The Tattoo Summoner [System Apocalypse]

The next boom from outside shuddered through the concrete like something dragging its claws along the world. Tanya felt it in her teeth. She, Tsai, Jessica, Ishita, and Richard stood clustered in the centre block's rec room—too bright, too clean, too quiet except for the distant violence that kept slamming into the walls like a reminder: this wasn't training anymore. This was what all the prep had been for.

Another boom, closer, rolled through the estate. Dust drifted from a light fitting.

Jessica flinched. "Christ. That one felt like it hit the bloody building."

Richard rubbed a shaking hand down his jaw. "I'd never even heard of Bosses before this."

Tsai didn't say anything. She just kept glancing toward the nearest window, shoulders hunched tight, lips pressed flat. Even her breathing sounded thin.

Tanya tried to swallow the dryness in her throat. The wards around the estate were humming, actually humming, an ugly, brittle vibration under everything. Like they were already struggling. Like the bosses outside were testing them, pressing against the boundary to see where the cracks were.

Another howl, rolling and deep, like a boulder grinding over bone.

Ishita breathed, "They're right there, aren't they? Just… circling."

"Not our job," Tanya muttered, though her own stomach had knotted hard. "We're inside. We're supporting today. Let the fighters do the hero bit."

Richard gave a weak laugh. "I promised myself a long time ago that just because I was born here, it didn't mean I would die here..."

The hallway lights flickered once as another blast echoed from the north. The central block felt suddenly too small.

They'd prepared for this. But now that the battle had actually begun, now that the bosses were screaming and hitting things and people were running outside, the whole thing had shifted from hypothetical to terrifyingly, sweat-slick real.

Tanya rubbed her palms on her jeans. "Adder better get here fast."

As if summoned by the complaint, the front door banged open.

Adder strode in with the calm of a man entering a board meeting, not a battlefield. His men followed in tight formation, all in matching dark jackets, boots laced tight, faces grim. They lined up without fuss. She could see five, but could hear the footsteps of more outside.

"Tanya," Adder said with a short nod. He sounded annoyingly unbothered by the chaos outside. "We're ready."

Oh God. Right. Leasing. How does it even work?

Tanya flicked her interface open in a panic and scrolled straight to the ability description she'd skimmed last night.

• • •

Clientele
Level 1
Unlocked from Achievement: Magical Entrepreneur

Your tattoos can be "leased" to willing customers for a limited time, functioning at reduced strength. Once the lease ends, the tattoo returns to you. Customers who carry your marks for extended periods develop an unconscious affinity toward you, making them more likely to trust, assist, or trade favourably.

• • •

She read the rest twice, heart thumping too fast.

Right. Simple. Easy. Definitely not terrifyin'.

She clapped her hands once, turning to Adder. "Okay. Right. Let's start basic. Bow and arrow. Makin' arrows haemorrhages Vitality so someone tanky."

Adder did a quick scan of his people. "Henson," he said.

Henson was near the front. He stepped forward with a curt nod.

Tanya wasn't sure what to do, so she did the nearest thing she knew how to: start a tattoo transfer.

The bow tattoo shimmered at Tanya's hip, the design twitching like it sensed movement coming. Tanya pressed her fingers to it and focused on transferring the mark. Her thoughts raced a mile a minute, but she slowed the process, thinking through how leasing could be different.

Leasin' ain't a full transfer.

She held back at the last second, pulling it into a space between them. It physically hovered in the air, one end of the bow still pressed into her skin and the tip of an arrow on Henson's forearm. The rest was a weird spectral hovering…thing. It didn't exactly look like the design, with how distorted it was, but you could tell it was a bow if you squinted.

She let it stay there a moment like a held breath.

A chime pinged in her vision.

• • •

Would you like to lease this tattoo?

Target: Henson
Duration: [TBC]
Power: 67%
Terms: [Adjust]

Confirm Lease?

• • •

"Oh," Tanya breathed. "That's neat."

Henson blinked and looked slightly to the side. "Is that from you?"

"Yes. That's the leasin' screen," Tanya said, like she wasn't also seeing it for the first time.

She tapped the 'Duration' field and set it manually. At first, it said times, but she fiddled until she found another menu within that specifying a non-timed duration. She set the end of the lease for when the fight was completed, and that the lease would be withdrawn if they left the fight before the end too.

"Alright," she muttered aloud as she typed. "Lease lasts until the end of the fight, possibility of renewal if needed."

Then she noticed another field as terms opened fully: Level Gain Split.

Default: 80% to Tanya, 20% to Tattoo.

Tanya paused. For a second, she considered it. Then Sebastian Salvatore's face filled her mind, and she felt so much disgust at even thinking about it that she had to stop herself from moving the slider too far.

It feels fair we both get some of the experience…but maybe most could go to the tattoo itself. That way, there's an incentive for them to want to keep it, or the tattoo is stronger for the next person.

