Chapter 7: Acclimation

Now that he could clearly see his muggers, the first thing Jack noted was how young each one of them was. Probably around his age or younger. One for example, he reckoned, couldn’t be possibly older than 18.

Slightly unexpecting but ultimately, it still changed nothing.

The person who he assumed to be the leader of this little group, stepped forward confidently with an exaggerated tough guy^TM swagger. Pants down, hanging around his ass, while holding his gun sideways, clutched in a loose grip and pointing it at him.

“For starters, ya wanna drop what ya carrying.” He confidently said with a forced sneer, “Then, start emptying dem pockets! Ohh! And get naked too! Leave everything on you behind!”

“Hmmm,” Jack put his hand under his chin while slowly tilting his head to the right, feigning to think about it. “So. Let me get it straight. You’re going to mug a motherfucker decked in what looks like military-grade armor. Said motherfucker knew you were trailing him yet still called you out. And again, the same motherfucker is now seemingly acting unbothered and not panicking in the slightest despite the fact that he’s currently being ‘threatened’ at gunpoint… Hmmm, did I get everything right?” He airily questioned.

At Jack’s words, some of his friends exchanged quick looks of doubt and hesitation.

“Hey, James.” Another one of the wannabe-muggers stepped forward and whispered-shouted to his friend. “I got a bad feel about it. I think that trying to start shit with this guy is a bad idea. Let’s just leave him alone. C’mon!”

“Don’t cha tell me you’re afraid?” Their leader, the one apparently called James, shouted in incredulity, “He’s just bluffing! Fucking with your head to make you second guess yourself. C’mon now, nigga! He’s just some nobody! No fucking big name would work some shitty minimum wage job for some bottom tiers pizzeria! Homie here’s a fraud, nigga! Just some weirdo going out in costume dressed as some kind of mercenary.”

“You don’t know that!” Hissed back his friend. “You can’t be sure of that, dude! For all you know, you’re wrong and the guy might be some new crazy freak who escaped Arkham.”

“I’m ain’t wrong and I fucking know that he’s a nobody!” James snapped in irritation to his friend before rounding out to Jack. “You! If ya wanna fucking leave in one piece, start emptying out dem’ pockets and drop that bag, now.”

“Are you aware that Lorenzo’s under Mark’s protection?” Jack curiously asked, ignoring his command – some amusement coloring his voice. “He’s the one in charge around here, I was led to believe. Didn’t you get the memo?”

His two other friends stared at the young rogue with consideration, while William, presumingly the de facto second in command and voice of reason, warily looked at him.

Good. They knew Mark. This situation might be avoided.

“See! See!” James yelled, wildly gesturing at him with his gun while looking at his friend. “Do you see this?! Now that he knows he’s in shit and his bluff ain’t working, homie trynna weasel out of this by threatening us with his ‘backing.” He scoffed. “Last warning. Start. Dropping. Your. Back.”

He celebrated too soon.

“Wait a little… last time… acting rashly… we got into fucking trouble because of that… stop to think for one moment… not worth it…”

“Wake up… just… a delivery man… nigga, stop overthinking stuffs…”

Jack tuned out their argument in favor of doing some reflection.

People who witnessed him use his power didn’t even know the complete nature of it along with what he could really do. They assumed that he had some form of limited-range telekinesis.

Which was fair but still was a dangerous assumption to make in a fight. Jack had always done his best to keep the full capability of what his power could do under wraps.

Here. Nobody knew him. Nobody had an inkling about what he could or couldn’t do. They don’t have his kind of supes here. Heck. Some heroes or villains didn’t even have powers!

It occurred to him that he was presented with an opportunity to rebrand himself.

It occurred to him that even now, he could take the piss with his muggers and the people who would start shit with him in the future. He could… maybe act a little over the top but not too much over the top. Like, for example, faking something along the lines of: “In order to use my power, I need to say a select set of words and/or do some kind of gesture…”

‘Like an anime protagonist,’ his chuuni mind whispered in jubilation.

