A 'Friendly' Chat

Frizz paused, taking several deep breaths. He reached a hand back, softly trying to touch the wound on his back. "Ah, damn," he cursed, wincing as the area was still sensitive. The pain was somewhat tolerable, though he knew that without his perks, he'd be on the ground crying.

"It's not bleeding anymore; that's good," he whispered, his teeth chattering against the cold night air.

"Please, heal fast," Frizz prayed, not wanting to add to his parents' worries. He felt he'd caused them enough grief even before the system appeared.

"Status..."

[System]

Name: New Name

Level: 8

Experience: 50/160

Health: 30/39 (+8) [RF+2] [PP+6]

Mana: 36/36 (+2)

Fatigue: 59/100 (somewhat exhausted)

Class: None

Physical Prowess = [somewhat exceptional human] 

Magical Prowess = [average human]

Mental Prowess = [below average human]

Telekinetic Prowess = [novice]

Perks: [Serene Life], [Righteous Fury], [Reckless Approach], [Gluttonous Approach], [Telekinesis], [Alcoholic Advantage], [Peak Physicality], [Force Field], [Mark of Decrepitude], [Fast Healer], [Pain Suppression]

Talents: None

"It'd be nice to level up soon," Frizz added as he limped. He was still far from home; the trek was slowly getting arduous. 

A sudden ruffle of a small bush caught Frizz's attention, causing him to put his guard up.

(Another one of them?) Frizz thought as he prepared himself. (I can barely fight.)

"You really do have powers." A sudden voice rang out as a figure revealed itself; it was a man holding a gun. The sight of a gun frightened Frizz; he gulped as he stepped back, preparing to run for his life.

Suddenly, three men came out from behind the trees and rushed at Frizz. He held out his both hands, planning to send another telekinetic push. However, all three of them brandished and aimed their pistols at Frizz.

(What...?) Frizz froze; four pistols were aimed at him. "Don't move," the man on the left ordered. Frizz put both of his hands up. He surrendered. The man in the middle slowly approached him, walking to his back.

"T, come out!" the man behind him shouted. A tall, muscular figure stepped out from behind a tree, wielding a wooden baton. He was significantly larger than Frizz.

"Lights out," the big man declared, swinging the baton down hard on Frizz's right temple. *Whack!* Frizz recoiled from the blow but felt surprisingly little. He did, however, register the feeling of his force field almost breaking.

(It somewhat regenerated?) Frizz noted.

"Huh?" The big man grunted, confused. "Oh right. You're not normal." The big man struck Frizz again in the same spot. *Whack!* The impact was more noticeable, but Frizz was still conscious.

Frizz's vision blurred, and a loud ringing filled his right ear. "S-stop. Please," he stammered.

"I said." The big man growled as he tightened his grip on the baton. "LIGHTS OUT!" *Whack!*

Forty minutes later...

Frizz drifted in and out of consciousness, but he could tell that he was being transported somewhere. Every time he would slowly regain consciousness, he'd be hit in the face. He could hear their conversations, but it was muffled; he could barely make out any words. He closed his eyes, this time, hoping everything was just a bad dream.

*Splash!* Frizz jolted as he woke up; his kidnappers emptied a bucket of cold water on him.

"Hey, wake up!" A voice rang out in front of Frizz; he looked up, and it was the big man that knocked him out earlier. His whole face ached from the several attempts to knock him out.

"He's awake," the big man announced.

Frizz looked around; he was surrounded by several men. He was tightly bound by the chair; his hands and feet were completely restricted by tape. The fear of death enveloped his face as his heart beat fast. This was a dire situation with no possible way to escape.

"Call him now."

"Alright." A masked man pulled out a smartphone and initiated a call; the phone rang for a moment before the call was accepted.

"You got him?" A loud voice rang from the phone. The masked man switched to the frontal camera. "Yep, here."

"I see. Figure out what he can do." The voice ordered. "Remember, always aim a gun at him."

Frizz's gaze drifted to the four men he defeated earlier. They were covered with bandages, and their expressions were mixed with anger and curiosity.

"Understood," the man replied, ending the call and pocketing the phone. As soon as the call ended, the big man who was closest to Frizz swung a cudgel, striking both of Frizz's thighs with a sickening thud.

"AHH!" Frizz screamed. "Stop!" He pleaded.

