Fannin Quest [Worm]

No one voting for this quest, letting it on its deathbed ?

Cape name?
[X] I don't need a cape name! I'll just use my real name.

What to do about the situation with your powers?
[x] Just pretend I don't have them. I don't want to deal with this.

 

Cape name?
[X] I don't need a cape name! I'll just use my real name.
What to do about the situation with your powers?
[x] Just pretend I don't have them. I don't want to deal with this.

I didn't vote because I can't think of anything to do with these powers, and didn't want to vote until I thought of something; and then that didn't happen and I forgot about the quest. I suppose nothing works for now.

 

Oh, hey, this quest's not dead after all. Cool.

Useless fucking power, you think, kicking a can. You can see some applications of it, for combat. Most people would probably go down if you used it on them, and even if they didn't, they wouldn't be running around much at that point.

The thing is, you don't want to run around wearing a weird costume, fighting a bunch of other crazy people in weird costumes. You want to live a - basically - normal life. Preferably one that doesn't involve the word "Rauner's." You grimace at that thought. You have a few more days to slack off, but then you're going to have to go back to work at your shitty job for your annoying boss with the coworkers you can't stand. It's so fucking frustrating that you almost want to use your power to start committing crimes or something.

But you don't.

Instead, you collect your stuff and head home, plopping down on the couch. You're not really tired - your powers aren't tiring to use - just depressed. Depressed and fucking bored. You turn on the TV, flipping through channels, dejected, eventually getting up to eat a candy bar (you have to eat something, it just feels weird to go without food at all, even if you can), before plopping back down.

The next few days of blissful peace and freedom from the tyranny of Mr. White and the terror of the customers end before you have a chance to really enjoy them.

* * *

The bus stop that you take to your work is about a five minute walk. Then there is another thirty, thirty five minutes of taking the bus, then another five minute walk, to the job that you hate full of people you despise.

You dislike the other employees. They're petty, annoying, generally stupid and incompetent. Your boss is a bore who talks to you too much, to the point that you harbor vague suspicions that he may have some kind of romantic interest in you. The customers are mostly docile and go about their time in the store with the minimum of fuss and bother, but you get to talk to them virtually every time that they kick up a fuss and start throwing a tantrum like overgrown children.

It's enough to make a life of crime come to mind as an alternative, but you dismiss that thought.

To try to take your mind off things, you occasionally hike out to one of the former Exclusion Zones late at night and practice with your power a bit. It's easier than it seems, once you get the hang of when to turn your "Breaker state" (as official PRT terminology calls it) on and off. The mobility combined with a little forethought means you can get a pretty good distance at the right angle and generally land where you want. You've had one or two "close calls," when you misjudged a distance and wound up floating over nothing, but a quick off/on flick would send you slowly back down to the ground, safe from harm.

At least the thing has helped you save on food bills. Over the past month, you've spent maybe $50 on food, and it's been mostly snacks and candy. You just forget to eat, since you have no appetite when your battery's full.

At work today, there's some angry yelling from one of the check out lines, a woman going off on the clerk like he was a babysitter telling her that her kid just ran away. You sigh and head over.

"...you goddamn fucking moron," the woman is saying as you approach, continuing on in that vein until you interrupt her with a very loud cough.

"What seems to be the problem?"

"This idiot refuses to accept my coupon," the woman says, looking cross at the clerk. Mark. 17, gangly, pimply. He's one of the less annoying employees here, does his job without much complaining or gossiping, comes in on time.

"Ms. Salamanca," Mark says, sounding suitably apologetic. "It's one of those fake ones."

You look at the coupon. It is, in fact, 'one of those fake ones.' Some jackass made a bunch of fake 25% Off All Purchases coupons and handed them out a couple weeks before your accident, probably just to be a complete pain in your ass. You resist the urge to rub your forehead. "I'm sorry ma'am," you say, turning to the customer. "These coupons are counterfeit. If it were up to me, I'd just accept them," so that I wouldn't have to deal with you, "but it's corporate policy not to accept counterfeit coupons. We've had a bunch of people try to come in with these over the last month and a half. I'm very sorry, ma'am. If you would like to take back some of what you've selected, I'd be happy to help."

