Chapter 37 - My SI Stash #37 - You Are A Kryptonian Now by TheEpicLotfi (Worm)

-Dude gets SI into Worm as a freaking Kryptonite. Instant read~ （＾ν＾）

*I haven't read Worm at all, I just like reading Self Inserts in general but I still look up on google (Worm Wikipedia) what's it about, the characters etc. to better understand the context!

Sypnosis: Our intrepid Self-Insert awakens in a strange land with the intuitive knowledge that he is a Kryptonian.

His first task? Survive the Undersiders' bank heist. Easier said than done, however, since he has had yet to absorb any sunlight from inside the building.

Rated: M

Words: 74K

Posted on: forums.sufficientvelocity.com/threads/you-are-a-kryptonian-now-kryptonian-si.57514/threadmarks (TheEpicLotfi)

PS: If you're not able to copy/paste the link, you have everything in here to find it, by simply searching the author and the story title. It sucks that you can't copy links on mobile (´ー｀)

-I'll be putting the chapter ones of all the fanfics mentioned, to give you guys a sample if you wan't more please do go to the website and support the author! (And maybe even convince them to start uploading chapters in here as well!)

Chapter 1.1-1.3

Alright, from the top. I'm a Kryptonian, and I am now in Worm. Like a newborn baby with an a.d.u.l.t body and memories implanted, I knew exactly what the f.u.c.k was happening to me, and it was not comforting in the least. Now? I was inside blackness, which finally receded to reveal people dressed in costumes surrounding us with big monster dogs.

"Fifteen minutes," I heard a feminine voice announce. "We won't be here any longer than that."

F.u.c.k.

000

This was real. This was real and it was happening. Right now, in fact.

Utterly uncaring of my inner turmoil, Skitter continued. "If you are thinking about running, making a phone call or getting in our way, this is a good reason to reconsider. This little creature and her one hundred sisters that I just brought into this room are under my complete control." They were there, dangling above us from hundreds of gossamer threads, just waiting to sever the connection it had to the ceiling and do its job.

"She's a black widow spider. A single bite has been known to kill a full-grown human or put them into a coma. You move, talk, try to find or kill the spiders I just put on your bodies, in your clothes, in your hair? I'll know in a split second, and I'll tell them to bite you several times."

I fought through the stress and apprehension, clinging to one life-line: I knew who Skitter was. Taylor Hebert. She'd never kill me. She couldn't. That wasn't in her moral fibre… yet, at least.

I plucked the spider from above me and crushed it with my thumb and index finger. I stood up and gave Skitter a shaky grin. "Y-y-y-you mean that t-t-thing?"

"Uh-uh." Tattletale shook her head. "Big mistake." She pulled out a gun and pointed it at me. Oh f.u.c.k. She, I knew, would definitely take exception to that. "Black guy with the dumb hairdo, come." She's not a murderer.

"U-uh, no," I said. "I'm fine where I am." She's not a murderer.

"Come or I'll shoot you." She's not a murderer.

"You won't," I protested. "B-because you're not a killer."

I heard a deep voice rumble a "F.u.c.k it." And suddenly, I was inside darkness. Oh f.u.c.k, Grue was coming.

The first punch hurt the hardest. Right on my face, even. Did he break a tooth? He didn't stop with just one, though. Three to the face, then one to the torso which winded me. I was on my knees, in pure agony. The darkness receded, and all the hostages turned to me.

Tattletale's grin only sharpened. "What did our friend say about not being a hero?"

I grinned through the pain. "You're all… bark… why didn't you… kill me?"

Why am I saying this? Oh, right, because Grue f.u.c.k.i.e.d with me, and I didn't much appreciate that. And because these are all f.u.c.k.i.n.g characters that I know like the back of my hand. Grue is a reputation-savvy asshole who doesn't really like playing by the rules that society had set, seeing himself as above that shit, but he wouldn't kill me. It was a combination of not having the stomach to do so, and it was genuinely the stupid thing to do.

"Shut up, beefcake, or those words will be your last." What the f.u.c.k were these lines, anyway, and why was I still so intimidated by them, despite the corniness?

I looked around at the crowd. A teenaged girl with brown hair gave me a tiny shake of her head and a disapproving scowl. Amy, my brain absently noted. She could heal me.

I was safe.

"They won't, though," I wheezed, and for the life of me, I did not know why I said the next thing that I said. "Because you're a dumb bitch who couldn't-!"

BANG.

My shoulder. My shoulder. She shot me in my f.u.c.k.i.n.g shoulder.

Oh my GOD, it hurt.

So much for 'Kryptonian', huh?

"F.u.c.k!" I screamed. I was on my back, breathing sharply, sucking in short bursts of air. It hurt. It hurt like nothing I had ever experienced before in my life. I began to curse in every conceivable way, in every language, stepping out of my moral comfort zone to say the most heinous of things, all to let out the sheer overflow of emotion. "Tattletale!" I screamed. "This isn't over! I'm gonna… Oh, I'm gonna laser-eye… laser-eyes… you… I'm… lasers… F.u.c.k!"

"…needs healing!"

"Stay… where you are… move…"

"…bleed ou-…"

The next thing I felt was relief, plain and simple. All my pain was basically sucked away in a single nigh-orgasmic instant. The sheer juxtaposition of misery and neutrality threatened to have me devote my life to whoever allowed me such bliss.

The haggard, brown-haired girl who stared back would probably order me to jump off a cliff if that exasperated look had anything to say. "You're an idiot, you know that?"

"Oh, it's you," I muttered. "Okay, this… this is good." I grabbed her by the shoulder. "Don't try to reprogram Skitter's bugs. It'll only end badly for you. Just let them take the money, let them leave."

She pushed my hand off her shoulder and gave me a disturbed look.

"Nursing time's over," I heard Tattletale's obnoxious voice pipe up from ten meters away, outside of the clump of hostages. She pointed the gun at me again. "I'll need you to shut the f.u.c.k up, or the next place I'll shoot will be your knee-caps. One for each word you'll utter henceforth. Panacea'll heal you, of course, and we can rinse and repeat all day. Just say the words."

I couldn't believe the nerve of that bitch! I opened my mouth to-

I shut my mouth almost an instant later. Rage gave way to fear, because truly, I didn't want to know how it felt to be shot in my knees. I'd rather live a long life of that never happening.

"Good thinking." She winked at me. "Now," she addressed the rest of the crowd. "I want you all to understand that we're not f.u.c.k.i.n.g around. Sit the f.u.c.k down, shut the f.u.c.k up, let us do our job, and you guys can go back to your life, all safe and sound."

"…this wasn't a part of the plan," I heard Skitter murmur into Tattletale's ear. How the f.u.c.k did I hear that? "You almost killed him."

"Trust me," Tattletale murmured back. "I know where to aim. Besides, he was pissing me off."

"This doesn't look like 'Cops and Robbers' to me."

Tattletale had no response to that.

The Undersiders continued their bank robbery. Meanwhile, I had to sit down, utterly useless, no doubt a nuisance to everyone around me. So much for being a hero, so much for being f.u.c.k.i.n.g 'Superman'. The hell was I even thinking? There was barely any sunlight in the bank, most of the lights being artificial. The little that I did receive no doubt went straight to keeping me alive after the shot to my shoulder, and the excuse of an 'enhanced hearing range' I was now enjoying. What good was it to hear when you were f.u.c.k.i.e.d and you could do nothing about it?

One more word and I'd be shot. Again and again, because stupidly enough, I managed to step on Lisa's trigger: being called stupid.

Man, f.u.c.k her narcissism. No wonder the Worm community liked to bash her!

"Bug," I heard Tattletale say. "Take the brave guy out of the crowd. Keep him close to you so he doesn't give anyone dumb ideas. It's either that or I shoot him again. We can't afford to have the crowd mob us."

With that, she ambled away. Skitter turned to me. "You"—she pointed at me—"Get up. Sit closer to me."

I stood up and navigated through the maze of people sitting on the floor until I reached Skitter, who looked several inches shorter than me, and much less intimidating as a result. "Sit down," she demanded. I did just that. "Don't turn around. Face me at all times, or Grue will beat you up some more."

"So much for spider bites," I muttered. She clenched her hands, her head gesturing towards Tattletale, who was keeping an eye on us both. Right. Keep mum.

