Chapter 4
"Oh, sweetie, I'm so glad you stopped by..."
The hum of the motorized wheelchair echoed in the hallway the moment we crossed the threshold. Unable to hold back a smile, I walked past a tense Amanda. She was about to face her own personal trial, one where neither the strength of her alter-ego nor her prickly personality could help her.
"Herman, stop! Wait, damn it..." the girl whispered fiercely at my back.
I had already turned into the kitchen, waving mockingly like the good guy from an old anime.
"I'll kill you! You hear me?! As soon as I get out of this, I'm going to cut off your little virgin— Hello, Mrs. Herbie."
The vicious bitch's furious threats instantly morphed into the polite, sweet voice of a teenage girl. She wore a bright smile with not an ounce of hatred or resentment on her face, and most importantly—no hidden fear in her eyes. Amanda's emotions made such a sharp U-turn that I almost couldn't help but respect her for it.
"Darling, it's so good to see you!" Wheeling out into the hallway, Granny quickly pulled up next to the girl—who hadn't managed to escape in time—and wrapped her in the best hug she could manage. "You're so skinny... Herman doesn't feed you at all. With such narrow hips, you'll never give me great-grandchildren..."
"I told you, Mrs. Herbie, we aren't dating," Amanda said, showing the first cracks in her mask.
I didn't know if Granny was doing it on purpose or not, but in every conversation with my prematurely mature friend, she always hit the exact right pressure points. She would shatter Amanda's mask and drag her true personality out into the open.
"...And I explained to you that my power..." Amanda continued.
"Yes, yes, yes," Elizabeth Herbie said. With a light wave of her hand, she shut down the girl's rehearsed speech. Granny grabbed my friend by the hand and, ignoring Amanda's pleading gaze directed at me, dragged her off toward her bedroom. "I've heard all that before... But last time you never answered me about why you can't use your second form for it. Come to my room, let's gossip, just us girls..."
I didn't stick around to listen to the start of this parade of amazing stories. I pulled the kitchen door shut, trying to distract myself by putting away the groceries and starting on lunch.
The first few times had been way harder. I had no idea if Granny's neighbors, her friends, or the damn cats had snitched on me, but the next time Amanda came to our house, the sly old woman was right there waiting—eager to meet my one and only female friend...
God, that sounded pathetic, especially coming from my own mouth.
It seemed Granny had grown entirely desperate to see her disaster of a grandson with a member of the opposite sex under the age of sixty. She had even turned a blind eye to the fact that my "girlfriend" was technically a minor.
*In my day, there was nothing wrong with it, as long as everyone consented... People married their sisters and cousins in some states, so what's a measly couple of years' difference?!*
That was what she had told me back then, accompanied by the quiet laughter of Amanda. At first, Amanda had thought the whole situation was hilarious, completely unaware of the grave she was digging for herself. The little bitch had played the role perfectly, chiming in with inappropriate hints and details...
Well, she only had herself to blame. Now, every time she ended up at our place, I threw her to the wolves. Let her take the heat for her own jokes. I knew I'd probably get set up for something later as payback, but... over the six months of our weird friendship, I had somehow gotten used to this kind of interaction. I barely even leaked anymore.
*If only Amanda would stop calling me an old leaky tampon when she gets mad, things would be perfect.*
Making a gloomy face at the mirror, I stared at my reflection for a few seconds. Then, just to test myself, I tried summoning a drop of water on the tip of my nose.
After a few seconds of waiting, a single drop fell quietly onto the kitchen tile, bringing a satisfied smile to my face.
It was true—my control over my power had gotten much better recently. It was still far from perfect, and it would obviously take me a lot more time to cosplay Katara, let alone Juvia, but...
It was progress! Water had almost stopped bothering me in my daily life, making things a hundred times easier and leaving me with extra cash around the house. Plus, my visits to Samson had become less frequent, which also bulked up my wallet considerably. I had even managed to buy myself one decent set of clothes made from waterproof fabric. Two and a half grand for a fucking tracksuit!
Yeah, it was just the standard local equivalent of Nike, but man, was I happy to have it. I looked like some kind of street thug in it, a fact Amanda made sure to remind me of every time she saw me, but... it was still way better than a wetsuit! Besides, she dressed like a freshman from some hick town.
I nervously glanced around just in case, making sure the girl wasn't nearby. Powers aside, sometimes it felt like she could read minds. Though maybe that was just the infamous female intuition.
Whatever, it didn't matter. Back to my superpower.
Sure, there were still incidents sometimes... like when I talked to beautiful women I didn't know, or when I was in a crowded place, or when some absolute bullshit was going down nearby. But let's be real—considering the disastrous body I was stuck with, I was a fucking hero!
On top of that, I had learned how to create a basic, high-pressure stream of water. At the junkyard where Amanda trained, I used that move to cave in a car door. Now I could comfortably control water within a ten-meter radius and do all sorts of things with it—like creating half a dozen tentacles to use for both attack and defense.