The woman just scoffs, fumes, and finally throws her hands up and just walks out of the store, leaving her items there. You sigh, looking at them. You glance around, but all the employees who could do this are suspiciously out of earshot. Your work to do, then. Your power thrums when you grab the first item, and you almost weight it purely by accident. Fuck. Your power keeps thrumming in your fingertips as you take things back, apparently eager to exert itself.

After work, as you make your walk towards the bus stop, somebody slams into you, pushing you back into the wall of a building. "Give me your purse," she demands. You blink, looking down at the girl who is now holding you at knife point, the blade a good half foot from your body but still distressingly sharp.

She's shorter than you; five foot two or so, by your guess. She's rather emaciated, her cheeks gaunt, and her eyes are intense and probing. Thin fingers grasp the hilt of her knife with desperation, her knuckles turning white from the strain. Her face and hands - the only skin you can really see, her turtleneck sweater hiding everything else - are pale pink with a tinge of grey, dirt apparently having covered them in a fine grain long ago and never been removed. Her hair is black, unwashed, oily and half-curly, cut haphazardly so that it looks even worse. The average length would be maybe an inch, but there's certainly a lot of variance.

You glance from side to side, your back to the wall, but despite all the foot traffic going on nearby, no one seems to have noticed the fact you're currently being held up. The girl's not exactly trying to be discreet, either.

"Give me your fucking purse, bitch," she repeats her demand, snarling at you. That seems unnecessarily rude. "Nobody's going to help you. Can't see us, can't hear us. I got a power, you understand? Now give me your purse." The knife stabs forward a half inch in the air, still a good six inches away from you.

You swallow and nod, slowly and gingerly removing your purse from your shoulder, handing it over. The girl's hand snaps out, grabbing the purse, starting to rifle through it, awkwardly hugging it to her chest, one hand still on her knife, ready to lunge.

What to do about this homeless robber girl?
[ ] She wants your money, whatever, give it to her and let her go, she probably needs it more than you. You can't be arsed to give a shit.
[ ] Fuck this. First your shitty job, and now this. Use your power on her, disable her, take it back. Nobody can see either of you, after all.
[ ] You feel sympathetic for the kid. By the look of her, she's obviously half-starving (remind you of anyone?). Offer to let her stay at your place.
[ ] Write-in.

Still planning on doing nothing with your powers, huh?
[ ] Yes.
[ ] No! I'll monetize these powers, legally, by...
- [ ] Write-in.
[ ] Fuck my shitty job. I'll be a goddamn cape if that's what it takes.
- [ ] I'll become a mercenary.
- [ ] I'll become a hero/vigilante, stealing from the gangs.
- [ ] I'll become a villain, robbing banks and the like.
- [ ] Write-in.
[ ] Write-in.

 

[x] You feel sympathetic for the kid. By the look of her, she's obviously half-starving (remind you of anyone?). Offer to let her stay at your place.

[x] Maybe. If this kid actually has a power like she claims then something like mercenary work could be possible. But if not, this power doesn't offer much mobility or stealth and doesn't offer protection from bullets. Not to mention someone with a taser can disable people about as easily as you. So no, going out alone isn't in the cards.

 

I realize the quest hasn't updated in a while but had to point this out, since no one seemed to notice. There's some interesting effects with this power. Objects made heavier fall faster. That's not normal physics. If they also gain mass, that means they hit substantially harder than either effect on its own.

The best use for this power set is to float/jump over people and drop things on them. Things that then proceed to fall at multiple times normal speed.

 

An odd thought floats through your mind, and before you can stop yourself, you say it. "You're hungry, huh?"

The girl's eyes snap up and narrow, her focus returning to you and the knife. "Don't psychoanalyze me."

"No, no," you say, raising your hands defensively. "Sorry. I just... almost starved to death about a month ago."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you reply. "Crashed my car, got trapped inside."

"What, and you just sat there, starving? Didn't call for help or nothin'?" Her attention's on you. She's curious.

"Nobody there," you say. "Was driving through a just opened Exclusion Zone. No signal on my cell."