I caught the blonde girl's reflection from the exposed part of the windows on the glass door. After a minute or two, she joined two other Undersiders, Alec and Grue, at the vault in the back. This was my chance. I had to capitalize on Taylor's doubt.

"Bug girl," I whispered. "Don't talk back, just listen. I heard what you did to Lung." She hid her emotions well. I could commend that. "I'm proud of you. I know what you've been saying to Armsmaster." I looked at Tattletale until she went to follow Bitch and Grue, no doubt trying to open up the vault door. "What you're doing is f.u.c.k.i.n.g brave. You don't have to go any harder than this. It's fine. In ten minutes, the Wards will come. All of them, except for Shadow Stalker. If you join forces with them, we'll put away the Undersiders once and for all."

She shook her head minutely. Right, she was on a mission to find out who was backing them.

"The boss is Coil; Thomas Calvert. We've known for a while, now," I lied. "Tattletale is a high-rated thinker. She will sniff you out by tonight at the latest. It isn't safe for you to be with them anymore."

Her thoughts were inscrutable through her costume, her body-language still and vigilant. "If you turn your act around now, the PRT will let you go. I can assure you of that."

Something told me that she didn't seem at all convinced.

F.u.c.k, come on, Taylor! "I wasn't lying when I said you're not a killer. You're just caught up in something terrible, with no one to guide your hand. I'm not saying that you need someone to tell you what to do, but you're not going at it the right way right now."

She still wasn't reacting.

"There are two killers in the Undersiders," I said. "Bitch is wanted for murder. She killed her foster family. Jean-Paul Vasil, or Alec as you might know him, is the son of Heartbreaker. There are outstanding warrants against him for **** and murder. Forget about 'three-strikes', your boy is destined for the Birdcage." Her hands were shaking. She hid them behind her back. "You do not want to associate with these folks. The moment you get caught with them, the waters will muddy fast, and you'll get in over your head. Again, you're a good kid, Bug girl, and I don't want to see you taking this direction in life. You could be one of the most powerful heroes in this city. This undercover look doesn't suit you."

I was convincing her. I could see it. I knew it in my bones.

"When the Wards c-" BANGBANG. Air left my lungs wholesale as a projectile shot through the back of my knees and through my knee-caps. I was utterly dazed, and I hoped I would feel this way forever, because I knew that once I reached the top of the ramp, the only way to go was down.

And down I went. Down, further down than I could possibly imagine, like a Higgs-Boson particle finally hopping out of its false vacuum state valley.

I saw white.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

I woke up feeling much better.

"-not a part of the plan, Tattletale!" Taylor shouted.

"-don't you dare f.u.c.k us, Bug, don't you dare! You have no idea what I'm capable of-"

"-threatening me? Is that it-"

"-f.u.c.k.i.e.d with your head, you idiot-"

No. They weren't shouting. They weren't even in the room. They were out of the lobby, probably somewhere far, but still inside the building, yet I could hear them plain as day. Taylor's doubt was more apparent, now.

"Focus!" Grue shouted. "Guys, here's a quick fix: let's toss the douchebag out. He'll be somebody else's problem. We've secured the hostage's compliance, so it doesn't matter. Tattletale?"

"Sure," she said.

Black clouds were already expanding out from the corridor leading to the lobby. "Remember the plan, Bug girl!" I shouted. "Wash your hands off this mess!" And in another moment, it was dark.

Hands wrapped around me, lifting me up on my feet. They began dragging me somewhere. Suddenly, they threw me, and I rolled down the stairs. My h.i.p.s ached like a motherf.u.c.ker, but it was manageable. Jesus Christ, I hate the Undersiders.

I got up shakily. "F.u.c.k!" I screamed. "F.u.c.k you, Grue and Tattletale!" I shouted, then I screamed myself hoarse at the bank's entrance

The door shattered to reveal a giant monster dog that punched me with their paw. I rolled as far as to the other end of the sidewalk and didn't get up. Down the street, the sun was just about to set over a building. I reached my hand up to take as much sunlight as I could, all the way until the sun had dipped beneath it, and there was no more sun. No more sun…

F.u.c.k.i.n.g Worm.

Chapter 1.2

I wish there was more sun.

I felt better, though. Not great. Not not in pain. Just better.

Someone came up to me to help me up. I took their help and got on my feet. "T-thank you."

The man was white and old, with male pattern baldness. He gave me a nod. "Don't mention it. Are you feeling okay?"

"I feel like shit," I admitted. He led me to a building wall, where I leaned against. "Oh, f.u.c.k," I looked at the hole in my white sweater's shoulder.

"Can you walk?"

"Yes," I replied, irritated. "I just need more sunlight…"

"Sunl-"

"Yes," I responded. "Yes." I limped away from the scene where dozens of people were coming to observe. I didn't care what the f.u.c.k happened to those stupid shitheads, whether Taylor actually followed my advice, or if they actually got arrested this time around, or if Amy listened to my advice about not trying to be a hero. If I was lucky, Tattletale's display of brutality should have suitably cowed her-

"Wait!" I heard a voice behind me. It was Amy. Why was Amy following me? Well, it made sense to let her leave along with me. Now, Glory Girl wouldn't have a reason to bash the Undersiders' skulls in. Though it paid to have powerful hostages, using Amy was just playing with fire.

I trudged on ahead and tried to scamper away, but it hurt.

"F.u.c.k-wait!" She shouted after me.

I tripped over my legs and fell on the asphalt where I belonged. Is this enough suffering, author!me?!

Amy crouched over to where my head was. "Do I have permission to heal you?"

"Knock yourself out," I muttered dejectedly.

She did. I, quite unashamedly, gasped in pleasure as Amy's power straightened me out. "It's as I thought…"

I sighed. "I've got alien physiology, and you're fascinated in me." I pushed myself up to leave. "Okay, whatever, I've read that story before. Bye. I need to sleep on a heap of trash and wait for sunrise." Or… not. Oh, no, nonononono, Jesus Christ that sounded like a terrible idea.

"Wait," she said. I didn't. "What the hell is your problem?"

"My problem is I need a cigarette, and I already swore those off, and I'm not about to fall off the wagon."

"Stop!" she shouted. I did, turning around.

"Yeah? What did you want?"

"What the hell are you?" she asked. "You've got no Corona, and your DNA is utterly alien. You don't share a single genome with any known organism. I've got more in common with rocks than I have with you."

"I'm not a parahuman," I said.

"Yeah, no shit!" she practically hissed. "I'm not stupid, so don't f.u.c.k.i.n.g treat me like I am. I asked you a question."

"I'm an alien," I then said. Probably the one true thing I had said all day. "I'm a f.u.c.k.i.n.g alien. That's what I am. I'm not from this city, this state, this country, this continent, this world!" I took a deep breath to calm myself. "And really? Everything is freaking me out."

"You're a Case 53," she said with some finality.

"Call it whatever the f.u.c.k you want," I said.

"How did you know I was going to reprogram her bugs?" she asked.

"Because…" I muttered. "That's what I would do."

She glared at me, now. "With my powers?"

"Sure."

"What do you know about my powers?"

I looked at her flatly and rolled my eyes. "You're a biokinetic with kiddie gloves on."

Her eyes were as wide as dinner plates. "How did you know?"

"Powers," I said, jazz-handing. "Panacea," I said quite deliberately. "Listen carefully… I'm…" I sighed." I can't sleep outside. I ain't about that life. I mean, it's cold outside. What I want to do is crash on your couch, and the moment before sunrise, I'll be out of your hair. I promise that."

She sneered at me. "What makes you think I'll agree to that?"

I sighed and mentally counted down from ten. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm weird. I'm aggressive. I'm not in a good place right now. I was shot twice today." I took a deep breath in. "I meant thrice. Thrice. I was shot thrice, today. Both my knees, and my shoulder. I respect you, Panacea. Thank you for saving my life."

"You're… welcome," she said, still staring at me dubiously.

"So…" I gestured towards her. "You followed me for a reason. What was it?"

"I… I needed to know what you were," she said. "There's… sophistication in your make-up. Optimized organic systems that snap into place when things aren't right. It might take a while, but you can heal correctly from any and all injury. It's like… someone made you… someone perfect."

"Ah, gee, thanks," I replied flatly. "Are you satisfied?"

"That you're an asshole?" she replied.

"I need a bed!"