Back in his homeworld, Jack would have been mocked and memed to hell if he even entertained the thought of doing something like this. People would have called him cringe; and anime were too mainstream for him to get away with it. So, he ruthlessly buried that desire in the deepest part of his teenage soul.

‘Here, it’s 2011. I’m pretty sure that most of the big-name anime of the decades that are going to shape an entire generation of new anime fans don’t even exist yet.’

He could potentially get away with plagiarizing the coolest signature move or gesture of his favorite anime character. And act a little… really a tiny bits… chuuni.

And be cool doing so.

The question was… did he dare? Should he bother going through that trouble…?

‘Is that even a question?’

Of fucking course, he dare! His chuuni teenager self wasn’t quite as dead as he thought because presented with the possibility and opportunity to act according to his repressed desires; and without facing harsh consequences, aka getting clowned – which for a rogue, was practically a reputation breaker thing if he wasn’t powerful as fuck – Jack lept to the chance.

“How could I possibly know that?” His principal mugger screamed in frustration, raising his arms up.

“You would have bro, if you’d stopped one single minute to think! Think!” His friend answered, not as loudly but with as much frustration.

It pulled him back from his musing. ‘A dangerous thing to be distracted in the middle of a confrontation.’ It goes for them and doubles for him. Thankfully, even armed, he didn’t consider them to be a threat. Even less so with the way they were currently acting.

‘They are posers. Trying to act tough and carve themselves a name and rep.’

Still, his mind snapped back to focus.

And not too soon because he was growing tired of them.

“If, if, if! It’s always IF with you, never actio–”

Jack politely coughed, a tad loudly, interrupting them.

They both froze, turning back to him. And in the dimly lit street, he swore he saw one of them blush in embarrassment.

“Listen, let’s just leave–” William grabbed his friend by the arm and tried to lead him away.

“Not the time!” The leader snarled, violently shaking off his grip‘s friend as he turned back toward Jack and pointed his gun at him. Again. “And you! What ya still doing standing there like some dumb fuck? You wanna die so badly, huh? Don’t try me, bitch! Fucking start stripping or you gonna eat some lead.”

He made the same threat… what? For the fourth time? He couldn’t honestly take him seriously.

“I can’t take none of you seriously.” And Jack told him as much. “Seriously. You have no sense of self-preservation. It’s common sense 101. When you’re trying to ambush someone by surprise but that person instead already knows that you’re here and even patiently waits for you to show up while greeting you once you do–” He criticized, slowly extending his arm – thumb up. “You should just run.”

“You little shit!” Their leader snarled.

Multiple things happened at once.

The sound of a click. Metallic and familiar.

A shout of: “James, don’t!”

A thumb was lowered down.

And reality got altered.

………
……
…

At least, that's what he likes to think to himself every time he uses his power to switch objects or bend on his knees every law of physics. For as soon as the leader of this little ragtag group tried to press the trigger, Jack swapped his gun – along with every other weapon in the hands of his wannabe-muggers – and replaced them with some random trash littering the street.

The reactions were instantaneous.

“WHATTHEFUCK!” Shrieked one with a deafening, high-pitched scream, stumbling back as he looked with wide eyes at the disposable coffee cup in his hands. Instead of the bat he was carrying one second ago.

“The fuck!?” Screamed another, noticing that his knife had been replaced with some kind of fast food wrapper.

“...” William, the co-leader, was just dazzlingly standing around, staring at the cigarette butt in his hand.

“Ewww fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. How the fuck did this get into my hands? Ayoooo, is this fucking condom between my hands? This shit is so nasty!” The leader, James, shouted in panic, wildly gesticulated around even as he threw the condom away. “Ewwrghhhh, it was fucking used to! Jesus Christ, I have some stuff in my hands.”

This seemed to snap the remaining three out of their stupor as they started to look at their leader, and then at each other. Seemingly only now taking notice that the same thing they experienced, had happened to everyone else.

