Safe For Work Worm Ideas thread

[Master of Squirrel-fu]

The Weaver

Thinker powers... I'd read online somewhere that more than any other cape Thinkers are the most influenced by their powers. It's not hard to see why really, thinkers (and to a lesser degree tinkers) by their nature see the world differently than anyone else. An entirely new dimension to to perceive the world with, an alien sense impossible for anyone else to truly understand. I'd head it people describe it as "Suddenly realizing that everything I've seen was just a shadow on a wall". It's an impossible sensation to describe, something so innate and intuitive that it defies the ability to truly explain to those who haven't experienced it. Describing colors to the blind comes to mind. So does explaining how to move one's own body.

Both seem to fairly accurately show the disparity between my previous limited view to what I know can "see".

I cried when I first saw it. When the truth of the world became clear to me.

Beautiful was too small a word to describe it.

A tapestry. Made of song and dance, a constant motion and a flux of data. Both flowing and of distinct form. An impossible collage of color and sound that shifted with every motion and sprung from mere existence itself. A weave of pure... Majesty that existed within and flowed everything. For what felt like an eternal moment I thought I might have left the world behind.

Was this heaven? I had asked myself, Have I died?

It had seemed that I was not the only one to worry for the latter question. Three weeks. I'd been conscious but unresponsive for three weeks, an empty body staring dumbly at the wall or any shiny object or jangly toy. I'd "woken up" to my father in a heated argument with a man I later learned was my doctor on my continued care. That they could not care for me for much longer and I'd have to be moved to a more... accommodating care center for those like me. I don't remember this period but I can't help but feel mortified for it. I'd regressed to being a infant for all I acted.

In the following day's after returning I'd been distracted. Unnaturally giddy and blissful. I'd had the darkness that was my old life dissolved by the light of my new sight, a door opening from an unlit sealed room into an open and sunny meadow. I'd noticed my father torn between joy and worry, but I didn't question my sudden turnaround. I was finally happy, that was what mattered.

Within a week the bright glow had dulled. The colors had lost a bit of their shine. The waves of motion moving as if through molasses.What was once a bright light had fallen to a simple warm glow. And with it the darkness began to return, a deeper pitch than ever as if the light had concentrated it's shadows. My light, my song, my bliss... slipping away. The thought sent a chill so deep I felt my bones chill and a chasm to open in my stomach.

In my desperation I'd grabbed a pen. Such beautiful waves it had made, bright and deep. It was now dark. I'd waved it frantically, shaking it. I'd recalled the way the Weave had moved with it and tried to ape at it. After so many tries I'd found the pattern and traced it. The pen... slipped, into the Weave and like a spark into a silo the Light, Motion, Color, Song exploded forth. So bright, but so small. But it was enough to keep the shadows at bay for the time.

-----

I'd seen Panacea wandering about the hospital on a check up. One of her good will missions to the hospitals of her home city. I'd felt a mild curiosity and interest in the hero. At the time I'd had other worries, the darkness was returning again. As I'd had the time I'd decided to follow along on her tour, blending in with the gaggle of onlookers with a similar idea and just as much free time. Words failed me when I'd first seen her work her magic. The light that came from her, The Weave she'd created an impossibly complicated machination with so many dimensions and inputs and outputs that it rendered all I'd seen before it like dirt. For several minutes I'd just stood there staring at the location she'd been standing even as she moved on to other patients coming to after even the patient too had vacated. As embarrassed as I felt at that moment with a few others standing around to stare with judgmental eyes I did not have the time to waste on shame. I'd run off to find the healer to witness that miracle again.

I spent the next hour watching her, staring deeply without care for the looks I was receiving. Forty Nine patients in total with all manner of afflictions, healed in an hour. It seemed like a small number, then again time seemed fairly fast as well. Perhaps she had left because of my behavior? It was no use dwelling though. I'd burned the image of her miracle into my soul, every motion and color and hum down to the last minutiae of detail was memorized. When I'd returned home I had no cares, the memory of the day's event burning away the darkness.

Her Miracle was impossible to truly grasp in full so many parts, contingencies, a billion billion little moving pieces all doing a million million little functions. Each unique each necessary to keep the flow stable. But one part stood out, something separate that was intertwined with it, a stand alone piece that was included. With every viewing it became clearer. Until it became it's own little bubble. It wasn't complete, but it was close, it was so clear too as if I could reach out into my memories and touch it.

My fingers twitched and my throat began to dry.

Perhaps...

-----

Two hours. I'd collapsed onto your bed in exhaustion. Two hours of song and dance and manic motions to spin The Weave. Even that was a just for a shallow imitation of what I'd seen. I'd moved with more grace and dexterity than I believed myself possible of, but not enough to work The Weave as I needed to create what you'd seen. I held the pale little bauble in my hands. I'd been too proud, to thing I could truly replicate that beauty, that perfection of form and function. Maybe I was only deluding myself, maybe I was just mad and seeing things. I don't think I could have handled that, but I didn't feel as if that was true. Then again who do- not that circular thinking was just plain unproductive no mater the circumstance.

I stared at my creation. Even now it began to loosen and unravel as the songs muffled and motions slowed. It needed something. A target to enter, a living thing. Without hesitation I had placed the light to my chest and without resistance it entered me. A blooming sensation as information invaded my mind. Too much! Far too much!

My shirt, the carpet, and sadly part of the hallway would need to be cleaned soon, having been sacrificed in my rush to bow before the porcelain throne.

That... was an experience. One I doubt I'd want to experience again. But the results spoke for themselves. Despite my failure to capture it's entirety, despite my own poor imitation of it's majesty, despite the whole sections of nonsense and garbled data I had succeeded in it's creation. For in my mind was a complete blueprint of my own body. So many details I lacked the context to understand but I knew my own form better now than I could believe. I didn't need the mental image of my own brain to know what I did now, though it helped.

I couldn't help but smile. I was a cape!

=============
This is my attempt to create a shard power that's basically "Magic". Let's dub this shard the Grand Scholar. It's purpose before was to study the shards of other Entities to divine and reverse engineer their shards, a hold back to their olden days, though after they spread themselves so far it became vestigial. It can understand physics and is able to mimic the effects of things. It has lesser shards to mimic simple things like natural phenomena but it's chief purpose was to recreate physics breaking effects the entities witnessed and encode them in a blank shard.

Right now Taylor has a long casting time to arrange the physics to work and isn't quite good at putting the finished product together because of her clumsy human body. She needs to find a way to simplify the process. She will later learn that she can "tie" the weave to objects, creating what is effectively physics Macros to make casting faster or "enchant" objects.

Also I tried to write Tayor's being kinda mindfucked along the lines of Glastig Uaine. Rather than fairies she's thinking a little more along the lines of Religion, Magic, and Art even if she doesn't quite realize it yet.

 

[Master of Squirrel-fu]

The Weaver
Chapter 2

Mnemonics. Something that helps train your brain to recall things much easier. A shortcut. The word didn't quite fit though... but the concept was close practically identical but it was missing something vital, something that I couldn't say but seemed to recognize subconsciously.

I gave a harsh sigh, sounding all to much like an irritated groan, while falling back onto my bed. I didn't know why I was so stuck on something so inane but I'd be damned if I was going to let it win!

"Grah!" I felt the urge tear my hair out. Dammit I just wanted to move past this but my stupid stupid brain just had to make sure this one tiny little thing was perfect. Not everything, just this one stupid little detail. I sighed again, I wouldn't be able to make any headway like this. It was just so frustrating to come to halt after so much rapid progress, "Hate my brain..."

I held up a little stick above my head as I... acclimated. It was a gymnastic baton I'd gotten on sale from a sporting goods store, bright pink and white. Eye searingly so. I frowned in concentration as I twirled the thing above my head unheeding of the damage it could cause, both mundane and paranormal. It twirled in a complicated pattern between my nimble fingers unerring and swift. Clockwise, counter, side ways, back-ways, in-ways and out-ways with spins and drills. And with each motion The Weave sung and danced in turned.

The stick was no ordinary stick, it used to be but I'd made some adjustments. To the ends of the stick I had tied a piece of The Weave. It had taken just two days to discover that little aspect of my power, and in hindsight I felt embarrassed I had not seen it sooner for how natural the process felt. But it had been a productive weekend none the less, a lot had been learned, of the many little nuances of my gift. The rest of the week had been slightly less so, and the last 48 hours had seen that productivity grind to a screeching halt.

I brought the stick to a halt when I felt the pattern was finished and with a last little twitch severed the thread that held it bound. I couldn't help the honest and wide grin as the end that was pointed away from me began to glow white. A white light that I knew I would not need my Sight to see. My first true creation. My first... Hmm, I would need to find a word for that as well, Reverb? Vibe? Opus? Well it was my first original work, something I'd weaved whole cloth from the aether. I'd spent so many hours studying the threads to find and pluck the right ones and learn their pattern, and to knit my own in a new piece.

In my hands at that moment was in effect a magical flashlight. For something so simple it'd taken far to much effort, directing the light, the intensity, removal of heat, creating a switch. I'd burned through several days on that... Phantasm? (No no, to grand a name for something so small) when I'd only expected minutes at the most. Still the effort involved seemed to only make the following catharsis from it's success all the greater. I felt a little tickle in the back of my mind that let me know that my reservoir was draining, slowly but steadily. Another flick and light cut off and the drain cut. I checked the wand, sighing in relief to see the little light that signaled my work still existed. It'd eventually erode away but for the next few hours I could switch it on and off at will if I wished.

Flick on. Flick off. Flick on Flick off. Flick on...

