Welcome to the Chaos Gacha! Take x3 Golden Random tickets on us, one elite guaranteed!
It's quite the message for Kane to wake up to when he finds himself locked up in a cell, accompanied by the soft rocking of the waves and the constant backdrop of splashing water and gentle winds.
Especially without a phone for it to appear on. Just… beamed right into his head, like some distant god sending him a message. And that message just so happens to be the welcome notifaction for a scammy gacha game.
He slowly sits up, feeling how unsteady he is with the floor rocking like this.
"…am I on a ship? How… How drunk did I get last night?" He mumbles slowly. His head doesn't hurt, but considering the fact that he's never had more than a sip of alcohol at a time, he's not quite registered that as strange.
"How would I… even use those tickets?" As soon as the question completes in his mind, and after it's too late to stop himself saying it out loud, another screen appears.
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A simple little wheel appears, with little addornment to it. Kane blinks, confused.
"…spin ticket?"
The wheel bursts to life, options spinning past in the blink of an eye. It starts slowing, just enough to see options in a variety of colours. It almsot stops on a purple one called 'clone' that intrigues him before finally settling.
[Avian Friend] |Uncommon Trait|
Birds and other avian-like creatures that mainly occupy the skies are more friendly toward you and it is easier to earn their affection. In addition, flying is more natural to you.
Nothing really happens. A part of him actually expected it to do something, though of course that would be insane to expect of a hallucination. Consistency aside, it's hard to believe it.
Footsteps sound out above him, but he ignores them in favour of playing with his clearly addled mind. Clearly, something about hallucinating is making him far more creative than otherwise.
"Spin ticket."
He feels a sort of nervous anticipation this time, despite knowing it doesn't really do anything.
[Air Whips] |Uncommon Ability|
Allows the user to create and control whips of compressed air that they can use to lash out or grab things with. The longer and stronger the whip the more energy is expended.
Note: Only one ability may be slotted at a time. Additional slots may be unlocked through gaining further abilities
Though of course, it just lands on another uncommon. An ability this time, which is nice. Even comes with it's own little message, which is an odd touch for his subconscious to add.
"Spin ticket." His voice raises just a little bit, as he gets more confident. It's exciting, really. Maybe when he stops going insane he should get into gacha games, clearly his mind is trying to tell him something.
The wheel spins, and spins, and this time when it starts to stop he feels genuine excitement. Maybe it's not such a scam after all!
[Expert Programming] |Elite Skill|
You are an expert programmer, your skill with coding is comparable to a low-level Tinker ability. You can craft and code complex algorithms and programs with ease, you can even make basic artificial intelligences.
The message flashes, but he doesn't even read it, too busy being knocked flat on his ass by a sudden headache. Between the pain and the unstable floor, there's no shot he could've stayed sat up.
"Ooghhhh. What the fuck?" He winces slightly as pushes himself back up, this time shuffling backwards until his back hits the wall so he doesn't fall over again.
"Programming?" He grumbles to himself, as the pain fades. "Programming isn't supposed to hurt. Though, I guess I wouldn't know, I just know the bare minimum. Print hello world and what not. That's just what it is in Python and shit. I definitely wouldn't know how to do it in C++, that needs a whole ass functi-" He freezes.
"…if I wanted to code something just to do hello world I'd need to define the main function, and then use the equivalent of print to log. Return 0. Run the function- What the fuck?" He pushes against the wall to help get up to his feet, doing his best to ignore the swaying of the ship as he paces.
"Why the fuck do I know that?" He aggressively walks back and forth around his cell, essentially doing laps in the small space. There's benches along the walls, he belatedly realises. Enough for at least ten people, though right now it's just him.
"Does that mean- No way. Right?" He stops on the spot, turning to face the wall.
Air whip. The ability he got. He didn't notice anything immediately, so he wrote it off as any sane person would. But maybe…
He flicks his hand, and a rush of air follows, smacking into the wall as if he threw a hard rock. The action leaves him a little winded, but also dings the metal wall a little.
Before he can process that, a voice cuts through his thoughts like a knife.
