- Opportune Time

Frizz shuffled behind a barrel, taking several quiet deep breaths to calm himself. He was almost caught. (If he got any closer, I would've been discovered.)

⟐

"We're done patching up their wounds, sir, but the bullets will have to be removed later," a henchman added.

The scarred man pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing deeply and closing his eyes. (Fuck… More money to spend on.)

The big man ordered, "Several more will arrive soon; in the meantime, go outside and look for him. He couldn't have gotten far."

The henchman nodded, heading outside with the others to try and track the escapee.

"How do you plan to explain this? Our bosses will be pissed if they know that one guy managed to escape from six of our armed people."

The scarred man disliked the tone. "Well, that 'one guy' has some fucking superpowers. I don't think that would be difficult to explain."

The big man snickered, wiping the grime away from his shirt. He had more to say but kept silent, interested to see how his ambitious accomplice would handle the situation.

⟐

Frizz grinned upon hearing the orders. (The two of them will be left alone then.)

He paused, darting his eyes to the several men who were clutching their wounds, groaning heavily. (Well, I don't think they would be a threat.)

(This is my chance! They must've gone into the woods.) He thought, no longer spotting the other henchmen. In the dim part of the warehouse, the air slightly shimmered like water.

(Those pistols of theirs are very problematic.) Frizz rubbed his chin, thinking of a plan. (My telekinetic shield will roughly take an hour to fully regenerate.)

Frizz restlessly scratched his unkempt hair. (I can no longer use telekinesis if I don't have my force field.) He mused, noting that the situation isn't really advantageous for him.

(Before, my forcefield would slowly regenerate. Now, there's some sort of cooldown.)

Frizz's eyes sparked, an idea forming. "That's right, I can throw things at them!" he excitedly thought, searching below for something to throw.

(This will do!) he expressed, slowly picking up a piece of wood.

However, Frizz's expressions slightly soured; aside from the piece of wood, there wasn't anything strong or durable enough to hurl aside from the barrel in front of him.

(I can throw this barrel, but if I pick it up, they'll surely notice a big object suddenly floating.)

(This will have to do.) Frizz decided, slowly poising himself in a proper throwing position, his right hand slowly cocking behind him. (One good hit in the head will do.)

Frizz darted his eyes between the two, unsure of whom to hit first. He had a decent view and could hit a single throw from his position.

(Which one, though?) He paused, unsure of his target. He considered the bigger man, the one that struck him with a brass knuckle.

(That big, tall one beat me the most. However, I think he's just some senior muscle.) He concluded, then glaring at the other. (Now this guy, he must be some vice leader or manager?)

Frizz exhaled. He made his choice, and that was to target the one who beat him the most and then interrogate the scarred man.

Ready to throw the piece of wood in his hand. He took in a deep breath and roared loudly.

"GOD GAVE ME YOU TO SHOW ME WHAT'S REAL!" Frizz roared the lyrics of a song, hurling the piece of wood straight to his chosen target.

[System]

[Righteous Fury] perk is active.

A loud, sudden shout caught everyone's attention as a piece of wood burst into pieces as it struck someone. *Crack!*

The scarred man cursed, "Shit!" Taking several steps back from the sound of the impact. The injured kidnappers snapped their heads at the source of the sound. *Thud!*

However, all they could see was one of their leaders lying on the ground and their half-naked hostage.

"What the fuck!?" The scarred man cursed again as he pulled out his pistol—*Clang!* The sound of a barrel hitting a body resonated within the small warehouse.

The scarred man dropped his pistol, collapsing onto the ground.

Frizz suddenly appeared from the shadows and attacked the six injured kidnappers with a barrel, sending them into a panic as they tried to flee on their injured legs.

"Just a little knockout!" Frizz shouted to the limping kidnappers, hobbling away in fear. Adrenaline did little to suppress the stinging pain of their gunshot wounds.

Frizz aimed for their torsos, holding back significantly, not wanting to severely injure them. Applying enough force to knock them down.