I felt the tiny drain of power to feed the light. So small as to be instantly replenished when the draw was cut, but unable to refill while being used. If I wanted I could keep the light burning away until the threads came apart and still have over nine tenths my reserve left, the rest returning in minutes. It seemed large but in truth I'm not so sure, a single use of Scan, as I'd dubbed the Gift I'd received from Panacea drained nearly half my pool in an instant, a very unpleasant sensation not unlike having your warmth snatched out from under you.

I was sure there was a solution though, somewhere. If not than I'd make one myself.

For now I had to come up with a good naming scheme.

Descriptive, grandiose, or thematic? Choices choices.

A trip to the library was in order soon.

-----

Four weeks were up, it was time to return to the world at large. Joy.

People are weird.

I can feel their stares on my back. Quite literally, it's almost like the static off a flickering television only so subtle I'd only barely noticed it with so many eyes pointed at me. The act of observation changes the nature of the observed. Focus only disturbs the natural order even more. I didn't pay any mind to it though, I'd lost interest in watching people a while ago. Despite the complicated tangle that was their woven nature for the most part they were remarkably... bland. They just seemed to... bleed into each other. The nature of man wasn't as varied as poets seemed to think, a depressing discovery for sure. Probably. It might simply be that I wasn't looking beyond the surface and that every person was a unique little snowflake and a world of their own, but that sounded like wasted effort.

I had far more important uses for my time and attention to waste on others. Honestly I'd rather be at home enjoying some experimentation but my dad had other ideas. My hand was forced.

I'd quickly found my new locker and unloaded my burden, books, supplies, lunch, spare wand, gym cloths. Nothing too important, the usual things. While arranging the items into a proper order I'd heard something behind me. A quick glance let me dismiss it, just more people stopping behind me to talk. Completely irrelevant.

Should I place them in order of size? fit them together in a simple shape? Well the lunch needs to be up front, but that would mean digging for extra supplies...

I felt a dig in my shoulder and turned to find the same three people even closer invading my space. I moved a little closer to my locker to avoid further mishaps only to be shoved hard enough to completely scatter my supplies over the inside of the container. Some people...

This time when I turned around I'd bothered to give some amount of attention to the idiots.

... How dull. I couldn't keep the disappointment off my face even while taking a slightly deeper look into the web of their souls. The first one was just bland and simple her patterns not even enough to hold your attention for the second it'd taken to come to that conclusion. The shorter one in the middle was almost insultingly unimpressive. The third though.

There was something about her. I made my way closer to her, shoving my way past the other two to get a better look at her. I'd only stopped when standing right before her. I continued to just study her while ignoring the world around me to unravel this enigma. There were pieces missing, yet she was something more. Or different. I'd not enough experience with these braids, I'd not plucked or even traced the lines of the tapestry of the mind. All I could tell was that something was different, too far outside the norm for it to be something so simple as personality. The thread wasn't there but the traces of it were.

I just stared her down motionless trying to will her mysteries to unravel themselves to me. The world around didn't matter anymore, the stares of the masses, the yapping of the two hangers on. The scene was only broken by the drone of the bell and my target shoving me aside to stalk down the hall. After a few moments of staring off after her I recalled the reason I was here in the first place. With a sigh I gathered my things, casting one last look in the direction of the fleeing girl. The stares increased.

People are weird.

-----

Sophia Hess, that was her name. My tormentor. Oddly it doesn't evoke much reaction in me to recall those times. It was like they didn't exist, a half forgotten dream. My life before seemed so much... less in light of what I can see now. That... is probably not a good thing. I can't bring my self to feel to concerned though. Also not a good thing. Still if she was Hess then the others were no doubt Emma and... Clairmont? Well the second one didn't matter, only the other two really came with any clarity to my mind, betrayal and fear springing up easily with little prompting.

But in the end it hardly mattered. Emma seemed so much... smaller now. Petty. The strange detachment to my own memories did her no favors either. Hess though... she just wouldn't leave my mind. And with every shared class I watched her trying to determine what it was about her that drew my attention.

I ended up following her after school. Completely unconsciously, I just couldn't tear my eyes away. She'd confronted me as soon as she'd noticed, not a block away from the grounds.

"The fuck is up with you Hebert? You got some kind of beef with me?"

"No," I answered stepping up to her, "You're just interesting."

I was tired of waiting, I lifted my hand to trace her strings. But when I made to touch them my hand slipped through, landing gently on the shorter girl's shoulder. With a frown I tried again with my other hand to find the weave similarly immaterial, my fingers landing on her cheek.

That had never happened before. But I sadly didn't have time to ponder as a sudden pain bloomed in my stomach and I feel onto my knees in breathlessness. I'm not sure what the girl's parting words were as she left me curled up on ground but it sounded positively scathing.

 

[Weero]

Kung Fu Hustle​

Worm CYOA v3

Difficulty:Standard (+5)

Powers:
Power Manipulation (-8)(5 charges/day), theme limited to martial arts, mundane and magical, must start at mundane skills then build up

Advantages:
Comic Book Pretty (-1)

A Brighter World?
For Want of a Nail (-1) Scion is an hero a week before I arrive. Because fuck that cosmic-level shit. Kaiju is quite enough.

Disadvantages:
Geas (+1(2?)), must drink alcohol to recharge PM charges. Does not mean the need to drink, only the need to drink to regain PM charges the day after usage. Each charge requires a chug.
Wildbow? What's a Wildbow? (+2)
Without a Map (+1)

0.x

When I woke up the first thought I had was when the hell did my bed become so damned uncomfortable? Secondly, I realized I must have gone on a bender without equal given my splitting headache and the only clothing on me being a pair of red boxers. My mouth tasting like a dirty carpet was a good indicator as well. I also had no memory of going on said bender, ergo a total blackout. Which was weird, because the last time I went on such a drunken stupor was when I had just turned sixteen.

Let me tell you, trying to control how drunk you get is pretty difficult when you're a pintsized guy at 1.6 meters (that's 5 feet and 2 inches imperial). So you'd probably understand my confusion at discovering I had gone on a new blackout-fest, since I had developed quite the skill for inebriation-control.

I sat up, cradling my head, and after musing a bit on my situation, I looked down and noticed a little note taped onto my chest. I picked it up and began to read.

Dear Drinking Buddy,

For being such a quiet and unassuming guy when sober you sure turn into a party lion when drunk!
I had a great time drinking with you, so I decided I wanted to reward you! I gave a little something-something, and a bit of a general body tune-up. The info on that little something should be hitting after you finish reading this note!

Party on,

Your Friendly Neighbourhood ROB

...
...
...Wow, first time I run into a ROB and they do something nice like this. I must be lucky.

---

AN:
Yes, it's basically Drunken Kung Fu Master.

I'm interested in continuing this, but I'm also pretty shy when it comes to showing off stuff I've written. There's at least ten times as much stuff on other things I've written that I don't have the courage to put out there because I truly believe I suck at writing. It's not yet very planned out, I'm afraid, just a plot bunny for now.

Am also wondering if I should have my powers require a level system where I have to max a mundane martial art skill, for example I start at [Martial Arts], then after the initial charge I would have to spend # charges to max it before branching out to different styles and stuff like qi sense and control etc. And I would need "qi sense/control" to be able to branch out into stuff like an iron skin technique, flash stepping, and hadokens.

To be honest, even though I really want to write this, I would be flattered if someone else wanted to try their hand at this premise. There were several asuran!Taylor stories, and they did not detract from each other.

 

[Questingdragon]

Bonds​

Amy woke to frantic knocking on her window. She blinked blearily at Prism as the girl kept knocking.

Not again.

She pulled herself out of bed, grabbed her overnight bag just in case and opened the window.

"Is it Bonesaw and Nilbog again? Please don't tell me they've made another attempt at a disco zombie virus?"

"It's Lung and Crawler. It still hasn't happened yet, but the thinker who picked it up says you need to leave now.

Amy sighed and grabbed her Panacea robe from beside the window. As she put it on Oni Lee came out of the shadows, grabbed Prism and teleported with her.

He teleported into three places, and then each of those three teleported, again and again, until Prism cut off her power, and several hundred Oni Lee's and Prism's all slammed back into two bodies.

Amy had never really understood how the Lee/Prism power interaction worked. The only person in her family who had a bond was Shielder, he had found an interstate ward named Shriek, who's sonic attacks could influence his shields, making them tougher and more malleable.

The boy had moved into the bay, and it was rare for the two of them not to stay up late, playing with their powers together. Last night Shielder had been elated at being able to 'trap' Shriek's vibrations, and then make his shield produce them at any point.

Lee reached out to touch Prism and Amy, and both found themselves in the desert.

"You... you really came?" Crawler boomed.

Crawler was a beast, at least ten stories high and shaped like something out of nightmare, his mouth had long since lost the ability to form coherent speech. His voice instead came from a mouth on his knee. Probably grown from sheer need to communicate.

Amy looked in confusion from the knee, to the face, and decided to address the knee. It was closer.

"You, um... you know there's a price right? I need you to promise."

"I promise. No going near any humans unless there's an Endbringer fight. Just like the woman in the hat and the little girl in a suit said. Please! Save him!"

Amy looked past the knee as a giant claw lifted Lung and shoved him across the sand. He was mostly human, scales had formed, only to be rapidly eaten away by Crawlers acid. Most of his legs were down to the bone, and his torso wasn't a lot better.

Amy shuddered as her fingers entered the slime, but it was organic, which meant she could neutralizer it and begin replacing lost flesh.

"I know I have to be careful with him in the mornings, I didn't mean to spit quite that much acid..."

"I need some biomass." Amy said.

"Right." Crawler raised a tendril tipped with a glittering gray blade and drove it into his flesh, tearing out a chunk that was healed almost as soon as it was gone.

Amy reached out for the chunk of flesh and used it to create a new heart, some lungs, a bit more spine...