"That sounds like a pretty fucking stupid thing to do," the girl replies, returning her attention to your purse. She finally locates and removes your cash - about eighty dollars - and stuffs it in her pocket.

You snort at her words. "I can't argue with that."

"Here," she says, tossing the purse at your chest, and you scramble a little to catch it before it falls to the ground. "I don't need your damn driver's license or your makeup."

She starts to back away, knife still raised, and some weird pang of sympathy makes you talk. "Look, do you need a place to stay?"

She looks at you like you're crazy. "Do I need a place to stay? I fucking rob you and you're seriously asking me if I want to live with you?"

"I don't know," you say, defensive. "I mean, my house used to have three people in it and now it's got just one, my appetite's been way less since the accident, and you look like you're in a bad place. I could help, and it wouldn't put me out much. You would have a place to stay."

"I could also, like, fucking stab you while you sleep."

"You could stab me right now," you point out. "But you aren't."

"You're fucking crazy," she says, shaking her head.

"Ah. Well, it was worth–"

"I didn't say I wouldn't come," she interrupts. "Just- don't try anything stupid, okay?" There's a little tinge of weakness in that sentence, a desperation for shelter and food that you recognize, but she clearly doesn't want to draw attention to it, so you don't mention it. She steps back from you, letting you dust yourself off. "You lead, I follow," she says, a suspicious expression on her face.

She stays behind you as you walk. You imagine she doesn't keep her hand far from the knife, but you avoid looking back much. You don't want to seem afraid. "You have a name? Even a nickname, or a cape name, if you have a power. Something to call you," you say as the two of you start to head to the bus stop

She hesitates. There's just the quiet sound of your footfalls. "Crystal," she says, at last.

"That, uh, a cape name?"

"No, it's the name my mother gave me," she half-spits, sounding more than a little cross.

"Okay, okay," you say. She's obviously pretty on edge and more than a little defensive. Best not to poke anything. "Sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."

There's a silence for a time, then Crystal volunteers something. "Apparently I have a cape name, though."

"Yeah?" Just keep her talking, be gentle, calm, sympathetic. She's obviously not in a good place, but you've been in a similar place recently and it's giving you an unusually large amount of empathy.

"Yeah. I saw my description in a couple newspapers. Hush, they're calling me."

"Pretty good cape name, as far as they come," you say. Although the question occurs to you, you don't ask why she was reading newspapers while homeless; you don't want to offend her somehow. "This is my bus stop," you say, gesturing. "I take the Southbound 11." You glance at your watch. "We're late, though. It's another twenty minutes until it comes around again."

Crystal twitches her lips as you sit down at the stop, obviously uncertain about what exactly to do. Finally she decides to sit down next to you, and she keeps one hand inside her jacket at all times. On her knife, you imagine.

She obviously doesn't want to talk about herself, but she's willing to listen to you, and she doesn't make any complaints. You talk about your job, your mother, your late father, your high school friends who have all since either died or left. Whatever you can think of, to fill the silence and try to build a rapport. You don't want her running off with your TV in the middle of the night or anything, and getting her to think of you as friendly might help with that.

When you arrive at your house, an hour and change later, she's a little more skittish than she was, peering around you and looking at the windows, as if trying to discern whether there are people inside, whether this is a trap. It's odd, how on edge she is, given that she apparently has a power. Does it not work well if she's put on the defensive?

In any case, there's no one but you living at your home any more, so you simply unlock and open the door and walk inside, inviting Crystal in. She follows, some of the tension rolling out of her as she does, though she still casts a long gaze across the room. "This where you live, huh?"

"Yeah. My bedroom's over there," you say, gesturing in the vague direction of it, since it's around a corner or two. "You can sleep in my parents' old room, Mom didn't take the bed with her when she left."

Crystal nods, just standing there, looking around. You worry that she's going to peel off or do something short-sighted, by the way that her whole body is tensed up. After what feels like several minutes, she finally relaxes, sighing, and glances at you, out of the corner of her eye. "Th-thanks," she manages to stutter out.

You wind up giving her the tour of the house.

