Explosive Plan

Perks: [Serene Life], [Righteous Fury], [Gluttonous Approach], [Telekinetic Shield], [Alcoholic Advantage], [Peak Physicality], [Mark of Decrepitude], [Iron Will]

Frizz stared at his list of perks with tired eyes; he had one last combination left that had a guaranteed effect. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath.

"System, combine Peak Physicality and Iron Will."

[System]

Combining [Peak Physicality] and [Iron Will]

Results: [Iron Peak]

Displaying descriptions: The perk-user passively regenerates from wounds, injuries, and afflictions at an accelerated rate. Serious conditions, like fractures or lacerations, may need medical attention but heal slightly better and faster. The perk user also has a heightened tolerance to pain. Their body operates closer to peak physicality, moderately improving overall physical performance. 

When the perk user's health falls to critical, their physical performance temporarily reaches true peak condition for 60 seconds. During this time, their strength, speed, and endurance are further amplified, and healing is accelerated by an additional significant, giving them a fighting chance in critical situations. This perk has no cooldown; it activates if health lowers to critical again.

(YES! I will be powerful soon if this kind of trend continues.)

"System, show me my status."

[System]

Name: New Name

Level: 8

Experience: 50/160

Health: 28/39 (+10) [SL+2] [RF+2] [IP+6]

Mana: 36/36 (+2)

Fatigue: 70/100 (exhausted)

Class: None

Physical Prowess = [near exceptional human]

Magical Prowess = [above average human]

Mental Prowess = [below average human]

Telekinetic Prowess = [novice]

Perks: [Serene Life], [Righteous Fury], [Gluttonous Approach], [Telekinetic Shield], [Alcoholic Advantage], [Mark of Decrepitude], [Iron Peak]

Talents: None

(Near exceptional human...) Frizz smiled, his eyes glued to the physical prowess stat, and snickered. (Okay, I've decided to crush this drug trade in my town and city.) He declared mentally, his ambitious side flickering to life.

His ambitions flared brightly, but they were quickly dampened by a dark thought. Images of himself being tortured flashed through his mind, vivid and grotesque. The smile faded from his face as the mental strain of his situation settled back in.

(No, no, no.) Frizz shook his head, trying to forget the pain. (If I don't make a move, they'll kill me, but if I fail in trying to get out, they'll torture and then kill me.) The excitement and hope from the combination of his perks faded; now, there was only dread for what was to come. His mind raced as he searched for a solution, a way out.

Then an idea sparked in his head. He glanced at his status again, his eyes drawn to a perk with an effect that had caught his attention before.

Frizz gulped, his legs shifting restlessly. "This could work," he whispered, his voice shaky.

Two minutes later...

*Beep!* *Beep!* One of his kidnapper's phone rang and answered the call. "Is he doing anything?" A voice asked. "No, not yet; he sometimes mutters to himself, but nothing strange so far," the kidnapper replied as he adjusted the optics on his rifle resting atop a barrel.

"Always keep a gun aimed at him; don't hesitate to shoot if he does something, but don't kill him," the voice ordered as they ended the call. 

"You heard what he said." The kidnapper turned to his partner. 

"I know, keep a gun aimed at him," the other kidnapper confirmed, slightly unfolding his bandaged thigh, revealing a stitched laceration. "Shit, I think it might be infected."

(They're coming; I know that voice.) Frizz gritted his teeth together. (It's that piece of shit with a scar.)

(Now's my moment; time to get their attention.) Frizz huffed. (Insult them then make them beat me up.)

"Hey, asshole. The one with the injured thigh." All four kidnappers snapped to attention and glared at Frizz. "How's it feel?"

"What?" The injured kidnapper growled, his eyes narrowed.

"I said, how's it feel?" Frizz asked mockingly, tilting his head towards the bandaged right thigh.

"Shut the fuck up, or I'll make you."

"Then make me, you subhuman, welfare-reliant piece of shit," Frizz snapped. "This is why this country is heading to the gutter!" He emphasized his words with sudden, strong movements, trying to loosen the bindings.

"Uneducated people like you four are the dregs of society, fucking scum. Also, no wonder you guys are criminals; only people like you actually commit crimes. Drug-using, welfare-leeching, musky-smelling, uneducated, gay reprobates."

The injured kidnapper couldn't take the childish and discriminatory insults any longer. He stood up and limped towards Frizz. The other three quickly followed, and the four of them circled Frizz like vultures.

They smiled with sadistic glee; in front of them was a durable and resilient hostage. They wouldn't hold back if they were to strike.