Of course, I got an earful for that one:
"Holy shit, Herman!" Amanda stuck out her lower lip and crossed her arms, shooting me a look of pure disgust. Her entire posture radiated judgment. "I didn't think it could get any worse. Please don't tell me that on top of all the other crap in your head, you're also a fan of fucking anime or whatever?!"
"What are you even talking about?" I asked.
Not entirely understanding what my friend meant, I reached out toward her with one of the tentacles. In response, I immediately took a car tire to the chest. I flew a couple of meters backward, crashing into a pile of aluminum cans collected by the local homeless guys.
"Ow! What the hell?!"
"Keep those things away from me!" Amanda shuddered, wrapping her arms around her own shoulders. "Considering they're made out of your bodily fluids, I feel like I could get pregnant just from them touching me!"
Good times. Speaking of which, that same junkyard was where Monster Girl was teaching me how to fight... Well, if you could even call it that. It wasn't like she was showing me any techniques or anything. She was mostly just correcting my punches and putting me through something resembling sparring sessions.
It wasn't exactly a mandatory part of my plans, but I really didn't see a reason to refuse, especially once I realized Amanda genuinely enjoyed it. She just wanted to teach me, but the little bitch was completely incapable of simply asking nicely.
She had a totally rotten personality, of course. It was complex and convoluted, packed with a massive amount of issues. Not to mention, Amanda was a teenage girl in her prime, running on a permanent hormone rush, which certainly didn't make her any more emotionally stable.
Long story short, she was a crazy bitch.
"Ow!"
Someone kicked me in the back of the knee, making me stumble. I nearly cracked my forehead open on the countertop where I'd laid out all the groceries for lunch. I didn't even need to turn around to know exactly who it was.
"What the hell, Amanda?"
"You were thinking some bullshit about me!"
See? I told you! How does she do that? She stood there with her arms crossed in her signature pose, eyes narrowed, while Granny stood beside her, giggling and rubbing the girl's back in an attempt to calm her down.
"He's always been like this," Granny said. As she looked at me, a note of nostalgia slipped into her voice, instantly defusing the rising tension and killing Amanda's righteous fury. "I remember he used to lock himself in his room and spend hours fantasizing and imagining all sorts of nonsense about superheroes..."
I actually felt a little embarrassed, even though a warm, pleasant feeling was spreading through my chest. The old woman really knew how to shift the atmosphere with just a couple of words. The only problem was that her particular brand of bullshit worked in reverse, too.
"I have to admit, at first I thought he was in there furiously masturbating," Granny confided in a loud whisper. I had no idea where the hell she had learned to whisper—probably inside a fucking helicopter, because her words practically echoed around the kitchen. "Especially to that guy in the mechanical suit... Every time I'd go into his room, he'd be sitting against the opposite wall, staring at the poster. And considering how Pumpkin's room was always so wet..."
"Well, he is a growing boy, right, Pumpkin?"
I couldn't even begin to describe the sheer amount of innuendo, undertones, and blatant mockery layered into those words.
I tried my best to ignore the sly, eager look on Amanda's face. I was too busy fighting off a sudden wave of shame, panic, and an approaching "water raid." I had totally jinxed myself, damn it.
***
"So why did you ask us to come here, Granny?"
After easily rolling the old woman's wheelchair over the high threshold of the laundromat, I looked around. I didn't see... well, anything out of the ordinary for our rundown neighborhood. A couple of heavy-set white women were smoking in the corner, not giving a single shit about fire safety or the warning signs.
Not far from them, a college girl was nervously looking over her shoulder as she gathered her laundry. She was clearly terrified that one of her classmates might catch a glimpse of her ratty panties with holes in all the wrong places.
Across the room, two little Black kids were trying to pry open a dryer to fish out the loose change, while the sole security guard was dozing off in his chair, a thick book slipping out of his hands. Just a normal day.
"That way, Pumpkin." Granny pointed a thin index finger toward the staff-only door near the guard. It was completely unremarkable. In fact, I'd say it was even more gray and mundane than the rest of the laundromat's overall vibe.
"Are you sure?"
"Of course." Elizabeth Herbie threw her hands up before gently patting my arm, giving me her trademark warm smile. "Trust your grandmother, Pumpkin."
"Alriiiight," I said, drawing out the word dubiously. Even so, I pushed the wheelchair in the indicated direction and...
That was when my enhanced senses kicked in. With every step I took, I began to make out the sounds coming from behind the door. I didn't say anything, though. I didn't really see the point.
The security guard didn't even wake up as we rolled past him. He just let out a loud snore that nearly gave the two little thieves a heart attack, but that was it.
Beyond the first door was a narrow hallway that immediately led to another door. Following Granny's instructions, I pulled the first door firmly shut behind us.
The moment I cracked the second door open, the noise nearly deafened me. I mean, I had expected a lot of things, but definitely not this.
"Liza! I'm so happy to see you!"