* * *

Broaching the subject of powers isn't easy. Crystal isn't exactly open with you, and often flickers right out of existence, activating her power to vanish from your sight. You're not entirely clear how it works, exactly, but it's extremely effective. You could walk right through her when she's hidden, and she can (and often does) take the couch with her to... wherever she goes. The only downside is that, in the occasional observations you have of her using the state, you get the impression that her mobility is very limited.

You don't want her to think that you only invited her to stay because you were planning on using her. The occasional "movie nights" where the two of you watch TV together is a kind of comfortable you'd forgotten since you ran out of friends in the area. Just... being with another person, a friend. She doesn't make trouble for you, not really, other than needing to learn to clean up after eating.

It's actually her who brings up the topic of powers, when she starts to notice how little you eat. It wasn't much before she came, and it's even less now. You don't want to waste money on food when you aren't hungry, and you're never hungry, now that your powers are here. You can eat, you just forget to or can't be bothered to, and it adds up to missing most meals and only eating snacks when you do eat.

The two of you are watching some crappy drama, as you take one single piece of candy from the container that Crystal is stuffing her face from. She just watches you palm it, toy with it for a minute or so, then finally pop it in your mouth. "Are you, like, ana or something?"

"Ana?" You don't recognize the term.

"Anorexic." You still don't recognize it, and it must show on your face. "You eat like, nothing. Are you starving yourself, or do you just eat when I'm not around?"

There's... not really going to be a better opportunity than this. "I believe I told you that I've had less of an appetite since the accident," you explain, gingerly.

"I thought that meant you used to be, you know, a tub of lard. And after the starvation diet, you know, you never rolled back to eating as much as you used to."

"No, that's not what I meant." You pause, calming yourself a little, mentally preparing for Crystal to use her power, or to freak out on you. "I'm actually a parahuman. My power..." you gesture to your stomach, vaguely. "It substitutes for food."

When the word "parahuman" escapes your lips, Crystal's shoulders tense, her gaze steady, level, as she moves away from you a little bit on the couch. Getting ready to run, or to activate her power, you'd guess. You don't reach out, not wanting to set her off. "You're..." Crystal trails off, thinking, looking you over with fresh eyes. "I don't recognize who you could be, and I try to pay attention to the local capes, so I don't get forcibly recruited." She glances at the door, her whole body still tense, ready to run.

The implied question is obvious to you. Are you going to conscript me?

You have to admit, the thought had crossed your mind. The idea of moving into mercenary work has come up a few times in your browser's search history, as you considered options other than working at fucking Rauner's. It's a bit of a legally complicated gray zone, if you work for villains (against other villains), but there are some opportunities for mercenaries outside of that, especially in a city without a local hero population. If anything really important is going down (legal or not), people want capes on their side, either there or waiting to show up. Since the nearest Protectorate office to Fannin is in San Antonio - four hours by car - and there are no local heroes, that's an excellent opportunity for you to profit a bit from others' paranoia.

The problem is that for all its mobility and the one-touch-takedowns your power provides, you're not that much more dangerous than a normal person with a taser or a gun, and you're certainly not tougher. There's websites that offer "dilatant armor" for sale to the general public that supposedly maintains flexibility while rendering one more or less immune to most small arms fire, but those things cost somewhere in the range of six thousand dollars or more, and for all the money you don't spend, you don't have that much to throw around at the drop of a hat.

Crystal's power is to some extent complementary to yours. Defense to your offense. The only limitation is that you're reasonably certain it severely curtails her mobility while it's active, and you imagine it would do the same to you.

In any case, she has just asked you a question. Or at least, she's implied a question, and it's hanging in the air, producing an uncomfortable silence.

Are you going to try to sell Crystal on becoming a mercenary?
[ ] Yes.
- [ ] Your research suggests that parahumans tend to go a little stir crazy without a fight. It's probably for the best, for both of you.
- [ ] She could use the money to buy things for herself. Nicer clothes, whatever food she wants, electronics, etc.
- [ ] Write-in.
[ ] No.
[ ] Write-in.

Sorry for the kinda weak prompt/choices, deciding what to put for options has always been the hardest part of QMing for me. Also sorry for the delay; been busy.

 

I'm thinking yes, but I don't know the best way to get her to agree. Anyone have a good idea?

