Would a Light Cannon Hurt?

[Progress: 100%]

The system notification flashed through his mind, and Lucian let go.

Electroshock Kid was still sleeping like a dead pig on the bench. Lucian grabbed the back of his collar with one hand, dragged him into the locker room bathroom like a sack, tossed him into the innermost stall, and locked the door.

Turning back toward the training floor, Lucian walked to the console and tapped rapidly on the touchscreen.

Click, click, click.

The massive banks of overhead lights went out one row after another. The basketball-court-sized training room plunged into absolute darkness, with only a faint hum coming from the vents.

Standing in the center of the floor, Lucian rolled his neck.

Electricity coverage, activate.

Crackle. Tiny blue arcs emerged from his skin like little glowing blue snakes, darting and intertwining until they covered his entire body in the blink of an eye.

Lucian raised a hand and watched the electricity dancing over his arm.

The current wasn't particularly strong. If he used it to shock someone directly, it would be no better than an oversized stun gun.

But that didn't matter. All he wanted was a sustained power supply for light energy manipulation.

"Let's try the main course."

With a thought, Lucian instantly activated light energy manipulation.

The blue arcs that had evenly covered his body seemed to come under a powerful pull, converging madly on his palms. The current on his skin was drained dry in an instant, only for more to pour out continuously, while the energy in his palms rapidly expanded.

The blue electricity was compressed to an extreme, its color shifting from deep blue to blazing white.

The dazzling light lit the entire dark training room as brightly as day.

Lucian felt a swelling pain in his palms, a signal that the energy had reached saturation. He thrust both palms forward.

Boom!

A dense, high-intensity column of blazing white light slammed into the specially designed energy-absorbing wall more than ten meters away.

The intense flash from the light burst instantly blinded everything nearby, followed by an explosive report. A wave of scorching air swept across the room, making Lucian's clothes flap loudly.

He walked over to inspect the damage to the wall.

The energy-absorbing material, supposedly capable of taking a full-speed collision from a heavy truck without a scratch, now bore a deep, charred crater. The material around its edges had crystallized and was still giving off pungent blue smoke.

Lucian touched the edge. It was scorching hot.

Blinding, physical knockback, and high-temperature burns.

This combination was far nastier than a simple light burst. Most importantly, he could now generate his own supply, completely freeing himself from dependence on the surrounding power grid.

As long as his stamina held out and he improved his body's durability, he would be a walking artillery piece with unlimited ammunition.

"Now for the main event."

Lucian returned to the center of the floor. The entry for light energy manipulation explicitly mentioned flight.

He closed his eyes, recalling how it felt to use Thermonuclear Flight. At their core, both forms of flight propelled the body through the reaction force generated by jets of energy.

He stimulated the current inside his body again, converting it into light energy. This time, instead of gathering it in his palms, he directed it toward his feet.

White light shone beneath his feet like two miniature plasma thrusters.

Lucian's body slowly rose off the ground. Ten centimeters, half a meter, one meter.

"If I stacked Thermonuclear Flight and light energy flight..."

A crazy idea popped into Lucian's head. If two different kinds of propulsion erupted simultaneously, he would move as fast as a real bolt of lightning.

But not yet. The training room was large, but it still wasn't big enough for him to accelerate to full speed. If he really tested them together, he would punch straight through all three underground levels.

He glanced at the digital clock on the wall.

It's about time. Time to babysit.

Lucian cut off the energy output and landed steadily on the floor. The training room fell dark again.

He walked to the console and switched all the lights back on. Then he went to the bathroom, dragged Electroshock Kid out from where he was still sprawled on the floor, and dumped him on the empty floor beside the bench.

Next came the cleanup.

Lucian crouched down and pressed his right hand against Electroshock Kid's forehead.

Mind control, activate.

Invisible psychic power entered the other man's brain. With practiced ease, Lucian found Electroshock Kid's memories from after he entered the room and erased them outright.

Then he began weaving new scenes: the moment Electroshock Kid entered, he eagerly insisted on showing off his strength. Wreathed in electricity, he charged at Lucian, only for Lucian to sidestep him and land a heavy punch to his face, knocking him unconscious on the spot.

The memory implantation was complete.

Lucian stood up, looked at Electroshock Kid's completely unmarked face, and frowned.

"This won't do. Too fake."

He shook out his right hand, moderated his strength, and aimed at Electroshock Kid's left eye socket.

Thud.

He punched down.

Electroshock Kid grunted, his eyelids trembling violently, but he still didn't wake up.

"Not hard enough?"

Lucian pursed his lips, adjusted his angle, and threw another punch.

Thud.

This one landed squarely on the brow bone with a dull impact.

"Argh!"

Electroshock Kid jerked violently and screamed, his eyes snapping open. Clutching his face, he began rolling on the floor.