Jack didn’t let them get a hold of their senses. With a gesture of his right hand, he levitated various pebbles that were loitering on the ground.

The leader of the band of wannabe-muggers took note of his action and stepped back in fear, his face so pale that in the dimly lit street, it looked like he was a lightbulb, casting light around him.

His movement alerted the rest of his friends who turned to look at Jack. Their eyes opened up wide in fright as at their turn, they slowly started to back away even as one stayed rooted on the spot, seemingly paralyzed by fear.

“Oh… he ain’t some random delivery guy…“ Was their leader forlorn remark before with a forward finger motion, Jack sent a localized, controlled burst of telekinesis force behind the pebbles, sending them hurling at high velocity toward each one of them.

Their startled scream of anguish resounded out throughout the streets as pebbles smacked against their body, causing them to lurch in pain and some to throw themselves on the ground and turtle up.

Jack rotated the pebbles and kept at it for a small while, not even a full 15 seconds of pebbles-fire until he decided to stop when every one of them was cowering on the ground. While most of the pebbles weren’t bigger than 64 mm (2,5”) in diameter, it should still hurt like a bitch considering that something this size was sent flying at more than 100 meters per second.

A good half of the pebbles hadn’t even reached them as they had disintegrated by the initial burst of force. And for those that had struck true, they had shattered upon making contact with their body, leaving noticeable bruises on the exposed parts of the body struck.

He ended up leaving their broken, cowering and groaning asses behind on the ground without uttering another word, walking away to his last delivery location. The delivery was uneventful and soon, he was jogging back to the pizzeria from rooftop to rooftop, after having notified Lorenzo’s that he was done and on his way back. The little early scruffle, not even mentioned, as it wasn’t something worth mentioning in his eyes.

What was worth mentioning though, was the fact that some people have witnessed what he did from their homes. At this time of hour, while it was dark, it wasn’t so late that people were already asleep. No. Most people either were on their way to come back from school or work, or were having dinner after coming back from work or school.

Jack had noticed people peeking from behind curtains at the time, watching the scene unfolding. The confrontation did happen in the middle of a residential street and not in some dark and dirty back alley after all.

But he didn’t mind having some spectators witness what he did. He doubted they caught much anyway, it was quite dark and they were quite far from the scene. And even if some might have clearly seen what happened, good luck for them to figure out how he did what he did outside of the obvious answer of ‘power’.

Besides, it was time that words about what he could do start getting out so people knew that he meant business and was not someone being worth fucking with.

‘Inshallah this might make randos think twice before trying anything to fuck with me.’ Jack thought, jumping from a one-storey building before landing on the ground with a roll to help bleed his momentum and cushion his fall.

He got up and dusted his parka before picking up his backpack from the ground, having swapped it with some random object before jumping off.

“You're already back,” Lorenzo grunted from the back kitchen upon hearing him stride into the pizzeria. “Good because I have 15 other orders waiting for you.” He said, hobbling toward him. “Three at the same address in Burnley. Seven are in Crime Alley and the last five are in the Bowery. I have another 8 orders I’m prepping for 24” party pizzas waiting for you next. Still for somewhere in the Bowery. All at the same address. That order will be the last for the night.”

His shoulder dropped a little at hearing the number of pizzas he would have to deliver next. Their locations were scattered around enough that he wasn’t looking forward to making the entire deliveries on foot.

The task was going to be daunting. Still, making this many deliveries should net him a decent pay by the end of the night.

As if seeing his dejection, Lorenzo hurried to reassure him. “I had to reject a fair number of orders because they were too far and making the delivery without a scooter would have been impossible. Don’t worry, I have someone working on that scooter. Next week, around the same day, you should have it.”

“Got it.” Jack nodded, inscribing the addresses of the orders on his wrist-mounted GPS before putting the pizza boxes in the backpack. “It’s going to be done.” He told Lorenzo before walking off the pizzeria.