"How are you doing it? Those tricks of yours. How did you do that?" A man with a scar on his forehead asked, his voice laced with a suppressed excitement. "Are you an alien?"

Frizz panted, looking at the man with a confused expression. (What the heck is he saying?)

"Alien? No," Frizz's reply slightly soured the scarred man's face, showing a hint of disappointment. The big man then struck Frizz's left forearm.

Frizz bit his lip, suppressing a cry of agony. "What do you guys want?" His question was met with a forceful blow to his left shoulder. "AHH!"

"We ask the questions here, not you." The scarred man retorted, lighting a cigarette. "Are you some kind of mutant?"

"NO! I'm just a normal guy!" Frizz's answer wasn't received well by his kidnappers. The scarred man looked at the big man and nodded. The big man put away the cudgel and wore a brass knuckle, delivering a punch straight to Frizz's chest.

"Ah-" Frizz's scream was cut short as the air was forced from his lungs. He twitched, his mouth gaping open. The kidnappers watched his reaction, and after a few minutes, he slowly recovered.

"Oh wow, you actually recovered." The scarred man clapped his hands then took off Frizz's shirt. There was a visible bruise on his chest. "So he punched you with his brass knuckles, though not in full force, and you recovered within minutes."

"A strong punch like that with a brass knuckle is enough to break your rib, but..." The scarred man touched and pressed Frizz's chest. "No fractures or bleeding."

"Look at the bruise; it doesn't look serious," a man with a bandaged thigh added. 

(They're torturing me, testing my limits.) Frizz thought, panting. (There's no use pleading with them.) He darted his eyes around, realizing he was in a warehouse of some sort. There were windows, but they showed nothing but the pitch black of night.

Frizz coughed and slowly counted all the kidnappers present. (Fourteen... There's fourteen of them.) He paused. (Four of them have rifles, two on my left and right; all are aimed at me.)

The scarred man squinted his eyes; he realized what Frizz was doing. "Frizz, right? Four semi-automatic rifles are aimed at you, and at least five of us have pistols." The scarred man exhaled a puff of smoke. "There are also several men outside; trust me, you're not getting away."

Frizz's last bit of hope crumbled, and tears began to slowly stream down his dirty face as the reality of his situation crashed over him. He just wanted to go home, sleep, and use the bathroom. His system was silent—no objectives, no sudden rewards, nothing.

Then a familiar light and sound came.

[System]

New Objectives for New Name.

Escape: 0/1

Rewards: [Survivor] perk.

"This will all go away if you just answer us," the scarred man said to Frizz with 'sympathy.''. "Why did you attack Baron?"

The sight of the notification gave Frizz some confidence. Due to fear, he had almost forgotten that he had a system. (That's right, I have a system. I am special.)

(This is just a hurdle, an arc, character development.) Frizz's eyes lit up. (I can do this.)

(Only I level u-) Frizz's thoughts were cut off as he was punched in the chest again. The sudden impact caused him to relieve a little; his pants slightly darkened.

"Tell me!" The scarred man demanded.

Frizz's breathing was erratic; he twitched as he inhaled. The scarred man gave him time to recover, impatiently tapping the buckle of his belt.

"Why did you attack Baron?" The scarred man motioned the big man to prepare another punch.

"I'm sorry, I did that because I wanted to see if I could." Frizz blurted out the truth.

"Go on..."

"I did it because I wanted to test my powers out."

The men glanced at each other, murmuring among themselves. The scarred man pulled out his pistol, and the others followed suit. "I want to see," the scarred man stated, placing a crumpled soda can on the floor by Frizz's chair. "Make it move, but don't try anything funny."

Frizz stared at the can, concentrating, willing it to float. It lifted off the floor, hanging in the air, shocking his kidnappers. They stared, disbelief written across their faces.

"Powers... superpowers are real, and you're the proof." The scarred man stared at the floating can. (Despite hearing about it, it really is different when you see it person.) The scarred man thought to himself.

"Telekinesis, it has to be telekinesis, right?" one of the masked men suggested. "Yeah, and that toughness of his has to be some sort of shield." Another one added.

"Now put it down." The big man ordered as uneasiness enveloped his face. He was cautious. The can dropped and clanged on the floor.

"How are you doing this?" The scarred man expressed; his face was full of morbid excitement.