My Scumbag System-Chapter 326: New Member Orientation

There are moments in a man’s life when he realizes that his brilliant scheming has created problems he did not anticipate.

This was one of those moments.

I sat in the Boss Chair. The good leather recliner. The one piece of quality furniture in Onyx House that didn’t smell like Jaime’s protein shakes or Marco’s questionable cooking experiments. I had claimed this throne through a combination of intimidation, bribery, and the simple fact that nobody else wanted to fight me for it while I was still recovering from nearly dying.

The problem was not the chair.

The problem was the woman sitting on my lap.

"Carmen." My voice came out flat. "There are other chairs."

Carmen Navarro, our esteemed Teaching Assistant, took a long pull from her beer. She wore her usual half-unbuttoned white blouse, and her black eyepatch gave her the look of a very attractive pirate who had given up on professionalism somewhere around her third drink. Her messy black hair tickled my nose every time she moved.

"This one is warm," she said without turning around. "And it has a pulse. Shut up and listen to Braxton."

"I’m trying. Your hair is in my face."

"Suffer." She took another drink. "Consider it payment for all the paperwork I had to file because of your dungeon stunt."

I tried to shift her weight off my injured ribs. She responded by settling more firmly into position, as if she were nesting.

This woman was going to kill me faster than any A-Rank Anomaly.

The common room was packed. Every member of Onyx House had gathered for this meeting, which meant every available surface was occupied by bodies, and the ones that weren’t occupied were covered in snacks. Marco had brought chips. Emi had brought more cookies. Jaime had brought a protein shake the size of a small child.

And everyone was staring at me. Or more accurately, at the woman using me as furniture.

Natalia sat on the couch directly across from me. Her purple eyes were fixed on Carmen’s back with an intensity that could melt steel. Her fingers gripped the armrest hard enough to leave indentations in the fabric. The white streaks in her hair seemed to glow faintly, which was never a good sign.

Honey, I can explain. Actually, no I can’t. Please don’t murder our TA.

Emi perched on the arm of Natalia’s couch, her sapphire hair bouncing as she craned her neck to see past Carmen. Her expression cycled between confusion, concern, and something that looked suspiciously like jealousy. Every few seconds, her healing aura flickered involuntarily.

Skylar leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, watching the scene with barely concealed amusement. Her violet eyes met mine, and she mouthed something that looked like "you deserve this."

Thanks for the support, babe.

The new additions to our merry band of misfits occupied the remaining furniture like refugees who weren’t quite sure if they’d stumbled into sanctuary or a madhouse. Celeste Vance sat ramrod straight in a wooden chair, her periwinkle eyes wide as she tried to process the sight of a faculty member using a student as a seat cushion. Her silver-white hair was perfect. Her posture was perfect. She looked like a princess at a peasant festival, trying very hard not to touch anything.

Monica Von Astrom sat beside her, still clutching her bag even though she’d arrived hours ago. Her honey-blonde hair was tangled, and her amber eyes darted nervously around the room. Every loud noise made her flinch.

Noah Gray stood behind them both, her blonde hair pulled back in its usual severe style. She held a datapad and appeared to be taking notes.

Soomin had claimed a spot on the floor near my chair, her pink hair fanning out as she leaned against the armrest.

Juan was asleep. On the floor. In the middle of the room. Nobody seemed to find this unusual.

Braxton Miller stood at the front of the gathering, looking like a man who had seen too much and been paid too little to care. His synth-cigarette hung unlit from his lips, and his tired eyes swept across the assembled chaos with the weary resignation of a man who had stopped expecting professionalism years ago.

"Alright, mutts." His voice cut through the chatter. "Settle down. We have new strays."

The room quieted. Mostly. Jaime kept flexing in the corner, but at least he did it quietly.

Braxton gestured toward Celeste and Monica. "These two are ex-Sentinels. They survived the same hellscape you did. They’re part of the pack now. Don’t bite them unless they bite first." 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

"Now." Braxton’s voice hardened. "Since the transfers are official, the new blood needs to introduce themselves. Protocol and all that bureaucratic nonsense."

Monica stood first. Her legs were shaking, but she forced herself upright. She bowed deeply to the room, her honey-strawberry hair falling around her face.

"Thank you for taking me in." Her voice was quiet but steady. "I know I’m not... I know I was with the Sentinels. I know what people think of us. Of me." She straightened, and I caught a flash of something harder beneath the fear. "But I won’t be a shield anymore. I want to be a weapon."

Silence.

Then Raphael grunted. "Good. Shields are boring." He cracked his knuckles. "Welcome to the punch club."

Monica blinked. "The... punch club?"

"We punch things. It’s very exclusive." Raphael’s scarred face twisted into something that might have been a smile. "You got plant powers, right? Make thorns. Thorns are basically nature’s punches."

"That’s... not how botany works."

"Everything is punching if you believe hard enough."

I made a mental note to never let Raphael teach anyone anything ever.

Celeste rose next. Her movements were graceful, controlled, like a dancer who had learned to weaponize every step. She didn’t bow. Instead, she simply inclined her head, acknowledging the room as an equal rather than a supplicant.

"I want to thank this guild for the rescue in the Sunken Necropolis." Her voice was clear, carrying the faint echo of formal training. "Without your intervention, Monica and I would have died." Her periwinkle eyes found mine through the curtain of Carmen’s hair. "I hope to be a worthy asset to this house."

"Celeste Vance," I said. Carmen shifted, finally giving me a clear line of sight. "S-Rank potential. Cryokinesis with artistic applications. Am I missing anything?"

"You read my file."

"I read everyone’s file. It’s called being prepared."

Her lips twitched. "Then you know I prefer ’Glacial Serenade’ to ’cryokinesis.’ The former is more accurate."

"And more dramatic."

"I am Seraphina’s sister. Drama is hereditary."

Oh, I like her.