*Clang!* *Clang!* *Clang!* *Clang!* *Clang!* *Clang!*

Frizz took down each of the kidnappers, then tossed the barrel away and delivered a warning, his words dripping with disdain. "You all deserved this."

Frizz turned to see the scarred man reaching for his pistol. "Denied!" He shouted, kicking the pistol away and stomping on their hands.

"AHH!" The scarred man screamed in pain.

"Let's talk, shall we?" Frizz growled, picking the scarred man up by his collar. "We have a lot to—" *Shick!* He was cut off; a sharp pain throbbed below, disorienting him. Looking down, he saw a knife embedded in his stomach.

The scarred man grinned, twisting the blade deeper. "GOD!" Frizz groaned, throwing the scarred man against the wall, sounding a loud thud and groan.

He clutched his bleeding stomach. "Oh fuck..." Frizz pressed against the stab wound, trying to stem the bleeding.

He gasped, collapsing to the floor. *Huff!* *Huff!*

After registering what had happened, he quickly took off his shoes, smearing blood on them, and then tied his long socks together.

Frizz always wore long socks, preferring to slightly cover his leg hairs. He tightly knotted the connected socks around his stomach, placing the knot directly on the wound. "Oh crap, oh god!" he groaned.

The sight of the blood disturbed him more than the pain. Frizz's iron peak perk suppressed some of the pain.

Instead of a stinging, burning-like sensation, it felt like several needles pierced his stomach. He took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself, slowly turning to the cause of the wound.

The scarred man groaned, rolling over and trying to get up, clothes covered in grime. However, Frizz managed to stand up first, briefly staggering as the pain spiked for a moment.

The big man he'd knocked out earlier was also waking up. Limping to him, Frizz pulled the holstered pistol from the man's belt. (A Glock, huh?)

Frizz muttered, then struck the big man on the head with the gun, knocking him out again. He turned to the scarred man, his main target, who was barely on his feet.

He aimed the pistol at him, causing the man to surrender.

"You and I are going to have a big talk," he threatened.

Three minutes later...

Frizz looked down at his stomach; it wasn't bleeding anymore. However, the bleeding stopped primarily because of the perks and less so because of the improvised sock tourniquet.

He slowly removed his bloodied left hand and rubbed his fingers together; the blood had dried up. "What's your name?" Frizz asked his bound hostage on the chair. 

The hostage, the scarred man, just glared and kept silent. Frizz didn't like the lack of an answer, so he aimed the pistol at him. "Answer the damned question."

"Joseph!" the scarred man replied as he seethed.

"What the hell do you want with—" 

"They're going to kill you." The scarred man, Joseph, interjected.

"First it was just you. However, you turned it into a war the moment you started fighting back."

"Of course, I am going to fight back; you and your people tried to kill me," Frizz countered.

"Because you attacked us first!" Joseph angrily added.

Frizz scoffed. "I stole what, twelve thousand or so pesos and a damned gun!" He replied, unable to understand the severity of his crimes.

Joseph raised a brow, registering the answer. "You still fucking stole from us and fucking attacked us!" He replied with fury and furrowed brows.

"How do you think the world fucking works?" he ranted while Frizz pressed the pistol's barrel on his head.

Joseph's expression did not change, retaining that furious glare. "You steal from us and we fucking forget it? You attack us and then we just leave you alone?" He scoffed in disbelief amidst his rage.

"If someone comes into your fucking house, robs you, and beats you senseless, are you supposed to just move on, huh!?" Joseph asked, causing a pistol trained on him to slightly falter.

"No, you call the police, you call the neighborhood watch, you tell your friends, and you try to track them. And if they're caught…" Joseph paused for emphasis.

"You make them pay." Joseph's glare intensified.

"Jail time, post their faces and name on social media, and if you're lucky, the policeman might sympathize and even let you punch them once." He stopped to regain his breath.

"To make a long story short, what we're aiming for is retribution. You fuck with us, we fuck with you." Joseph ended his rant, finally having a decent idea of who the person in front of him was. 

A naïve man-child who lucked out on life, gaining superpowers. He hated that of all people, an idiot managed to overpower them.