The Scumbag's Guide To Heroism novel Chapter 10

Chapter 10: 10 | A Good Boy Makes Breakfast, and The Temptation Gauge Approves

The shower water hit hot enough to hurt. I stood under the spray and let it beat the sweat off me. Every muscle in my body screamed about the training session. My shoulders ached. My legs felt like they were made of jelly.

Worth it though. Two more stat points. A new side quest that actually made sense. And Sloane’s Temptation Gauge climbing without me having to do anything creepy.

Well. Mostly without doing anything creepy.

I soaped up and rinsed off, trying not to think about the quest timer still counting down in my vision. Twelve hours and forty-three minutes. Plenty of time. I’d figure something out during tonight’s session.

The hot water ran out faster than I expected. I finished up and grabbed a towel, drying off while condensation fogged up the mirror. My reflection appeared in patches through the steam. Still strange seeing this face instead of my own. Sharp cheekbones. Amber eyes. The scar through my left eyebrow.

I threw on clean clothes. Dark joggers and a grey t-shirt. My standard hoodie stayed on the bed. Too hot for that right now.

Downstairs, I headed straight for the kitchen. My stomach growled loud enough to echo off the marble countertops. Training burned calories like crazy. I needed food. Lots of it.

The fridge was packed. I grabbed what I needed for a protein shake. Milk, banana, peanut butter, protein powder. Tossed it all in the blender and hit the button.

The Oracle Feed lit up.

〘Target approaching from upstairs. ETA: 47 seconds. Subject status: relaxed, recently showered, wearing minimal clothing.〙

I ignored it. Poured the shake into a glass and took a long drink. Tasted like chocolate peanut butter. Not bad.

The living room called to me. There was a massive TV mounted on the wall, easily seventy inches. I hadn’t watched TV in this world yet. Didn’t even know what shows existed here.

I settled onto the couch with my shake and grabbed the remote. The TV flickered to life. I scrolled through the streaming apps until I found something that looked interesting.

Movie thumbnails flashed past. Action films, comedies, dramas. One caught my eye. The poster showed a guy behind the wheel of a sports car, sunglasses on, city lights blurred in the background. Title read "Drift King."

Close enough to Baby Driver. I clicked play.

The opening sequence started. Synth music pumped through the surround sound. The driver tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the beat. The camera panned across his face. He was waiting for something.

A bank heist crew piled into the car. The driver didn’t speak. Just nodded and turned up the music.

The heist went down. The crew ran out with bags of cash. Sirens wailed in the distance. The driver peeled out before everyone was even inside.

What followed was five minutes of the most insane driving I’d ever seen on screen. The car slid through traffic like water. Drifted around corners at impossible angles. The music never stopped, never broke rhythm. Every movement synced to the beat.

I leaned forward. This was good. Really good.

Footsteps sounded behind me.

"What are you watching?"

I didn’t turn around. "Movie."

Sloane walked into view. She stood directly between me and the TV. Her pink hair was damp from her own shower. She was wearing an oversized band t-shirt that hung past her hips. I couldn’t tell if she was wearing shorts underneath. The shirt was long enough that it didn’t matter.

Except it did matter. Because now I was looking. And trying not to look. And definitely looking.

"Can you move?" I asked.

She leaned to the left. I leaned right to see past her.

She shifted right. Blocked my view again.

"Seriously?"

"Can I help you?" she asked. The picture of innocent confusion.

"Yeah. Move."

"Aren’t you forgetting something?"

I racked my brain. Showered. Brushed my teeth. Cleaned up the bathroom. Even put the wet towels in the hamper like a civilised human being.

"Hm? Nah. I brushed my teeth and cleaned my room and the bathroom."

Sloane’s eyes narrowed. "What did you forget?"

Oh shit.

"Breakfast," she said slowly. "For two weeks. Chop chop."

I blinked. "Right now?"

"Yes, right now. I want french toast and eggs and orange juice and turkey bacon."

"You being deadass?"

"Yes I’m being deadass, dumbass. Now get up and make me my breakfast like a good boy."

The words hit different coming out of her mouth. My brain short-circuited for a second. I looked her up and down without thinking about it.

"The fuck?"

Smoke curled from her hands. Literal smoke. The air around her fingers shimmered with heat.

I stood up fast. Saluted on reflex. "Yes ma’am. Right away ma’am."

When someone could beat your ass, you chose your battles.

Sloane’s hands stopped smoking. She smirked. "That’s what I thought."

She dropped onto the couch in the spot I’d just vacated. Picked up my protein shake and took a sip without asking. Made a face.

"This tastes like chalk."

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