I dreamt I was falling. Falling, falling- SPLAT.

I landed in a shallow pool of mud, a miniature tidal wave spreading from the impact and disturbing a flock of mosquitos. They settled on my skin for a moment before darting off, displeased with my taste, I expect.

I blinked somewhat dazedly as I pulled myself out of the muck. Wet? What? A Swamp? I was… where was I? I had been at home right? I remember warm snuggly kitties, now I was… in a Mangrove forest? At least going by the heat and humidity and bugs and mud and trees and... It was late afternoon, and slowly diminishing sunlight glimmered over the tree tops through the light cloud cover. I was leaning up against one of the trees, fingers digging into the damp moss and blinking with confusion at my surroundings, a hand absently wiping mud off my clothing.

A sudden spike of pain hit me right in the forehead.

YoU sIgNeD uP fOr ThIs, BrOtHeR. ReMeMbEr?

Oh shit. Shit. Shitty shit, shit, shit. Grub molesting, bulge groping, autoerogenous shame globe fondling, shit.

Worm.

No. Just, no. This couldn't happen. Literally. It physically could not happen.

I fell to my knees, staring into the murky water, trying to catch my reflection.

Black hair, not brown. Grey skin, not pale. Horns.

I raised a hand and gingerly touched the protruding keratin, flinching back as I felt my fingers on my horns. A sudden wave of body dysmorphia swept over me at the utterly alien sensation. My hand tightened convulsively on the smooth curves and induced a renewed wave of dissociative nausea.

This. Was. Not. Happening.

I was not on the planet of psycho murder machines. I was not going to be slaughtered by a retarded god in just a few years. I was not going to be forced to kill dozens of people…

…Only dozens?

I crouched in the murky water in a daze; where had that thought come from? Images trickled past, memories- no, not my memories- memories, memories of my hive on a cliff near the sea-I have never lived near the ocean- MEMORIES of painting pretty pretty pictures on the walls in grub blood-never killed anyone- memories that could DEAL WITH THIS.

I stiffened and looked back at my reflection in the water.

I immediately started to hyperventilate as I saw my uncovered face. No, bad, bad, bad, gotta keep my cool, you gotta have something on you. I scrambled through my pockets, noting the loose pajama pants and baggy hoody absently, and found a small tub of grease paint. I heaved a sigh of relief and began to carefully smear it onto my face. Neatly covered, I found another smaller tub with a dark grey color in it. Detail work. A pair of horizontal bars over the eyebrows, slide down the sides of my nose, swooping down over my cheeks, then a curve over my lips. I turned my head side-to-side admiring the work and checking for errors. Not bad.

A white face with a dark gray, upside down Omega symbol stared back at me, looking younger than I remembered but still recognizably my own, with elegantly curving, but still rather short, horns swooping back over my head through my short black hair. My smile of appreciation exposed a mouth full of razor sharp teeth, causing me to smile even wider.

This was fine.

this was normal. EVERYTHING WAS OKAY.

i-we-i was going to be fine; I WAS BORN-hatched-BORN FOR THIS.

i was nearly immortal, I WAS STRONG, I was a mOtHeR fUcKiNg high-blood, i was going TO BE FINE.

My cheek twitched as I SMILED AT MY SURROUNDINGS, and I slapped at it absently. First things first, figuring out where I was exactly and finding some capes to cull- murder!murder! murder!murder!- TO CULL, for their powers. They didn't matter, after all, only people with names mattered… yes… that's right, Planet Meat-Grinder, lambs to the slaughter, might as well be for a useful purpose, mother FUCKING cops and robbers my left glute…

The swamp was large, but I could run fast, my aura-highblood strength-MY AURA, allowing me to dash along at a dead sprint for hours without growing tired. Eventually I emerged from the edge of the trees, swamp giving way to sandy beach. I glowered at the moon as it peeked over the horizon, huge and orange. It was the wrong color… wasn't it? I was pretty sure I remembered the moon being a lovely green… and wasn't there supposed to be a pink one too? I couldn't quite remember, both seemed… right.

I glowered at the sand beneath my strut pods/feet in confusion. Why was it hard to remember? Why did it seem like I could remember both? I had only lived one life, after all… right? Yes… I was TotoroX92… or was it just Totoro? No, no it was the first-second-FIRST ONE… yes… I shifted uncomfortably at the uncertainty and my gaze drifted along the coast till it settled on the gleaming lights of a city.

Whatever. Enough Angst, I had souls to harvest.

I wandered aimlessly around the bad neighborhood I eventually found myself in, but the few suspicious looking people I found ran as soon as they got a good look at me. That was disappointing honestly; I needed to die a few times to start accruing powers from my killers. If I couldn't find any capes about, I was S-O-L.

But low and behold a MIRACLE. A tickle of hatred and fear blipped my radar, I heard the sound of lasers and gunfire from up ahead, and began to run at a pretty good clip, aura enhanced stride carrying my swiftly forward. I burst onto the scene of a modestly large cape fight and took a moment to SAVOR MY FOOD. From the costumes I was thinking three heroes against a pair of villains. The heroes all had a bit of white or gold on their costumes, whereas the villains had black and red. Not very subtle. Well, wouldn't want them to kill each other before they could kill me.