"Hey! Quite down in there, scum!" A rough male voice shouts, followed by a slam into the bars that makes Kane wince. When he turns to face the bars he finds a reedy man in a sailor-boy outfit, and a 'matching' baseball cap that reads 'MARINE' in all caps. He says matching with a grain of salt, in that it is certainly the same colour scheme.
"Oh. A person. Do you know where I am?" Kane asks, ignore the clear agression the man displays. In response, the marine grits his teeth.
"Obviously, you're on your way to Sabaody. That's what happens when a civilian gets lucky stowing away on a Celestial Dragon's vessel." He sneers, raising a flintlock pistol from behind his back to slam it into the bars again.
Kane feels his muscles tensing slightly. He may not know what a 'Sabaody' is, nor why dragon's are involved, but he does know one thing.
This guy is fucking annoying.
"Hey, uh, do you think you could shut the fuck up?" He says snappishly, "I didn't stow away anywhere. I've not been near a boat since the swan ride when I was twelve. Clearly, you've got the wrong guy."
The so-called marine with a so-called fashion sense doesn't seem to appreciate that.
"Watch your tone, scum! Or else you might just not make it to the human market." A nasty grin sprouts on his face. "Though, for a slight fella like you, that might be a good thing."
The only reason the man got to finish his sentence is because Kane was so damn confused. Human market? There's no way something like that is still around. But if it was, he could imagine that you'd get there by boat, and that the guards would have replica flintlock pistols.
"I guess I should thank you then. Just one question." Kane says calmly, slowly raising one hand.
"Hm?" The man tilts his head, his grin turning back into a scowl.
"What's that behind you?" Kane points.
"Bahaha! What would you do if that even worked? Pi-" The man is cut off when a whip of air snaps out and laches around the barrel of his gun. In the next instant, it's yanked out of his hand, sent clattering on the floor behind Kane.
"Damn. Gotta work on the catch, I guess." Kane mutters to himself, languidly turning around and crouching down to pick it up.
The cock of a pistol hammer freezes him in his place.
"Pfft. Nice one. A good marine always has a backup though." Unfortunately, he only sounds more smug than before. Even worse, Kane is genuinely starting to get a little scared.
"That's… seriously a real gun?" He asks slowly, still facing away.
"What? Of course it is!" The man responds, indignant.
"Well, it just seems a bit archaic is all. Honest opinion, not trying to rile you up at all." His mind frantically works, trying to find a way out of his blunder. He keeps his hands in front of him to hide the slight tremor.
Kane can hear how the marine grinds his teeth in response, and takes a heavy step closer.
"That's it. You're-"
Again, Kane interrupts him. This time it's a little different. The only two thoughts running through his head are 'The ability doesn't specify where the whips come from', and 'I have no fucking clue where to aim it'. They crystallise into one perfect, ingenious plan.
Create a fuckton of whips and cause as much havoc as possible.
One moment the marine is about to fire his gun, and the next a storm of two dozen air whips are lashing out at him, cracking against his face, grabbing at everything they can reach, pulling and slapping and smashing as hard as they can. Kane hears the man's face get slammed forwards into the bars more times than he can count, but he only stops when he can't any more.
After just ten seconds his energy wanes and the whips dissipate, causing Kane to slump forwards onto all fours. He feels out of breath, as if he just ran a marathon, and sweat is dripping down his forehead.
Congrats! You've taken your first life! Take 1x Bronze Trait
He retches. Nothing comes out, but he almost wishes it had.
"F-fuckin' christ man, did I almost just get killed by a slave trader in cosplay? Wh-where the fuck am I?" He whispers hoarsely to himself, staring at the ground.
That thought leads to more. What if someone heard? Will they investigate? They probably will eventually, and what will he do then? He's dead on his feet, feeling like he's already about to die. Maybe if he's more controlled-
"The guns! Fuck, the guns. Oh, but- Sp-spin ticket!" He frantically activates his next spin. If he didn't have that ability he may very well already be dead, though he may also not have been cocky enough to talk shit like that, so who knows.
