After another sip of tea, Inkblot set it down and regarded Jack over a steepled together fist. Like most genuine expressions from the man when he wasn't elegantly sipping tea, it looked sinister, as if they were discussing a hit job. "I'm not likely to get another chance to work with someone like you on this side of the tower. Someone I know I see eye-to-eye on some things with, I mean. Rather than privileged kids defaulting to thinking and speaking right out of their ass."

Jack nodded in understanding. Not wanting to 'oversell,' Jack simply replied, "At the very least, we have some working rapport to build on."

Inkblot gave a subtle flicker of acknowledgement. "If you would, run it by your team, as if a sudden thought rather than anything concrete. I'd like to hear how they'd respond. It's no deception, because I'm not concrete, am I? Dealer's choice, whether to paraphrase their answers or not."

Damn. He could know if they just dismissed him out of hand, that way. Savvy bastard. The thought was appreciative, though, and Jack formed a genuine smile. "Sure. That's the least I could do. Mind if I just do it now? Informal Mem-text type deal?"

Inkblot gave a slight nod and went back to his tea.

Jack turned his head to the side and popped a Mem-text to the crew, which was just Highfive, Bo, and Ira. <Hey, guys, I had a little idea to run by. I happen to know Inkblot. What does everyone think about this cat? Namely, as a potential recruit for the team.>

Highfive was instant on a response. <I have no real idea. Didn't that guy get banned from the tower for insubordination, tearing up property, and killing two people?>

Jack tried not to let his eyebrows raise. The last was not accurate. Well then. <He would be if the last were true. But it's definitely inaccurate hearsay, dude.>

<So, he's not banned? Huh. I dunno. Wait for Bo. He's a Stalker, right?>

<Yep. Some sort of tattoo-based inky stuff.>

Ira chimed in. <I've met him, as well. He's very polite and disciplined. I am certain it carries over for his power use. He's also very private. I doubt many know what he can do.>

<Good point, Ira. Thank you.>

Bo finally popped in. <He came close to killing two assholes that deserved the lesson. He's from a rough place, so it was instinct. That same instinct would probably make him strong if he were teaming, but he isn't. Hasn't for a long time. I know he went through heavy rehab. I know people like him in my club. D-Heads. Usually, they give up on the jacket before even considering the social issues with getting on a team when you have a rep.>

<I guess my thoughts are that it couldn't hurt to ask? Assuming we don't care about that infamous rep.>

<Are you kidding me? I consider it an asset. It's not like ruthless killers don't have their uses out there. So they don't get put on Peacekeeping duty? Big whoop. They damn sure have their uses in the PACCs. Especially ones supposedly well-tamed. If by some strange and ridiculous miracle he was looking to team, I'm all for seeing what he can do. Go ahead and ask, but don't get your hopes up.>

<Noted. Highfive?>

<I mean, yeah, sure. I thought we were the misfits even before, with me, Light, and Bo. We're even more misfits this season, so we might as well just go all-out. You know, be that team the other teams think is dirty, a little unhinged, and might injure you. Hell yeah, we're dangerous! Whatcha gonna do about it? Cry? Cry in your grave, cause we're about to put you in it!>

<Damn. Okay, simmer down, Blondy. We did just establish that this was a long shot.>

<I see it as a potential identity shift, bro! Even if he says no, we might try for other misfits. Get out there and canvas aggressively for the unlikely, underperforming, scrappy types with unbelievable hidden power, destined for greatness!>

Bo popped in. <Fiver, did you watch some shonen anime immediately after thinking about it from that one convo?>

<Yeah! I started watching Jaruto again a little bit ago. Man, I forgot how great it is. Can't stop watching. It's so peak! Hey, did you know it's actually a continuation from a long line of similarly-named anime where they just change out the first letter? Wild! Why do you ask, anyway?>

<I'm not going to bother answering that.>

Jack asked, <Is it alright if I mention what you guys said when I talk to him? Being positive, maybe it would help convince him.>

<Sure.>

Highfive was also supportive. <Go for it! He should probably know that nasty rumor, anyway. I guess it's like they say: 'Tales get tall in the tower.'>

Grinning, Jack's eyes returned to Inkblot, who was watching him, perhaps suspiciously. He'd finished a small cup of tea and had clearly refilled it with the teapot on the table, from the fullness and steam coming up.