She nodded. "The PRT can house you. Just wait here. Once the bank robbery ends, I'll connect you with the Wards. They'll take you to HQ. You can explain your situation, there."

I nodded and gave her a lopsided smile. "Actually, thank you, Panacea." Speak of the devil, however, down the street, more black smoke billowed outward as an array of costumed individuals, some flying — one on his own and the other on a hoverboard — and some on the ground, were poised to attack.

A white-clad teenaged girl descended from the sky, then, to stand right beside Amy. Glory Girl, of course. She looked just like how the fan-art portrayed her, almost disappointingly so. A cutesy round face and a costume more reminiscent of Lady Liberty with a short skirt than Supergirl. Still, she was definitely one beautiful person, leggy as all hell.

"Oh, thank God, Amy." Victoria Dallon wrapped her sister around in a hug. "When I heard the bank was being held up, I thought—"

"They let me out," she said. "Mostly because that idiot over there—" Was she pointing at me? "—couldn't keep his mouth shut. He called their bluffs and almost got killed, so they decided to throw him out, and me while they were at it."

Victoria narrowed her eyes at me and hummed. "That was… stupid of you."

You're stupid, I stopped myself from saying. "I'm a stupid person," I admitted. "Glory Girl, could you do me a quick favor and fly me up to a roof-top? I really need some sunlight."

"Right!" Amy exclaimed. "T-that's how the cells… that's how they activate, isn't it? Holy shit, this could…" she devolved into crazed mutterings.

Victoria looked at her dubiously. "Ames… Earth to Ames." Amy looked up, almost befuddled.

"Right, sorry… I was just… considering things. Hey, you"—she pointed at me—"I need to touch you again."

"I have a name," I reminded her.

"And… I don't care about that," she replied easily. "Give me your hand for a couple more seconds."

"Amy," Victoria said. "You're acting weirdly."

"What she said," I said slowly. "But… okay, f.u.c.k it." I walked towards her, hand outstretched. "Here."

She took it, and then spaced out, probably focusing the entirety of her brain on my Kryptonian DNA and how her shard could benefit from such succulent data.

Wait, f.u.c.k.

I was almost going to pull back, but Amy let me go first. "Done."

F.u.c.k!

Why did I let her do that? Moreover, why was I so impulsive?

Did I just accidentally doom Earth-Bet?

Like stress usually did with me, it gradually eased into apathy. It was done. What could I do? The answer? Get stronger. Hah, and unlike a certain Saiyan in Brockton, that meant I didn't have to train all that much beyond soaking in sunlight. Speaking of sunlight. "Glory Girl, about that favor I asked?"

"Has anyone ever told you that you're weird?"

"Only every time I meet someone," I replied. I held my arms up, and she hugged me with one arm before lifting me up. I was expecting pain or discomfort, but instead, I received nothing. That was promising. The moment I touched down on the roof-top, the sun was on me again. Unfortunately, it wouldn't be for long. Several dozen kilometers away, a mountain range stood tall. In a few more minutes, the sun would dip beneath the mountain range, and I'd be f.u.c.k.i.e.d until sunrise.

"...Are you staring at the sun?" Glory Girl asked.

The last of the sun finally dipped below the mountain. "I was, yes."

"Why?"

"I want to detach my retinas," I said. "It's an insurance fraud scheme." I did some stretches. Oh, I felt good. I felt great, actually. Could I fly yet?

Okay, make like Peter Pan and feel freeeeeeeee!

No flight.

"Alright, don't tell me," she responded. "See if I care."

I looked at her, one eyebrow raised. "I was joking. No need to catch."

"...Catch what?"

Ouch. Difference in slang… that would do ya. "You know, catch feelings."

"I have a boyfriend."

"And I'm legally an a.d.u.l.t," I responded. "I meant 'getting upset'."

"You've got a weird accent," she noted.

"Everyone around me's got a weird accent," I replied right back. "I think it's you who should talk normally."

"Are you from Africa?"

"Not yours, no. I'm pretty sure that one's a giant dump." I went over to the ledge of the roof and sat myself on it, legs dangling. Below me, on the streets, a black van marked with the PRT insignia pulled up right in front of the bank. The darkness had abated. The Undersiders were filing out, some unconscious, and others restrained. F.u.c.k. They did it. I turned to Glory Girl. "There's a girl that was kidnapped, you know."

"What?" she asked. "Where? How do you know?"

I raised a finger. "The bank robbery was a distraction. A cape named Coil used it to kidnap a girl named Dinah Alcott — a highly powerful precog. Few people know she even triggered; well, except for him."

"How do you know all of this?"

"I can hear things," I said, posing it as a mere observation that was completely unrelated to her question. "I've got enhanced hearing." Because that was the truth. Lies were easy that way. If someone asks a question, tell them a truth, not necessarily the truth, and let their own biases do the rest of the work.

She flew up over me and descended right in front of where I sat, standing on thin air. "How do I know you're not just full of shit?" she asked. "Lying to a hero isn't exactly a smart thing to do."

"Because I know you'll beat me six ways til Sunday, and I'm not stupid. Besides, I'd gain literally nothing from sending you on such a wild goose chase"

"It's six ways from Sunday," she corrected. "You could just be exceptionally brave. If I was told the truth, you weren't exactly keeping self-preservation as a priority during the bank heist. Plus, a lot of villains would like it if the heroes get too distracted on bogus rescue-missions."

"I knew exactly what would happen if I pushed the Undersiders' buttons," I defended hotly. "They're all kids, anyway. Plus, I saw your sister and I took a chance on her. As for Dinah, it's fine if you don't believe me. An Amber alert is going to sound in a couple of hours. Little Dinah's gonna have needles shoved in her arm pretty soon unless we do something."

"-an agent of yours was ins-"

I looked over to the procession of Undersiders and found Skitter getting filed into the van, quite forcefully, at that. Oh well. I'd do my best to get her out, and it's not like she did something that couldn't be forgiven. If fanfiction informs me correctly, then they'll all get Wardship.

Well, except for Alec, who might definitely get Birdcaged unless they bring to light years of child abuse. Also, Tattletale might just get ganked or broken out by Coil. Bitch was… ironically enough, I loved Bitch. She was definitely one of my favorite characters in the setting, and her origin story really tugged at my frozen heart strings. They would most likely not overlook the fact that she Victory Royale'd her foster family. F.u.c.k, that was sad.

Then there was Grue, who almost broke my jaw. The less said about that piece of work, the better.

It felt utterly alien to still have so much empathy for people who straight-up f.u.c.k.i.e.d me over, knowing exactly where they came from. If I had to live with the guilt of my sister's suicide, I'd be pretty f.u.c.k.i.e.d up. If I had to single-handedly take care of my younger siblings, I'd probably do some questionable shit to get by. If my dad told me that the only way to have a place in the family was to murder and ****, I honestly didn't think I'd have the moral fibre to stick to my guns, especially if that moral fibre was never cultivated in the first place.

"F.u.c.k…" I muttered. "It didn't have to end this way for them."

"Why?" Glory Girl scoffed. "They had it coming. They tried to rob a bank. They shot you!"

"Like I said," I sighed. "I'm a stupid person. Though I'm pretty sure the only reason the Undersiders were defeated was because Skitter betrayed them."

"Why would she do that?"

I smiled a little. "I… told her to."

"Bullshit."

It was getting darker, now. Dark enough that the street lights had turned on. "I don't think there'll ever be a day where you'll just take my words at face value, Glory Girl. I applaud that."

A guy wearing a white suit with clock faces on them began to fly towards our position. What the f-Clockblocker can fly? Is this an AU? Please don't let this be an AU. Say sike right now.

Clockblocker hovered before me, arms crossed. "You the guy Amy told us about?"

"Uh, yeah," I said. "...Clockblocker?"

"Aegis," he corrected. "We switched costumes."

"Right." That happened. "Yeah, I've got like, no home or whatever, and I've also got powers, so that gives y'all an excuse to house me, right?"

He tilted his head. "What are your powers?"

"What aren't my powers?" I chuckled. "Well, I'm solar powered, and goddess Sol isn't really gracing us with her presence right now, so I guess you could say I'm just your everyday man. I do have enhanced hearing right now. I can probably hear whispers from a block at most."

And they were all saying pretty… mundane stuff when I focused. When I didn't, it all just muffled. The PRT grunts were trading coded words with each other, pretty impenetrable unless I was a military buff, which I wasn't. Military types sure did like their acronyms. Posers.