Lung's regeneration took it from there. New, scaled flesh flowing over his lower body and beginning to form the stumps of legs.

"We should get out of here before they get started. Goodbye Crawler, we'll leave you to it." Prism said.

Lee nodded in acceptance, and they began their power interaction again. A dozen brightly costumed girls clasped hands with a dozen black clad men in Oni masks, before collapsing into dust.

And then Amy was back home. Staring after the two of them.

It was tough, for those parahumans who didn't find someone to bond with. Matchmaker didn't get around to everyone, and studies showed that parahumans without bonds were severely prone to violence and irrational urges for conflict.

Even the rest of New Wave had their 'sky dance.' Which mainly involved the flying members throwing the non-flying members about in a pattern while everyone tried to create a light display. It wasn't a real bond, it didn't involve a power interaction and it didn't make everyone involved more powerful, but at least it was something.

Something a squishy little healer couldn't be a part of.

Well... back to wracking her brains for a way to create some sort of power interaction with her sister, Amy decided.

Then she saw the Matchmaker, a bright, golden man flying low and carrying someone.

Seeing the Matchmaker wasn't always a good thing. He paired people based on their powers, not on any sort of personal preference. The last time he had been in Broktown Bay he had paired the vigilante Shadow Stalker with the villain Fog.

It went the way most such meeting did. They briefly tried to kill each other. They discovered their power interaction. They negotiated a bit, because who didn't like an increase in power and options? Slowly they were drawn to each other, developing something that went beyond normal human connections.

They'd killed three independent villains and one independent hero, and were still at large despite the desperation the E88 had shown in hunting down their lost member.

"Everyone! Wake up! Matchmaker is here!" Amy yelled.

It would be perfect if he was bringing someone who's power matched with one of her parents. Someone to make Brandish loosen up would be perfect. Or someone who could cheer up Flashbang. And if he then looked at her and Victoria and gave her a little shove in her sisters direction...

Victoria poked her head out the window, then levered it up and flew out. Flashbang came out the door, and Brandish was yelling something from the shower when Matchmaker alighted.

He felt sad, lost and lonely. His face was impassive, chiseled from stone, but he what he was feeling was broadcast for all to hear. Eternally pairing powers, but never finding anyone to match his own.

He laid a thin, tall girl down on the grass at Amy's feet, and she immediately knelt down and touched the sleeping girls wrist.

Abrasions to her fingers, chemicals in her bloodstream indicating a lot of recent severe stress. Some sort of dampening effect was keeping her asleep, probably something from Matchmaker that would fade soon. Likely a recent trigger.

Then Amy actually looked at the girl, and gently pulled a used tampon from her hair.




(An omake for Amelia by TanaNari, utilizes the idea of bonds between passengers. A brief crack AU where Scion decided he likes the bonds fairly early in the piece, and goes around pairing any two parahumans with a potential power interaction. Also, yes I blatantly stole the Lung/Crawler pairing from Wake. So, who else do you think might get paired up?)

 

[Can'tthinkofaname]

I'm trying to start something I can feel motivated to work on. So here is me trying to start creating an OC. This might belong in the NSFW section, so let me know if I should post it there instead.
WARNING: Excessive Gore by some standards, and torture.

1.1

My world was pain.

I couldn't see, could hardly hear, I couldn't feel anything except for the knives that held open my chest, the small hands that played with my organs, the slight touches and caresses that were meant to be gentle but sent unimaginable pain shooting through me.

My body tried to heal. My power, useless here, my skin struggled against its restraint, pulling, inching closer before HE sunk another knife into it. My muscles crawled, slippery, sliding like snakes across the gaps, before drips of poison acid ate into them, forcing them back. The pain was incredible.

I almost laughed. I had been called a masochist before, been called sick for enjoying the pain that could be inflicted on me. But not like this. Nothing like this.

Instead I gasped. Tears pooled in empty sockets, before running down the iron spikes that were there instead of my eyes.

Through the mesh where my ears were I heard a faint snicker.

"Stop being suuuch a baaaaby."

Bonesaw. Speaking of bonesaws, was that what was pressing on my leg. She was trying another amputation. To see if it would grow away from me. It wouldn't. I had tried before. I would have thought she would be bored by now.

A squeeze of my heart, and a vein in my arm exploded, blood having been forced into it backwards.

Nobody knew where the matter for recreating my body came from, the PRT and their tests had never figured it out. It was just there when it needed to be.

So the blood never stopped flowing. It was pooled around the operating table, the little blond bitch up to her knees in my cells. It had been going on for days. She had made sure to give me time updates hourly, so she knew.

Apparently I was her birthday present, or whatever. A way for her to learn a bit more about human anatomy, a lesson for both her and the rest of her sick twisted team. I was just the perfect subject she had told me. So she hadn't stopped.

She ate her fast food out of my chest, making sure to put down a plastic sheet first. Over the acid that kept it open, of course. The force fed Big Macs let her 'study' how much it took to explode a digestive system when it couldn't expel waste.

"Don't you worry, Jack is getting me a special present to finish up, then we'll be done with you, kay?"

She sounded so sweet, so innocent. I almost had to force myself to hate her. Nah. I really didn't.

She pulled a rope, and my ribcage popped out with a squelching sound, almost like sucking on a finger when pulling it out of your mouth. It almost came out in one piece, but got hung up on new lungs. It tore them out.
Suddenly my gasping for breath stopped, and I wasn't breathing. Not the first time that had happened. That had been during a Behemoth fight. The tornado of force that ripped your esophagus from your throat, and pulled it out of your mouth.

"JACK! You're baccckkkk!"

The squeal of joy made me sick again. I tried to cough, a sick sound that didn't come out properly.

"Of course I'm back, now here are your presents!"

He sounded like a happy father on Christmas morning, gesturing under a tree. Her squeal of joy made her sound like his daughter.

"Oooh, Oooh. This look sooooo cool. Lets do it now!"

My eyes grew back, around the iron spikes. I could see from one of them. I could see the little torturer, holding a gunmetal colored suitcase. As she popped the latch, I could see steam coming out. An one symbol on it. A decorative C, emblazoned on each side. I saw her pull out four vials, each labeled. I couldn't read them.

"Oooh, these look so special. Thanks Jack!"

I was afraid, really. I should have been before, and I had been before, but mind numbing pain for days was almost a joke at this point. I guess to them it was.

I heard the pop, like champagne being opened.

Then I felt the liquid being poured into my chest. It felt like fire. It felt like ice. It was unbelievable. So painful it was indescribable, after the days of torture it was even worse than when she had hijacked my nervous system. I cried. I really did. My body interpreted my mental need and made it happen. It didn't matter that my eyes were hardly intact. It didn't matter that I had felt almost as bad before. This was the worst.

"And there, we, go. I'll just sew this up and then well call the cops for you, kay?"

My eyelids were pulled open. I could see, barely see, all four of the vials liquids soaking into my opened chest. They pooled in a slick multicolored mix, before turning a shining black and starting to sink into my flesh.

My eyelids were pulled off, and quickly grew back.

I didn't open them again.

DESTINATION

AGREEMENT

AGREEMENT

AGREEMENT

AGREEMENT




1.2

Interlude- Frank

I didn't know why we were here. It was strange, being called to a recently abandoned hospital. Blackout from a cape fight had knocked out the power, and the hospital had never recovered after the deaths that had caused. It shut down the next year, abandoned, with much of the equipment just left there.

The fact that when we drove up, the lights were on was very unusual. The power had never gotten reconnected, so it was eerie. Only the third floor was lit.

"Why are we here man?" I asked my partner, William. He liked to be called Bill. He was older than me, slightly more experienced. I had ten years in the force but Ben had over twenty under his belt. He didn't flaunt it, but there was some pride that came with having a successful career like that, especially with all the capes hanging around.

"Dispatch got a call, said that someone heard a scream from inside, probably some squatter just fell or got hurt or something."

That made sense I guess.

We parked just outside the doors, a little up the sidewalk. Stepping out of the car I was reminded of sheriffs dismounting their horses like in a western. I smiled a bit at that, knowing I would be the deputy in that story.

The door was a little jammed, ajar. It was opened up by a casual shoulder check from Bill. Walking in, the lobby was mostly dark, lit by a single desk lamp. We walked up, inspected it. And underneath the harsh light there was a note.

"Third Floor. What's on the third floor?"

"I dunno. "

We walked, carefully, up the stairs. The lights flickered, occasionally going out. There steps creaked. One broke under my boot, and I started to fall, before Bill grabbed my arm.

"I got you", he grunted out, as he pulled me up. Much stronger than he looked.

"Thanks", I muttered, shaking my foot a little to throw off the dust that had settled on my shoe.

We continued walking up in silence, proceeding a little more carefully. We got off on the third floor, one before the roof.

Walking down the hallway, all the lights were off. Looking at Bill, he nodded at me and drew his flashlight, then his pistol. Steadying his grip with the flashlight, he slowly started checking rooms.

I pulled both of my tools as well, holding the pistol at my side and shining the flashlight around.

"Anyone here?", I called out softly.

We walked together to the end of the first hallway, where the operating theater was. Then I heard a small splash. I looked down, shining the flashlight.

Blood. A small pool of it, soaking under the door.

I immediately held my pistol at the ready.

Bill was on his radio, speaking, "Dispatch we have a possible wounded on the scene, large amount of blood discovered send an ambulance. We will look for victims and perps."

"Understood. Sending ambulance."

The tinker automated police radios were strange, but they helped efficiency.

We opened the door in front of us.

Compared to the dim hallway, the observers room for the operating theater was well lit. Bright and shiny, presumably so we could see what was on the table in front of the glass. A body.

I vomited. Not from the body. I had seen bodies. I had worked homicide as a detective for a year before being demoted.