She dragged the sliders until they felt right.

• • •

Tattoo: 50%

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Tanya: 25%
Wielder: 25%

• • •

Fair. Equal-ish. No one getting shafted.

Henson cleared his throat and read the whole thing: duration, power, level split. His brows went up at the percentages.

Adders did too. "My, my. Generous."

"This is a deal, not a hostage situation," she muttered. "Feels wrong not to split the gains."

"Well then, I am content," Adder said. "Henson, do you accept?"

"Yes, sir."

Tanya hit confirm.

The final section of tattoo peeled off her skin like ink rising out of her pores, spiralling through the air before settling against Henson's forearm. The lines sank into place with a faint glow.

Tanya gasped, not from pain, but from the lack of it. Leasing cost barely anything. A whisper of Vitality, not even a full skill activation.

Her interface updated automatically, the new Leases section appearing under Pacts.

She couldn't help the grin.

"Next, I have a chain- spike. Grappler build. It pulls enemies or pulls you. Someone who can take a hit 'cause it's hard to control, so they may end up in melee."

Adder pointed at a woman this time, further back in the crowd. "Marella."

She walked past the group and into the room—slim, sharp-cheeked, eyes focused.

Another chime. Another lease screen. Same terms. Confirmed. Tattoo detached and settled onto its new carrier.

The room outside groaned under another boss's impact. Something crashed. People shouted. The wards flared blue under the doorframe like they'd been smacked by a battering ram.

None of Adder's people flinched.

Tanya wished she were that composed.

"Alright, next," she said, voice wobbling only a little.

Adder paired another man with her flame-line knuckle tat—"Works best with anything explosive, petrol if you can't get anythin' better." Then a wiry runner type with the speed-ink spirals—"You'll burn through stamina twice as fast, best to use in short bursts." Then a stockier woman with the stoneplate—"Toughens your skin but won't make you invincible."

Lease. Confirm. Peel. Attach.

One after another, the queue moved, smooth and almost rhythmic. A strange calm settled over Tanya as she worked—ink flowing, Vitality dipping just a touch each time, interface chiming like a heartbeat.

Outside, the battle raged, screamed, hammered.

Inside, Tanya built her army one tattoo at a time.

When the last of Adder's people stepped back with their new marks shining faintly under the fluorescent lights, she exhaled long and slow.

"Right," she said. "That's everyone. You're loaded. Go do your thing."

Adder gave a slight bow. "Efficiently handled. We'll make good use of your art."

He turned to lead his people out just as another monstrous roar ripped across the estate.

"See you on the other side," Tanya said.

He nodded.

When Adder and his squad slipped out, the room fell into a thick, heavy quiet except for the buzz of fighting outside. There was no pretending now. The roars were closer. Tanya couldn't see any of the fight out of the window, but the wards kept flashing a sharp, frantic red like lightning trapped inside the walls. Somewhere to the west, someone screamed orders. Somewhere else, metal crashed. Then feet pounded. Then silence. Then another boom.

Ishita paced. Richard prayed. Jessica kept picking at the Velcro on her splint. Tsai stood with her hands clasped tight, chin tucked down like she was bracing for impact.

Tanya wiped her palms down her thighs again. She couldn't sit. Couldn't stand still. Couldn't stop listening. Every sound outside felt like it sat directly on her spine.

She was about to suggest a round of deep breaths, though she didn't know who it'd help, when the stairwell door creaked open.

An old man shuffled in, pushing an IV pole in front of him, pyjamas hanging off his thin frame. Easily ninety. Sunken cheeks, liver spots, sparse white hair. He squinted around at them like he'd wandered into the wrong room.

"Woah—hello?" Tanya stepped forward. "Sir, you shouldn't be down here. Go back upstairs, yeah? It's safer up there."

He gave a dry little huff. "Nothing safe about anywhere today, love."

"That's… fair, but still, you should—"

"I've got children out there." He lifted a trembling hand toward the windows. "Grandchildren too. Heard the screaming. Figured I'd come see."

Tanya softened. "I get it. I do. But this block's meant to stay clear."

He nodded slowly, then blinked up at her. "Is it true you can make tattoos that… change things? Summons. Powers." His voice rasped with age. "Someone told me."

Tanya froze. "Uh. Sort of. But they're for fighters. People who're—"

He looked at her with eyes that had seen wars and funerals and still found room for worry. "I'm not asking to be saved, dear. I came to ask if I could help."

Her throat closed a little. "Help… how?"

"Give me one." He tapped his fragile chest. "A tattoo. Something that'll let me do something. Anything. I'm old. My time's nearly up. Better I go out helping them than listening to my family die outside."

Jessica covered her mouth. Ishita stopped pacing.

