encounters and as a multi-tool for various situations that he might face.

The other offered a boosting, protective feel about it, with a darker shade of curses and inflictions that could be caused with mere word and a gesture. Healing, or harming, it seemed a power more inclined to support than to be used to attack directly.

It seemed to obey some rules of Vancian magic, yet disregard others. It was rule-bound, but it utilized rules that were seemingly drawn from different sources to make a more fitting whole.

His powers, or 'spells' came with slots he could utilize to choose which powers he had available during a given day, and he had a set amount of uses he could spend on any of those chosen powers. Regaining those uses took a mere short rest after a fight, mere minute of catching his breath, but then again that was for the lowest level of power.

He had two pools, three powers a day in each, and six uses for each as well. Twelve 'spell uses' in total before he'd be out of a fight, yet the sheer number of options even at the start was more than most of the grab-bags might boast. The fact those powers would grow in time only made him all the more eager to explore.

The system reminded him of Dungeons and Dragons or Pathfinder role-playing games that they were blatantly ripped out of, but a weird combination of wizards and sorcerers. He could pick spells he 'knew' for a day, and allocate the power through them as necessary, seemingly combining the best of both of those spellcasting classes in the games, and on top of that rather than having to wait a day he seemed to have snatched a quick recovery rate like something right out of the video game versions, allowing a quick breath between fights to replenish that which had been expended.

His choices for the day would still remain locked in until he had a chance to rest and do this 'meditating' or 'planning' again, so it did have its limits.

He made his choices soon enough, picking up the three arcane spells and three divine spells he would have at his disposal for the rest of the day. His choices made, his eyes slowly opened again.

Tom was still alone in the alley, and he didn't really have anything of value to lose so he wasn't too concerned about the possibility of being robbed right away.

'Disguise Self, Mage Armor, and Sleep. Those should do, in case of any surprises.' He thought quietly about his choices. 'Cure Light Wounds, Burning Disarm and Sanctuary for the divine magic in turn.'

Not a particularly aggressive selection, but he was new to the city and preferred some protection and time to learn over stocking up on more aggressive selection. Besides, if it came down to that his bare fists should be enough for common thugs as long as he could prevent any of them from drawing a gun on him. Sanctuary was in case he really had no other options. It was hardly an ideal option, but it would do for now.

He decided to try things out, and a small gesture and a whispered word after his appearance changed. He stood a little taller, with blond hair and blue eyes, a fair skin and dressed in a simple business casual.

Leaving the alleyway behind, he headed off while noticing he was keenly aware of just how long the power, or spell, would last. No getting caught off guard by a power about to end. Better yet, he could just burn a charge to extend it when it was about to run out, without needing a gesture or whisper for that. They were only called for when activating a power it seemed, and they too were quite minimalistic, thankfully.

Unfortunately it was a mere glamour, not real. Anyone trying to touch him would notice the discrepancies. Still, it would do for the time being. Making his way further into the city and away from the PRT HQ, he thought about what had taken place. The PRT were curious, but he didn't believe he had revealed anything of serious note. He didn't quite like the fact he'd forgotten about Gallant and his powers. He had been mostly caught up in thinking about his own new powers and situation.

The fact remained he wasn't sure about the exact details, he only remembered Gallant could both project and sense emotions. He was pretty sure there was talk about blasting them at people, but he wasn't sure if they were always so showy, or if that was mostly when he needed to quickly inflict some particular emotions on a target.

Shaking his head again to get that thought out of his head, he walked along the street while returning his thoughts on Taylor and her situation. As cruel as it seemed, he had a feeling that messing around with her trigger event would be more trouble than it was helpful. Even if the prank was somehow stopped or ruined, the three bullies would find something else to do and might even escalate things further.

He had no good ideas of how to expose them without getting more directly involved, and that would draw the PRT and Protectorate eyes on his person again. He was not too keen on the idea, given that what they knew would get back to Cauldron eventually, and before that it would be in the hands of people like Coil and the rest of the gangs.

Tom was still going to have to decide on how to acquire some funds. If nothing else came up, he could offer to try and tend to some minor wounds for a few extra bucks, while maintaining the apparent illusion in the meanwhile. He still carried the white mask with him to add to the outfit if he so desired.

Truthfully he expected things to only pick up tomorrow when people were not at home nursing a headache after partying so much or enjoying a day off. Possibly even taking until January 3rd, the Monday, before things actually began to get more lively. Not that being shot and then interrogated by the PRT following a power testing was a quiet day either, but business wise it was rather dull.

He looked around for a while, but eventually decided to head on over to the nearby hospital. He had burnt two additional charges in the arcane side so he took a moment to relax before walking up to the hospital itself, replenishing his charges again. He noted that the spell he had already active did not fizzle out and vanish when he did so unlike what he had expected, leaving him to wonder if that would be true for others as well or just for him. If it was for others as well, then it was rather broken and exploitable. Some powers lasted hours or days after all, not just minutes. Even if his disguise spell only lasted ten minutes at a time right now.

Placing the mask on his face, he entered the hospital and noted a few curious and wary looks, before walking up to the woman behind the counter. Looking at her reaching beneath the desk, he spoke up seriously while preparing to turn and walk away if this seemed to cause trouble.

"I am a minor healer. I am not able to do much for serious injuries, or diseases, but I could lend a hand with the smaller injuries, and would be willing to prove this under observation by a doctor if necessary."