 

Actually, it could be considered normal physics. If an object is made heavier, it means it has more weight, which is a force, which is found by acceleration due to gravity times mass. From descriptions of her power, it sounds to me like it increases the acceleration of gravity on objects, rather than increase the mass of objects. It sounds like that to me because there hasn't been any mention of density fuckery, which would occur if mass was increased on objects, rather than acceleration due to gravity. Also, it fits with theme of her powers, that is, she lowers gravity's effect on herself, and increases its effect on objects she touches.

On the questing hand, [X] Plan Bii.

 

[X] Tanuki knows best (that means Biigoh)

 

"I'm not interested in forcibly recruiting you," you say, making your voice as gentle as possible. "Or even normally recruiting you. I haven't done anything with my power, other than toy with it a little." Or I wouldn't still be working at Rauner's, you think but don't say. "I'd rather have a friend than a... whatever capes call their teammates."

Crystal stares you down, her eyes cautious, before the tension seems to roll out of her, as she accepts your explanation. Good. You lean back a little, lounging your head on the couch.

"So," Crystal says, after a long, empty silence, the drama basically white noise by this point, "what does your power do?"

You explain in some detail, showing a little as well. Not all the specifics, just in case, but the general contours. Gravity manipulation, the Breaker state, the Striker ability. The things that might be worth one surprise, once, given the perfect circumstance. Not the stuff about the battery or how it charges.

* * *

It's a long day at Rauner's when your power first goes on the fritz. Some customer is complaining, you get called in to talk to them, and you can feel it thrumming in your fingers as you rest your hand on a shelf. It's eager to get out, to rush out and touch something, like it can feel your agitation and is misinterpreting it for a fight. You pull your hand back, not wanting to set it off, and it gets out into your shirt, which suddenly feels heavy and tight around your skin, like you just got dumped in water or something.

It gets worse. You try to avoid going to work with a full charge, but that causes the opposite problem, your Breaker state flipping on randomly whenever you're agitated, and that's far more likely to cause a scene than the Striker ability. You're trying everything you can think of. You go cold turkey, not using it altogether. You try burning through it by using it more and more, building a charge and then getting rid of it for hours on end in your home. It's getting worse and worse, your power all but raging out of control. You have to take off work within a week of the first issue, one particularly bad episode getting painfully close to outing you, which would probably have end up with you dead or conscripted into some gang.

It abates for a bit after that, but there's still the tension, the loss of control. It goes off at work another couple times. You don't know why, but there's a certain sense that your power is unsatisfied. Bored, even. You know that's insane, it can't think for itself, but you looked online, worried about it, and there are definitely stories about parahumans going crazy or their powers breaking down when they tried to retire in peace. There's even a technical term - agent interjection - for the phenomenon, though it's apparently pretty controversial in parahuman studies.

Still. It's concerning, and you're concerned.

Still planning on doing nothing with your powers?
[ ] Yes. I will let my powers continue to wig out on me until I get outed.
[ ] No! I'll monetize these powers, legally. That should suffice, hopefully. I'll do it by...
- [ ] Write-in.
[ ] Fuck my stupid powers. I'll be a goddamn cape if that's what it takes to make them not go crazy.
- [ ] I'll become a mercenary. I can leverage the capital from my first job into buying actual, real, armor.
- [ ] I'll become a hero/vigilante, stealing from the gangs. I can leverage the capital from my early work into buying actual, real, armor.
- [ ] I'll become a villain, robbing banks and the like. I can leverage the capital from my first theft into buying actual, real, armor.
- [ ] Write-in.
[ ] Write-in.

Sorry for the slow update. Been really busy studying and everything, and this update wound up kind of anemic so I wanted to sit on it to think things over.

 

So apparently this is a pretty big AU. Would've been nice to know before now.

And I'm having trouble thinking of great uses for our power still. Every single parahuman (that I can remember) in Worm has a stronger and more combat applicable power than we do. I still have no idea how to use this without getting shut down fast. And am having major trouble figuring out how to use it out of combat. But it's apparent we need to do something, so does anyone have a suggestion?