I vomited from the blood. There was so much blood. More than I had ever seen before. The blood was knee deep, pooled around the operating table like a sick presentation. Limbs and organs floated on the top, sheets of skin, brain matter, eyes, gore from a thousand injuries. And the body in the center.

I was barley a body anymore. Metal spikes were driven into the skin, holding it open, muscles were individually pinned down by sharp needles. Knives were holding his hands, fingers, arms, elbows and knees, feet. They pinned him to the table. Spikes in his eyes. A bloody rag over the crotch. And on the wall behind him were words. Spelled out by stretched strips of muscles. S9. Love Bonesaw and friends.

I heard another vomiting sound beside me. Bill was retching, leaning against the wall. He managed to pull himself together, pull out his radio, and say, " Dispatch we have one confirmed dead, possible evidence of massacre here, looks like the Slaughterhouse did it. Send backup and forensic teams immediately."

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

1.3

Interlude- Legend.

A small town outside of New York had reported a Slaughterhouse sighting. So I went, and was there faster than anyone else. It wasn't actually a sighting, it was the aftermath of the crime, but I still had to go. Still had to make the appearance, encourage people that there was still hope. That there was still hope against monsters like that.

I arrived, hovering in to the third floor of the once abandoned hospital. Now it was surrounded by dozens of emergency vehicles. Spotlights on the building lit it up for miles. Now the broken window pattern could be seen, that spelled out S9. Not very subtle, but unnoticeable until it was lit up.

I saw the medics, the cops, the pumps. I walked into the room. Two cops walked over to me, both had remnants of vomit on their uniforms.

"Officers." I said the one word, nodding to both of them. It wasn't time for speeches, pleasantries. They knew that just as well as I did.

"Legend. We found the body here about half an hour ago. We were just getting set up to drain the room. "

I walked over to the glass, I hadn't looked in yet. I had heard the reports though, that this was even worse than the usua-

I froze.

I ran to the door, I couldn't hear the cops. Couldn't hear their yells. I pulled at the door. It didn't budge. I melted the lock with a glance.

I ripped it open, almost off its hinges. The flood of red hit me, staining my uniform below my thighs. I froze it behind me with barley a thought. Wading into the blood, I stood at the table. I gently touched the face.

"Nick."

It was almost a whisper, but lower. I could feel the pain in my voice, feel it in my bones.

I felt for a pulse, and was even more shocked when I couldn't find one.

Pain shot into my heart. Pain of loss.

He was supposed to be unkillable, even more so than Alexandria. His regeneration was far beyond anything else anyone had displayed. He was proven to be able to grow back from a single cell. Theoretically less, even.

It shouldn't be possible, that he was dead.

Dead.

This wasn't a loss I was expecting.

I belatedly realized that all the blood, all the organs, tissues, skin, bone and biological residue would belong to him. This wasn't the site of some mass murder. This was the continuous torture of one man. I forced myself to look at him. I saw a carving on the table. Day numbers.

Eighteen. Eighteen days they cut him, burned him, ripped him up from the outside and inside.

He was supposed to come visit me and Keith in a week. He was done with heroing. The only thing he had done for years was organ and blood donations, once a week.

I was numb.

I felt a bump on my leg.

I looked.

A suitcase. A metal suitcase. I familiar metal suitcase. With a stylized sideways U on the side. Or as I knew it, a C.

I looked back at the body, and saw the vials littering the table.

I started to cry.

I didn't care how it looked to the cops outside.

I didn't care how it would affect my reputation.

One of the first wards, and one of my only great friends was dead, and it was partially my fault.

 

[volantredx]

So I desperately need to get back to writing, so here's a short little one shot to try and get me into form. It's set during 3.5, and is about what would happened if Armsmaster wasn't such a dick.


Sound Reasoning

"Abandon this charade, little bug girl, before you bite off more than you can chew. Tell me what you know, right now, then go home. I don't care if you put your costume away for good or if you sign up for the Wards, but don't go on with the solo act. That's my recommendation."

That stung. I tried again, "I gave you Lung, full credit. You can't give me the benefit of a doubt?"

"You...!" He shouted, but cut himself off from the rest of what he was about to say. Armsmaster let out a heavy breath, and paused for several seconds. My dad would do the same thing to keep from yelling. A part of me felt embarrassed that I let the conversation get so heated. A smaller part resented the fact that Armsmaster was the one acting adult. I knew it was silly, he was the adult, but still I could tell it only proved he was right about me being too young.

"Lung was almost dead when I brought him in. Do you realize that? He was barely breathing. As far as anyone knows that's on me."

"I didn't mean to," I protested. I wanted to argue more, the amount of venom in his system shouldn't have been lethal. I was sure part of it was due to the tranquilizers, but right now I needed Armsmaster to listen to me.

"I understand, and I'm not unsympathetic. That's why we have to Wards. To help kids like you from going overboard. Learn the system and to know when to stop before they hurt someone."

I almost growled. I was so sick of hearing about the Wards. The more he brought it up the less I wanted to do it. It felt like he was trying to talk me into sitting at the kids table to avoid annoying the grown ups. I was a hero, or I was trying to be. He should respect that. "I don't want to join up. Not now. Not when I have a chance to do real good. I just need you to trust me."

He shook his head. "You don't get it. I can't help. Not like how you want."

"You don't get it. I just need a little more..."

"No, you don't understand. I literally can't help. What you're asking me to do, what you're planing, it breaks everything I've sworn to uphold. This is what I mean by learning the system. Your spy operation is illegal. If it didn't get you killed anything you'd give me would be thrown out of court."

"...but" I hated how weak my voice had gotten. I almost wanted to cry. I was sure, so sure, that this was my big chance. My way of making a real difference, become a hero. To learn that it was all a lie. No, not a lie, a fantasy, a stupid dream I made up in my head, and Armsmaster's words were like a cold bucket of water to wake me up. I should have known better than to think I could make a difference.

"Look, you seem like a good kid, a little overzealous but you seem like you really want to make a difference. I might not be able to help get in deeper but I can help to get you out. You say they're planing something? Tell me, or tell me what you think you can without letting Tattletale know and we'll bring them in."

"It won't hold them, and if they get out they'll try and kill me."

"I won't lie and say they can't ever get out, but even the best Villains take time to stage an escape. We can offer protection if they do escape and seek revenge. I can even see about relocation." His voice trailed off, waiting for my answer.

I thought about it. I...didn't hate the idea. A chance to get away from Emma, from the absolute mess of a hero career I had so far. A fresh start, a new life. I really thought about it. There was one big problem.

"My dad," I said. "He doesn't know about any of this. I'll have to tell him everything."

Armsmaster gave me a long look. "Is your father the reason you triggered?"

"What?!? No."

"Then tell him. The longer you try to hid this, the worse it will be if he finds out."

"I know, that's not even the problem," I knew what I was about to say would effect me forever, but if I couldn't trust Armsmaster I was never going to trust anyone. "My name is Taylor Hebert, my dad is Daniel Hebert, he's a big shot on the dockworkers Union. He's built his whole life around Brockton Bay. He won't want to go, and if he has to leave because of my mistakes..."

I looked down, imagining the way dad would look after having to abandon this city, all his dreams, because I was an idiot. Suddenly a heavy hand pushed my chin up, Armsmaster looked at me, without his helmet. I was so frozen up that all I could think was 'he has really pretty eyes'

"My name is Colin Wallis, and I promise you, if you father is any sort of parent your life and future will mean more to him than this city ever could. No matter where you are sent, no matter what happens you will be safe even if I have to call in every Protectorate member in the country to make sure of it."

"Y-you really mean that?"

"It's the least I could do for a fellow hero."

What could I say I smiled, before I tried to school my features into a heroically stoic expression. Despite my practice my lips didn't seem to want to stop. Clearing my throat I got back to business.

"Alright, here's what I know."

 

[volantredx]

Cross posting this here, it's a continuation of to Biskoff's excellent Snip More Prey Than Predators. You will need to read it first to really understand this one.

Prey No More​

​

-BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!-

Sophia's snapped open at the sound of her alarm. More by instinct than choice she reached out and switched it off. Laying there for a second she relished in the silence. Then her mind woke enough to feel something, or rather the lack of something. For a brief second her heart clenched at the absence of a familiar weight in her mind, before relief washed over her. Even weeks later it was hard to remember that she was free. That girl was gone now. Still in the back of her head a part of her was calling out to find her and keep her safe. It was getting smaller though. They told her in time it would fade completely. One day every trace of that girl would be gone. She couldn't wait.

"Sophia," Her mother called from downstairs. "Time to get up, you got school today."

"Yeah, I'm up." She called back stretching as she climbed out of bed she headed to the shower, hoping that she might beat Terry there today. Unfortunately she got there exactly as he did, racing out of his room.

"Whoa," He said, barely avoiding running right into her. "Sorry sis, um any chance I could sneak in there?"

Not long ago she would have yelled at him, or just ignored him and slipped in. She wasn't that person anymore. She refused to be that person anymore. Instead she gave him a smile and nodded.

"Thanks!" His hand patting her shoulder, and headed inside. He had been doing that more and more. Acting like his old self around her. After she was freed from that girl she had to spend a few days at the Protectorate HQ under observation to see if she'd relapse. Her mom must have explained what happened to Terry, which was a shock given her mom's stance on her cape career. Still it was nice not to have to hide around him. Only he had spent the first few days in...something, a "T" word, the one where he treated her like glass. Having things start being more normal was nice.

She turned toward the stairs, given how long her brother took in the shower she'd have plenty of time to eat before her turn.