"You are serious?" The receptionist looked at him seeming a bit doubtful, but then spoke up again. "I am going to call a doctor to the front desk, and you'll have a chance to prove what you said, but keep in mind that if this is a hoax I suggest you leave now, because we take fraud very seriously." She said this in a tone that seemed to suggest that she expected this to be a scam of some form.

Thomas spent four charges over time, replenishing his illusion, while spending a short moment answering questions and then having to prove his ability worked on a test animal. The results had the doctor and his colleagues seemingly pleased and interested at first, before then telling him to go first talk to the PRT. Apparently they didn't want to accept him without first confirming that his power didn't have any delayed side-effects, not wanting to risk liability.

He could understand it, but it was frustrating waste of time and he found himself leaving the hospital in a somewhat foul mood. They had effectively wasted his time, and while he could spend a night outside, he didn't like the idea, especially with the fact the city was known to house a number of criminal elements that he would prefer not running into in the dark.

Even a crappy motel would cost him forty or fifty bucks, if he wanted to eat something that would be extra, and he didn't have any cash on his person. He had hoped to work out some agreement at the hospital to help deal with the minor injury cases for a small payment. Even if Panacea volunteered in the city, there was bound to be more patients than she could see, and tending to little injuries should have been easy enough, clearing room for the people who had illnesses and other issues that he couldn't help with, and the hospital could still be charging them for the quick heal, he would have just hoped for a small cut to cover his own expenses to stay around.

Having to drag the PRT in it would complicate matters, and Tom didn't want to test if they would detect his disguise right away and put him through a more rigorous questioning and possibly throwing him into Master / Stranger protocols for a while as well.

He had walked a fair bit before entering an alley, preparing to drop the illusion and remove his mask before noticing a lone bum laying there. The guy looked to be hurt, bloody bandages wrapped around his arms, resting back under a makeshift shelter from scrap wood and some metal panels rigged into a small hut missing the fourth wall.

"Easy. I'm not Empire." Tom said this seriously while moving closer. "Show me your hands."

The bum looked suspicious but reached out, and Tom stepped forth to make a gesture and quietly whisper a word before touching the bandaged hands. There was a sharp inhale from the guy before he looked at his hands in surprise, warily removing the wrapping and looking at his hands.

"The fuck?" The bum cussed, and Tom noticed a few small shards of glass dropping from beneath the bandages, and while there were small cuts present, none of them looked big enough to have caused the bloodstains on those bandages.

"Healing. Minor really, but better than waiting around to let them heal by themselves no?" Tom had done it partly out of desire to help, and partly out of curiosity to confirm it worked properly. He was also feeling a little curious about some other things that might not be known to the general populace living off the streets.

"I'm not going to ask for a payment for that, but I would like to know a few things if you wouldn't mind answering a few questions for me." Thomas smiled seeing the bum quickly nod in agreement.

"Good."

Back at a nearby Merchant safehouse, Squealer was cussing loudly in the bathroom trashing the place in anger of the morons that had trashed her cars. Her own car was still fine, but the cars she'd put together because Skidmark asked her to give them some sweet rides to tear up the Empire assholes were gone because those good-for-nothings couldn't stay unlit while driving and had managed to crash and burn with them. Not that she put that much effort into them but it was a matter of pride.

Skidmark himself was in a foul mood. The attack was meant to shake up the Empire and remind them to keep their noses off of Skidmark's turf. They'd been showing up a lot more recently, and doing their little initiations too close to his properties, so slapping them down had been more than overdue. What he hadn't expected was for Hookwolf to be on site at one of those targeted properties.

At least the message had been sent loud and clear, along with a little personal touch. Skidmark had personally seen a couple of loyal Empire boys in charge get their dues, racist pricks had got a bullet in the head and then another just to be sure, and a couple more in the bodies for the laughs. The boys had got a kick out of that one, before the news about Hookwolf tearing them up at another site had come up.

The Merchants had too few capes in their rows, and while they could pull a lot of thugs from their regulars if need be, the empire had numerical advantage with the capes and that wasn't likely to change anytime soon. Even the Asians had a better representation among their numbers with just Lung and Oni Lee. The two of them were bad enough that Skidmark had seen a few guys usually loyal desert rather than fight. They'd been made examples of but it didn't solve the problem.

The merchants needed new recruits. He was thinking about that when he heard some commotion, and saw one of the usual regulars showing up, chatting with the guy at the door excitedly and showing off his hands. Terry something, wasn't that one of the boys he'd used to pull off a smash and grab downtown at the stores, the guy who got glass shards in his hands while grabbing the jewelry in the display cases? Dumb motherfucker didn't even realize the best stuff was in a safe they couldn't break into in the time they had to grab what they could and do a runner.

"Boss, you don't believe what this coked-up shithead just told me." The boy before him seemed a bit doubtful, but gestured at the bum and junkie who stood there showing off his hands with just a couple of nicks and small cuts on them.

"I found a cape boss, a healer, and the dumb son of a bitch even went as far as to ask me about cheap motels so we know where to find him!"

Author's Note: Altruism in Brockton Bay does generally not pay, and a still somewhat overwhelmed main character makes mistakes and assumptions only to be slapped down hard that life is not a fanfic where all goes well and works out all the time.