"Alright, they actually seem pretty positive to the idea… of what I already did," Jack said, with a vague gesture at the table and Inkblot. "I didn't tell them I asked, but they both said to give it a shot. Bo actually likes your infamy and understands your situation, being a significant misfit herself. Highfive hardly knew you short of bad rumors, but I think having failed to make the jacket with his prior group, he feels like a begrudged stepchild himself. I know he was at least something of a wildcard in his youth to get banned from Power Park. He sees through an athlete's lens, and the idea of a mean, 'dirty player' or the like doesn't offend him. A good position. I don't think Memoria cares either."

Inkblot nodded slowly. "Central uses these little games to characterize and categorize. The idea that every Non does every given thing is wrong-headed. Many will specialize."

"Some more than others. Most will be flexible team players, and some will feather in and out."

Inkblot's eyes went to the table again. "Should've known a damned D-Head would be a kindred spirit…"

Jack laughed. "Bo did say she knew people like you. Black sheep that expect some side role, either not caring about or figuring they burned their chance at a jacket."

"I still think that," Inkblot replied darkly. There was a long pause as he continued thinking in between another sip of tea. "I know this D-Head I respect, he moved on to a specialist role. His advice is gold. Taught me a lot. One thing he said was to network opportunistically. Which, I don't think I did well. Another thing was to jump on a team if I had the chance. Even if they sucked, even if it didn't work out. Because I could show things impossible to show past the narrow window. He said he regretted not getting that chance. Not trying harder." He took a deep breath and met Jack's eyes. "I assume there's some demonstration phase, first? Before acceptance. I don't expect or want any special treatment."

Elated, Jack slapped his hands together and pointed at Inkblot. "Yes! You got it. How about scheduling it as soon as everyone is free?"

Inblot nodded. "And if I'm accepted, a request. Allow Augur to observe. Not only would it be instructive and beneficial for him, but he has a brilliant strategic mind. He sees how battles might go before they start. If he memorizes us, the accuracy will only increase."

"Sounds like a cheat."

"Isn't our fault others were too stupid to befriend him and tolerate his peculiarities for the future potential. Any goon could see them and leverage his neediness after one exchange with him. You and I actually deserve the benefit for putting up with his ass without those expectations. S'not like I planned to leverage it."

Jack chuckled and shrugged. "Alright. But he'd better be on his best behavior."

"I'll tell him he either behaves himself and remains grateful and respectful to everyone, or we'll ban him and his snot-nosed bullshit in a heartbeat."

They both nodded in agreement. They then sipped tea.

"As you should expect," Inkblot offered, "my levels are highly suppressed. I'm probably around your range and will need a lot of training to be powerful enough for the PACCs. I presume, anyway. I'm no expert."

"Gotcha," Jack replied. "How do your powers work, anyway?" Side benefit of this is I finally get the skinny on Mr. Paranoid's powerset!

"Entirely confidential? I have your word?"

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

"Of course. I give you my word, I won't share outside the team."

Inkblot took a sip of tea, eyes shifting slightly side-to-side. He held the cup up in such a way that no one could read his lips. "Metamorphic Stalker — Ink Blood, Primary Mutation — Invisible Ink. I focus and expend energy to push the blood up to coat the skin, which makes me invisible. Can even coat my feet, softening footsteps. I have control of extra black ink I absorb into my skin, too. Keep it like a second layer to block acute movements behind it. I can flow out, somewhat. Not very dangerous, but distracting. Offense works different. I can coat short blades and empower them, improving the edges and piercing power to get through defenses. But it takes high concentration. Pretty much either/or trading with invisibility, but lower energy. Anyway. Better to see and experience. It's a complex balance."

Jack marveled. "Damn! That's wicked. Sounds about right for a Stalker. What is your primary stat?"

"Control. More focused on precision and speed than power, though dangerous to all but Guardians from stealth. And some others that can counter. Like those with anti-stealth measures. Preferably, I go after vulnerable targets, whom I can theoretically one-shot from behind. Assassinate."

Jack felt a bubble of excitement. A counter to dodge tanks and certain premier backline threats was just what they needed!

And Bo's effectiveness will skyrocket with a dependable stealth option. With her setup, there's a lot of potential to wipe out the first target and have a numbers advantage immediately. More opportunities for mid-battle shenanigans, too, as Inkblot is probably quite elusive.