[Iron Man] |Rare Trait|
Your mind is made of iron and your body will obey. Even if you are exhausted and starving the effect it has on your performance is minimal.
As if through some divine blessing, the strain on his body is lessened. He feels like he can breathe again, and the shaking he didn't even notice stops all at once. Though his body is still noticably weaker, he's not actually struggling to stay conscious.
That doesn't mean he wants to take chances though. He uses the smallest whip he can manage to drag the second gun in from past the bars, pointedly ignoring the mangled corpse, and at the same time crawls over to grab the first gun. They're both pretty dinged up, and he's not really sure how to use them, but it's better than nothing.
Hopefully.
For a long minute he sits there huddled up against the wall, clutching the flintlock in shaking hands. Knowing that it's inevitable that someone comes down, that he's relying on it to an extend, he's relieved when he hears heavy clunking footsteps.
"Isamu, are there any issues with the prisoner?" The person speaking is confident, and self-assured. As far as Kane can tell they're a woman. "Whatever ruckus you made almost woke up-"
She suddenly stops, and the obvious reason why sends fear racing up his back. He tightens his grip as she resumes walking. As soon as he sees a glimpse of white he points the gun slightly up, training the barrel over her face as she emerges at the bottom of the stairs.
For some reason, his aim won't stop moving. Certainly, it's not just the movement of the ship.
The woman is wearing a better outfit than the last guy, a dark suit with a white coat thrown over her shoulders. Her hair is brown and goes down to her shoulders. The strangest part of her outfit is certainly the sword sheathed at her hip, but it doesn't intimidate a man with a gun very much.
She shoots a frown at him.
"What happened here, exactly?" She speaks in a drawn out drawl, as if the dead body at her feet isn't a big deal. Kane swallows to quietly clear his throat.
"H-he tripped. Repeatedly." He responds quickly, visibly sweating.
"Pfft. Certainly. And his guns both just happened to fall into your cell, and you're coincidentally pointing it straight at my face?"
"I couldn't have done it. I'm in here, and he's out there." A little confidence returns as he speaks. Of course, how could anyone explain this? He'd be dead if he tried to do that by hand.
"You couldn't. Unless you ate a Devil Fruit. There's an easy way to test that." She smirks and reaches into her coat. He doesn't see what she's pulling out until she flicks her hand and he hears the sound of a needle sinking into flesh.
She stares at him, as if expecting something to happen. Suddenly nervous, Kane looks down. A strangled yelp leaves him when he sees an absurdly thin needle poked through his bicep, and he frantically pulls it out and throws it to the ground.
"Hrm. That's a seastone needle, thin enough to painlessly sink into flesh. No response, and you obviously aren't especially strong." Her hand cups her chin and she looks down at the dead man. Isamu, he thinks she called him. Kane tries to commit that to memory, but he's not too hopeful.
He winces as she casually kicks the mangled corpse over to check his face.
"Blunt force trauma, signs of him being grabbed from multiple points. Off the top of my head… strange enough that I can't think of many known quantities that could do this. The prisoner is obviously lying about seeing anything, but I don't see how he could've accomplished something like this." She just mumbles to herself, as if Kane wasn't there at all. He grits his teeth, trying to push down on his annoyance at the dismissiveness.
The needle was strange. She threw it so quick, and against any logic it didn't cause any more damage than a slight bit of blood. He kind of figured that he was the only person who'd have any abilities, but she must have some enhanced accuracy. Not to mention whatever would let a person make something so thin that wouldn't snap when being grabbed. And, he wonders, what even is seastone?
"I'll have you moved to a different cell so we can investigate without interference. If you spill who did this, you might just get out of being sold off." She addresses Kane again, starting him out of his thoughts with her irritatingly casual voice. He feels a disturbing urge to kill her just like that other guy, which is the only reason he lowers the gun.
"I don't know how this happened." He answers flatly, meeting her gaze.
"Sure thing. See you when we land. Should only be another day." Her coat swishes dramatically as she spins and strides back up the stairs.
Kane only manages to stay quiet for another moment before he throws the gun at the furthest wall, ignoring the loud clang it makes. He only belatedly realises how stupid that was.