"That… could be useful," Aegis said. "And if you get more powerful in sunlight… there's potential in that."

"Okay, so, now what?" I asked. "Armsmaster pulls up on his bike and takes me in? Do I ride with you guys?"

"Uh… so Clock notified HQ about you, and the Director would probably like to have a one on one with you." Makes sense. "Are you Wards age?"

"No," Glory Girl answered for me. "Says he's legally an a.d.u.l.t."

"Well, I'm nineteen," I confirmed, not that I had an I.D or a passport to actually verify that. Truth be told, I should have gotten a Cauldron tattoo or something. Coupled with Panacea's testimony and some light acting on my end, I could have gotten away with selling the whole Case 53 angle.

Well, until Armsmaster busted out his lie detector.

Eh, I guess honesty would be the best policy in a world of parahuman thinkers and Armsmasters. Nobody had to know my alien (hah) status right now. I spoke English, and I wasn't planning on overthrowing America, so they wouldn't have much cause to panic.

None of that really mattered. I just needed a bed. Once I could get through the night, I'd have a whole day's worth of solar radiation available to me.

Glory Girl was still looking at me like I was hiding something, which I definitely was, so she wasn't too far off the mark. Aegis' full-face mask left him inscrutable.

"You'll be riding with us," Aegis said. "What's your name?"

"Lotfi," I said, making sure to enunciate it clearly and loudly. He would have to be an absolute idiot to-

"Sorry?" Aegis floated in closer. "Lofty?"

"I want to choke you so hard right now," I bit out, glaring daggers at him.

"I didn't hear your name right!" Aegis defended.

"That's a dumb name," Glory Girl observed casually.

"You're a d-..." Calm down, me. Calm down. "Lotfi. El-Oh-Tee-Eff-Aye. Not much to it, I grew up Muslim, it's an Arabic name."

"Huh," he said. "Interesting. Why don't you come down with me? We're riding out now. I'll have to hug around you."

"Sure," I said. He swooped in and lifted me off gently before slowly descending us both. It felt surreal, being suspended by a person who was literally flying. It shouldn't have been possible at all, but it was. I was experiencing it, after all. The moment I landed, the magic ceased abruptly. It was over, no matter how much I wished it wasn't.

I had to learn how to fly stat. I saw Glory Girl fly off to reconvene with her sister, mentally tuning out their conversation as I focused on where Aegis was leading me. I passed by the van holding the Undersiders. The moment Skitter spotted me from inside the van, she strained against her bonds. "You promised!"

I stopped in front of her. "You tend to say a lot of things when your life's at stake."

"Ah, piss off," Tattletale snarled. "You knew that we weren't gonna kill you."

"Bitch, you shot me!"

"And now you're walking!"

"Tattletale, shut up," I said calmly. "And Skitter—" F.u.c.k, why did I call her Skitter to her face? Uh, whatever, roll with it. "I haven't forgotten. I'll do my best to get you out of there. Lawyer you up, yadda yadda, you know the deal. Don't say anything."

"You told me-"

I felt myself getting riled up. "Skitter, you literally held dozens of people hostage, fearing for their lives! If you honestly, for even a second, think you're guilt-free, that you did absolutely nothing wrong, I honestly don't know what to tell you. Just sit tight and wait, alright? The worst they'll do is offer you probationary Wardship, though I have no idea what they'll do to your Canadian pal over there." I was lying. The worst they'd do is put her in jail. Probationary Wardship would probably be likely, but I had no idea how canon Piggot worked. She might very well throw the book right at her face regardless over her change of heart. Then again, she was allowing Sophia in her team. She obviously didn't have too much of an issue with dark horses.

Uh, I hated speculating. Always led to so many different avenues, but none certain. What I'd do for Dinah's power.

"F.u.c.k you," Alec muttered almost emotionlessly, letting some amus.e.m.e.nt bleed into his voice.

"Rabbit-Ears," Aegis called to me. "We're just about to leave." Why did he call me- oh, my hearing… that beat revealing my real name to a bunch of villains with a grudge, though. Still, I'd have liked a better epithet. F.u.c.k, now the Undersiders would go around calling me that, even as my other abilities manifested.

"Sorry," I said. "Again, sit tight, Skitter."

The PRT officer closed the door to the van, cutting Tattletale off mid-profanity. Yikety yikes. Good riddance to her. I walked over to Aegis until I reached their van, and climbed onto it.

All the Wards were already seated. A really young girl, a really beefy guy in a purple diamond-print latex suit, Clockblocker in Aegis' suit, a guy in a medieval suit of armour and finally a brown-haired boy in a gold and red power-armour.

"Introduce yourself." Aegis nudged me.

"Uh, okay," I said, clearing my throat. "Heyya, kids." I can't believe I was actually talking to the Wards. This felt so surreal that my already tenuous grip on reality began to fray severely. "The name's Lotfi. I repeat, Lotfi. I can hear within a pretty big range at the moment. Nothing special. Yet. Currently, I'm homeless, so there's that."

"Welcome, Lotfi," Vista announced. "I'm Vista."

"Oh, it's a superpower!" I said. "The hearing-thing. Also, thank you, Vista."

"We… kinda got that impression," Clockblocker said.

"Just had to make sure," I said. "Dunno why."

"I'm Clockblocker," Clockblocker in Aegis' suit said. "We switched suits today. Surprisingly, it worked pretty well for us, especially after Bug-girl switched sides."

"Kid Win," power-armour boy said.

"I'm Gallant," the medieval armoured boy continued. "We'd love to have you with us."

"I'm glad you'll have me," I replied.

"Browbeat," beefy-boy said in a voice that belied his size. "I'm glad my debut was actually worth something."

"Wish I could have seen you in action, Browbeat." I ambled over to take an empty seat next to him. "No, seriously, I really do." Wow, was he f.u.c.k.i.n.g huge or what? Aegis took a seat on the van, and after the doors closed, we were on our way.

"Lotfi," Vista piped up. "Did you just receive your powers?"

"A little something like that," I said.

"Oh… I'm sorry."

I shrugged. "Had worse days… probably… maybe not," I admitted. It was hard topping being shot, after all.

"What can you hear right now?" she asked.

I began to focus on auditory stimuli. "Well, for one, PRT goons like to moonspeak to each other. Can't get good locks on conversations since we're in a moving car. A couple words at most, nothing more. The drivers are saying jack squat, by the way."

"Hah," Clockblocker guffawed. "You'll just get a headache if you try to figure out what they're saying. Better just leave them to it."

"Wait… I think I'm hearing the Undersiders. They're in a van behind ours. Tattletale, actually… hold on, let me focus."

"-you're hearing this, you're f.u.c.k.i.e.d. Yes, I'm talking about you, Rabbit-Ears. If you're hearing this, you're f.u.c.k.i.e.d. Yes, I'm talking about you-"

Nothing for me, there.

"What did she say?" Vista asked. "It looks like you just bit into a lemon."

She's a troubled individual, I tried to remind myself, but I found that difficult at best, on account of the egregious offences towards my person that she had committed.

"You know what?" I asked, losing my temper. "F.u.c.k. Tattletale. I seriously hope the Director throws the book at her so hard that her f.u.c.k.i.n.g nose breaks!" I wasn't being rational. None of these Wards needed to hear this.

Clockblocker, for his part, stifled his laughter, which caused a domino effect where Kid Win practically burst into real laughter, triggering an avalanche of mirth from Clockblocker. I found myself gradually smiling until I laughed along with them. My God, this whole situation was stupid.

"Nah, but seriously." I didn't get far before devolving into another fit of laughter, then joined by Kid Win and Clockblocker once again, while Vista muttered a long-suffering "Boys…"

I tried to focus my hearing again on what Tattletale was saying after calming down a little.

"-es, I'm talking about you, Rabb-"

"Pffttthaahahahah!" They joined me in another round of laughter.

"What is she saying?" Vista pouted.

"Oh, uh…" I took a while before I regained my composure. "That I'm fu-hahahahahah!" Browbeat, at least, chuckled. "Uh, she's saying that I'm basically f.u.c.k.i.e.d," I explained. "Yeah, and I'm not putting it past her, but you know…" I shrugged. "She had it coming."

"I'm glad you feel better," Gallant then said.

