Information

Alacran
Legacy Name: Alacran

The Custom Bloodred Kumos
Owner: Faber

Age: 5 years, 5 months, 1 week

Born: November 13th, 2018

Adopted: 5 years, 5 months, 1 week ago

Adopted: November 13th, 2018

Statistics

• Level: 47
   
• Strength: 111
   
• Defense: 10
   
• Speed: 10
   
• Health: 10
   
• HP: 10/10
   
• Intelligence: 73
   
• Books Read: 70
• Food Eaten: 0
• Job: Candy Maker

Warning: this story contains references to drug use and depictions of physical violence.

They call me the Scorpion. It's not an original name. It doesn't even mean anything, it came from a misunderstanding. My name, Alacrán, means scorpion, but it's just a name. And, yeah, I have a big ass tattoo of a scorpion on my back that I got when I was 16. 16 year old me was a stupid little asshole. I've even heard rumors that I became what I am after being stung by a radioactive scorpion--like they think I'm the next Spider-man or something. That ain't me. My real story's not that wholesome.

I wasn't a user. Not like the tweakers who hang out behind the Burger Quik. I would occasionally take a little something to take the edge off, but only when I didn't have to work the next day. I was a responsible member of society. But, society sucks, and sometimes it's nice to just check out for a while.

So, I dabbled. Small town, everyone did. Moved to a bigger city when I got a decent job offer, but there's just as many drugs in the small towns as the big ones. You just get more variety in the city. In the new city there were new drugs, with weird names like "Goblin's Nephew" and "Miracle Roadmap," I tried to stay away from anything I couldn't recognize at first, but after a while I wasn't so picky.

Things were going pretty well for me until I met this girl. Her name was Mia. She was stunning. All legs and a mouth so big she could fit her whole fist in it. I know that because she was showing everyone she could do that when I first saw her. It was her party trick. That might have turned off some guys, but not me. I kissed that mouth for hours, and if we weren't kissing, we were talking. I'm not a big talker, but Mia was easy to talk to. I might have said more words to her in the first few months than in all the rest of the years of my life up until that point combined.

She was also a user.

Like I said, I wasn't a user, or at least I didn't consider myself one. But Mia was. We went to meetings, talked about rehab, but at the end of the day we would be back in my apartment, kicking back and letting the chemicals ease the world's rough edges away. I knew in the back of my mind that maybe this would land one or both of us in trouble one day, but I was in love and tried not to worry about it.

Then one day, we took something we shouldn't. I still don't know what it was, but it doesn't matter. All that matters was a lucky visit from Mia's sister that night landed us both in the hospital instead of in the grave. They gave me something at the hospital to stop the overdose and after I woke up I never saw her again. Just a note that said: "We're no good for each other, sorry. -M."

It hurt, but Mia leaving me was not the most pressing thing on my mind after that night.

First there was the racing heart. Not all the time, just when I would get worked up. You know how when you hear something go bump in the night and you're instantly awake in full fight-or-flight mode? It was like that, but for little things. Catching a pencil I accidentally dropped, stopping the elevator at work from closing at the last second. It was as if my body was going all-in when it was so far from a life or death situation it was laughable.

I went for a jog, but before I knew why or how it had turned into a full blown sprint. I sprinted, fast as I ever have, for miles. I didn't time myself, but I was probably averaging 4 minutes a mile, which I had never even come close to before. I didn't even know it was possible. And I didn't run out of energy until much later, when I ate an entire roast chicken then slept for 10 hours straight.

I had never gone to the gym before. Never really wanted to pay for a membership. But after I accidentally put a hole in the wall lifting one of the weights I used to struggle with, I decided to give it a try with some real equipment. When before I could barely lift 100 lbs, now I could bench press 300 and not even feel sore after. I weighed myself out of curiosity in the locker room and found I'd gained something like 20 lbs, and as far as I could tell it was all muscle.

I was beginning to wonder if maybe whatever medicine they had given me at the hospital had steroids in it. I asked around, to see if anyone had experienced something similar, and while no one else had suddenly bulked up like I had, there were stories of other things happening to people after surviving overdoses. Strange things. I tried to put it out of my mind.

That was when things took a downturn.

---

I awoke the next night to a pounding on my door.

"I know you're in there, Al! Is she here? Tell me where she is!" I could hear a female voice shouting through the door and I thought I recognized it.

"Do you know what time it is?" I asked, opening the door.

"Where. Is. She?" Mia's sister pushed her way past me and into my apartment. I let her, knowing it would be easier for us both if we just got this over with quickly.

"Mia isn't here. I haven't seen her once since she left me at the hospital."