Lucian immediately put on a concerned expression and crouched down.

"Hey, buddy, you okay?"

Tears streamed from Electroshock Kid's eyes from the pain, and his left eye swelled visibly. He stared hard at Lucian through the swollen slit, replaying the brutal scene of being knocked out with one punch in his mind as anger surged to his head.

"Fuck! Can't you fucking control your strength?!" Electroshock Kid clutched his face and forced the words through his teeth, spittle flying. "I've got a date! If I'd known, I wouldn't have sparred with you even if you killed me!"

He struggled to his feet and leaned against the bench, panting heavily.

Lucian spread his hands apologetically.

"My fault. I really didn't control my strength."

He took out his phone and tapped the screen a few times.

Ding.

The phone in Electroshock Kid's pocket chimed.

He paused, then pulled it out one-handed and glanced at it.

Transfer record: $5,000.

Electroshock Kid's expression instantly froze. The curses he hadn't yet spat out lodged firmly in his throat.

His school ranking had always hovered around the middle, and Vought's stipend barely covered his daily expenses. Five thousand dollars was an enormous sum to him, enough to splurge on a night at a bar.

"Consider that payment for your medical bills and emotional distress." Lucian patted his shoulder, his tone gentle. "You can go back and rest."

Electroshock Kid rubbed his eye socket and coughed twice, trying hard to hide the corners of his mouth as they shot upward.

"Well... you really didn't have to. It's sparring. Injuries happen. We're all classmates here."

He quickly stuffed his phone back into his pocket, as though afraid Lucian might change his mind, then turned toward the door.

Just before reaching it, he suddenly stopped and looked back.

"Uh, what time?"

"It's noon. Just in time for lunch," Lucian replied casually.

"Not that." Electroshock Kid pointed to his swollen eye and said with complete seriousness, "I mean, when's our next sparring session? I need to plan my schedule ahead of time so it doesn't clash with anything else."

Lucian nearly laughed at how serious he looked.

"Wait until I let you know."

"Sure. Call me anytime. I'll be there whenever you need me!"

Electroshock Kid gave him a thumbs-up, pushed open the door, and walked out with a spring in his step. Even his retreating figure radiated cheer.

Watching the heavy soundproof door close, Lucian shook his head.

That's the power of the dollar.

In the cesspool that was Vought, nobody turned down money. Pay enough, and never mind taking two punches-getting him to offer up his other eye for a beating wouldn't be a problem. That was good news. Whenever he needed to copy someone else's ability, he could simply pay for a "sparring partner." He might as well use that hundred thousand a month.

New York, another Safe House.

Frenchie leaned against a graffiti-covered wall, his eyes bloodshot. He stared at the battered mattress in the corner.

Kimiko lay on it.

The horrific hole Black Noir had stabbed through her abdomen had healed completely, without even leaving a scar.

That terrifying ability to heal herself was nothing short of a miracle.

But she was still curled into a ball, hugging her knees tightly like a severely frightened wild animal, watching everything around her warily.

Frenchie sighed.

He walked over and sat down two meters away from her. At that distance, she wouldn't feel threatened.

He pulled a burger from his pocket, peeled back the wrapper, and gently pushed it toward her.

"Eat something," Frenchie said softly. "We're safe now."

Kimiko looked at the burger on the floor and swallowed, but didn't move.

Frenchie didn't hurry her. He simply sat in silence.

He remembered her charging at Black Noir. He was a piece of shit, but he knew what it meant to owe someone. If this girl hadn't doubled back, Black Noir would have already cut him into mincemeat.

"I know you're trying to find your way home." Frenchie looked into her eyes. "Having all those jumbled memories in your head doesn't feel good, does it? I know that feeling too."

Kimiko raised her head, a glimmer flashing through her wary eyes.

"I can help you." Frenchie slowed his speech, trying to sound as sincere as possible. "I know a guy. His name's Mesmer. He's a Supe. All he has to do is touch your hand, and he can see your memories. He can help us figure out exactly what happened to you."

Kimiko stared hard at him.

Frenchie didn't avoid her gaze.

A full minute passed.

Kimiko slowly reached out and picked up the burger from the floor.

Frenchie's tense shoulders finally relaxed.

"Good." He stood up and brushed the dust from his pants. "We'll leave once you've finished eating."

He knew Butcher would never agree to this plan. Going to a washed-up Supe and exposing their whereabouts was a death wish in Butcher's eyes.

But fuck Butcher.

He owed this girl his life.

Frenchie turned and headed for the door to start the battered van.

Kimiko took a bite of the cold burger and watched Frenchie's retreating figure. Amid the tangled memories in her mind, a vague image of a rundown motel surfaced. It was the suggestion Lucian had implanted.

But now she had a clearer choice. Someone was willing to help her in a more direct way.

She swallowed her food, stood up, and followed him.