I shrugged. "I'm holding up…" I wouldn't be able to for much longer, though. "I'd… appreciate it if we could all continue talking. It sounds weird but… I'd rather stave off the inevitable mental breakdown for as long as I'm in polite company. Weird, right?"

Vista reached over and put one hand on my knee. "I don't think it's weird."

My eyes were stinging. Why are you like this, Vista? I choked back the tears and gave her a small nod.

The Wards were good kids.

Chapter 1.3

Sarah Livsey

In her cell, she wondered where it went wrong, the things she could have done to have affected a different outcome. It all led to one conclusion: she should have just thrown the bastard out of the bank when she had the chance.

---

He plucked the spider from above and crushed it with his thumb and index finger. Used to killing bugs. Does not like bugs. Does not fear bugs. Hates bugs. "Y-y-y-you mean that t-t-thing?" Bravado mixed with fear. Is utterly confident that we won't hurt him. Ah, that would be an easy misconception to get rid of.

Six feet and one inch, possibly two hundred pounds of brawn. A fighter? No. Likes going to the gym. Iffy body-image. "Uh-uh, big mistake." She shook her head. He was trying to be a hero, wasn't he? Doesn't have a plan. Is winging it. Knows he won't die. Why was that, exactly? Knows about the Undersiders and their M.O. "Black guy with the dumb hairdo. Come."

"U-uh no," he said. What an idiot. "I'm fine where I am." She didn't need to use her power to see that he was gaining more confidence. Less stuttering, more steadiness. At this rate, he'd rile up the mob.

"Come or I'll shoot you," she said, and she really meant it. Reputation was important in an operation such as this. Failing that would have the heist completely flop.

"You won't," he protested. "B-because you're not a killer." Back with that absolute certainty. This was how villains got their first body-count, she mused. When idiotic hostages valued their lives too much. Is absolutely certain that you won't kill him.

Grue shook his head. "F.u.c.k it." She didn't need to consult her power to know exactly what would happen. The bank blacked out, and once the fog cleared, the asshole was on the ground, beaten and bloodied. No bones broken, but that would all definitely bruise. She grinned.

When she spoke, she did so to everyone. "What did our friend say about not being a hero?"

And the idiot still wouldn't stay down. Is absolutely certain that you won't kill him. F.u.c.k! Knows the Undersider's M.O with extreme intimacy. Does not believe that a bunch of teenagers would kill him. Was this guy actually insane? "You're all… bark… why didn't you… kill me?"

She pointed the gun at her and spoke through gritted teeth. "Shut up, beefcake, or those words will be your last."

Against all odds, he continued, like the absolute f.u.c.k.i.n.g numbskull he was. "They won't, though, because you're just a dumb bitch who couldn't-!" She had heard enough. The bullet went straight into his shoulder-bone because f.u.c.k him and the horse he rode in on.

---

That wasn't just where it went wrong. It continued to go wrong even from there, when the asshole turned out to have f.u.c.k.i.n.g super-hearing, when it turned out that he had enough f.u.c.k.i.n.g knowledge to not only literally cause the one girl least likely to betray them, to betray them, and when it turned out that the surety he had that the Undersiders wouldn't kill him? It was completely well-founded.

She tried to consult her power once more, to remember details of his attitude. Intimate knowledge of the Undersiders and their M.O.

A cape geek, then?

Was there more to it than that?

"You're not a killer." A half-lie. Believes that you will kill. Future knowledge allows him to intuit that you will kill because he has future knowledge that allows him to intuit- She cut her power off. It helped nobody when it went circular, least of all her.

What the f.u.c.k did that even mean, anyway? "Why didn't you... kill me?" Proving a point. Knows you wouldn't have killed him. But f.u.c.k.i.n.g why?! Knows the Undersiders' M.O intimately. Okay, and why? Has read about you. Extensive reading. Knows- the migraine came at her hard, but she persisted. She could feel it, finally providing answers at last. Knows the Undersiders' secret identity.

Who the hell was he? Did he work for Coil? Would not condone Coil. Too moral to tolerate Coil. A white-hat, then? Couldn't be. He was a new trigger.

"I have no idea what they'd do to your Canadian pal over there." Refers to Alec. Knows Alec is from Canada. Knows that Alec has committed crimes. Crimes of high severity. Crimes that may qualify him for the Birdcage. Is counting on Alec going to the Birdcage. He wasn't just a f.u.c.k.i.n.g cape geek. Who was he? Cares about Taylor more than he does the rest of the Undersiders. Cares about Bitch, as well. On some level, he cares about Tattletale, too. Wait... what was his attitude towards Coil again? Does not condone Coil. Would rescue Tattletale if he could. Counts on Tattletale to become a Ward.

That... f.u.c.k.i.n.g asshole! All that work to get away from her parents, and for what?!

The migraine was reaching critical mass. Just... just a few more answers. How did he know all this? He is intimately familiar with the Undersiders' M.O because he has read about it.

The migraine overpowered her and she let go of her power. She literally did not have enough data to get a meaningful answer. She should have known.

000

I had to wait outside while the Wards briefed the Director. I could hear that their dressing down wasn't nearly as severe as in canon. Piggy still gave Kiddy shit for using an untested Big F.u.c.k.i.n.g Gun during the bank robbery, and the Wards still got their pays docked for not following protocol, but at the end of it all, she gave them a decidedly positive "Good job, children" before sending them off.

Kid Win's cannon power source was still confiscated, however, and his cannon sent for review, but other than that, they all got off scot-free.

A PRT grunt approached me. "The Director will see you, now."

I followed him. Inside sat the corpulent director, surrounded by not one, but two capes. One was dressed in military fatigues and looked decidedly attractive. The other was in a blue and silver power-armour, with a giant axe-spear tech-monstrosity strapped to his back.

"Have a seat," she said as I entered. I did just that, sitting before her desk on the provided chair, trying, and failing to ignore the bona fide superheroes surrounding her. Armsmaster cut an imposing figure. His power armour, silver and blue, wasn't bulky at all. His armor made sense for a miniaturization tinker to have made: it hugged around him tightly, accentuating muscle and a spry, athletic physique, showing them off in panel-like configurations. Miss Militia wore combat fatigues, a military cap and an American flag scarf over the lower half of her mouth. She was shapely as an hourglass, albeit an athletic one. One that did regular jogs in the morning and wasn't afraid to do some lifting in the gym. With the automatic rifle strapped to her back, all in all, she looked like the security guard in any given Kenyan mall. "What is your name?"

"Lotfi," I replied. "Lotfi Sharif."

"Reportedly, you have super-hearing?"

"Yes," I said, meaning it. I did have super-hearing.

"Truth," Armsmaster said. "My instruments are detecting omissions, however." Because of course they were. F.u.c.k.i.n.g Armsmaster.

"I power up from solar exposure," I continued. "Permanently."

"How do you know this?" The Director asked.

"It's like someone told me what my powers are," I said. "It's... instinctual knowledge, I guess."

"Omissions are still present," Armsmaster said gruffly. "You do no one any favors by lying to us."

"Okay," I said. "... but how do I know I can trust you guys?" I mean, I could, but I had to put it out there, since not doing so would make them suspicious of me.

"You've mentioned that you're homeless," the Director said. "That can be taken care of quite easily. You can live on-base in the Protectorate Headquarters, or the PRT HQ right here. Of course, the caveat remains that you play ball. We don't lease rooms to itinerant parahumans. Also, I would like to see any identification for your registration process."

"I'm not from Earth Bet," I said. "I'm from a different Earth. I have no identity here. I'm dimensionally stranded. I can't even say how I appeared here." Because doing so would probably f.u.c.k with their world view a lot.

Both Miss Militia and the Director turned towards Armsmaster, who stared at me impassively. "...Truth."

"That is alarming," the Director said. "We aren't in the habit of accommodating dimensional refugees."

"I literally have nowhere else to go." I threw my hands to the side. The Director looked towards Armsmaster, who nodded slightly, before acquiescing.

"Very well," the Director said. "There is a precedent already set by people in your shoes. Have you heard of the Case 53 parahumans?"

"Yes," I replied. "From Panacea," I quickly added.

"Then you know that their lack of ability to identify themselves leave them amenable to the creation of an entirely new identity. If you join the Protectorate, we could put your skills to good use, and we could integrate you into a life in Earth Bet, quite legitimately, might I add. Better yet, as you're not suffering from physical deformations, you're definitely a lucky specimen."

