Collapse Exhausted

When your torture is finally over, you dress, run home (at ten times speed), and collapse on the couch, hoping the muscle fatigue won't turn into aches when you awaken. You have some weird dreams about rapidly shifting back and forth between… housework? Emails? Online shopping for industrial supplies and sporting goods? Jilling off during a sponge bath? When you wake up you're dressed, washed, feeling completely refreshed, and sitting in front of a bowl of beef and vegetable stew.

It smells delicious.

Your body guest fills you in, “You didn't set an alarm, so I presumed a two hour nap. The energy sharing problem isn't an issue when you're asleep, so I used time multipliers to squeeze in twenty hours of work. We have some deliveries coming, and I updated your name - and your dad's - in the paperwork.”

You take a bite of the stew… delicious. “What am I getting?”

“A polyarmarid fanny pack that should survive moving at speed for the first two notches; a supply of ballistic bean bags, and a supply of three inch steel ball bearings.” The dragon takes a breath, “the bearings are used in standard industrial applications, they'll be at HQ tomorrow. The other two are custom orders, and will take a few days to arrive.”

You consider that, you've heard the word polyarmarid thrown around before… “A bullet proof fanny pack?”

“Bullet resistant: Nothing is truly bullet proof, as a bullet can be arbitrarily large and fast - the shell from the main gun of a destroyer is technically a bullet, and class five body armor isn't going to do much against a direct hit from a twenty-seven hundred pound shell traveling at a little over mach two.” The dragon on your hand pauses, “but no, it won't be that stiff. The pack itself would survive a shot from a basic handgun, but would just wrap around the bullet and still have most of the effect of putting a hole in whatever is behind the pack’s walls. Same materials, though.”

You nod as you eat, “what are the odds I could get a costume from you made from the same stuff?”

He seems to consider a bit, “Wouldn't hold up for long. Friction at your thighs and armpits would be prone to melting it, and it would absolutely rip apart at notch three.”

You curse internally, “Okay. The fanny pack is obvious, but what are the bean bags and ball bearings for?”

“Throwing,” your teacher answers, “A good pitch at the first notch will hit ballistic speeds. The bean bags are for baseline crooks - your basic thug with a gun - or softer supers. They spread out the impact so it doesn't go through the target, but still delivers enough force to knock the wind out of the subject, knock the perp over, and probably crack a few ribs. The ball bearings are for hardened targets - ‘Invulnerable’,” yes, you can hear the quotes, “supers, armored vehicles, and the like. Throw those at the second notch and they'll hit like a few tons of TNT. Always start with the bean bags thrown at the first notch, only switch to the ball bearings on the second or third when a target proves immune to the bags - you do NOT want to kill anyone - and be sure you hit: As noted, they hit like really big bullets at the first notch, and a few tons of TNT at the second. You won't be able to carry many at once - they weigh about four pounds each - but you saw the kinds of craters the rocks left. Drop a few of each in your pack, keep that with you, and you'll have them when you need them.”

“Also a spare change of clothes,” you consider as you eat.

The dragon pauses, “So I should maybe have ordered a larger pack, then?”

You take a slow breath, which has the added benefit of letting you smell the stew while you're stewing a little, “How small are we talking?”

“Phone, wallet, four of the bean bags, and two of the ball bearings,” he answers immediately, “after that it's full.”

You consider that, “So if I put only two bean bags in, I could maybe keep some shorts, a t-shirt, and a pair of flip-flops in there.” Not much, but… “Better than nothing.”

“Hmm… probably, yes,” the ring confirms.

You think back to the money from the bank, “So how exactly does one make a living as a hero?”

“The specific laws vary a little from one place to another…” the dragon on your hand begins, “...but the broad strokes are the same. Businesses and police can't hire people for their powers thanks to historical problems and the rules laid down by the International Organization of Ultras, but of course villains are still gonna villian. So most businesses encourage heroing by giving whatever hero stopped a crook by giving the hero ten percent of the expected losses had the crook succeeded. For actually patrolling, you need to go talk to the local law enforcement, and either do a plan and a logbook, or a body camera… assuming those are a thing yet. They won't pay you, but it's a free short-term license to go looking for trouble.”

Umm… “is the bank going to get me in trouble?”

“Nope,” the ring chuckles, “Not unless someone figures out you had foreknowledge of the attack… which, to be fair: I did, to an extent… and that's not going to happen unless something like the bank events happens a lot. As far as anyone knows, you were a customer waiting in line: A Good Samaritan on the scene, the law respects that.”

“But I can go patrolling…” you consider, smiling.

“Oh yes,” your benefactor chuckles, “you can even make a living at it.”

You smile wider, “So I need to go talk to the police?”

A chuckle rings through your head, “I can walk you through it, it's straightforward.”

You finish your breakfast at super speed, and get moving….