"You must have some fatigue issues, huh?" Jack asked.

Inkblot nodded. "Not so bad as what I know of Bogus Pocus. Stalkers are usually energy-intensive. There aren't many forms of comprehensive stealth that can both fool trained operatives and be truly passive." After a thoughtful pause, he added, "A confident, defensive-oriented team would try to stall us out and drain us, and an offensive one might feint a charge to do so."

Jack nodded, then grinned suddenly. "Confident you'll get on?"

Sipping tea, Inkblot set it down and met Jack's gaze levelly. "Yes. But a vote is a vote."

🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

Jack delivered the news of Inkblot's willingness while still at the teahouse, eliciting shock, awe, and general happiness from the team. Quickly, they touched base as a whole, and his team freed up their schedule immediately, perhaps hopeful to add him right before moving on to the early evening training coming up.

Inkblot requested the demonstration be held in a 'sequestered grove,' which was a squared-off steel chamber with a field and a sparse forest around it, all fake. These were typical for private simulation sessions and had to be rented in addition. Inkblot insisted on paying for it, being the one who insisted on using one. In addition, the group already had the leftover 'tryout' sim time paid for and ready, which was far more expensive.

They met at the location, standing in a field of false turf with artificial lights above. Inkblot showed up in loose athletic wear and sandals rather than a uniform. He shook hands with Highfive and Bo and then gave them the same basic spiel he'd given Jack on his powers.

"Beyond that," Inkblot continued, "I might as well just show it. Fair warning, I need to minimize coverage for clothing for the invisibility function. I wear tights over the groin, that's it. As thin as possible and useless as armor. Mainly just there in case I'm knocked out. Protocols." He held out a hand, and inky blackness seemed to leak out of his pores, covering his hand in a thick, liquid blob. "This is usually what you'll see, if you see anything."

The blob expanded, covering him completely until there was nothing but a rippling, three-dimensional puddle of ink, slightly bigger than the man inside it and vaguely egg-shaped. "The ink has substance," Inkblot's distorted voice declared from inside. "It acts as weak Armor to physical attacks, mostly mitigating attacks instead of entirely stopping, but is stronger and ablative to energy." He grunted disfavorably. "It also pisses me off because I have to bathe in ink to restore lost material. Slow absorption through Transmute. Has to become part of me to do anything with it, as a metamorph."

Suddenly, they saw a brief shimmer, a dull glow, and then a hand materialized, already shoved through it and holding a long, thin knife with a finger ring on one side. It spun back into a reverse grip, then the hand and knife shimmered again and disappeared. The black blob sucked inward into a void, leaving nothing but empty air, to appearances. On the grass was tossed the athletic wear and the sandals.

Jack felt nothing innately from the power use. He could likely track the blade, at least, being good old-fashioned metal alloy. Just as he opened his mouth to mention it, he noticed Bo's intensely focused eyes flicker generally in Highfive's direction-

A shimmer and a dull glow appeared behind Highfive's neck, and a blade was nearly touching him.

Highfive jumped nearly out of his skin as he moved away and spun around, grabbing his neck. "Ahh! H-hey, the field! The field isn't even up yet!" He waved his hands in surrender. A moment later, the telltale blue energy blossomed around them all, and the standard message about the protection in place blipped through Jack's head.

"It isn't as if I was going to injure you, brother." Inkblot materialized as a head, and a bare, ultra-fit upper torso and arms, his hand still outstretched and up at a steep angle. His lower torso was a blob of cloudy ink, as if he were some sort of dark genie without legs. After remaining posed for a moment, he spun the blade back into a reverse grip, lowered his arm, and shook his head as he regarded Highfive with a frown. "If you were any taller, I'd have to jump for a neck strike."

Highfive chortled. "I am when my sheath is around me."

"I could kinda track you," Bo said, while studying Inkblot. "But you're one of the types that resists."

Inkblot turned and nodded to her. "Energy interaction. Despite me being a metamorph, the ink has an absorbing charge to it against energy, and I'm weaker to physical. Meanwhile, I can resist a wide range of detections as it absorbs most information, or at least scatters it. Those with physical sensory enhancements have a somewhat easier time, sensing little abnormalities, especially at close range."

"Jack would notice you no matter what with his distributed particle fields."

Inkblot turned to Jack and quipped deadpan, "Sounds like a cheater's way."