I smiled a little. "I'm sensing a 'but'..."

"Armsmaster will ask you a series of questions. It's up to you to be as honest as possible when answering them. Barring extraordinary circ.u.mstances, our decision to have you will not change."

"Go ahead," I prompted.

"Were you an American citizen on your Earth?" he asked.

Damn. He really didn't f.u.c.k around. "No, I wasn't. I was a Kenyan citizen."

She narrowed her eyes at me. Armsmaster continued. "Had you ever visited America?"

"No, I hadn't."

"What is your opinion on America?"

Why was he asking me these questions?! "Didn't seem like a pleasant place from what I'd seen on the television, no. I mean, sure, it's a nice place, but a lot of its politics don't sit well with me." There was more to it than that, of course, but those were the cliff notes. It's an okay country, but it could use a lot of work. "All in all, it's a first-world country, so it looks nice to live there?" I shrugged. "Personally, I'd prefer Canada." Why am I digging myself deeper?

Miss Militia shifted a little.

"Would you consider the lives of innocent civilians as a necessary trade-off to make a political statement?" Translation: are you a terrorist?

Depends on the message? No, f.u.c.k, that's crazy. That's not even what I believe. "Not generally speaking, no. Political change is better achieved without innocents dying." I did believe that. Or, at least I believed I did. Which was basically the same thing.

"Do you consider yourself ardently political?"

"Yes," I responded honestly.

The questions continued in that vein, unsubtly measuring my inclinations towards anything that might be considered running counter to America's best interest. There were a lot of questions. My answers gradually went from complex sentences to monosyllabic, but I could tell that none of the individuals inside the room were slackening their vigilance. It was fair, I supposed. Honestly, I was just getting tired.

The questions were getting weirdly personal, now. Where did I lean politically, what were my stances on LGBT rights, what did I think about women, what religion did I grow up with, did I still believe, and a whole plethora of different ways to ask me if I was a terrorist.

Eventually, the questions stopped. The Director gave me a nod. "Armsmaster will lead you to our power testing facility."

"Hold on," I said. "I'm joining the Protectorate, now, right? I'm on track, right?"

"If all is in order," she said.

"You just asked me twenty-one-hundred questions. Is something not in order?" I grinned unsuredly. "Do you not like leftists or something?"

Her expression was utterly dry. "I can assure you, Mr. Sharif, that your political leanings are the least of anyone's concerns in this room. Listen and listen carefully: for as long as there's even a tiny possibility that you are a spy sent to acquire PRT secrets, we will remain vigilant towards you. The fact that your power so conveniently happens to be super-hearing does not better your situation at all. In case you weren't aware, interdimensional politics is a matter of billions of lives. If I turned out to be overly paranoid, then so be it."

I sighed. "I literally just want a bed to sleep in. Can't we do this thing tomorrow?"

"Follow Armsmaster to the power testing facility, or you can sleep on the sidewalk." —F.u.c.k!— "The choice is yours, Mr. Sharif."

"Alright, alright," I said getting up, trying, and failing to hide my smile at her sudden zero-to-a-hundred. "Didn't have to be so mean." I really did not care for authority figures like her. The bitter truth was that I really wasn't in a position to make demands, though. Not yet, at least.

Wow… that felt strange to think.

I almost tripped over my feet at the thought. I was a f.u.c.k-mothering Kryptonian. Sooner or later, I'd be strong enough to destroy planets, probably even more!

Instead of scaring me, the thought provided a tiny measure of tranquility. Soon enough, nothing could ever measure up to me. Scion could destroy continents using his avatar, but I could actually destroy the whole planet. Moreover, I knew exactly where to hit him where it hurt: his dead wife.

To first get to that point, though, I needed to survive to see the next day. I had plot armor, most probably, but author!me had made no indication that he actually cared for my mental or physical well-being beyond the power to continue breathing. If what remained of me in the final days of Scion was a husk of my former self, traumatized to hell and back, I didn't know what I'd do…

I couldn't rely on author!me to protect me. My shoulder and knees ached at the mere memory of the ordeal that I just went through. The more I thought about it, I... I...

"Heheheh..."

Armsmaster turned his head to look at me. "Is something funny, Mr. Sharif?"

Yeah. One day in the Wormverse, and my ass has already been kicked six ways from Sunday. "It's all too much," I admitted. "I can't help but laugh, you know? Today was... a monumentally shitty day."

"My condolences, Mr. Sharif."

"Eeesh." I scratched the nape of my neck nervously. "You're awfully formal. If we're going to be working together, you can call me by my first name."

He tilted his head up. "Lotfi, then? May I ask where that's from?"

"It's Arabic," I said. "Ethnically, I'm Somali. We tend to have Arabic names, you know, ever since our culture was subsumed by their culture." I shrugged. "Don't really care much about that, myself. I wish I did, but I don't."

All he did was nod. I don't know what I expected. Maybe I should have toned down the rhetoric. "So... you're a parahuman," I said.

"Yes," he responded curtly.

What's your power, I wanted to ask, but I had no idea how his lie detector would take that. It wasn't a definitive lie, since I was only asking a question, but it could be construed as hiding what I knew, which was, itself, a lie by omission.

He said 'lie by omission' earlier, didn't he? How the F.U.C.K could he detect that?! Best not talk to him too much, then. I bode my time just trailing after him aimlessly. He took us through the many twists and turns of the corridors before reaching an elevator that took us down far. When we emerged, we hiked a little further before reaching huge double doors. Armsmaster pushed it open and walked through. I trailed quickly after.

The power testing facility large. Giant implements with handles on the bottoms probably for testing brute upper limits, training dolls at the opposite end of what I knew was a shooting range, and a boxing ring, most likely for sparring, were only a few of the dozens of weird shit I was currently seeing. There was a lot to take in.

"...whoa..." I muttered. "Where do we start?"

"With the truth," he said. "Lies by omission win you no favours with us. Your super-power may involve an extended hearing range, but I'd like you to be more specific than that."

"Okay," I said. I took a deep breath and said: "Alexandria package with laser eyes and ice breath. Oh, also with every type of vision you can imagine and an extended hearing range. Granted, I won't have access to most of that without more sunlight."

He seemed to frown. "...You're telling the truth." Was that… aggression I detected? "If what you're saying is true, then we can have you tested for upper limits of your brute or blaster powers, provided they have manifested. Then, I will investigate the current limits of your hearing range. This will take some time."

At least he was being honest. "So what's first?"

"We eliminate the powers that you don't have. You will have your brute power tested, and then your blaster powers. If neither manifest, we will move on to testing your thinker powers. Follow me." Absently, I noticed how the man was simply incapable of saying 'please'. It wasn't particularly annoying, since I wasn't exactly the paragon of niceties, myself. I could respect Armsmaster's curtness because I was pretty sure that it would be difficult to faux pas around him accidentally, and all I had to do was ignore his unintentional rudeness.

At the shooting range, I tried to activate my laser-eyes. No dice. Ice breath?

I blew hard. To my utter surprise, what came out of my mouth wasn't just empty air, but fog. It slowly descended to the ground and dispersed, of course, but... holy hell! I tried to blow again. Fog continued to blow out of my mouth, but it did absolutely no damage to the floor. It couldn't even hit a target, for crying out loud. That didn't matter. It was a proof of concept. It meant I was doing something right.

Belatedly, I remembered the existence of super-breath in Supes' arsenal of powers. I tried to blow as hard as I could, but nothing came of it. I switched to ice breath, but it still had limited range and efficacy. A shame.

When I reported back, Armsmaster took me to the giant machine with a bar attached near the bottom.

The idea was to deadlift the bar. It was configured to find your upper strength limit as you lifted. It did exactly that as I bent over to lift it up. It was suddenly really heavy before lightening to reach just the bleeding edge of my limit. I remained completely upright for ten solid seconds before dropping the thing with an audible SLAM that rang throughout the facility.

He then took me to the machine that would measure my durability. I put my hand underneath this laser thing and once the laser turned on, I would press a button the moment I felt pain. It took a couple of seconds. I stayed my hand even as it stung. When it lurched from sting to 'OHMYGODTHISHURTS', I did my level best to calmly press the button so Armsy wouldn't disapprove of my trying to f.u.c.k with his data. The laser turned off. There was a black spot on my skin, though, but I stopped it from doing real damage. Armsmaster, for his part, could give exactly two shits, already ushering me away from the device and onto the next part of the test.

