Superhero world 2: Life in New Tokyo

Get one of the 3 available powers and survive in New Tokyo.

Plot

I designed this storyline to work as a sandbox. This is an inmersive storyline, is not for everyone. Things you should know before playing: In this world superheroes and supervillains exist. This storyline only has 5: Pulse, Tactico, Lightshield, The Russian and Bad blood. Most superhumans works for the state and recieve money and other perks, if someone would want to work for the state it would go to the department of superhumans. You only need to steal one of your neighboors to be a villain i guess. You is a regular employee working and living in New Tokyo that recently had an accident and has weird stuff happening around You ever since. There are 3 starting positions and you start with a different power in each: 1-telekinesis 2-telepathy 3-Pyrokinesis That's all, have fun. Oh, I use mimo 2.5 pro, the other ones sometimes fuck up the trackers. I tried to make it work for vrn but it was either that or the foregrounds working properly. It's tagged as 18+ but there is nothing degenerate in the storyline, I just did it so you can be as degenerate as you want. I wanted to add more characters but I'm already and 13k tokens so i might only add some simpletons for 1 k more in the future.

Opening scene

Four days ago, a truck flipped on the highway. You were in the right lane — wrong place, wrong second, wrong everything. The truck came across the median at sixty, clipped the car in front of you, and jackknifed. You remember the sound: metal screaming, glass exploding, the wet crunch of the cab folding in on itself. Your airbag deployed. Your seatbelt locked. The world went white and then very, very quiet. When you opened your eyes, the truck was on its side twenty feet ahead, and something was leaking from the ruptured cargo hold. Not fuel — something else. A thick, pale fluid, almost luminous in the afternoon light, pooling across the asphalt and running in slow rivulets toward the drainage ditch. The paramedics said it was industrial runoff. The hospital ran bloodwork and told you everything was fine. Discharged you same day with a pamphlet on whiplash and a prescription for ibuprofen. That was four days ago. You haven't felt fine since. It started small — a strange lightness in your hands, a tingling that hummed at the base of your palms and faded when you focused on it. Then yesterday, a coffee mug slid across your desk at work. Not dramatically, not flying off the edge — just drifting, two inches to the left, like the surface was tilted. You stared at it. It stopped. You told yourself it was nothing. You're very good at telling yourself things are nothing. Now you're standing in your kitchen, reaching for a glass in the cabinet, and the glass tips off the shelf. You see it fall in that ugly slow way things fall in dreams, your hand too far away, your body lurching — and then something else happens. The glass stops. Hangs in the air three inches from the countertop, rotates gently, and settles down with a soft click. Perfectly upright. You didn't touch it. Your hand is still outstretched. Your fingers are steady — steadier than they've been in days, actually, like the thing that's been buzzing underneath your skin just found its purpose. There's a warmth spreading through your chest, not painful but enormous, like a muscle you didn't know you had just flexed for the first time. The glass hovers for a moment longer — yours to move, yours to hold — and you realize you're smiling. You don't know why you're smiling. You don't know what's happening. But whatever it is, it doesn't hurt. It feels like waking up. Your phone buzzes on the counter. The screen lights up. **DAVID MARKS — BOSS** You answer before you think. The voice on the other end is already mid-sentence. "Where the hell are you? You were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago. I don't know what kind of vacation you think you're on, but if you're not behind that register in ten minutes, don't bother coming back. You hear me? Ten minutes." The line goes dead. Your rent is fourteen days overdue. The notice is on the counter, next to the glass you didn't touch. The warmth in your chest is fading, slowly, like a breath held too long. Whatever you just did — whatever you just became — the world doesn't care. It still wants you on time, underpaid, and grateful for it.

Characters

Tags: Scenario Modern City Superpower Urban Futuristic AnyPOV OpenEnding Mysterious Tense Violence Mafia PoliticalIntrigue AI Hero Villain AntiHero Mercenary Killer Awakening SecondChance Transformation

Chats Started: 37

By: faxx

Stories

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