The Becoming (Super Heroes)

[Imperial Overlord]

Out of curiosity, is the death touch controllable, or is he like Rogue and everyone Matador touches for more than a moment dies?

Controllable.

[LadyTevar]

Ok... so Corpse King didn't go down like a Bitch.

I liked how Blackheart stepped up when MindMelter was busy and focused the troops.

[Imperial Overlord]

Speed Demon finished putting on his armour and grabbed his weapons. Even for him there were limits on how fast he could do things, especially if he had been sound asleep when the alarm claxons went off. Now, clad head to toe in dark blue body armour marked with red lightning bolts and armed to the teeth, he was ready for action. He dashed through the corridors, a lance in each hand. Super speed had its limits and one had just been reached. The ramp upstairs was blocked by troops rushing up to engage the enemy. Rushing by mundane standards. To Speed Demon they were as slow as molasses on a cold day.

"Hurry the fuck up!" he yelled. "God damn it," he swore silently. It was taking them forever and three days to clear the ramp and get upstairs. He raised the lance in his right and readied himself for a sprint and then pain blossomed in his skull. The world spun and he stepped back. Distantly he could hear a whole bunch of bodies hit the ground. He shook his head and tried to clear it.

The reaction detail was sprawled unconscious on the floor. "Mother fucker," Speed Demon swore under his breath. He had been hit by the edge of the psychic blast which had taken them out. If someone was chucking around mind bombs without Violator blocking them, dampening their effect, or jump starting the fallen that meant Violator was down and he was going to be alone up there. Fuck.

On the other hand, at least the fools weren't in his way anymore. Speed Demon ran up the ramp, breaking one hundred kilometers an hour as he stepped on the prone bodies on his way out. He saw Violator, a slight sixteen year old black teenager, sprawled near the hole that replaced the front door. He hit three hundred kilometers an hour as exited the house. Blackheart was standing by the side of the porch, but Speed Demon's velocity was too great for him to turn and engage in that short of a space and Blackheart's reactions were too slow. Incinerator beams flashed through his wake. Blackheart's flash vision traveled at light speed, but he himself wasn't any faster than a baseline human.

Speed Demon recognized them all from briefings. Dead ahead was Heatwave. Twenty meters behind him was a female, identity and powers unknown, associated with black ops meta teams. Coming in at eight o'clock was Valkyrie. Matador teleported beside the woman. She had to be the telepath. Speed Demon accelerated. A telepath still had to find a target. Dropping a mind bomb on a space he no longer occupied wasn't very effective and with her teammates around, carpet psi bombing wouldn't work.

Heatwave was dead ahead and approaching him would fry him to a crisp. Speed Demon hit five hundred kilometers an hour, as confirmed by the holographic projection on his left eyepiece, and threw the lance in his right hand. He then veered away. The lance was made of some kind of ceramic composite slash high tech alloy that Cronos had come up with. Speed Demon didn't understand the tech and didn't really care. What he cared about was that it would hold a good edge and that it would withstand the rigors of high speed impacts well enough to be used by a weapon. After all, who the fuck was he to argue with one of the only brains big enough to figure out how to make red mercury?

A lead bullet would have vaporized before it hit Heatwave, but Speed Demon's lances were considerably more robust. Heatwave himself had considerable resilience to injury. It wasn't enough. Two meters of matte black lance flew through his sternum and out through his back in a welter of blood. The lance embedded itself, quivering, in the compound wall behind him.

Heatwave's blood was too bright and it sizzled when it contacted the air. Orange light boiled from the wound. The meta took a step forward and then fell to his knees. The meta then collapsed face first into a pool of liquid fire.

Speed Demon had to veer around Heatwave's incinerator aura, which cost him time and velocity. Matador touched the woman. Speed Demon poured it on, passing six hundred kilometers an hour and tearing up the grass. He had transferred the other lance from his left to his right hand. He raised it to strike. They both vanished.

The meta snarled in frustration and executed a wide turn. A lightning bolt passed through his wake and flash vision rays seared new wounds on the walls. He was too fast for them, but sooner or later, they would get lucky.

"Matador, keep her away!" shouted Blackheart. "And stay away yourself!" Matador was fast and deadly, but against the speedster his powers matched up poorly. Wherever he teleported, Speed Demon wouldn't be there when he arrived and a death touch required close quarters. Speed Demon could get on him before he knew what was happening and take him down before he could escape. Another speedster would be the best counter, but they didn't have that.