Then, he took me to a treadmill and had me jogging. The treadmill gradually increased in speed. Ten, twenty, thirty kilometers an hour. At thirty, I was shocked. Why? Because I had barely gotten started. At forty, I felt a strain. At Fifty, I felt like I was reaching a limit. I pushed everything I had to reach a solid sixty. Once I did, I evenly decreased my speed until I was just standing. I was panting like a dog. Holy shit, I was fast.

Armsmaster gave me a nod before leading me to the shooting range, again. I barely managed to follow through with the burn in my thighs.

Armsmaster told me to stay put in one end on the width of the expansive shooting range, and began to move away from me, whispering pass-phrases for me to copy. When he reached the end of the range's width, he took to whispering lower and lower. At one point, he apparently encoded a phrase into a frequency beneath the reach of human ears, and I just barely managed to hear it.

Eventually, I messed up too many times to be within an acceptable margin of error, and we cut out the hearing test from then on. He checked my vision right after. X-ray was a bust. So was... pretty much every other type of vision he could think of: infrared, ultraviolet, hell, even long-ranged vision was a bust. Turns out, I really was starting to fit into my 'Rabbit-Ears' moniker.

I was mentally exhausted when it ended. By then, he recited to me a report of his findings. "You will now be assigned your provisional PRT parahuman classification ratings, beginning from high to low. They are on a standard scale of one to ten, with anything above five requiring specialized responses, and anything approaching ten requiring a team of parahumans with specialized training to combat. We usually reserve numbers exceeding ten, the scale-breakers, to S-Class threats; the highest class of threat that the PRT classifies, capable of threatening the well-being of entire cities." He wasn't pulling the stops explaining all of this to me. Made sense. PRT ratings weren't exactly common knowledge. Still, it felt surreal, like I wanted to shake him and tell him to quit being delusional.

None of this was a delusion, though. It was real, writ large in black on white, locked in a textual medium. It may not have seemed real to whoever was reading this, but… I existed, dammit.

"I will begin with Trump." Armsmaster jolted me out of my thoughts. He continued by explaining what 'Trump' meant, which was basically a power-rating which described powers that involved the manipulation of powers, whether personal or targeted. "The next one is your Thinker rating." He explained what 'thinker' meant. I listened, not saying a word. "An extended hearing range that not only supersedes the human range by a factor of five, but manages to expand the range of frequency heard, is quite potent an ability. Do be warned that the illegal procurement of sensitive PRT data can lead to prosecution. We will be watching you very closely for this reason alone, Lotfi." I nodded. As long as I got a bed to sleep in, these guys could give me a cavity search for all I cared.

Er, no... that would be a little too out there.

"You are also a brute. You are decidedly above the peak of human strength, at about fifty percent more. This gives you an edge when in combat with non-powered individuals, but with coordination and tactics, you can easily be taken care of by a PRT platoon. Your speed qualifies you for a mover rating, as well, a parahuman with enhanced mobility. The least impressive of your results were the blaster tests. Your 'ice breath' turned out to be utterly ineffectual, and all the other powers you purported to have are apparently not manifested yet. Numbers will be attached to these ratings at a later date once I submit the findings for review."

Finally. "Okay, so about that bed."

"Right after your body scans."

F.u.c.k!

000

I had to keep reminding myself that if I were in their shoes, I would be doing the exact same thing that they were doing to me; that is, maintaining utter vigilance, to the point of paranoia. To them, I represented a possible threat, one that could threaten their lives. Piggot really hadn't done much to hide the raw, n.a.k.e.d sense of suspicion she leveled at me, treating me as a ticking time-bomb that wasn't really worth the trouble it took to get the prize that was inside. I already knew I was on thin ice from the moment I first saw her.

Armsmaster scanned my entire body in a giant MRI. Once that was over, he had me wait somewhere in the med-bay while he and a host of technicians discussed the findings. Yes, I was using my hearing to listen in on them because why the f.u.c.k shouldn't I?

"-utterly non-standard biology, and no Corona to boot-"

"-Case 53, or-"

"-a tissue sample-"

I winced at the last bit. Eventually, Armsmaster strode out of the imaging room and nodded at me. I stood up. "The doctors wish to take several tissue samples of you."

"Several?" I gasped, feeling my heart clench.

"I've decided to leave that up to you," he continued. "We found nothing hidden or artificial within your body once we eliminated your strange anatomy from that list. Technically, you're clean, unless you have an ability that allows you to store objects remotely."

"No, sir," I responded. "I don't."

"And your decision on the samples?"

"Respectfully? F-no." My stomach chose that exact moment to alert everyone of its presence. "Yeah, I'm also a little hungry."

"Follow me."

I let my mind wander as I followed Armsmaster again. I refused to acquiesce to how ridiculous it all was. I clearly wasn't real, and neither was he, yet it felt absolutely real. I directed my mind towards more productive ends. The one thing that had been tugging at my attention for hours, now, was Taylor's little predicament.

"The Bug-girl," I said to Armsmaster. "What's going to happen to her?"

"If she has any sense," he said. "She'll become a probational Ward."

"...Does she, like, have a choice in the matter?" I asked.

"No," he responded curtly. "It's either that or continue to live as an outlaw. Either way, she's not leaving this building easily."

Oh. F.u.c.k. If Taylor said yes, she'd have to unmask to them, and then her father would know what she'd been up to. If she said no, they'd keep her in a cell, and her father would not know what she'd been up to until she either folded, or somehow managed to break out, which she wouldn't be able to.

Oh, and Tattletale.

F.u.c.k. I stopped dead on my tracks. "Is Tattletale secure?" Armsmaster stopped and pressed on the right side of his helmet.

"Status update on Tattletale."

"Bird's in the cage."

"Pig's in the pen."

"Hen's in the hen-house."

Could these blowhards be less cringey?

He turned to me. "She's inside. Reports from three different officers confirm it."

"Good, because there's a mole in this organization of yours," I said. "And he'd do whatever it takes to either free or kill his assets. Whatever you do, protect Tattletale."

He frowned at me. "How do you know this?"

"One of my abilities, as you may know, includes super-hearing," I said. A lie by omission, but in the grand scheme of things, everyone lied by omission. The nature of spoken conversation was that you couldn't elaborate everything. Details fell in the way-side, and stories were always left half-complete for the listener to fill out. That was human nature, and that was why Armsmaster half-accepted the answer, no doubt wanting to pursue the line of questioning at a later date, when the stakes weren't as high.

"Who is the mole?"

"Thomas Calvert."

I could practically hear the BGM intensifying in bass (bwwong), and I imagined almost perfectly the dolly zoom on Armsmaster's face when he said. "F.u.c.k."

000

You tell me why I took so long to tell Armsmaster this vital piece of information. Maybe it was the fact that I was a scatterbrained idiot at the best of times. Maybe it was the fact that I was still dealing with trauma.

Maybe, some part of me really didn't give a f.u.c.k?

Either way, apparently, my testimony, enhanced by Armsmaster's lie detector tech and the knowledge that I was a decently rated thinker, was just enough to have Armsmaster mobilize a team to scour the building in search for Calvert.

Of course, they didn't find him. Not a surprise. In the timeline that we did find him, he no doubt collapsed it already. No, that was too simple. He probably rode it out in search for the knowledge of who found him out and would eventually collapse it once he did. I told Armsmaster as much. I was worrying about when he would ask me where I got so much information, but now wasn't the time, it seemed.

The Protectorate leader switched out the PRT officers from different platoons and kept them informing him on a regular basis, and that meant every captured Undersider. Taylor had, reportedly, requested a lawyer. If she was smart, she was currently in the process of throwing all the other Undersiders under the bus to save her hide.

Once the cacophony died down, I'd do my best to provide Bitch and Alec with good enough legal counsel to save them from what was yet to come. Grue would sort himself out. If they took in Madcap, who arguably did much more damage to society than Grue ever did, they could take in one small-time robber.

Armsmaster led me to the cafeteria and left me there. I picked up some food and used my extended hearing range to get real-time updates on what was going on. Presumably, Coil was a no-show, and with how Armsy kept scrambling to replace officers randomly, whoever worked for Coil in-house couldn't risk outing themselves in order to cut the loose end.

