1 The Rise of a Gang-star
"You like that, poptart?"
A rough looking guy stood over the body of a young man beaten up and sitting, leaning against the wall of a building.
"That's what you get for getting in my way," the dude spat in the fallen boy's face before sauntering away. Once the delinquent's figure had disappeared from sight, a worried voice called out.
"Brother, you didn't need to do that!"
A petite girl in a school uniform ran over to the near-corpse by the wall. She tried to clean up the balloon that was now her brother's face.
Ray Sung was a 16 year old boy with severe communication disorder. He rarely spoke, rarely made eye contact, and generally failed to make others understand his motives. Ray and his sister Miley just moved to this poorer district in the city, and clearly, the rougher crowd instantly gravitated towards his beautiful little sister. Wanting to protect her, Ray stood between the girl and her harasser, but failed to explain that he didn't intend to fight. His ugly face now was the result of his communication disorder.
"Ray, Ray! You shouldn't have done that. You know that I can stand up for my self! I am not a kid anymore!"
Miley knew that her brother had a good heart, but had zero self defense skills along with his negative 9836 talk no jutsu. She cared deeply for her socially stunted outcast of a brother and tried to take care of him when he wasn't aware of his surroundings.
The sister lifted him by the armpits and dragged his dead weight back their new, run-down apartment in this unfamiliar district.
--
SHaaah- Shaah-
Miley sprayed her brother with water from the shower head to wake him up.
"Nnhn?"
"Wash yourself up, Ray," Miley dropped the shower head and walked out of the bathroom, leaving him with instructions.
Ray picking himself up, and thought to himself, "how long have I been out for?".
"Well, you been out for approximately 43 mins and 22 seconds."
Huh? Is someone there? Perhaps Miley was talking?
"Miley? Could you repeat that?"
A voice called from beyond the bathroom door, "Ray, you haven't talked to yourself since Grade 6! Don't you start that self-talk again!"
Ray was thinking that maybe he hit his head too hard on the wall.
"Your head is fine, although you have a cut 7 centimeters above your left ear, and swelling above your left eyebrow bone."
Ray looked around, wondering if he gained an imaginary friend.
"Look here!"
The voice clearly was not coming from his head, but somewhere in the tiny bathroom.
His eyes landed on a large bar of soap on the bathtub ledge.
Is that..... a talking bar of soap?
"Yes, I am a soap. And you know why? Because your head didn't have enough space for the ultimate fighting system to root. Instead, I was forced to possess this bar of soap."
Ray:....
So my brain has less volume than this cartoon looking soap?
The soap bar had a face that resembled a mixture between John Cena and Bruce Lee. It had John Cena's mighty chin, and Bruce Lee's smouldering eyes. There was no other way to describe this talking bar of soap as anything other than a cartoon monstrosity.
Slippy the Soap.
"What did you just think?!"
Why not? It looked like a cartoon soap bar, almost like SpongeBob Squarepants, but uglier. Slippy is easier to remember than Ultimate Fighting System.
The system already had bad luck by picking a kid who couldn't even physically handle a system, and then ended up in a bar of soap.
--
"Listen, kid. you were assigned as my host, so now I gotta work you up from the floppy cheese string you are into a master fighter!"
Ray thought that this was dumb. He didn't need to fight. What happened earlier was a misunderstanding anyway.
"They misunderstood you because you don't freaking talk! I only know what you're thinking because we're now synced up until the goal has been reached!" The bar of soap jumped in frenzied anger.
"Anyway, say [open menu]. I need you to see how bad your sorry state is in right now."
Ray followed the instructions, although he said the words in his head.
--
[Ray Jung]
Strength: -9836
Health: poor
Fighting Style: none
Skills: none
Luck: 5
Charisma: -176
--
"Slippy" huffed out a bubble of despair, "I've seen negative stats before, but this is ridiculous! Your negatives are in the thousands!!" He screeched a garbled squeaky toy sound.
Ray just shrugged as he peeled off his clothes and proceeded to wash the dried blood off his body, and patting himself while muttering "ouchie" every two seconds.
Slippy observed the 17 year old's body. He was small for his age, barely 160 centimeters tall. He also had low muscle tone for his age, with poor posture. He could easily be confused for someone younger if not for the massive amount of pubes he had growing..
Growing...
... On his legs.
Ray's puberty-driven growth led him to grow massive amounts of public and leg hair to the point that he looked like he was still wearing black leggings when he stripped down. Not to mention his ass hair, ugh.
"SpongeBob, come here," Ray called.
Slippy fumed, "I'M NOT SPONGEBOB!!"
How dare his host give him such a puny name as Slippy the Soap? And now he even had the ball to call him the wrong name?! The Ultimate Fighting System is a Soap, not a Sponge!
Ray's hand swiped and grabbed Slippy before furiously rubbing Slippy between his palms to generate some scented suds.
"Gotta use soap," Ray communicated his thoughts.
Ray started soaping up his body, but then grabbed Slippy to attempt to scrub him directly on his body.
Slippy squealed, "NOOOOOO!! NO NO NO NO NO!!"
Ray was scrubbing the soap bar through the jungle of his thick, manly ass hairs.
--
Ray was drying himself when Slippy voiced his complaints. The soap bar looked slightly smaller than before, "You... You... How dare you..."
Slippy couldn't continue his thoughts on his abuse as a soap bar. This was his fate. He was forced to inhabit a bar of soap because his host wasn't fit enough to hold the system in himself.
"Ray, I've decided. Your first mission..." Slippy cried as much as a bar of soap could.
[Mission initiated: Go to the Gym]
--