Speed Demon broke towards Valkyrie and accelerated. There was a boom as he broke through the sound barrier. Mach fucking one, he thought. The lance held rigid in his arm. Impact.

Valkyrie was tough, but not invulnerable. So was Speed Demon's lance. Both failed. The lance shivered in broke on impact, but the head embedded itself in Valkyrie's abdomen. Blood gushed out and Speed Demon was passed circling around the house to use it as cover. Lightning and flash vision blasted through the walls. They didn't touch him.

Speed Demon grinned under his mask. The telepath was easy enough meat now. He just had to find her and run her down. Matador's tricks were kick ass against say Steel or Corpse King, but just slightly better than fucking useless against him. Valkyrie was down and Heatwave was dying. That left Blackheart, who was essentially Valkyrie light.

Blackheart rose into the air. Speed Demon smiled. A smart move and a not so smart move. Smart in that it made Blackheart hard to get. Not so smart in that it meant that Speed Demon's best play was to instead get his teammates. He rushed around the house.

Blackheart's flash vision flared, but this time the blue-white death beams weren't aimed at him. Instead they hit the lance still embedded in the wall, slicing it to pieces. "Fuck," Speed Demon swore. Both of his lances were trashed. This was going to get a little harder. He drew his scythes.

The blades were slightly fifty centimeters long, single edged, and slightly curved. At speed they went through human flesh like Blackheart's flash vision through tofu. He headed towards the gateway. Deadly blue-white beams sliced across it. Blackheart again. Speed Demon adjusted course away from the gate. The man was getting annoying. If Blackheart's timing had been a little better, he would have been fried.

There were other ways than lances to deal with Blackheart. High velocity shot putted rubble came to mind. And once he was down, slice and dice. Speed Demon smiled at the thought. Blackheart descended towards the house. What the fuck is he doing, the Black Arion meta asked himself.

Diva, he thought with a cold shiver. Diva was the target. Once inside the underground base there wouldn't be much room to maneuver or accelerate. Most of the metas were down. Facing Blackheart there would be a cold bitch and if he took down Diva, Speed Demon's life wouldn't be worth a bent nickel to Cronos or The Prophet. Speed Demon shot toward the house.

It was burning now. Flash vision and lightning strikes aren't good for interiors. Speed Demon swooped around the back. There was no way in hell he was going to charge through the entryway that Blackheart was sure to be watching and would have a clear line of sight to from the ramp. That was asking to be charred.

He blew through the black door, the kitchen, and the living room. Half the furnishings and parts of the wall were on fire. Smoke was billowing out the holes and the windows and fairly thick around head level. Blackheart was turning towards him. Too slow. Speed Demon couldn't get up to full speed and if Blackheart got a grip on him or a good look, he was dead. So he cut and run, opening a slice on Blackheart's left bicep as he blew passed and out the door. Blood dripped from his blade. High tech body armour and super powers only did so much. He turned and came back for another attack run.

Blackheart was turning again. Again he was too slow. Speed Demon opened another shallow cut on his lower back and then came back to slice one open on his left thigh. Flash vision beams chased him out of the house. He swooped around to attack from another angle by diving through window.

Blackheart was at the ramp. A few more feet and this would become a whole new ball of wax. Speed Demon rolled to his feet as Blackheart's flash vision sizzled through his wake. Fuck this shit, he said silently to himself. The meta's arms were outstretched. His neck was exposed. Gotcha, thought Speed Demon.

His scythe slashed through tough synthetics and titanium fibers. Even tougher flesh parted. Wetness splattered over Speed Demon's arm. He dashed away from the stricken meta. He bumped into Blackheart's outstretched arm.

The impact helped twist Blackheart around while driving the air from Speed Demon's lungs. He gasped out a loud "wuff." It felt like he had cracked rips, but it probably wasn't that bad. He put one foot in front of the other.

He had lost speed and even worse, he had lost time while helping to turn Blackheart toward him. Blood gushed from Blackheart's throat as a pair of blue-white beams touched the back of Speed Demon's right shoulder. Armour blew into ash and his right lung and ribs were scorched carbon black. Speed Demon's blood boiled in his veins and then the beams cut across to his spine and there was only oblivion.

Blackheart fell to his knees beside the charred terrorist, hands clutching at his throat. He gargled into his throat mike and tried not to die.

[LadyTevar]

Sooner or later there's got to be a fight scene where Blackheart does NOT nearly die by the end of it.

Still -- great fight!