XxXXxX

School had long been little more than an annoyance in Sophia's life. Even before her Sophia wasn't the best student. She wasn't re...challenged, no matter what Stephen said, but she just had trouble remembering things for tests. Not to mention how boring reading always was. After that girl took over her life she had even less time for school. Not to mention she was always so agitated when people tried to tell her what to do. Except when it was her doing it. If Sophia did homework it was some rush job, mostly she just didn't bother.

Now school was bad for a different reason all together.

After that girl had been outed there was some effort to keep her name out of the papers. Word spread quickly though. Her being taken into custody, and the rumors on FaceSpace meant that everyone in the school knew she was a Master that had been controlling people. Everyone was talking about all the awful things she made them do. It was all bullshit. Sophia didn't know all of that girl's powers but she had a good idea, and she couldn't control a big group. It wasn't even controlling really. It was...that one thing where doing something makes you want to do it more, like with dogs. That girl wanted someone to do something a certain way, say something, act like someone, and if you did you felt good, and you wanted to do it more and more. She didn't even need to say what it was. You just knew what made her happy and so you did it. In the end everything Sophia thought or did was because she liked when Sophia did it. Sophia doubted however that the girl could do it on a group, and certainly not a huge group. It's probably just an excuse to get away acting like they did.

So she sat, bored and fidgety until lunch, which was the one good part of the day. She headed to the cafeteria, passing Heb-Taylor on the way. Sophia offered her a smile, which wasn't returned, but the other girl at least didn't flinch away. She was talking to a few other girls. Some sort of book group or something. She overheard Taylor mentioning it to Missy the other day. It was nice to see her getting new friends. As bad as Sophia had it with that girl, Taylor had far far worse. Thinking about what happen still turned her stomach.

She couldn't let herself dwell on it. Dr Walker had helped a lot in that sense. Sophia knew she was right, about her having to accept what happened and try and move past it. That girl didn't define Sophia, she was still her, no matter what that girl did she couldn't totally destroy everything that made Sophia Sophia.

Running a hand through her hair she tried to shake off her melancholy. If Taylor could move past it, so could Sophia.

Getting down to the cafeteria she grabbed a tray and tried not to grimace at the "food" being served. She missed it when mom used to make lunch for her. That ended awhile ago. That girl's mom never packed a lunch, so Sophia told her mom to not pack anything for her. She thought about asking for it again, but her mom likely was happy for the free time in the mornings.

Stepping out of the line Sophia scanned the lunch room. Kids were all in their packs-no not packs, that was her Sophia-friends, kids were sitting with their friends. She could pick out Taylor with the book kids, and even spotted Madison with some of her old hanger-ons. Without that girl though, Sophia didn't really want to put up with them.

Finding an empty seat in the corner she sat down. It was an odd feeling not having a place to sit. Picking at her food, she wished Lily was here. The other Ward was a lot of help after that first night in New York. Holding her when she was crying, listening to everything Sophia did thanks to that girl without asking too many questions. They exchanged emails during and Lily really helped Sophia feel like a normal person again. Not to mention the hints that she was throwing Sophia's way. She nearly blushed just thinking about it.

Her thoughts were interrupted when someone sat down across from her. Looking up she say the smiling face of Cassandra, one of her teammates from the track team.

"Hey Sophia," she greeted enthusiastically.

"Umm, hi,"

"It's so great to see you back in school, getting sick always sucks."

It took a second for her to register what she was talking about. Then she remembered, it was the cover story the PRT had her tell people. That she came down with a huge fever and was in the hospital for a few days. Not bad in theory but when word of that girl being taken away people say right through the story. To hear someone bring it up again was, was, dis-something or other.

"So, uh, you coming back to track soon?" Cassandra asked shifting slightly in her seat.

"Oh, yeah I hope," it'd be nice to get back. Track was the one place she felt normal before. It was easier to be Sophia with them, instead of what she tried to make Sophia be "I just got to get cleared from the doctors."

"Awesome, be really nice to have you back. I-we've missed having you around." Her olive skin flushed slightly in embarrassment at her slip up, but Sophia pretended not to notice. That was...unexpected. Nice, but unexpected.

"I've missed you guys too." Sophia shot her the best grin she had. That earned her another blush. So far today was looking up.

XxXXxX

"Today was terrible," Missy moaned dragging herself out of the girl's changing room and into the common area. She had just finished getting out of her costume. Between the girl's pout and the frilly sun dress she had to wear Sophia had to hold back from grabbing the girl and spinning her around like a doll.

"Didn't you have the after school patrol with Dean?" Sophia questioned, having just arrived from dinner. She had coms duty for the night shift.

"Yeah," Missy grumbled. "And now I know all boys are suck."

"What happened?" If Dean had managed to piss Missy off this badly he must have done something epically stupid.

""He brought Glory Girl along."

"Oh. OH! Um that's rough."

"You have no idea. They got to act all cutesy and I was stuck playing third wheel." Missy threw herself over the arm of the couch. "Like I said, all boys suck."

Sophia was torn. Her Sophia would have tried to make Missy cry, just to prove she was tough, and before her Sophia would have said...p-p-things that sound nice but don't mean anything. Now though, now Sophia was going to try and help.

"I can help, but it's going to make me seem like a bitch."

"Has that ever stopped you before?"
Sophia tried not to flinch, really, but either she did or Missy realized what she said because the girl sat upright and let out a gasp.

"Oh god, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking."

"It's alright, I can handle a joke or two. I was a bitch before."

"No you weren't. I'm a hero, I need to know better. It wasn't you, it was all Pavlov. She's the bitch, hell she's worse than a bitch."

"Pavlov?" Sophia wondered.

"It's what they're calling that Master that fucked with you. You know, because she works with Operant conditioning-"

"THAT'S IT!" Sophia exclaimed, Missy let out a yelp in surprise and rolled back over the arm of the couch and onto the cushions. "Oh, sorry, sorry, it's just I've been trying to think of that term all day. It's been bugging the shit out of me all day."

"S'cool," Missy muttered pulling herself up. There was a moment or two of quiet before she turned to Sophia. "So, um you had advice about Dean."

"Right, well you're really not going to like to hear it." She paused, the other girl gave her a little go ahead gesture. "Well, my advice is that you need to move on."

"What-" Missy started, but Sophia held a hand up.

"I know you don't want to hear it, and I get you really care for Dean, but he loves Glory Girl, and I think you know that. Also even if he didn't I just don't see him liking you like that. I know you like think you're all grown up, but you've still got a lot of growing up to do. Him dating you would be like you dating a fourth grader. So move on, find a guy your age, or hell, hold off on dating for a bit."

Missy gave a little sniffle. Maybe she had been a too hard on the girl.

"Hey look, what do I know right? I just don't want to see you waste all your time chasing something you can't catch."

"Yeah," the other girl mumbled under her breath. She gave a watery sigh, before straightening up. "Thanks, really, I'll think about it."

"Alright, better hurry, the ferry's leaving soon, and you'll be stuck if you miss it."

Missy nodded and started to head toward the exit. Sophia turned away and headed for her seat at the console. As she entered in her access code she heard Missy call out her name. Turning the girl had stopped at the door and was giving her a wide smile.

"Hey, um I just thought I should say that I'm glad I got to meet the real you." Sophia blinked at the other girl's words, and watched as she headed out of the room.

After the door closed Sophia turned her chair around, a smile pulled at her lips.

"I'm glad too."​

 

[Zege]

So, this has been sitting on my hard drive for months now, but I finally decided to dust it off and give it another once-over.

I still didn't like it, but I don't know why. I guess I'll post it here and you guys can tell me what's wrong, because I sure can't tell.

---

Previous
Chapter 5
Avenger

Tuesday
April 12th, 2011

Taylor stood at the foot of her mother's grave, staring at the headstone that marked her final resting place. It was a simple granite piece, standing sentinel over the patch of freshly-turned dirt. On the front, inside a decorative design, was carved a name, dates, and a single phrase.

Annette Rose Hebert
1969-2011
She taught something precious to each of us.​

"Taylor?" called a voice from nearby.

She ignored the summons for a moment, burning the sight of her mother's grave into her memory. The knowledge that her mother died shielding her, protecting her from the mistakes of those too careless with their power, would never leave her.

She would never forget.

"Taylor…" She felt a hand reach out and take hers, and she turned to see Emma watching her, unshed tears gathering in her eyes.

"I'm so sorry Taylor," said Emma, and she pulled her into a hug.

Taylor heard her sniffling, and hugged her best friend back. She knew Emma looked to Annette as an aunt, or even a second mother, and that she was hurting as well.

They separated, and Emma scrubbed the tears from her face. "I'm sorry, here I am crying all over you, when it must be so much worse for you."

Taylor brought a hand to her chest, where an old ring rested against her breast, held by a simple chain. It was a simple golden band, an heirloom from her grandmother, that Taylor's mother cherished.

Taylor's father had given it to her before the funeral, and she had been drawing strength from the metal with her newfound power.

She gave Emma a weak smile. "It's okay."

Emma gave her hand a squeeze, and led her away from the grave. "C'mon. Dad said you can stay with us for a while. Anne's staying at the dorms on campus, so you can use her room."

Taylor nodded, recalling the discussion she had with her father earlier. She had been hesitant to ask, but knew that if she stayed at home, she would never get the chance to go out she needed. She had brought up staying at the Barnes' for a little while, to take the time to get over the events of that day. Not to mention, staying out of his way while he dealt with insurance companies and the like.

Unsurprisingly, he had been uncertain, but after a bit of pleading, he had given in to her request. Privately, Taylor thought he had allowed her to stay away so he could rage against the situation in seclusion, without disturbing her.

They needed each other, but they still wanted space. A couple days at her best friends house was a perfect way to do so.

Regardless, he promised to come by or call every day, even if it was just a week.