"Listen, I get it. You have a death wish," the kidnapper on Frizz's right stated. "Frizz, right?"

"You're just a dog, a smelly flea-ridden mongrel, eager to suck your master's dick for some small cash!" Frizz shouted.

The four of them laughed; Frizz's insult wasn't effective. "Keep talking with a mouth like that and I'll take away your balls," the kidnapper on his left threatened as they brandished a pocket knife.

"Go ahead; at least then you'll have some." The kidnapper pocketed the knife struck Frizz's face with the butt of his rifle; the insult was effective. However, it had no effect; his force field took the brunt of it.

"Huh?" they exclaimed.

"It's that protection of his," the kidnapper with the injured thigh stated. "It's one of the main reasons why we weren't able to maim him; it was strong enough to stop our blades."

The kidnapper on his left grinned. "So he can take a few hits," he said, delivering another rifle butt strike to Frizz's face.

Frizz felt the impact but not the damage. He fixed his hair, shifting his head, and spat at the kidnapper who struck him. "A piece of shit! My shirt!"

The three snickered and glared at their hostage, their rage nearing the boiling point. "Poor people like you should just die; you bring nothing to our town, to our city, to our country, or the world," Frizz ranted, his voice breaking from dehydration and pain in his throat.

The kidnapper grabbed a leaf on the ground and tried to wipe the spit away on his shirt; however, it only made it worse. "Threaten me all you want, but if I were out of these binds..." Frizz paused and chuckled. "I would break all the bones of your ugly wives and mothers."

"Then piss on them an—" Frizz was cut off; punched in the chest with a brass knuckle. The injured kidnapper had heard enough, not because of the insults but because of his loud voice. "Shut the fuck up!"

The other three joined in the beating, dropping their rifles and putting all their weight into their punches. Frizz swayed from the impacts, his force field on the verge of breaking. "Piece of shit, fuck you—" He was cut off again, struck in the mouth.

The four of them stopped to catch their breath and massage their hands. The usual feeling of bone and flesh cracking was replaced by a soft, rubbery texture. But it was only a matter of time before that familiar sensation returned.

"Suck my rod, gaywad," Frizz egged them on. The injured kidnapper limped away and picked up a hammer from behind a barrel. 

Frizz gulped and froze for a moment; he remembered being struck with that hammer last night. (My hands still ache from all that hammering.)

"Remember, we warned you," the injured kidnapper said, stepping forward. 

"Our leader, Baron, wants the kill," one of the kidnappers cautioned. "Don't get too excited."

The injured kidnapper raised his hammer and struck Frizz on the head. *Thwack!* A loud sound echoed inside the warehouse; a hit like that would have been lethal; however, Frizz just grinned.

"This is for my fucking thigh, you piece of shit!" Frizz was hit in his shoulder, then his head, then his forehead.

"Fucking die, you son of a bitch!" Thud! The sound of the hammer striking flesh brought a smile to the kidnapper's face, before he was suddenly flung backward by a sudden explosion. The other three were also thrown back by the force; two hit a pillar and lost consciousness, while one slammed his back against a filled barrel, knocking it over and spilling its contents onto the ground. The injured kidnapper landed on a table covered in dirty rags, breaking his fall but still incapacitating him.

Frizz gathered his strength and strained against his bindings. They snapped. He stood, slightly staggering and almost falling. Blood trickled from his forehead, the result of the hammer strike.

Suddenly, the entrance doors burst open, and two guards appeared, firing their pistols at Frizz. He took cover behind a pillar near the two knocked-out kidnappers, grabbing the discarded rifle.

Frizz shakily clutched the rifle, an M-16 with a suppressor and an optic. A bullet hit the pillar, sending up shards and dust. He quickly ducked, putting his finger on the trigger. The hail of bullets stopped. "They're reloading!"

Frizz peeked from his cover and spotted a guard kneeling behind a crate; he aimed at him and pulled the trigger, but it didn't budge. A bullet whizzed past him, terrifying him, and sending him back behind the pillar again.

"What the fuck, what the fuck?" His voice shaking as he fiddled with the rifle. "Safety, safety."

*Click!* The safety was deactivated just as the shooting halted, they were reloading. Frizz peeked, and one of the guards was rushing his position; he moved away from the cover and aimed at the legs of the rusher. Unbeknownst to him, the rifle was set to automatic.

*Brrrrt!* The gun fired in rapid succession, climbing upward from the recoil and shaky grip. He accidentally dropped it to the floor and hid behind the pillar again, disoriented and with his ears ringing.

"Ah shit! Fuuuuck!" Frizz yelled in fear and desperation.