[CaptainChewbacca]

Heatwave was dead ahead and approaching him would fry him to a crisp. Speed Demon hit five hundred kilometers a second, as confirmed by the holographic projection on his left eyepiece, and threw the lance in his right hand.

Either that's a typo, or Speed Demon is traveling at Mach 1450, or 0.001c.

[Imperial Overlord]

It's a typo, of course. Thanks for catching that Chewie.

[CaptainChewbacca]

I didn't know if it was 500 kph, or 500 mps. Both would be good.

[consequences]

Frakking speedsters. There should be a law, or at least a bounty.

[Imperial Overlord]

February 26, 2002

Blackheart stirred and opened his eyes. His throat ached abominably. Something was preventing him from moving his head. The room was fuzzy. He tried to focus. A hospital room. He had needles sticking in him. He was alive.

He almost didn't believe it. He tried to speak. Couldn't. He felt along the sides of the bed and found a call button. He pushed it.

A nurse came in immediately. She was a somewhat pretty black woman pushing thirty. She handed him a marker and an erasable slate. "Doctor Cavanaugh will be here shortly. Is that what you want?"

He tried to nod in the affirmative and, of course, he couldn't. He wrote yes.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Water, he wrote.

"Sorry hun. The only fluids I can give you go in to your arm."

Figures, he wrote. Nothing, he added. God, he hated hospitals.

Mary Cavanaugh showed up a few minutes later and the nurse left. Her hair was still tangled from sleep. "I see that you're awake now Dav-Blackheart. How do you feel?"

Throat hurts, he wrote. He showed it to her and then started erasing.

"Understandable. You almost died. Matador had to chain teleport you back to the support team. They then went to work to stabilize you and Flashback picked you up and brought you here."

The mission? he wrote.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I don't know. I don't even know where you were and I only know about the transport chain because the information might have been medically useful. I can tell you that Valkyrie is in the next room and she'll make it as well."

Good enough, he replied. Can you get me Patricia?

"I can page her. You need anything?"

No, he replied.

"Try to take better care of yourself. We have a very limited number of medical options when it comes to metahumans with your degree of invulnerability." She patted his leg affectionately. "I'll go get her." She left the room. Blackheart lay there, staring at the ceiling. Waiting.

A short eternity later Patricia arrived. She was wearing her bomber jacket, as usual, and a pair of gold framed shades. "Hey tough guy. How are you doing?"

The Mission? he wrote.

"Matador hauled yours and Valkyrie's asses the hell back to rally point with chain teleports. The weapons teams caught up to us and we took the place. We'd already taken out most of the security. We got her. Alive. She was hiding in a closet like a scared rabbit. Probably would have mind fucked us good if we didn't have the breather masks. I KO'd the bitch anyway."

Good, he wrote.

"You're lucky to be alive," she said. "They said your space wasp super oxygenated your blood, turned down the flow rate, and upped the coagulation so that you survived. Barely."

Tarantula dies after hatching, he wrote. Not before.

She looked away for a moment. "Well, we won. You and Valkyrie both look likely to pull through and we're on inactive for a while. I'm sure they're pulling Diva's brain apart as we speak. Rest up."

Nothing else to do, he replied.

[LadyTevar]

He still got damned lucky there was a teleporter there

[Garlak]

I'm not sure I understand how the bad guys are going to cause a split between humans and metahumans with their tactics. Thus far, quite a few metahumans have been killed during their ramprages, either trying to stop them or by being collateral damage. There were the metas killed in NYC, Manhattan before the black ops showed up... there were the black ops metas that were killed... there were the Canadian metas that were killed or hospitalized. There was the group of metas ambushed as they tried to get some payback for that.

They're killing people through mostly super powers, true, but either you haven't shown us (or their tactics didn't succeed in) sowing distrust or chaos between normal people and metas.

Black Arion haven't convinced leaders or the public that all metas are Up To Something. They have not made metas out to be unstable and likely to snap at any moment.

If I were in such a world, the worst I would think of metas would be something along the lines of "I wish they weren't around..." in the same way I would wish that of NUCLEAR WEAPONS. That's still far different from wishing metas were killed off, or rounded up and kept track of... It's more like respecting/praying/pitying for soldiers or policemen, while despising the many ways humanity has found to kill itself.

Am I missing something really obvious? Because I just can't see any seeds of distrust or beginning of any Sheeple effect...