"Dammit, what was that? She didn't even confiscate the guns. What kind of confidence-"
Congrats! Get away with murder better than you started! Take x1 Silver Trait ticket
He stops talking abruptly, breathing heavily. The reward appeases him somewhat. Maybe if she wasn't so stupidly confident he wouldn't have gotten away so easy. It's annoying that the gacha seems to think he's somehow well off after that, though.
He silently spins the ticket.
[Scavenger]|Uncommon Trait|
Whenever you go scavenging, whether it is for treasure, lost parts, artefacts, etc. You have a better chance of finding something useful.
And then sighs. Was it too much to hope for something to let him teleport home? Perhaps, because that sounds more like an ability than a trait.
That means there's only one option. He slowly grabs the gun he didn't throw at the wall and settles in to wait.
"I've just gotta figure out how to escape on my own terms." He whispers to himself, firming his resolve.
He couldn't do it.
A pair of marines, each much more generic than the other two he's met, came in to cart him off to a cell just to the right of his. It's much smaller, designed for one person, but comes with a bed at least. They gave him food, confiscated his gun, and that was that. The only consolation is that they didn't notice the seastone needle he slipped into his pocket. The woman didn't take it back. Perhaps she just has so many that it doesn't even matter.
The consolation doesn't mean much to Kane.
He wishes he had the strength to just shoot those two in the head and flee, trust in luck and logic to escape before they can tighten the noose. The slave market they keep referencing sends a chill down his spine, and he just can't let himself end up there.
But he also can't just kill two people he doesn't know. Especially not for a potential chance of escape. He's on a ship after all and, unfortunately, he's not a good swimmer. If only he got the fish version of Avian Friend, to have at least a slightly better chance.
The food, he ate quickly. It was just a slightly charred hunk of meat and a bowl of water, though a lot of the water splashed out when they put it down. That's fine. He'll just get something more substantial once he's free.
For the next few hours he just sits there, half asleep against the wall. If he weren't so exhausted he'd just be panicking and wearing himself out anyway, so his stunt with the whips wasn't all bad. It still leaves him unprepared when the ship suddenly comes to a stop and he hears shouting from up on deck. He immediately gets to his feet on the bed so he can look out the small window near the roof.
Disappointingly, the ship is not being attacked. Instead they've docked at some sort of tree-themed… amusement park?
Most of the skyline is dominated by the bright lights of what seems to be a bubble based amusement park. There's a giant Ferris wheel, and a single really long roller coaster high up in the air. Bubbles float about all above it, and he could swear that some of them have people inside.
Kane is so bewildered and enamoured by the mystifying sight that he doesn't notice his cell opening until he's being grabbed by both arms and frog marched by the same pair of marine officers as earlier, the both of them stoically ignoring his stumbling and indignant yelling.
"Hey, I'll co-operate! No need to be so rude about it!"
They shove him up the stairs and to the deck, where with little fanfare a heavy iron collar is locked on him. The weight of it makes him yelp and stumble, but the marines just tighten their grip and lead him away with his head bowed.
"S-seriously? That's insane, you know. I thought that woman wanted to talk to me anyway. I can say who killed that guy!" He struggles, jerking his arms this way and that to try and break the marines' grip. Just one of them would be enough to overpower him though, with hands that almost feel stronger than the collar. Kane knows that can't be normal, but either way, it only makes things worse for him.
They march him down the gangplank and onto a shady looking dock, where the woman from earlier is already waiting with her arms crossed.
"I heard that. You want to admit who did it?" She asks flippantly, smirking as if she already knows the answer.
"Y-yes! You just have to let me go first, then I'll tell you." He nods eagerly.
For a moment, he actually thought it might work. Then she just turns and walks away without a word. As if by some unspoken cue, the two marines holding him start dragging him away down the dock.
"Wait, why are you leaving!?" He calls out frantically, jerking and pulling on the grip they have on him. No response. "I-I can tell you right now!"
She pauses, but doesn't turn around to face him.
"...Sorry. I'm not in the habit of negotiating with slaves." And then she resumes her unhurried pace.
