Chapter Two

I watched the black orb made by my quirk as I held it in my hand, trying and failing to make a grenade.

I just couldn't get it down.

I knew the basics, I just couldn't make it explode like the normal one did.

Narrowing my eyes at the ball, I tossed it at the wall, only for it to break on contact...

Weird. My constructs were not fragile by any means. In fact, I still haven't broken them... Until now...

Hey, wait a minute!

Snickering at the two-hundred-year-old meme, I Made another ball and made it as thin as possible. I think the only reason I could make the ball was because I was trying to make a grenade.

It took a few hours, but I concluded that this was futile.

If I didn't hold it in my hand, or if It wasn't "Shot" from the barrel, everything I made was really fragile.

I don't know, man, quirks are bullshit, don't ask me.

My phone, which I got as soon as I finished the first day of school buzzed and I reached over to my table, which was right next to my bed, and picked it up, looking at the message with interest.

My parents were not coming home today, but they would be home tomorrow.

You know, for a six-year-old, they sure trusted me a whole bunch.

I jumped off the bed, shoving the phone in my pocket, and went downstairs, to the kitchen. Humming as I reached my destination, I opened the fridge and took out a juice box.

I looked at the box for a moment, noting that the box was decorated by the rising hero "Stars and Stripes" Who names themselves that, is a mystery, but that's not my business.

Popping the cap open I started drinking straight from the bottle while going to the living room.

Opening up a drawer, I took out the papers that were for the future and took three papers, the MP5, SSG 08, and a simple pump action shotgun.

I took another sip and went on to study how to assemble and disassemble an MP5.

Again.

___

"Adam, are you done with your homework?"

I looked up at my father, who just came into the house in his hero suit.

John White, was a bulky man, compensating for his quirks inability of boosting his endurance and durability. His hero costume was simple, black, baggy pants, skin-tight muscle shirt along with an armored vest and fingerless gloves.

It was very militaristic but functional.

"Yeah, I finished it a while ago..."

I mumbled, going over some papers on automatic pistols.

"Alright! Let's get to the training room then, and see if you made any more progress."

I let out a small huff through my nose and stood up. Here was this maniac, teaching a six-year-old how to shoot guns. Technically, I was a certified marksman of a squad but this man didn't know that.

Oh, and did I mention this guy build a shooting range in the house? Yeah, he did.

I followed my sperm donor, upstairs and into the room that was actually three rooms combined together with targets on one end.

I held up my hand and materialized a Baretta, cocking the barrel back and aiming for the targets.

My old man walked over to the desk that held a stopwatch and picked it up.

There was silence for a few seconds as I aimed down the iron sights.

"Go."

I fired five shots into the first target, five into the next, and five into the final one. The bulky man pressed the stopwatch and hummed for a moment before turning it around and showing it to me.

Six point seventeen seconds.

"Not bad for fifteen rounds."

He mumbled and looked over to the three targets, bringing them closer as he observed the rounds that pierced the paper.

"But you need to work on your accuracy."

I eyed the targets, out of the fifteen bullets that I shot, only eight hit the center, others landing on the white circle around it.

I nodded and refrained from deadpanning.

"Alright, let's get to work. How's your accuracy with single shots?"

You know, if someone overheard this conversation, they would be very concerned.

___

The black substance morphed in my hands, slowly taking shape. I furrowed my brows, this was taking too long, but there was nothing I could do.

I pictured the cocking mechanism, the hammer, and the trigger. doing the complicated things first was simpler in the long run. I built the whole gun around the mechanism as the black goo followed my instructions.

"Still can't do it without actively thinking about it."

Mumbling I hoisted the SSG 08 on my shoulder and looked down the scope, only to see nothing.

I deadpanned.

"Motherfucker."

I cursed, looks like I need to look up how lenses work now too.

Why couldn't my quirk be simple? Like telekinesis? I could make someone punch themselves, but no! I had to look up how scopes work!

Just my luck.