Calvert couldn't be found in his home, someone said. There was no one to ask because Calvert had no life outside of his work, someone then said. Something, something, something, Calvert operated a minor construction company and was a busy man, but there was no mention of Endbringer shelters. So much for 'Fortress Constructions', it seemed.

Thomas Calvert was utterly incommunicado, suspiciously so. From what I heard, he was always a couple of rings away, taking his job with the type of seriousness only reserved for someone whose parents bred them to be an accountant.

So… this was it, then. Coil was as good as gone. The Undie-Sidies were out of a boss to pay them since they were either going to jail, or joining the Wards.

I laughed at my tray of salisbury steak with a side of potato mash and gravy. Very carb-heavy, but I had a stressful day; sue me. "What the f.u.c.k this was so easy."

"-kill Tattletale-"

Record scratch. Freeze frame. What the f.u.c.k did I just hear?

I locked in on the coordinates for that sound. "-use your side-arm to kill Tattletale. I am willing to pay you two-hundred thousand dollars, deposited to your account, before the act. After the act, I will prepare your escape."

"Yes boss."

I left my food half-eaten, running out the cafeteria and into the hallways. The guy was two floors down. He was going to take the elevator. I ran through the corridor until I found the door to the staircase. I knew, from what I had heard, that the 'dungeon' was located in the bas.e.m.e.nt floors of the PRT building for convenience's sake. I ran down as quickly as I could, then, hopping over dozens of steps at a time. I grabbed onto the railing and threw myself down the other flight of stairs and repeated the process.

I still hadn't let go of my auditory leash on the mole. Absently, I tried to reach out to Armsmaster. His sound was the most distinctive of them all: metallic clangs, servos whirring and a gruff breathing pattern.

He was several floors above, about four, talking to someone who sounded a lot like Piggot with her incessantly heavy breathing. My hearing locked back to the mole. I was fast going down the stairs, but the elevators were almost matching me floor for floor.

Once I had finally reached the bas.e.m.e.nt floor with a door that would lead to the holding cells, I found that it was locked. I tried to push it open. No dice.

I made like an action movie star and kicked it open. It dented appreciably. I did it four more times. Alarms rang. Didn't matter. The mole was closing in.

Once more and the door fell off its hinges. A nearby PRT officer pointed a rifle at me. "F.u.c.k!" I shrieked, stepping back. "Ah, not a g-please not a gun!" I held my knees, trying to prevent myself from hyperventilating.

"On the ground, now!" he screamed. Meanwhile, the mole was still walking.

"Oh my- gun!" No, not important… just, just ignore the gun for now. "Listen," I said. "I found the mole with my super hearing. Contact Armsmaster quick!"

Still pointing his rifle at me, he activated his comm device. "Codename: Rabbit-Ears says he picked up on the mole. Yeah, he's at floor Bravo."

"We don't have enough time!" I shouted, rubbing my hands against my face, exasperated beyond belief that he chose now to devolve into military-speak.

"Uh-huh… got it." He turned his attention to me. "Armsmaster says not to let you through."

Of course he did. "Someone's life is at stake, here!"

"Master/Stranger lockdown initiated." The loudspeakers blared.

He nodded. "That takes care of that." He gestured his gun at the flight of stairs behind me. "Go back to where you came from. We'll handle this."

I tried locking in on the mole. The mole got stuck in a corridor between two descending metal plates of steel so thick, I basically lost my read on him.

In fact, I basically lost my read on almost everything surrounding me. "I want to talk to Armsmaster," I said. "And please stop pointing a gun at me! It's freaking me out!"

Way to go, me.

"Says he wants to talk to you." I tried listening in on his conversation.

"Give him a radio." A moment later, the officer handed me a walkie-talkie. It crackled. Armsmaster's voice then came through. "What is it?"

"I know where the mole is," I said. "I heard him, and I know where he's stuck."

"...Stay put. I will be at your position shortly."

I looked at the radio in utter disgust. I mean, who talked like that? He sounded like an actual android. The PRT officer, for his part, lowered his f.u.c.k.i.n.g rifle. Goddamn, that was a load off my back. Being in Worm was hard.

Armsmaster was with me in minutes. "Where is he?"

I pointed vaguely around the room. "Not far… I think I echolocated him—" was I using the word right? No matter. "—but when the lockdown happened, it… everything went black."

"Lead me to him," he said. I did. Every time we encountered a barricade, he would use his access pass to let us through. More and more of the facility opened up to my senses as he did, until finally, we reached the metal barricade that I was ninety-percent sure that our man was hiding behind.

"Get behind me," he demanded. I did. He used the access pass and readied the halberd in his hands when…

I was on the ground long before the bullets flew. Even as my face was to the ground, the noise was heavy enough to provide an accurate picture of the place. Armsmaster pointed his halberd at the bastard, tanking several bullets. Electrodes attached to wires shot out and struck him on his neck. He jerked and fell, still conscious, but in too much pain to do anything about it.

I got up shortly after. "Job well done?" I said.

Armsmaster ignored me.

"...How's Tattletale?" I asked.

"Tattletale remains safe along with the rest of the Undersiders." He turned to me. "I'll be keeping an eye on you."

"Sure," I said. "So… now what?"

"I'll have your quarters arranged. You need to rest after what happened to you today. We'll have a talk tomorrow."

…

…

FINALLY!

Interlude 1

She had been in here for hours, left completely alone to her thoughts. The room was bright, with walls of white concrete, and gunmetal gray, stained floor tiles. As expected, she was cuffed to the table.

It felt like Winslow all over again, when the trio would include the administration in one of their little pranks, and she had to bear the brunt of Principal Blackwell's wrath.

This time? She knew she deserved it. The whole 'operation' was misguided, stupid even. Armsmaster was right about everything. She was just a dumb little girl way in over her head, and she didn't even realize that until she saw what the Undersiders did.

They were f.u.c.k.i.n.g villains. What the hell did she expect, that it would all turn out well, and they weren't actually that bad? Tattletale shot a man thrice just to make a point. Who the f.u.c.k did that?

Someone opened the door. He wore a red suit with a visor helmet. "Cameras on," he said, all lackadaisical, before taking his seat in front of her. "So… Skitter." Resentment creeped up on her, the unfairness that he got to wear a mask while she didn't. The first thing they did while in the PRT van was to unmask her. After all, she was the villain.

That's… that's what they were calling her? Skitter? It was… as good a name as any, since all the good ones, ones like Swarm, Ladybug and Cricket were taken, two by villains and one by a rogue in Houston, whose power had nothing to do with insects. "Aegis," she replied.

Where was her lawyer, anyway? Could she request one? It... wouldn't hurt to hear him out, though.

"Hm," he hummed. "Sucks when you don't pick your company well," he said. "This could have been avoided if you came to us first."

She shrugged. "A.d.u.l.t oversight and teenage drama isn't exactly my idea of a good time."

"But robbing banks is," he said dryly. "I'm not judging. It's not that hard to fall in with the wrong crowd, despite what people think. My old man used to be one of Marquis' guys way back when. Can you believe it?"

She didn't respond. Something about him annoyed her. He oozed of popularity and confidence, but she had seen that before, seen it from people whose eyes glossed over her in the midst of unending torment.

"Armsmaster tells me to be hard, Militia tells me to be soft," he shrugged. "The way I see it, I'll just be honest. You have two options. You held up a bank, threatening the lives of forty-three people, 'death by black widow venom' if my reports are correct. Let me reiterate: You held up a bank, threatening their lives, with a parahuman power," he raised a finger. "Now that looks terrible. Add to the fact that one of the hostages were shot repeatedly, you're looking at trial as an a.d.u.l.t and prison time." Her gut constricted with each sentence. "The way I see it, being completely honest, you've got two choices. Prison time," he said, and she already decided to pick the next option he presented, whatever it was. "Probationary Wardship."

"Yes," she said weakly. "I'll… I'll be a Ward, but… don't tell my father what happened."

He pursed his lips. "That's… impossible. He will have to be involved in some way or another," he dropped a folder on the table, one he had been holding all this time. "Write down your name and address, and your parents' names and phone numbers. Once they arrive, we can begin your registration."

"Do I need a lawyer for this?"

"That's up to you," he said.

"T-Then I'd like one." She said. That bastard... he had lied to her.

Hah, did that even matter? Her "team" had almost killed him.

She had nobody to blame but herself.