They met the adults at the service road where their vehicles were parked. Alan and Zoe, Emma's parents, were talking quietly with Danny. Upon seeing the girls approach, they halted their discussion and greeted them both.

"All ready girls?" asked Zoe, smiling gently.

"Yeah Mom. We're good to go." Emma answered her mother with a glance in Taylor's direction, who nodded in agreement.

"I'll come see you tonight Taylor, okay?" said Danny, smiling sadly at his daughter.

Taylor relinquished Emma's hand, and stepped into a hug with her father. He was tense, and Taylor could tell he was feeling a lot of stress just by the way he hugged her back, tightly, as if she would disappear at any moment.

"I've still got that card, if you need it," he whispered in her ear before they parted.

Taylor gave a slight nod.

"Okay, I'll be there later to drop of a bag for you. Got your phone?"

Taylor patted her pocket, where her phone was currently resting. "Yeah. Love you Dad."

"Love you too honey." And with that, he left, getting into the car lent by one of his Dockworkers.

They were all quiet a moment, before Alan broke the silence. "Well. Let's head out then. You can stay in Anne's room while you're with us, she's living in the dorms at school for now."

Taylor smiled. "Thanks Mr. Barnes."

They left the cemetery behind.

-

The Barnes residence was in a nicer part of town, closer to Captain's Hill than the Docks. A quaint two-story home of brick and timber, it looked like something out of a storybook. Alan Barnes had done well for his family, and it showed.

Taylor, having settled in for the evening, was now laying on Emma's bed, her head in her best friend's lap. They had been reminiscing about Taylor's mother, and when she had finally let go of her power-induced calm, she had cried into Emma's chest as she held her.

"Thanks." Taylor sniffled, as Emma gently stroked her hair.

Emma smiled down at her. "No problem. You've always been there for me, the least I can do is let you snot all over me now."

Taylor laughed a little at that, and sat up, wiping the remaining tears away. She could always count on Emma to lift her spirits.

She raised a hand to her necklace, but stopped short of actually touching it. She was tempted to draw on its strength again, but she had been doing that too often as it was. Her hand dropped to her lap.

She knew her gaining powers was a huge deal, not something to be taken lightly. Emma was her best friend though, the one she told all her secrets to. If anyone was going to be let in on the secret, it would be her.

Taylor took a deep breath, calming herself, and turned to face Emma. "I have something important to tell you."

Hearing the seriousness in her tone, Emma gave her her full attention. "What is it?"

"I have powers." Taylor said, simply. No point in drawing it out.

Emma's reaction was, to put it mildly, enthusiastic. Taylor found herself bombarded with questions faster than she could reply. She had to silence her with a hand over her mouth before she was able to respond. "Yes, I really have powers, yes, I was the 'Independent' who helped Armsmaster, no I haven't picked a name, yes I'll be going out. Does that answer your questions?"

Emma blinked, and Taylor felt her friend's tongue slide across her palm. She withdrew her hand quickly, and wiped the saliva off on her jeans. Emma giggled. "Yeah, sorry 'bout the motormouth, but it's so cool!"

Taylor nodded. "I suppose it is."

"Do you have plans for a costume yet?"

Taylor flopped back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. "No. Not really. I kinda improvised on the fly the other day, but a hood and scarf aren't going to cut it, are they?"

Emma leaned over, and laid across Taylor's stomach. "Nah, you have to be impressive!"

"Got any ideas then, miss model?" asked Taylor, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Emma lifted her head, and grinned. "Oh, do I ever."

The next few hours were spent with Emma subjecting Taylor to countless plans, drawings, and grandiose ideas. They were up well into the night bandying back and forth on the merits of cloaks, the sex appeal (and lack thereof) of spandex, and the value of armor.

By the time Taylor began to fall asleep, far too comfortable to move to the other room, they had come up with several different themes, ranging from the practical ("How about body armor?") to the ludicrous ("No way Emma, I will not go skin-tight!").

Visions of capes and swords danced across her thoughts, and Taylor Hebert was quickly lost to dreams.

-

Friday, 11PM
April 15th, 2011

It had been almost a week since Taylor gained her powers, and after days of deliberation and planning, she was finally ready to take to the streets. The Barnes' were out to dinner with associates of Alan's, and had left the two of them to fend for themselves for the night. It was now or never.

Taylor was as prepared as she could be, at least until she got the reward for her previous captures. Emma, having jumped full-steam into helping her, had used her connections with the local shops to supply Taylor with some basic gear to wear on her patrols.

She looked herself over in the full-length mirror, checking the outfit for gaps or marks that could reveal her identity. It was a practical getup, consisting of black cargo pants, heavy boots, and a black turtle-neck. Long, black leather gloves, and the hooded jacket she wore in her first fight completed the ensemble.

They were in the basement, which had been renovated into a den with couches and a pool table. A bar was sequestered away in one corner, and Emma was currently pouring two drinks in celebration of Taylor's first official cape adventure.

"Dad will never notice," said Emma, as she carried the shot glasses over to where Taylor was standing. She passed one to Taylor, and kept the other for herself. Hesitantly, she raised the glass, and Taylor met it with her own, a soft 'clink' resonating from the glass.

"Cheers," said Taylor, and she downed the alcohol. Emma followed suit, and soon both were coughing at the burn caused by the scotch.

"W-what did you pour?" asked Taylor, a hacking cough breaking up her words.

Emma, still coughing, wandered back over to the bar. She hefted a bottle, and read aloud, "Ar-Ardbeg… I dunno, something... Irish? I didn't think it'd be so strong."

Taylor set her glass down on the bar. "Well, I don't think I'll be trying that again."

She watched as Emma replaced the bottle, and washed out the glasses. She could feel the heat of the scotch spreading from her gut, and though she hadn't exactly enjoyed the drink, she could appreciate the feeling of warmth.

Taylor headed over to the stairs that led to the exterior doors. She would be out there, soon, hunting down those who were in part responsible for her mother's death. It was exciting, to think she'd be out in the streets, confronting criminals and the scum of the city, like the heroes she had so admired.

Emma joined her, giving her costume one last check before the night began. She wouldn't be joining her on the patrol, but with her laptop, a police scanner, and a set of long-distance walkies, she could provide support to Taylor from the safety of her basement.

"I still think you should use a helmet," said Emma for what must have been the fiftieth time that night, a note of worry in her voice. It had been something of a point of contention between the two of them, with Emma campaigning for the protection, while Taylor insisted it would only obscure her vision and limit her.

Emma had relented when Taylor reminded her that her power made her more durable than normal, and that a helmet would be redundant. Not that it seemed to make her worry any less, thought Taylor with exasperated affection.

"We've had this discussion Ems. It'd just get in the way."

"I know, I know…" Emma said, as she straightened Taylor's jacket for the third time. "I'm just worried. You'll be out there, battling the forces of evil, and I'll be sitting here doing diddly-squat."

Taylor took her hands in her own, and looked her best friend in the eye. Emma was biting her lip, and her brow was creased heavily with worry. "Ems. I'll be fine. I'm just going after some of the low-level dealers for info tonight, not battling Lung on the rooftops or something crazy like that. It'll be okay."

Emma continued to worry her lip, but nodded. "Okay… okay."

Taylor smiled in approval. "Now, I'm going to go out there and kick some butt. I'll need you to direct me when the police call in any reports, and let me know where to go."

Emma nodded once more, and Taylor let go of her hands. She pulled the ski-mask down over her face, and pulled the prescription goggles over her eyes. It had taken some doing, but an old pair of glasses had been sacrificed to make them. It would have to work.

She turned, and started up the stairway. She had only gone a couple steps when Emma's voice stopped her once again. "Wait!"

Taylor suppressed a sigh. It was late, and she would only get so many opportunities to go out. She turned back, and saw Emma standing there, holding a roll of red cloth.

"I, I figured this might bring you luck," she said, holding the bundle up to reveal the scarf Taylor's mother had given her the night of the accident. The night she had gotten her powers.

Taylor was very still for a moment. Then, she smiled under the mask. "Thanks Emma. That's a good idea."

Emma smiled, and stepped into reach. She brought the scarf over Taylor's head, and wrapped it around her neck, tossing the ends over her shoulders. Task finished, she gave Taylor a brief hug, and walked back over to where she had set up her laptop. She gave Taylor a mock salute, and said, "Good luck, Avenger!"

Taylor smirked under her mask. "Thanks."

With that, she left the basement and was off into the night.

-

"I've got reports of a skirmish between some Merchant pushers and ABB, on South and Greenwood." Emma's voice was calm and steady as she relayed the info. The earpiece connected to the radio was wired under her mask, and served to keep from alerting anyone nearby as to her presence.

"Got it, heading there now," replied Taylor. She was only a couple blocks from there, and it would take only a bare few minutes to traverse the distance. By the time she arrived, there should still be gangers present, she hoped.

It had been almost an hour since she set out for the night, but this had been the first report within a reasonable distance. Not for the first time, Taylor cursed her lack of flight. She was stronger and faster than normal when using her new power, but she was still limited to travelling on foot everywhere. This lead to a rather limited area of operation.

Still, as she bounded down the darkened street at olympic speeds, she couldn't help but thrill in the sheer freedom her reinforcement gave her. Coming to a T-intersection, Taylor shot past the turn and leapt, kicking off the opposing building front and used the momentum to propel herself down the street.

In a matter of minutes, she arrived at the location of the reported skirmish. It must have been a small incident, as now there was only a pair of Merchant dealers picking themselves out of a dumpster. They had clearly gotten the worst of the fight.

Silently, she slipped into a shadowed portion of the alley, and watched as the not-so-dynamic duo struggled out of the filthy bin.

"Those fuckin' slants are gonna pay, I swear to god Vin!" exclaimed one of the pushers, picking a rotting banana peel off his dingy overcoat.