Kane's face turns pale, and he instinctively stops resisting. The man drag him as if nothing happened at all.
There's… just no way. Not in his mind, anyway. Things couldn't go so poorly so quickly, surely? And yet, clear as day, here it is. The wooden dock slowly transitions to paved road, framed on either side by buildings just maintained enough to not be considered decrepit. The moss growing over them is doing a lot of heavy lifting in that regard, not that Kane has much of a mind to care.
For a few minutes he just stares listlessly at the ground, his mind trying to figure out a plan. He's not sure he can even bring himself to move.
But then, to disprove that errant thought, he lifts his head when he starts hearing a heavy procession.
Up ahead the buildings immediately become much nicer, at least on one side. From here he can see how it's mostly just a facade, one side kept in better condition at the cost of all others. Some people line the street, but all of them hugging the edges.
It's only as they get closer that he understands what's happening, the marines arrive just in time to join a procession. One of them releases him and returns back the way they came, leaving only one holding him in place. Surrounding them on all sides are what he can only assume to be slaves.
People, of all shapes and sizes, some almost ridiculous in their cartoonish-ness. Ballooning out like caricatures. Despite the size and diversity, they all seem one and the same. Wearing the same old rags, with the same metal collar on each of their necks, chaining them all together.
The sight of the center-most one makes his blood boil though. A large woman crawling on all fours, with an honest-to-god spaceman sitting on a throne tied to her back. She looks like she can barely move, and Kane can scarcely comprehend how she's not been crushed into a paste under the weight of the throne alone.
Even as he watches, the man gets irritated and whips at her, causing her to cry out and almost fall.
"Don't you dare! The auction house is just around the corner. I'll buy your replacement and then you can curl up and die, but not a moment sooner!" The man- or whatever he is- yells in an imperious voice.
The back of Kane's mind can't help but acknowledge how ridiculous he looks. Dressed in a white and gold robe, an absurdly tall hairstyle, and a fishbowl around his gaunt head. On a second glance, the bowl jiggles when he moves. So, a bubble then. Even worse. And somehow this is the person that's in charge? Maybe this worlds version of a billionaire, though it makes Earth's billionaires look like saints, discounting the scale of it all.
Kane catches himself staring and immediately lowers his gaze, keeping his steps even with everyone else so he doesn't stand out. There's only one thought on his mind, and he can't have anyone knowing it.
How does this person die?
He's already killed once, albeit not quite intentionally. He could do it again. It's as the saying goes: Kill one murderer and the number of murderers in the world doesn't change. Kill two, and suddenly you're making a difference.
His thoughts go to the needle in his pocket. It's light and thin, hard to see in the shadows and the light. Obviously he couldn't use it normally, but right now he happens to have the perfect ability to manipulate it with.
Slowly, ever so slowly, he forms an air whip and moves it into his pocket, pulling out the needle. He lifts it up and, keeping it close to his body at first, slowly tracks a path to the floor, holding it there for a moment.
The procession pauses for a moment when the man whips the slave beneath him, and Kane takes that chance to shoot the needle closer under the cover of the paved stones. If anyone notices it, it won't be called back to him anymore.
His mouth suddenly feels dry as he thinks about what he's about to do. Is this really right? To kill someone he doesn't even know?
It just takes one look around to remind himself of what needs to be done. And fast, as the procession takes a corner and a large building comes into view, in the middle of a field of grass. The big sign over the door simply reads 'HUMAN'.
Quick as a flash, Kane whips the needle up and right through the back of the slave owner's head, using enough power that he'd stumble if not for Iron Man.
Nothing happens for a moment, save the man finally going quiet,
Then the bubble pops. A moment later he goes limp and falls to the side.
A notification about a feat pops up in Kane's vision but he dismisses it without reading it, focused on more important things.
No one seems sure how to react. When they do, it's every single civilian fleeing, half the marines rushing to the corpse and the other half sprinting down the road to find a superior officer, the one holding him included.
It's chaos. Absolute bedlam.