As foreshadowed, the rest of the night was hectic. While he ended up making all his deliveries, he only managed to do so after spending an hour of overtime to complete the last 8 orders in The Bowery. This one ended up being the delivery that ended up truly convincing him that Lorenzo really does make deliveries to anyone, no matter who and no questions asked.

Because the place Jack arrived at, he believed, was a neighborhood’s corner infested with drug dealers of all kinds, weapons traffickers and people doing all kinds of counterfeit.

When he arrived at the delivery’s site, music was blasting from party box speakers, creating mini-earthquakes and literally making the floor shake and rattle. A long line of cars were parked on either side of the street while some mean-looking, bandana-wearing motherfuckers were sitting on folding chairs around in a circle and blocking the path.

Inside the delivery apartment addresses, people were drinking, doing weed, or blowing lines of coke while being entertained by some scantily clad women – maybe either prostitutes or strippers – who were twerking; shaking asses even as people were pouring liquor on their bouncing bubble butts.

He had ended up being the center of attention once he showed up, but with a quick clarification – a call from Lorenzo vouching for him – the young rogue was allowed to pass and deliver his orders.

“Holllllllyyyy shittttttt, ayooo. Dude, cuh, come out cuh. Some kinda mean-looking, hard son of a bitch in a fallout shit waitin for you at the door, cuh!” The man who had answered the door shouted back over the loud music. Turning to him, the man gave Jack another once-over, his gaze lingering on the GPS mounted on your wrist before he squinted at him. “Don’t tell me you’re amnesiac, cuh. Or that my cous owes you some greens. Else shit 'bout to go down and I ain’t want none part in it bro.” He told him with a straight face.

“...” Honestly, Jack has maybe understood half of what he told him. However, he still got the gist of what he meant. “We’re cool. I’m only here to deliver pizzas…” He trailed off, “bro…”

“You can get pizza delivered in The fucking Bowery?” The man exclaimed, sounding amazed. “Ain’t no way, bro. How?”

He stared at him, wondering if the guy was retarded. As he didn’t know what to answer, he simply shrugged his shoulders.

”Lorenzo. He’s from Lorenzo's. I ordered some good ol 'pizzas from him. That’s how.” A black man in his thirties, shaved-head with a full beard, answered his question instead – a lopsided grin was on his lips as he clapped his cousin on his shoulder before stopping in front of Jack, eyeing him calculatingly, giving him an assessing glance before nodding in approval as if he passed some kind of test. “Seems like he got a good one this time. Probs gonna last longer."

They exchanged some small pleasantries. Before long, they proceeded to trade the pizzas for money, the man leaving Jack a generous tip of 20$ at the end of the exchange.

At the end of the night, Jack walked back home, with a full stomach and 246$ in cash. 150$ for the delivery commission fees and the other 96$ for tips.

Gangsters were excellent tippers and appreciated his service.

The next day of work was as uneventful as the last one – outside of that small confrontation he had.

Jack showed up to Lorenzo’s pizzeria, on time this time, and quickly got to work.

Early this day, he brought a pair of roller skates to help him move around and lighten his workload. It was a real lifesaver on the mobility side of things. He completed his deliveries with more ease and in less time too. And by the end of his shift, his legs no longer felt like they might crumble or shatter.

There were some downsides to traveling around in roller skates though. Two main ones to be specific.

The first one – he had to leave behind his armored boot pairs. Which left him feeling… exposed and inadequately dressed.

Secondly, he ended up getting stopped way more often while traveling on the ground by some random thugs or two-bits muggers – that even with the foresight of having a [chamber] open from time to time to try to avoid falling into an ambush. Though, this downside, admittedly while a slight waste of time, was manageable. If nothing else, words about him having a superpower or being some kind of wizard fucker had quickly spread around in the block. So much that Lorenzo had subtly inquired about it.

To which he had answered flippantly: “There’s a reason why I was confident I could handle anything thrown my way. And it wasn’t just my costume.”