She stalked through the small apartment, opening doors and double checking any place where Mia could have possibly been hiding, and some, like the fridge, where she couldn't. Only once she'd checked every inch of the place did she sigh and turn to me. "She's using again, did you know that?"

I spread my arms in exasperation. "Haven't seen her, haven't spoken to her. If she's using again that's her business."

"She's in trouble. She texted me, see?" She handed me her phone.

There was a text from Mia that simply said, "He's bad, sis. Might have really stepped in it this time. Come get me?" Her sister had replied, asking who she was with, or where she was, but Mia hadn't responded. The text was from hours ago.

I handed the phone back. "Like I said, she's not here. She broke up with me. Who she's with now is her business."

"How can you be so cold? She's in danger!"

I sighed. "I don't know where she is."

"But you know who she might be with? You dated for months, surely you know who she hangs out with!"

"Have you tried her friends?"

"All the ones I know, yes. But she kept the shadier ones away from me. She's protective that way. Who's her dealer? Can we start there?"

"We?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, we. What do you think would happen if I went and knocked on a drug dealer's door by myself at this time of night?"

I groaned in resignation. "I'll get my jacket."

---

We started a trip through the seedier part of town. Most people were at least accustomed to strange people stopping by their places at all hours of the night, so we only got threatened a few times. Mostly, seeing my large silhouette standing behind a tiny but furious Colombian girl was enough to give people pause long enough for them to hear her out.

Soon the only person I could think of to check was this crazy French artistic type guy Mia used to call Uncle. They weren't actually related, but they had always seemed a little close for comfort, so I had begged her not to let him hang around and she'd listened, for the most part. He also dealt on the side, but it was small time, nothing I would have expected Mia to get wrapped up in.

We knocked on Uncle's door and immediately we could hear voices flutter nervously inside. "Uncle?" I said loud enough to hear through the door, "It's Alacrán, I'm here with Mia's sister. We just want to talk."

Before I even had time to process what was happening, a blast crashed through the door and knocked me back. After I could hear a shot gun being reloaded and I had enough wits about me to push Mia's sister back the way we had come and yelled at her to run. She was already way ahead of me, fleeing down the hallway and out the fire escape.

I dropped to the floor. I was having trouble breathing, and I realized looking down at my chest that I had been shot. My shirt was becoming hot and wet as it soaked up the blood. I didn't have too long to ponder on it though, because then Uncle threw open the door and made to aim the gun at my face.

He didn't make it that far. I grabbed the gun and easily pulled it from his grip. I smacked him across the face with the gun's stock. He went down. I popped open the gun and removed the shells, tossing them down the hallway before I stopped to try and catch my breath.

My chest was starting to hurt with each breath, but I ignored it. I pushed past the doorway and into Uncle's flat. I spied movement in the bedroom and walked inside. Mia was on the bed, more strung out and out of it than I'd ever seen her. "Hey, baby," she said softly, "Where's Uncle? He was just showing me a good time."

"Your sister is looking for you," I said flatly. I dropped the gun at the foot of the bed and turned to leave.

"Wait, baby, wait," Mia called after me. "You can join in on the fun! Come on, just like old times!"

I walked out of the apartment, completely numb. Uncle was still lying in the hallway, where he'd fallen after I hit him. I guess I hit him harder than I thought. I didn't stop to check if he was alright, I just kept walking. I made my way out to the street, where I could hear sirens in the distance. I doubted they were in any hurry to get here, even if Mia's sister had called them. They were never in a hurry to get to this part of town.

I went home and stripped off my shirt to survey the damage. My chest was a bloody mess, but none of the bits of buckshot seemed to have gone too deep. As far as I could tell, it was mostly superficial damage. I knew I should go to the hospital anyway, but I also knew there would be questions there, first from the doctors, then from the police. Questions I didn't want to answer. I did what I could to patch myself up, then popped some Tylenol and went to sleep.

---

The next morning, very late morning, I woke up, and it felt like I'd been hit by a truck. I called my boss to let him know I was sick and wouldn't be in for a day or two. I had to hop in the shower and let the water soften the bandages enough to remove them. I still seemed to be in one piece, so I had that going for me at least. I took the last of the Tylenol and made myself presentable enough to go to the store for more, and maybe something stronger.

I was walking around the corner, when I overheard two guys as I passed whispering to each other. "Yeah, that's the one," said one of them, and, "He'll get what's coming to him." I didn't like the sound of that, but I ignored them and went on walking.

At the store, I ran into some other lowlifes, familiar faces from my days with Mia. They also shied away, talking amongst themselves in hushed whispers and occasionally glancing in my direction. I grabbed the pain pills and some bandages and set them on the counter to pay for them.