The slaves don't know how to react, so Kane reacts for them. In a flash he's slammed his whips through the chains connecting the collars, knocking a few people off balance but unchaining them from each other. Then he uses a whip with a little more control to unbuckle the throne off the woman's back and pull her to her feet. That's truly the most he can do right now, so he spins on his heel and sets a dead sprint down the street.
He's not sure where to go, so he starts by heading in the direction of that amusement park in the distance, drawn by the flashing lights. Surely, he could lose himself in the-
A gunshot rings out, and his steps stutter.
He looks back just in time to see one of the fleeing slaves drop to the ground with a bullet in their head before he picks up the pace, sprinting faster than before. He can feel his muscles burning, but his body won't quit on him anymore.
He turns right. Then left, right again. The buildings get worse for a few turns before getting better. There are a few people going about there day, and all of them stare at him in open-mouthed shock. The collar, he belatedly recalls.
That in mind, he ducks into the next alley he sees, dropping to the floor against a wall and panting for breath.
That was terrifying, obviously. But he can't think about that. Power is more important, and power means tickets. He hopes dismissing the notifications didn't lose them.
Fortunately, though he can't check the feats that gave him them, the rewards are still certainly there.
x1 Advantage Random Gold ticket
x1 Trait Bronze ticket
Two. Is that too little or just enough? He's not even sure he did much beyond freeing himself. Though, perhaps it hasn't even considered him to have succeeded yet at all. He's still here, after all.
He does the gold ticket first, not interested in delaying something that could save him.
[Wendigo] |Elite Ability|
Allows you to transform into a Wendigo, either partially or fully. As a Wendigo you have increased ice affinity and enhanced physical stats, you can also summon blizzards at will and possess supernatural tracking skills. Beware that you may also develop an appetite for human flesh.
The ability description appears, but then it automatically rolls again. Whilst it's still spinning, Kane is already certain that he's not accepting this one. Elite though it may be, he doesn't particularly want to have an appetite for cannibalism.
[Vampire] |Rare Trait|
Race(JoJo) - You are a vampire born of the Stone Mask created by the pillar man Kars. As a vampire you have amped physical stats, the ability to create ghouls and vampires as well as manipulate your flesh. But you are deathly vulnerable to sunlight.
He stares at the trait for a moment.
"…fucking dammit." He mutters. He can't take this even if he wants to, it's currently the middle of the day. Plus, being put at risk of death just by going outside whenever he wants sounds like it sucks ass. He picks Wendigo, but he swears he won't use it.
"C'mon Bronze roll, don't let me down now." He whispers to the air as he starts his second spin.
[Healthy] |Common Trait|
You are very healthy for your body, granting you slightly increased vitality and virility. In addition, any previous natural health complications you had before getting this trait are fixed.
After a brief bout of annoyance at only getting a common trait, he finds that he's actually quite happy with this one. Just a general improvement, good synergy with Iron Man. He doesn't much care for that part about virility, but that's life.
Unfortunately, it doesn't much help him here. He was hoping for metal manipulation or something, to easily remove the collar. There's still one option, even if he doesn't like it.
He forms two air whips, grabbing the collar in each one. They pull it in opposite directions, slowly ramping up in force, until… it snaps at the seams, fragments of screws flinging out and scratching at his skin.
There's no serious damage, fortunately, though the action does leave him tired.
He flings the fragments up onto a random rooftop, and the second he does is rewarded with another notification.
Congrats! You escaped slavery and pinned it on someone else. Take x1 Gold Random Ticket
His eyes widen, and he immediately spins it, holding his breath for something actually decent. Ideally he'd get some way of making money, or maybe just something to skate across the ocean. Or flight, but he already knows that's too good to be true. Maybe-
[Hoarder] |Rare Trait|
You are the type to not use your limited items even against the final boss, aren't you? The restock timer and cooldown of all items are halved.
"Wh… What restock timer? Cooldown?" He slumps back against the wall, honestly bewildered. It's rare, so that's good at least, right?
That leaves him feeling lost though. With no new ability to give him direction, that means he'll unfortunately have to find some direction on his own. And hopefully not think about how many deaths he's got on his conscience.