Lorenzo got the memo and hadn’t inquired more on the subject since then. Though Jack could tell that the older man was burning to know more but respected the fact that he wasn’t inclined to elaborate on the subject.

The day following this one was a Monday. Which was his day off, along with Tuesday.

Jack decided to spend that day training his power.

Back in his homeworld, around one in 10,000 people ends up manifesting powers. Most people who ‘awakened’ to their powers, did it when they were around 11~16 years old. Jack awakened his when he was 13.

Of course, there were outliers. Early bloomers or late bloomers for example. The youngest recorded supe to ever get his power was 8 years old; while the oldest one ever recorded to awaken his, was 22 years and some 7 months old. Both cases were studied excessively.

Early on, it was quickly discovered that early bloomers tended to have a higher ceiling of growth as most power started fairly weak compared to their observed peak potential, and could grow with time and training. Late bloomers outright started with a more potent version of their power while having a faster growth rate. However, as if to compensate for it, their ceiling of growth was lower than average. They ended up peaking around their mid-twenties while most supes reached their peaks around their late twenties or early thirties.

Powers were like any type of muscle. Used enough, trained enough and exercised frequently, they could grow and become easier to use and to activate.

His own power [Chamber] was proof of this. It started fairly weak and useless. When he first got it, the only thing it could do was give him a vague awareness of what was in his surroundings, a meter around him but the ‘awareness’ was impeded by solid obstacles.

At first, he was bummed to have such an useless power. But after a visit to a private power specialist and some tests later, it was recommended for him to use and train his power as much and frequently as possible, in order to help cultivate it so that maybe one day, he could improve and discover new ways of using them.

Which an acne-riddled and ambitious younger him did, with thought of developing a lame power into a cool one using training and ingenuity like Luffy or his favorite villain at the time, Donquixote Doflamingo.

The results have spoken for themselves.

After four months or so, he increased his range, became able to now ‘see’ things even behind obstacles and unlocked another aspect of his power he wasn’t aware of but was clearly intended to be used in this way.

He had called it {switch}.

It took three years for Jack to consider his power to be ‘useful’ enough that he’d feel comfortable going out and taking his shot at being a supe.

Three years of mundane exercises like levitating things, going from light objects to heavier ones; then upping the number of objects he kept afloat at the same time. Trying to maintain a [chamber] continuously open for long stretches of time. Trying to use as frequently as possible [chambers] to build endurance. Training his reaction’s time, refining his power’s minute control, coming up with new ways of using his telekinesis or the more exotic parts of his abilities, etc…

So training and frequent usage of one’s power was extremely important to keep one’s abilities sharp and improve them. Doing neither of them would see a supe regressed in terms of power's proficiency and potency. Just like any professional athlete who didn’t train as regularly as expected would see a drop in performance.

The place he was currently at was isolated, filled with abandoned warehouses, around which he could find car wrecks, broken furniture, debris, old and used machinery and equipment loitering on the streets.

In some of these abandoned warehouses, some homeless people have made it their residences. While exploring the surroundings of Cape Carmine to find a properly remote site, Jack found a kind of thriving homeless community, making shelters out of the numerous abandoned warehouses and empty storage buildings around.

There should be at least thousands of them, squatting and hunkering around the place. With kids among the numbers too.

It was probably where he would have chosen to temporarily stay in the event he didn't stumble upon his abandoned but well-furnished, underground hideout.

‘For the second biggest city of America in this timeline, Gotham City is such a depressing city… such a mess.’ He sighed.

Without realizing it, he had spent an entire afternoon training in this quaint, abandoned warehouse, lifting heavy debris and juggling between executing multiple tasks at once to train and refine his multitasking ability.

But now, it was time to return home and make dinner. Besides, if he didn’t want to get stranded here and make his way back exclusively on foot, he needed to go, and now. Lest he missed the bus home. It took him an entire hour of walking to reach this place from the nearest bus stop.

Jack didn’t want to make the entire way back on foot. No way.