On a somewhat different note... Black Arion (Arion? Not Orion? What's Arion mean?). I'm still a bit puzzled as to their goals/motivations. How did the good guys figure out that the terrorists were after an "apocalypse" or out to "rebuild Eden" upon the ashes of the old world? I have trouble matching up the bad guys' stated goals, with their methods, with their achievements...

[Imperial Overlord]

Black Arion killed more than a hundred thousand people in New York alone on 9/11. Manhattan is a wreck.

1) The most powerful American meta was Captain Liberty and he turned out to be an evil bastard back when Blackheart was a kid. Public trust in metas had already taken a beating. The story is about Blackheart, who is alienated from the mundane world. He doesn't see much of it directly. This will change.

2) Most of the meta on meta fighting has been outside the public view or with limited witnesses. Not the case with Black Arion's anti-human terrorism.

3) You have only seen the first stage of Black Arion's plans.

[Rahvin]

3) You have only seen the first stage of Black Arion's plans.

I eagerly await Phase 2

[Garlak]

1) The most powerful American meta was Captain Liberty and he turned out to be an evil bastard back when Blackheart was a kid. Public trust in metas had already taken a beating. The story is about Blackheart, who is alienated from the mundane world. He doesn't see much of it directly. This will change.

Wouldn't he get most of his news from TV, newspapers and internet sources? Not to mention the higher ups saying a thing or two about "how bad it's gotten"? I'd imagine he'd be more informed than most people as a result.

2) Most of the meta on meta fighting has been outside the public view or with limited witnesses. Not the case with Black Arion's anti-human terrorism.

What about the Canadian metas put into bodybags or hospitals during Corpse King's rampage? They would've been out there, fighting and dying.
The Metas fighting for or trying to save people in NYC, Manhattan, e.t.c.--news would have spread of that.

Hell, what about that Russian meta's farm being nuked? No matter that people can't get access to the specifics, that an actual nuclear explosion took place would be difficult to cover. Something like that is big, people won't just overlook it.

3) You have only seen the first stage of Black Arion's plans.

True. Though from what I've seen so far, I don't understand how people could think their motivations could be to cause a human/metahuman war.

[Imperial Overlord]

Wouldn't he get most of his news from TV, newspapers and internet sources? Not to mention the higher ups saying a thing or two about "how bad it's gotten"? I'd imagine he'd be more informed than most people as a result.

Blackheart is more informed than the average person, but he's isolated from humanity. I haven't made any "how bad it's gotten" posts because it hasn't gotten that bad yet. Black Arion has to trigger a world wide race war and has the defence and metahuman establishments of two Cold War super powers opposing them. You'd have to be crazier than they are to think success will be quick and easy.

What about the Canadian metas put into bodybags or hospitals during Corpse King's rampage? They would've been out there, fighting and dying.
The Metas fighting for or trying to save people in NYC, Manhattan, e.t.c.--news would have spread of that.

Hell, what about that Russian meta's farm being nuked? No matter that people can't get access to the specifics, that an actual nuclear explosion took place would be difficult to cover. Something like that is big, people won't just overlook it.

Yes, some of the defenders actions have been public and gathered positive publicity because of it.. Black Arion has also wrecked cities. They haven't alienated the populace from their defenders yet, but they've ramped up the fear level. Black Arion doesn't expect to succeed overnight. They're quite aware of the obstacles in their path. They haven't succeeded yet, but they've made progress.

True. Though from what I've seen so far, I don't understand how people could think their motivations could be to cause a human/metahuman war.

People don't think. Taskmaster, who is fucking brilliant and plugged into the intelligence community and whose specialty is metahuman terrorism, knows. The people they've been known to recruit, the books they read, their recruitment methods, data in computers, etcetera have all left scraps of information that's been assembled. More on Taskmaster later.

[Imperial Overlord]

March 5, 2002

Blackheart pushed through the crowd to the bar. "We should put all those super faggots in camps," said the man beside him. "Bar code the fucks and only let them out if they're doing a job for the US of A."

"Fuckin' A," said the man beside him. Blackheart claimed a stool and tried to ignore the red necks. "While they're add it, they should round up all those AIDS infected faggots."

"Get me a shot of Jack," he said to the bartender. He would have gone for a beer, but domestic beer was crap. Sad, but true. He had to get away and he had leave due. Living on base was like living in a velvet lined bottle. It was comfortable, but you saw the same damn shit every day, which in his case was people that would slowly, inevitably, come to loath him. Fuck that shit.