His companion, a large, brutish-looking fellow, shook the remains of a trash bag off his leg. "Just let it go Paul. It ain't worth it."

The first one, Paul, brushed the remains of his impromptu dumpster-dive off, leaving the coat looking no less grungy. "Fuck you it ain't worth it, those motherfuckers took all my weed!"

The larger man, now identified as 'Vin', put a hand on Paul's shoulder. "Drop it man. Let's just go back to the flat, I've got some put away we can light up."

Paul shrugged out his counterpart's grip, but nodded his assent. "Yeah, sure I guess. This shit's still leaving me pretty salty though. God damn gook bastards."

Taylor took that as her cue.

Confidently, she stepped out of the shadows and into a pool of light. Her arrival went unnoticed, at least until she spoke, startling the Merchants. "Hold it right there."

They turned to look, and the shorter, Paul, spoke with a sneer. "Ey, who the fuck are you? You one of them ABB fuckers?"

Vin, clearly the brains as well as the brawn, backed up a step. "Hey Paul, I don't think I like the look of this."

Taylor reinforced his perception, by choosing that moment to dramatically extend her hand outwards, and project a Halberd. The weapon floated in place for a moment, and she grasped the shaft firmly, spinning the Projection in front of her in a fit of theatrics.

"Shit, he's a cape!" With that, they were sprinting down the alley away from her. Taylor shot after them, hot on their heels.

The alley was but one part of a series of back-street pathways, and soon they were deep within the maze created by the twists and turns of the decaying urban center. Chain link fences and plywood walls were no barrier to Taylor and her enhanced capabilities, but the drug merchants were more familiar with the rambling array of paths, and were soon pulling away from her.

Seeing her quarry about to get away, Taylor cursed and skidded to a stop. They were in a long straightaway, and the Merchants were nearing an intersection where they could once again pull ahead. Taylor shifted her grip on the Halberd, and set her feet to something resembling a javelineer's stance.

She sent a silent thanks to Armsmaster for practicing such an unlikely maneuver, cocked back her arm, and launched the Projection in a ballistic arc. It flew gracefully, and Taylor sprinted along after it, leaving cracks in the pavement from her pounding steps. Soon, the Halberd was descending and Taylor grinned in triumph, preparing for the capture.

The projectile came down with a thunderous 'crack', and embedded in the asphalt in front of the fleeing pushers. Panicked at the sudden obstruction, they abruptly stopped and searched around furiously for an alternate path. Hearing her approach, they turned to confront her, but before they could even react she was upon them and in a flurry of pin-point strikes they were on the ground, moaning in pain.

Quickly, Taylor pulled the zip-ties she had prepared on her belt out and had the dealers hogtied before they could even process what exactly happened. Taylor stood and brushed herself off, wiping away the dust and grime accumulated during the pursuit.

She stood over the trussed-up duo, and in a display of intimidation, effortlessly pulled the embedded Halberd from the ground. Feeling dramatic, she spun the weapon with a flourish, and leveled the end at their wide-eyed faces.

"I," she intoned solemnly, a smile unseen behind her mask, "have some question for you."

The resulting 'squeak' of fear from the smaller pusher was worth the chase, Taylor decided.

---

So, that's that. Avenger begins her first night out, rather sensibly too I'd say.

Questions, comments, accusations of incompetence?

 

[AntonioCC]

This is an snippett that I may expand on later, what do you think?

---

Derail?​

Welcome to the Parahumans Online Message Boards
You are currently logged in, MCruz
You are viewing:
• Threads you have replied to
• AND Threads that have new replies
• OR private message conversations with new replies
• Thread OP is displayed
• Ten posts per page
• Last ten messages in private message history
• Threads and private messages are ordered by user custom preference.

---

​

♦Topic: New Cape in Winslow?
In: Boards ► North America ► East Coast ► ENE ► Brockton Bay ► Cape Activity

GloryGStruck (Original Poster) (Cape Groupie)
Posted on January 3rd, 2011:

Holy Shit! Guys, look this video!

(Showing Page 1 of 1)

► SCP_Groupie (Cape Groupie)
Replied on January 3rd, 2011:
Okay, can you give us a resume of the video?. I'm at work right now and videos are blocked.

► XxVoid_CowboyxX
Replied on January 3rd, 2011:
Is that the lockers at Winslow? And who is the redhead?

Fuuuuck, she has ripped open teh door of one of the lockers?

OH, SHIT!



► SCP_Fan (Cape Groupie)
Replied on January 3rd, 2011:
What?

► BestestBest (Unverified Uber)
Replied on January 3rd, 2011:
SCP, from what I see it was a video of one of teh students at Winslow recording one of her friends new tattoo, when a redhead in a big coat pass running through the corridor.

The girls follow her out of curiosity. The redhead stops before a locker. From what I can hear, there are weak sounds from inside...

As if somebody got shoved inside a locker. Goddamnit, jocks did this to my best bro back in high school. Fucking assholes.

Back to the video, the redhead tries to open it... and this is where things start to get weird.

She stands there begore the locker and this strange green aura start to surround her and suddenly the locker door is flying and somebody ... maybe a girl, but I can't say with certainty, falls from inside. The redhead catch her, and the video ends there.

► SCP_Groupie (Cape Groupie)
Replied on January 3rd, 2011:
Thanks for the summary, BestestBest.

► XxVoid_CowboyxX
Replied on January 3rd, 2011:
...

► GloryGStruck (Original Poster) (Cape Groupie)
Replied on January 3rd, 2011:
Weren't you in Winslow, Cowboy?​

 

[Painfulldarksoul]

Greetings.
So I have been lurking on the three forums SV, SB and QQ for some time and got an idea, so I have writen it down. Here it is.

The Leviathan ruining the shipping industry is what has gone wrong with cannon.​

The Simurgh could see it all, past and future. A native of the world below, has summoned her and two other constructs, without even knowing what it did. There were no instructions or orders, at least not really. It's subconscious signals, were close enough to count, so they couldn't ignore them. Which was fine for the first two, but not for the Simurgh. This creature would be the most powerful of it's species for some time, yet it let it's inferiority complex, take control over itself. It was ridiculous and made the Simurgh feel frustrated. The earliest she would get away, would be in over a decade.

There had to be a way to make the process go faster. She had to follow his wishes and could only plan his demise, without directly targeting him. So it was okay to hurry things along to his ruin, but only in a convoluted way. She was fine. She would manage. Somehow.

What was first. Looking at events close by in the time line and see how they would unfold over time, after that she could see what different interference would cause in the process. Easy enough.

But should she include past events? It was far more complicated with them. For future events, she could simply look what ridiculously simple action, would cause most use over time. Little work, big effect. Past events she had to often work against event chains, that were unfolding as she was doing things and were committed to, by the world around. Competing processes had to be supported or slowed , at all the right points in time. Do a lot of work, to not follow the whims of the current master. Was it worth it?

Absolutely. The Simurgh begun her work.

Later.​

The Simurgh was not a being made of flesh and only simulated the appearance of the native species of this world, thus her face didn't express her current emotions. If it did, the world below would have been treated to something no one dared imagine before, not even the creepiest of the people on the internet. They would have seen the Simurgh pouting, with tears in her eyes.

She found an event that if she stopped it's unfolding, would cut the time by about two years. But the event needed her to put herself in serious danger of destruction, which she couldn't find the cause of. So she had to find out, which event chains she didn't need to stop, to reduce the risk. The sinking of Kyushu, was the core of it all. But no matter how hard she tried, she wasn't able to determine, what it caused that she needed to stop. She followed millions of individuals and had even some who could be useful at the end.

It was necessary to remain calm, but this got harder and harder by the minute. There had to be something, she had to stop. Or not?

Maybe she had to make an event happen, which was stopped by Leviathan sinking Kyushu? With a new idea, came new energy.

Later.​

If anything, the Simurgh was even more frustrated now. Oh, she found what was broken and needed repair. What frustrated her about it was, what"it" was.

Something had to be wrong with the host species. What was this!? She would never look at some of the dormant constructs the same way again. Why!? Why tentacles?

If she could she would sigh.

Maybe some of the other genre were better and the anime she was watching currently, wasn't one she had to save, for her wanted results. It helped a little, but that wasn't nearly enough, to warrant for her to risk her artificial life. She could move on from this, let it's genre die and hopefully forget this ever happened. What next? Sailor Moon. This concept was so ridiculous, she felt like she would get a headache. Even the fact that it was impossible, did little to reassure her. But she had to check.

Later.​

She never felt happier. She loved being alive. She loved this series. She loved this host species!

Sailor Mercury and Sailor Jupiter were made for each other. Sailor Moon and Sailor Mars are super cute together. Why they had to try and put Moon together with Tuxedo Mask, she had no clue. They could have saved themselves the trouble of putting Artemis in and coupled Mask with Luna. Even that would have made more sense.

She would have saved the magical girl shoujo anime genre now either way. But the best thing about this was, that it was one of the genres, with the biggest impact on the time she had to remain under the control of that moron.

And the Leviathan almost ruined it all.

She knew it had no chance against it and couldn't have the wanted effect, even if it had a chance. But she really wished for a gigantic squid in the path of the Leviathan.
Now she just needed to find all the other parts that would be useful.

Later.​

Her destiny lies before her. All of the anime and manga genres needed saving. Powerful anime inspired heroes and villains, would make the people want to save the industry, which would inspire even more of them.

Now she could just manipulate some of them and simply watch. But that would mean, that she wasn't ready to fight for her dreams. Didn't believe in them. Didn't believe in herself. That she was just like him. She would never be like that pathetic worm. Eidolen made Shinji Ikari look confident in comparison.