Jack grinned and shrugged. "We all do what we can."

Highfive was also studying Inkblot while rubbing his chin judiciously. "Bro, you're ripped! Nice job on those obliques. You at Peak Fitness, even?"

Inkblot nodded. "Damn right. In rehab, there was frag for nothing to do but listen to convoluted bullshit, nod your head, and work out. I carried the habits over, not wanting to waste the development."

"Do you still listen to bullshit, too?" Jack asked.

"All the time. And nod. It's half of what we do. In order to listen to convoluted bullshit, you have to calm down. That combination, along with working out, solved things for me. A trifecta of discipline."

A few wry chuckles answered this.

Highfive threw his hands up. "Welp! I'm sold! My vote is yes. Pound for pound, those obliques and abs rival mine."

Bo rolled her eyes. "You put the field up, you easy meathead. Ten minutes of use at a minimum. I think you two should spar to fill the time and help convince me."

Highfive scoffed. "I'm twice his Level."

"So what? You're a rock and he's paper."

"Exactly! I'll tear through him like-" He blinked. "Oh. You mean rock, paper, sci- yeah, yeah, I get it!" He cleared his throat, frowned, and crossed his arms. "Uhhh… Is he, though?"

Inkblot stared at Highfive in that default sinister fashion of his. "Why don't you accept the challenge and find out, Blondy?"

Jack pointed at him. "Oh shit, I call him that, too!"

Inkblot met Jack's eyes and made a subtle, appreciative expression. "Great minds."

Highfive scoffed again and shrugged with his hands. "You know what? Fine! But it's your funeral." He began moving out further onto the field. "Virtual funeral, that is. You know what I mean."

"Mmn. Let's have us a little duel, then. Count of thirty."

They faced off against each other as Jack and Bo got waaaay out of the way to the side.

Bo leaned over to Jack and whispered, "Bet lunch tomorrow that Inkblot wins."

Jack frowned at her. "You're on. I have faith in my boy."

Bo had a smug expression. "Sucker. Also, no shouted advice."

"Pfft." Jack crossed his arms and set in to watch. "Fine by me."

Highfive flared up with his sheath, rising over the ground. Meanwhile, Inkblot disappeared. When the buzzer sounded, Highfive did a quick pound directly into the ground, causing a miniature earthquake that everyone felt.

Oh, nice! Maybe sense vibrations?

Highfive seemed to pick a direction and charged like a bull…

Nothing. He impacted air with the massive fist and the ensuing follow-up.

Damn. Right… no Interpret whatsoever. Might as well be chasing his own tail.

Inkblot was either close or fast enough to take advantage, because a ripple occurred in the air behind Highfive, and an energized knife was seen stabbing him in the back from a brutal ice-pick style grip, ripping through the sheath in a flash of competing energies. Likely, the approach angle and Highfive's sudden turn had eliminated the possibility of a neck strike. Inkblot probably wanted to take advantage of Highfive being lower to the ground while he had the chance.

Highfive's personal reflexes were stellar, and he must've had some sense of an attack breaking through his sheath, as he immediately faded and twisted from the blow, mitigating it. Nonetheless, he grunted in pain, face contorted into a grimace. His spin back around was more of an inhibited stumble as he attempted to counterattack, sweeping with his sheath's thumb… at the now-visible blob of ink with a slight humanoid profile and some faintly exposed flesh.

It wasn't enough, as Inkblot was already firmly in the mindset of a hit-and-run, forcing a splotch of black ink almost into Highfive's face for a split moment, and otherwise deftly slipping away. The blade shimmered back out of existence, and the black ink was quick to follow, though a small splash of it hit the grass, freed too far from its master.

Damn, can he sling it at people? Ink on the faceplate would be a serious pain. I wonder if ink in the eyes is illegal? Hmm.

Bo did a little hop and made a fist at the successful attack, and it only continued as she watched Inkblot's ensuing escape, following each move with her own little twists. She made a chortle in her throat after he disappeared again, obviously liking her chances at that point. Her eyes were glued, waiting for the next exchange.

She really is a little gremlin.

Highfive, teeth bared, tried a sequence of wide, wild sweeps, but didn't seem to score a hit. Jack grimaced, expecting another back strike at any moment. So did Highfive, spinning around to throw 'chops' in a panic.

Come on, dude… I'm counting on you, here!

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