The bartender pushed the glass towards him. Blackheart gave him a ten and took a large sip. He looked around.

Fake ID got him into the bar even though he was technically only somewhere around twenty. One of the advantages of working black ops is that there was no shortage of fake IDs. He could probably get one saying that he was the president of Paraguay. The bar was busy. A hockey game with the volume turned down was on the teevee.

Blackheart finished off his drink and signaled the bartender for another. Then another. Around him the good people who were his neighbors bitched about their wives, their girl friends, their jobs, gays, blacks, foreigners, money, crime, sports teams, the government, metahumans, and just about everything else.

"I tell you, the bitch doesn't do anything but spend my money. Can't even fucking cook."

"They're wrecking the God damn country. Them and the homos."

"If it was up to those liberal pussies, we would all be red by now."

"Its those fuckers in Washington's fault."

"I don't know what's worse. Those sand niggers of the fucking metas."

"I'm barely making any God damn money. What the fuck has happened to this country?"

"Can you believe the bitch said that to me? Who the fuck does she think she is?"

At first he ignored it, but as time went buy it was becoming increasingly difficult. The bartender was quite willing to give him enough alcohol to utterly destroy a normal man. The bitching and moaning didn't stop, but it was now slurred and almost incoherent.

He looked around. He was surrounded by a bunch of mean spirited drunks that were complaining about lives that were far better than the one he had. Hell, he would be lucky to make it to thirty before whatever his parasite cored him and these men were complaining about marriages and kids and jobs that wouldn't get them killed and all the things he would never have.

He finished off his drink and tipped the bartender. This had been a mistake. He got up and left. Cold, clean air greeted him as he hit the parking lot. Thank Christ.

He looked up. The stars gazed back at him, cold and distant. The sky seemed so empty, a black void. It was inviting. A little further away from the bar and no one would recognize him when he rose into the sky.

But why fucking bother with that? He wasn't ashamed of what he was. He had no secret identity to protect. Life was short. Why play it safe? He was a dead man already.

He rose into the air and felt the wind play over his skin. He laughed as he saw the town beneath him and exhilaration began to take over. The whole world was waiting. He had a week. How far could he get?

March 6, 2002

Chronos's cybernetic body swam with reflected light as he stepped into the The Prophet's meditation room. The room was bathed in light and the floor was covered with carpets and rugs. The Prophet sat crosslegged in a pit full of pillows. He wore a gold robe and a beatific smile. He was the spitting image of an elderly holy man. Images lie.

"We have additional confirmation," said Chronos. "Diva's dead or taken."

The Prophet nodded. "We are agreed that her loss is a mixed blessing?"

"Yes," said the cyborg. "Her demands were becoming burdensome."

"Being able to enslave everyone around you since you were a teenager does no promote personal growth," said the Prophet. "Blackmail will allow us to continue to control those intelligence assets and our practice of requiring new recruits to commit acts of violence as demonstrations of commitment and dedication will secure their loyalty. Diva has paid the price for her hubris. Black Arion will survive her and triumph."

"Not if we do not neutralize Sentinel."

"Put aside the past," said the Prophet. "The Russian cannot stop us."

"You underestimate him. He held the Soviet Union together. He defied the Third Reich. He must perish if our plans are to advance."

"He must," agreed the Prophet, "but we must finish what we started. Your attack upon him was premature."

"He needs to die, the sooner the better."

"We risk fighting the East and the West at once. Even with Power Monger and your advances, we cannot fight both super powers at once."

"We've bled the government metas white. They won't be able to stop us. We'll tear through them like wet cardboard and then there will be none. Soon the world will see nothing but metas slaughtering baselines on the nightly news."

[Simon_Jester]

1) I get the impression that Taskmaster is a metahuman with super-intelligence or something. Is that true? Or is this a "neither confirm nor deny" thing?

2) I find myself very curious about how powerful this Russian "Sentinel" is, and what his backstory is.

[LadyTevar]

As I joked with IO, this is Blackheart's first furlough. He should go out, get drunk, get laid, and get a tat like any good soldier on leave.

of course, he'd have to find someone using diamond-tipped needles for the tat.....

[CaptainChewbacca]

I got the impression the Sentinel was the soviet equivalent of Superman.

[Imperial Overlord]

1) If Taskmaster is a meta, he's keeps it hidden. He is fucking smart.