No, she would start herself! Sure she would make a lot of new capes along the way and bring herself in danger. But this was her fight. She would be a villain, going from city to city, to inspire and manipulate people. She would be a Super Saiyan.

 

[kamenhero25]

This is an idea that popped up as a joke on the NSFW forums, but is SFW, so I'm bringing it here.

This AU/Crossover picks up in 20.5 of canon. Any dialogue from canon is Wildbow's writing.

------------------------------------------------------------------

I took a breath, looking over the cafeteria. I was facing down Dragon and Defiant, surrounded by civilians. But I somehow felt calm. I knew what I was going to do. "Okay."

Defiant almost visibly relaxed, moving forward toward me. "Yes?" He sounded almost hopeful. Tough luck.

"No." He froze in place. "No, that was more than okay. I've decided what I'm doing." I could see his entire body tense. "Students!" I called out, raising my voice so the entire cafeteria could hear me.

"She's taking hostages!" Dragon cried out, shock and panic evident in her voice. Did being wrong catch her that off guard?

Clockblocker closed in from my side, trying to get a clear shot at touching me. "I'm not taking hostages." He froze, all the heroes did. I could feel the tension in the air as they tried to figure out what I was doing. "It's really your choice how this plays out. I'm not sure you heard me say it before." Dragon looked behind herself, realizing I was talking to the students. "I described you as a jury. Now it's time for you to vote."

Defiant shook of his shock and stepped forward. "That's not how it works Skitter!" He whipped around, stopping to attack my swarm as it tried to enter under the door. He could cut off my reinforcements, but he was stuck by the door unless he wanted me to have my bugs. Good.

"Stand if you side with me!" I called out the the students. "I don't do speeches. That's not who I am. I'm not going to feed you lies or spill secrets. It's your choice who to stand with." I had expected a handful, or maybe a slow buildup. But out of three hundred or so students in the room, a full third stood instantly. In one mass, they moved toward me, gathered around me.

The heroes backed down slightly, not willing, or maybe not able, to give up, but not able to take me without fighting through a pack of civilians. Dragon hovered in place. Even though her suit couldn't show emotion, I could feel her indecision. She couldn't make a move against me, not without becoming the villain here. I almost laughed at the irony.

Clockblocker stood to the side of the crowd, having no idea how to react. He couldn't reach me any more than Dragon's suit could. I turned and looked him straight in the eyes and he flinched. Did I frighten him? Maybe I was channeling more of Jack Slash than I'd intended. Or maybe he'd never gotten over our first encounter. It was a strange feeling, realizing that a superhero was almost trembling at the sight of me.

"This is reckless," Defiant snapped from the doorway, forced to split his attention between the door and me to avoid getting blindsided by my swarm. His voice had a tremor to it, something other than the digital tone of his voice modulator. Was he nervous, worried, angry? It was hard to tell.

"Probably." I raised my voice again, letting it carry across the room. "But not as much as your think. Because we're not starting a fight. If one starts, it's on you. We're not engaging you."

"What... what are you doing then," Clockblocker managed. He had a similar tremor in his voice.

"You wanted to put me in a lose-lose situation, forcing me to choose between being caught and harming innocents. I'm fully within my rights to turn the tables. Now, we're going to walk out of the school in a group and if you're going to stop us, you'll have to hurt us."

"Skitter!" Dragon looked down at me.

"Taylor. Just Taylor," I replied. "Not that I can be anymore. Thanks for that by the way. I'll remember that later, so fuck you."

"It wasn't..." She trailed off, but the desperation in her voice was clear.

"You chose to follow whoever gave you these orders. You're as culpable as them as long as you do."

As I motioned for the group to start moving and the heroes all recoiled again. Then a bright golden light erupted from the windows and a bolt of something shot through the window. Shit. Was I wrong? Was there another hero here? One willing to attack civilians just to get at me. I shielded my eyes as the light came straight for me. "Get down!" I cried, trying to warn the students around me. But... nothing. No pain, no blast.

Taylor Hebert of Earth

My eyes opened again and went wide. A ring, glowing with golden light was floating in the air in front of me. Some kind of Tinker tech?

You have the ability to instill great fear in your enemies.

Wait, what? It could talk.

Welcome to the Sinestro Corps.

I didn't have time to react before the ring forced itself on to my hand. My entire body blazed with yellow light and I felt my body lifting off of the ground and being dragged away into the sky. I kept going and going, higher and higher until the ground was a distant blur and the darkness of space was beginning to spread out in front of me.

--------------------------------------------------

Not sure how far this will go, but I loved the idea too much not to write this. I'm posting the first snippet here, but I'll likely give it a thread if I keep going.

 

[kamenhero25]

A little beginning to a Worm/NWoD crossover.

-------------------------------------------

I stared out over the shattered iron husks of the Boat Graveyard. The cold January wind blew over the bay, sending my hair flying behind me. At least, I think it was cold. It was supposed to be in January. I pulled her hood up, more to keep my hair in check than to ward off a chill, and started walking. No one came here in the winter, or at least they found shelter somewhere in one of the abandoned buildings or warehouses, or even one of the wrecks beached well enough to get in without going through the water. I stopped at the shoreline. Dad would kill me for being out here. Four days in the hospital getting over the locker. They'd wanted to keep me longer, psych evaluations, dealing with the trauma. I'd refused.

I'd been unconscious when they found me apparently. Out from a near-fatal case of blood poisoning when the janitor decided to clock out early and I'd been left in the locker overnight.

'Near' fatal. Funny.

Dad had bargained me to seeing a therapist, but unless the school forked over more settlement money we weren't going to be able to afford the cost of more than a session or two. The doctors had eventually let me go without further checks, but they kept suggesting that trauma isn't so easy to get over.

If only they knew.

I took a deep breath, embracing the silence and the dead feeling of the Graveyard. I closed my eyes and dropped my hood again, letting the cold air surge around me. Then I extended myself, letting the cold air become part of me. Or maybe I became part of the cold air. I couldn't tell sometimes. I felt my senses extend around me. Only twenty meters or so. But it was enough. I could tell I was alone. Or as alone as I could be anymore.

"Are you satisfied?"

She didn't answer me. I wasn't surprised. She didn't speak much. I could hear words now and then, a whisper or a plea, but usually it was feeling. As I embraced the emptiness, I felt calm from her and a little acceptance. We were alone. We'd always be alone. But that was okay. We were always together.

"Ready to go home?"

A cool sense of isolation settled into my chest. As far as I could tell, it was her way of saying yes.

"Okay."

I turned and walked away from the shore, letting the cold wind rush around me again.

 

[volantredx]

Filling a plot idea that I've had for a long time.

For Hate's Sake

Emma checked her watch again. Her contact still had a few minutes to show up. Still Emma was nervous. It had been the first time in days since she left the house and she couldn't help but feel this might be a trick. It wouldn't be the first time.
Ever since she ruined her life. Skitter, or Weaver, or whatever Taylor was calling herself. It didn't change anything. She was still weak, no matter what she wanted to pretend. To much of a coward to do her own dirty work. No she just got gussied up and got to go on TV and tell people her little sob story. Every appearance she did meant new hate mail, or phone calls, or people in her school giving her looks. Emma couldn't take it anymore, especially when she saw what it was doing to everyone else. She almost ended it herself, took the easy way out, but then she got the offer. It almost seemed to good to be true, and normally she would have said that it was for certain, but after all the rumours recently Emma would have believed anything. She checked her watch again. It was time.

Suddenly she became aware of someone watching her. No one else should be out this late though. Normally she'd be scared of attention this late at night, but even months after Skitter left town no one dared to commit crimes in her territory. Turning to look she noticed the figure make a gesture, the signal that they decided. So this was her contact.

Making the sign with her hands to prove who she was, the figure walked up to her.
Under the light of the street lamp above them Emma could finally get a good look at her contact. She was tall, and well dressed, her features made her seem Mediterranean, and she was younger than Emma would have thought.

"You're Miss Smith?" Emma asked nervously.

"I am," came the reply. "You're Emma Barnes."

It wasn't a question but Emma nodded anyway. Her nervous feeling had only grown since the woman had appeared. Something about her set off alarms in Emma's head, but she had come too far to stop now.

"Good, then let's get down to business. You wish to become something more than you are, something far stronger. I know your history so I can guess at your motive. Still I wish to hear you say it, and answer honestly. I will know if you lie and if you do I will leave and you will never find me again."

Emma swallowed heavily. With a shuddering breath she answered, "I want to kill Skitter. I want to make her pay."

"Word is she's a hero now. The last best hope for the heroes to exist. Why would you want to kill someone like that?"

"I know what people say but I don't care. She ruined everything. I want to hurt her. I want revenge."

Miss Smith was quiet for a long time, and Emma was terrified that she had said something wrong, but then the woman smiled. "Good," reaching into her coat the woman pulled out a small vial of fluid. "Normally a vial of this level and power would cost 8 figures, and would come with some hefty strings. For you it's a gift, on the condition that you fulfil your dream."

"W-why?"

"You're not the only one that wants revenge." Miss Smith's eyes turned away, looking up at the city's skyline. "Skitter took away the one person I've ever loved in this world. I can not take what I want in return, there are far too many repercussions, but I can aid others. For her sake I give you the power you want. For our sakes I hope you succeed."
With that Miss Smith handed Emma the vial. "Drink it all at once. You will feel some discomfort, but when it is over you will feel the strength you need."

Emma looked down at the vial, it felt far heavier than something that small should have been. She turn back to thank the other woman but she had vanished. There was no going back, Emma knew. Drawing a deep breath she opened the vial and swallowed the contents. Suddenly her world blurred and her blood felt like fire. She fell to her knees and then Emma Barnes changed.

XxXXxX
So yeah, I don't have plans for it after this, but if anyone wants to use it go right ahead.