Tanya swallowed hard. "Sir, I—I can't just—You don't need to throw yourself—"

He stepped closer, grip tight around the IV pole. "I've lived longer than I ever expected. I've buried friends. Buried my wife. Buried two sons. I know what end-of-life looks like, girl. And this?" He gestured vaguely at the shaking walls. "This is a bad one. Let me do something good with what's left."

She didn't know what to say. Everything inside her felt tangled. "I–I–don't know. I don't want to put anyone in more danger."

He smiled faintly. "Danger found us anyway."

Silence settled again. Tanya became even more aware of the faraway noise outside.

"Let me write something first," he said, lowering himself into a plastic chair with slow, careful effort. "For them."

Tanya hadn't agreed. She couldn't agree, right? But she let him write his letter anyway as the doubt grew.

He fished an old pen from his pyjama pocket. Shaky handwriting scratched across a folded bit of paper. Tanya turned away to give him privacy, but the room was so quiet she could still hear the soft tap-tap-tap of the pen against the paper. Every now and again, he paused, listening to the fight beyond the walls, lips pressed thin, jaw tight.

When he finished, he folded the letter and set it aside.

He held out a hand. "Thomas Everby."

Tanya shook it. "Tanya Angelo."

"Alright," he said. "What do you need from me?"

"Something unique," Tanya murmured, despite herself. "A memory. Something with meaning. Something strong."

He chuckled unexpectedly. "Well. You'll like this."

His eyes softened as he looked somewhere far beyond the room. "When my kids were young, we had a stray. Skinny little rag of a thing. Ugly as sin. Didn't even look like a cat half the time. But he got in. Always got in. Broke windows. Climbed pipes. Tore a vent clean off once. I hated cats, mind you. Wanted a big dog. Something proud and noble. But this scrawny bugger… he decided we were his people."

Tanya felt something warm twist in her chest.

"He slept on my shoes," the man said, voice cracking just a little. "Dragged half the neighbourhood's rubbish into our garden. Got in fights. Lost most of them. Came home limping, bleeding, half-blind, still purring loud enough to wake the whole house. He just… never gave up. Not once. Always found a way back in."

He wiped his eye roughly. "Strongest soul I ever met."

Tanya swallowed around the lump forming in her throat. "Alright," she whispered. "I can work with that."

She knelt beside him, pulling her needle kit from her bag. "I'm thinking a mask of his face."

The man nodded. "He was a little sphynx cat with a gnarled right ear, an overbite, and one bloodshot eye."

Tanya placed her fingers against his forearm—and then Ishita stepped forward.

"I want to help," Ishita said, stepping forward. Her cheeks were wet with tears.

Richard moved too. "Me as well."

Jessica limped closer. "He deserves it."

Tsai's eyebrows were furrowed. Tanya wasn't sure what Tsai understood about the story, but then she held out her hand too. The grief in the room needed no translation.

All four Martyrs placed their hands gently on the old man's shoulders, their power readied.

Tanya exhaled. Began.

Ink flowed. The air thickened. The room warmed. She shaped the mask.

When the final line slid into place, her interface rang like a bell.

• • •

Congratulations!

You have unlocked a new Boon Type from A Blink of an Eye.

Minor Boon – Situation of slight risk. You may be hiding from a threat, placating a foe, or surrounded by manageable enemies.

Moderate Boon – Situation of considerable risk. You may be in the midst of a battle, saving yourself or another from possible death, or at risk of losing the upper hand.

Greater Boon – Situation of certain loss. You may be losing a battle, saving another or yourself from near-certain death, or about to lose a limb, ally, or bodily control.

Exhalted Boon – A final stand. A Wielder intentionally sacrificing themselves for the greater good.

• • •

Another screen opened.

• • •

Name: The Cat Who Always Returned
Wielder: Thomas Everby
Type: Tool
Level: 1

Attributes
Efficiency: 112
Absorption: 145
Resilience: 138

Abilities

Break-In
The wielder may pass through buildings, wards, creatures, or any physical obstructions as though they weren't there. No boundary may deny entry.

Nine Lives
Upon taking fatal damage, the wielder gains a burst of unstoppable vitality, ignoring impairment and injury until the effect ends.

Boons

One Last Purr
Exalted Boon – The Blink of an Eye
All Attributes are 100 until the effect ends. A final stand powered by devotion, memory, and a soul that refuses to stay outside.

• • •

Tanya stared at it, throat thick.

The man looked at the tattooed mask across his forearm. "It's beautiful," he murmured.

He pressed the folded letter into her hand. "Make sure they get this."

"I will," she whispered.

With careful dignity, he summoned the mask. It formed in his hands—thin, sleek, glinting with stubborn power. He removed his IV without a wince, placed the mask over his face, and took a long breath, no longer quiet and whistling, as he unfurled to his full height.

"I'll make the most of your gift," he said.

Then Thomas Everby walked out of the central block and toward the war.

Tanya never saw him again.