 

Agent interjection is mentioned in PRT Quest in pretty much exactly this context, Leet's issues are supposed to be caused by the fact that his shard hates him for being a coward (Damsel's issues also originate in shard/host conflict from a dissatisfied shard), the plausible explanations for why Nilbog is content to be passive given by Wildbow include "his shard is broken" and "his shard has a particular, Entity-determined purpose" rather than "Jamie Rinke is just fine with being the Goblin King," etc.

It probably doesn't happen to every parahuman, since different shards are basically completely different Clarketech semi-intelligent beings with a few similarities, but AFAIK the fact that it happens sometimes is canon/WoG.

 

Yeah, something like this, but not to this extent. And I've never read PRT Quest. Do they call it Agent Interjection IC there? I thought Agent was just a Cauldron term. Anyway, besides Damsel nothing comes anywhere near close to what's happening here in canon. And her power was pretty messed up, near the level of Labirynth, Burnscar and Garrote.

 

I think that the smoother interpretation of this sort of thing is that the subtleties of the psychology of the parahuman are rewritten by the trigger event, and that change is what causes them to seek conflict rather than something more direct like this. Obviously, this can be a bit problematic for running a quest, though I have seen solutions such as restricted choices or creatively interpreted actions used well to simulate parahuman derangement in quests.

Also, I sort of detest all the Wildbow WoG that floats around, and often doesn't quite contradict canon but doesn't stand by it very comfortably either. PRT Quest is at least literature instead of random off the cuff answers, so I hold that in higher regard I guess.

Anyways, I guess that I should probably vote given I'm posting here and all.

[X] Fuck my stupid powers. I'll be a goddamn cape if that's what it takes to make them not go crazy.
- [X] I'll become a mercenary. I can leverage the capital from my first job into buying actual, real, armor.
-- [X] Ask Crystal if she's been having similar haywire power problems since she stopped stealing and started staying at your place.
-- [X] Think about Mover options similar to those skydiving suits. Wings should work pretty well when weightless, the striker power can let you dive to pick up speed, and if you can carry weights close enough on your person to make them weightless you can striker and drop them as an offensive option.

 

I came here to figure out what a Fannin was and was pleasantly surprised to discover a non Undersiders quest. I'm interested.

[X] Fuck my stupid powers. I'll be a goddamn cape if that's what it takes to make them not go crazy.
- [X] I'll become a mercenary. I can leverage the capital from my first job into buying actual, real, armor.
-- [X] Ask Crystal if she's been having similar haywire power problems since she stopped stealing and started staying at your place.
-- [X] Think about Mover options similar to those skydiving suits. Wings should work pretty well when weightless, the striker power can let you dive to pick up speed, and if you can carry weights close enough on your person to make them weightless you can striker and drop them as an offensive option.

 

[X] Fuck my stupid powers. I'll be a goddamn cape if that's what it takes to make them not go crazy.
- [X] I'll become a mercenary. I can leverage the capital from my first job into buying actual, real, armor.
- - [X] Then I'll go hero, cause this town is lacking them and I'm sure everyone would pay me to stop these crooks.
- - [X] P.S: research local capes ASAP.

 

[X] Fuck my stupid powers. I'll be a goddamn cape if that's what it takes to make them not go crazy.
- [X] I'll become a mercenary. I can leverage the capital from my first job into buying actual, real, armor.
- - [X] Then I'll go hero, cause this town is lacking them and I'm sure everyone would pay me to stop these crooks.
- - [X] P.S: research local capes ASAP.

 

[X] Fuck my stupid powers. I'll be a goddamn cape if that's what it takes to make them not go crazy.
- [X] I'll become a mercenary. I can leverage the capital from my first job into buying actual, real, armor.
-- [X] Ask Crystal if she's been having similar haywire power problems since she stopped stealing and started staying at your place.
-- [X] Think about Mover options similar to those skydiving suits. Wings should work pretty well when weightless, the striker power can let you dive to pick up speed, and if you can carry weights close enough on your person to make them weightless you can striker and drop them as an offensive option.

 

Sorry to say it, but consider this quest abandoned. I don't like abandoning quests, but I've got other obligations and I don't think this quest is structured quite right for the forum school of questing.