While Granny hugged her old friend—a wiry older woman who still carried the remnants of her former beauty on her face—I was busy staring wide-eyed at the scene in front of me. Dozens of slot machines were flashing cheerfully, begging for attention. They were bright, loud, noisy, and irresistible... if you were a child, an alcoholic, or a gambling addict.
"Good Lord, Hermie, look how big you've gotten!"
Having gotten her fill of hugging Granny and exchanging a dozen quick questions back and forth, the owner of the underground casino—because there was absolutely no way this place was anything else—walked over to me. She threw her arms open wide, forcing me to lean down just to hug the short woman.
"You've gotten so big. Such a handsome boy!" After planting bright red lipstick kisses on both of my cheeks, Constance took the opportunity to grope my ass, letting out a playful "Oops!" as if it had been a total accident. She tossed her curly hair cheerfully, her lips stretching into a wide smile. "I see you've bulked up. Have you been going to the gym? And so lean, too..."
Clucking her tongue as Granny laughed quietly in the background, Connie—as she insisted on being called—raked a sleazy gaze over my body, wiggling her eyebrows playfully. Resting one hand on her hip and cocking her pelvis slightly, this... *lady* traced her long fingernails down my chest. She let her hand drift a bit lower, watching my reaction with keen interest.
"Stop with your tricks, you old pervert. Pumpkin has already found himself a girlfriend," Granny said, swatting her friend's hand away.
Both old women burst into delighted laughter at my reaction... meanwhile, I was standing there in absolute shock. It was embarrassing, awkward, and honestly a little terrifying—and I had nowhere to run!
"She's a lovely girl. I'll introduce you later..." Granny added.
It wasn't really the right time to defend Amanda, or rather, to set the record straight about her status. I was too busy trying to keep Connie's hands off my abs.
"Alright, alright, I'm just joking." Rolling her eyes, Connie gently pushed me aside and grabbed the handles of Granny's wheelchair with both hands. "Relax, sweetie. Go take a walk somewhere, or here..."
With a swift flick of her wrist, she pulled a couple of twenty-dollar bills out of her cleavage and held them out to me. Trying not to think about it, I meekly accepted the money. I nearly puked up a mouthful of water when I realized the bills were still warm.
"Go buy yourself a treat." Giving me a dismissive wave goodbye, Connie wheeled my grandmother over to a far corner where a single slot machine and a small desk sat. That was apparently her workstation. "Come back in about two hours."
"Yes, Pumpkin, you'd better go for a walk," Granny chimed in, agreeing with her gal pal, and then both of them started giggling again. "We're going to have some girl talk."
"Oh, don't push it... The world has gone completely insane with all these boys running around in underwear over their jeans, sure, but calling us girls?" Pressing the back of her hand to her forehead, Connie struck a dramatic pose for a few seconds before a fresh wave of the two old women's laughter hit me. "Next you'll be telling me you've lived a chaste life..."
Swaying her hips as she walked—or doing her best approximation of it, anyway—the woman wandered off, leaving me standing in a daze, staring at the crumpled dollar bills in my palm.
"Hey, kid," a rough, smoker's voice suddenly called out from behind me. The stench of cheap booze and unwashed body odor hit my nose. "If you don't need those, spot an old man! I'll win it back and pay you!"
I didn't even bother replying to such a highly lucrative offer. After all, what could possibly be a better investment than an old, alcoholic gambling addict? Probably only investing in snake oil salesmen... whether the online grifter kind or the traditional sort.
They were still shouting something at my back, but I tuned it out. Gradually drifting into my own thoughts, I just walked back out into the laundromat, deciding to wait for Granny out there. I might even be able to get a little sleep somewhere in a quiet corner. I just had to remember to set an alarm...
A kid rushed past me. He rudely shoved me in the shoulder, hitting me with way more force than could possibly be hidden in his scrawny, frail little body. Being super short, barely cracking five feet tall, the little shit even flipped me off before pulling his hood down low and sprinting for the exit. He kept bumping into the laundromat patrons and even a couple of pedestrians out on the street.
"Kids these days," one of the heavy-set women grumbled next to me. Waving her cigarette threateningly at the kid's retreating back, the madam turned to her friend. "So what if he cracked open a dryer... Like nobody's ever done that before."
"Tell me about it! Little punk!"
"Yeah..." I muttered.
For a brief second, the kid and I locked eyes. As he ran around the corner, passing the long, wide windows and threatening to disappear into the unknown, I kept my eyes glued to him. In that single moment, the kid looked back.
There was nothing unusual about him. He was just a typical acne-riddled teenager with a wispy, patchy beard growing in random spots all over his chin.
"Hmm..."
It was only half an hour later, when an agitated Connie came running out from the bowels of the laundromat, that I found out the kid hadn't been running because he'd cracked open a dryer—which the underground casino owner intentionally seeded with loose change.
No, the little shit had cleaned out the cash register, waiting for the exact moment Granny and I had arrived to make his move.