The shop owner pushed the items back towards me. "Just take them. Don't want trouble here," he said in an even voice.

"No trouble here," I repeated, and held out my money questioningly.

The man shook his head again. "Just take them and leave, please."

I left the money on the counter and left with my items, not waiting to see if he'd give me change. Whatever they heard, whatever they thought I did, it was clearly worse than a dispute over a lost junky. I only hoped this would be the last I heard about it.

I left the store and headed back to my place for some more needed rest. I was a step from my front door when a hand came out of nowhere and rested on my bicep. "Excuse me," said a lilting voice. "Are you the one they call the Scorpion?"

I stared at the man who had spoken. He was skinny, dressed in bright colors, and had the look of someone fresh from a nightclub rave. "Who wants to know?" I asked gruffly. Whatever this was, I wasn't in the mood.

"My name is Jubal. Sorry to bother you, it's just, I've heard rumors, and some of them led me to you."

"Look, whatever you heard, it's exaggerated. Someone needed my help, I helped, and I got shot for it. Now, I just want to sleep it off, okay?"

Jubal laughed, a soft feminine laugh, but not unpleasing. "Well, now I would really love to hear more about that, but actually, I'm not here about that. Were you treated for an overdose recently, at St. Mary's hospital?"

That wasn't where I thought the conversation was going. "Yes?"

He nodded. "And has anything weird happened to you ever since? Physically, I mean?"

"Like getting shot?"

"No. Like, have you changed in any way? Stronger, faster, sudden ability to fly or shoot lightning from your hands? Anything like that?"

I stared at him. "Why are you asking me?"

Jubal nodded again. He looked smug, which normally would have annoyed me to no end, but my mind was racing, thinking of all the changes I had noticed. Maybe he knew more about it. "We should talk. May I come inside?"

I looked at my apartment door. I knew better than to trust a stranger, but Jubal wasn't big enough to be of any physical threat to me unless he was somehow hiding a knife or a gun in his skin tight clothes. "Fine, but don't expect me to offer you tea."

Jubal grinned. "I'm more of a tequila man, anyway. Lead on."

---

Jubal explained he had been treated for an overdose at St. Mary's just like I had, and also like I had, he started experiencing strange changes in himself. "When I touch people, I can feel what they feel. Everything they feel, emotionally, physically, chemically. It's like nothing else in this world," he said wistfully.

"So when you touched my arm earlier...?" I prompted.

"I could tell you weren't going to bash my face in just for talking to you. Also, you should really be taking something stronger than over-the-counter for your gunshot wound, you chest hurts like a mother."

"You're telling me," I mused, fingering the edge of the fresh bandages.

"You're also absolutely bursting with power. Like, you could go run a marathon, right now, and not even break a sweat. Gunshot be damned. Maybe you're just used to it by now, but that's not how normal people feel, no matter how much they work out."

"Thanks?"

Jubal dipped his head. "I can tell you're over the moon with the revelation. Anyway, some of us are trying to figure out what caused this to happen to us. No one is for sure, but our best guess is that it has something to do with the drugs they gave us to counteract the drugs we OD'd on. Apparently there's a new med on the market that they're only testing in our area."

"And this drug is giving people super powers?"

"Basically, yes. At least as far as anyone can tell."

"Who else knows about this?"

Jubal shrugged. "People? I don't know. I only know what I know from asking a bunch of people if they've heard anything, and then piecing some of the pieces together. Like a crappy jigsaw where none of the pieces quite fit, but they're forming a picture anyway."

"What do we do about it?"

"Whatever we want!" Jubal laughed. "I don't know about you, but I'm having the time of my life."

I sighed. I was not having the time of my life.

"Well cheer up, friend. We'll figure this out! Right now I'm off to go have some fun, but if you ever want to join me, or chat some more, here's my number." Jubal pulled a permanent marker out of his back pocket and wrote his digits on the palm of my hand. "So you don't lose it," he said, "And if you were checking out my ass just then, please know it is very squeezable, should you ever feel curious."

"I didn't..." I started to say, but stopped myself. If he could feel what I was feeling in that moment as he gripped my hand to write on it, there was no point in denying what had crossed my mind.

"Ciao!" He said with a wink, and then he was gone.

I sat for a while, just staring at the phone number scrawled on my hand. I had a superpower. I might have grievously injured my ex's new boyfriend, maybe starting some weird turf drama in the process, and I had a superpower. And now I had the phone number of a man who had one as well.

I guess it could be worse.

fin

overlay by Lavabeast, profile and story by Faber, background image from pexels.

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