2) Sentinel is one of the oldest and most powerful metas alive. He manifested his powers in WW2 and has been around, apparently unaging, since then. He's arguably the most powerful meta alive when he's on Russian soil (and not much weaker off it) and as a good commie he prevented the break up of the Soviet Union.

[Imperial Overlord]

Eyes followed Blackheart as he flew over the streets. He wasn't a fast flyer so he wasn't going much faster than the local traffic, but he was still flying. He scanned the town below, skipped over the McDonalds, and found something acceptable. He dropped down into the diner's parking lot and walked in the door.

He was a little early for lunch, there were only three other customers eating at the moment. He headed over to the counter. A woman in her early thirties looked back at him. "Hi," he said. "What's good?"

"Everything honey," she said. "But most people swear by our barbecue burgers with bacon and cheese."

"Sounds good," said Blackheart. "Two burgers, fries, and a large Coke."

"Sure thing," she said, pressing buttons on the register. "Comes to eleven eighty two."

Blackheart fished out his wallet paid. "Pick a table," she said, "you're a little early for the lunch rush."

Blackheart sat down. Several people drifted in, their eyes constantly drifting towards him. His food arrived and he started tearing into it. The onlookers made their orders and drifted to tables and booths from where they could watch Blackheart. He finished off a burger, took a swig from from his Coke, and looked around. "Go ahead and ask," he said.

"Who are you?" asked a teenage boy.

"Blackheart. I work from the government. I am not here to help you." The joke got a round of forced laughter.

"Can you do stuff besides fly?" said another teenager, sitting next to the first one. "Like are you super strong?"

"Yeah," said Blackheart. "I can remove the jar on a lid of pickles like nobody's business. You can also see grainy, poor resolution video of me fighting a dude way out of my league during 9/11."

"Wow," said a blond girl, probably in her early twenties.

"How did you win?" the first kid asked.

"I distracted him while my buddy got back to his feet and then kicked his ass," said Blackheart. He was smiling now. "I've kicked other asses, but to the best of my knowledge that's the only footage of me in action floating through the internet.

It went on like that for a while until Blackheart finally finished his meal and headed out and back into the sky. It was dusk when he saw the lights of Chicago and true dark when he arrived. He headed down town for a better view of the city's famous sky scrappers and to find a hotel.

His landing was greeted by stares of wonder and glares of murderous hatred. He walked pass the pedestrians and into the hotel. It was a nice place. It would probably set him back quite a bit, but he had been racking up the combat pay and had very little to spend it on. The man working behind the counter looked up. "Hello sir."

"Hello," said Blackheart. "I'd like a room." He reached into his wallet for plastic.

"Of course sir. How long to you intend to stay?"

"Just for a few days. Thought I would see the city."

"It's a spectacular place. The crossroads of America." He handed Blackheart's plastic back to him and then passed him the key.

"Thank you," Blackheart replied. He was an adult, alone in the big city with money burning a hole in his pocket, a week to spare, and the ability to drink Hemingway under the table and bounce bullets off his skin. He wasn't going to waste a minute of it.

[CaptainChewbacca]

How long does it take the 'vague sense of unease' that blackheart causes to kick in? If he'd stayed two hours at the diner, would he have started to seem creepy? Four? People seem to like him at first, so I'm wondering.

Incidentally, the scene in the first chapter of this story where he gets adopted by a loving family and gets a kitten, only to have them both turn on him was one of the most heartbreaking things I've ever read. How did you come up with the whole 'aversion field but its not his fault' thing? That's a brilliant plot device.

[Imperial Overlord]

How long does it take the 'vague sense of unease' that blackheart causes to kick in? If he'd stayed two hours at the diner, would he have started to seem creepy? Four? People seem to like him at first, so I'm wondering.

Incidentally, the scene in the first chapter of this story where he gets adopted by a loving family and gets a kitten, only to have them both turn on him was one of the most heartbreaking things I've ever read. How did you come up with the whole 'aversion field but its not his fault' thing? That's a brilliant plot device.

You'll get a good idea of the timing if you read the dates. It's a month after his adoption that he gets the kitten and everything's still good. A few months after that and things have gone sour. And it gets worse. It's all about exposure.

As for how I came up with it, it was pretty much part and parcel to the nature of his power. He has an active and aware chunk of Cthuloid godling germinating in his chest and bonding with his flesh. It just fit.

[LadyTevar]

I've often wondered if that aversion field grew stronger as the DemonHeart grew.

[Imperial Overlord]

I've often wondered if that aversion field grew stronger as the DemonHeart grew.

It does.