I hit them all with a massive wave of apathy. Within moments they had all stopped fighting and were standing listlessly.

"Hey new friends, I hope you don't mind, but I all up and need some powers, and ya'll fit the bill."

I stood in front of my first target, a man in a stripped down set of black fatigues with a red bandana mask who was holding a gun, and hit him with a massive blast of rage. He snarled, snapped the gun up, and fired point blank into my face.

I blinked, looking at the body crumpling to the ground in front of me, gun still smoking in my hand. Hmm, a decent Thinker, intuitive understanding of ballistic trajectories. Not bad. It didn't even hurt much, really. The new body shrunk and the clothes transformed and everything was as it should be. I didn't kill him, he killed me, get what's coming to you, serves you right, besides I wasn't killing, what even was that, hahahaHAHAHA, no, no, no, just CULLING THE FUCKING LOWBLOOD MEAT.

I was pleased to note that the mud stayed on my previous corpse. That was the important thing, really. Acting beneath my station, ALL COVERED IN FILTH, dirtydirtydirtydirtydirtydirtydirtydirtydirty -

I walked up to the second and handed him the gun. The process repeated until I had absorbed all five of the capes. Besides the trajectory Thinker, there was a Tinker with the ability to create small pocket dimensions, a Blaster who shot lasers that absorbed ambient light in an implosive blast, a Mover who could swim through the ground, and a Shaker that could amplify the effects of weight. All severely weakened of course, but still enough to be getting on with for the moment. Besides, I deserved it-no,no,no,no- I DESERVED IT, they didn't even use their powers intelligently.

I sat down and began to draw, tearing small holes into the bodies lying around my feet so they would bleed neatly. I was pleasantly surprised that their blood appeared to have changed colors after my occupancy, now I had a bit of a palate to work with.

*What's happening?*

-Where are we?-

[I'll kill you for this!]

{Monster!}

|Sharron! Oh God Sharron!|

I frowned at the whispering voices in the back of my head, trying to focus on the large smiley face taking shape on the ground at the center of a basic mandala.

Quiet. You're all dead now; I ate you and you're part of me. Forever. Take me to other capes, and I'll give you one favor.

The voices quieted down immediately.

*Ah screw it. Might as well get some decent company.*

I smiled cheerfully.

That's the spirit!

The two villains were part of a local gang, the Santa Meurtes (a bit pretentious if you ask me, but whatever). Unfortunately, they only had four other capes in their gang, and we could only find three. They were added easily enough as well; a rather high level Brute who could use limited areokinesis, a Mover who could use flames as wormholes over a large area, and another Blaster who fired beams of hard-light.

I was a bit upset with the spread; I had hoped for a few Strangers and maybe some more Tinker powers. More Thinkers would always be useful and Trump effects would be… interesting. Unfortunately, most of those would be more difficult to get.

Once the newly added members of Santa Meurtes had settled down, it was time to repay my favor. I sat and began to doodle my interpretation of what Santa Meurte would look like, rainbow cloak of blood and fractal skull.

Alright then, you led me to more powers to harvest. Now, what would you like me to do for you?

They muttered amongst themselves for several minutes before coming to a conclusion.

-The local heroes were pains in the ass. We didn't even do nothing that bad, but they kept harassing us. Fuck em up for us. We'll tell you where the headquarters is and everything.-

|No! My son is in the Wards! Don't hurt him! Please, he's only a little boy.|

If you want him left alone, then you want me to do a favor for you. You know what the cost of favors is, yes?

|I… I can't tell you where to find any heroes, but if you'll leave my son alone I'll tell you where the head of the 23rd Street Kings lives. I found his civilian identity by accident a month ago. Please, just leave my son alone.|

Agreed.

The 23rd Street Kings were a mostly un-powered group, only the head and a single lieutenant had any powers worth mentioning. They were held together mostly by the strength of their leader, Abyss, who could summon something like black holes in the surrounding area, massive pits that drew everything into themselves that he could walk through with impunity. A nearly perfect defense and a terrifying threat on the battle field.

His hive-house-HIS HIVE was conscientiously unimpressive, only slightly larger and better maintained then the other homes in the area. I made my way slowly up the side of the building, relying mostly on strength since my flight was essentially nonexistent; barely enough lift me off the ground for a few moments with the Brute's aerokinesis. I was lucky; he was cooking dinner on a gas stove. I flicked open a lighter taken from the fire Mover, and slowly fed myself into the flames. It was an odd squeezing sensation, being sucked into the fire and extruding myself out via the gas burning on the stove. I was just beginning to poke through the flames when he noticed, the pot clanging as it fell off the burner. He sneered at my irritated expression and held his hand up, my body only partway through. The blackness grew and I was swallowed.

I blinked and I was looking at the rapidly shrinking pool of inky darkness on the stove, my new body rapidly shrinking from its bulky musculature.

I opened a small cut on my skin and began to draw, the wails of the new acquisition ringing in the back of my head.

There's no point getting all bent out of shape friend, you're with me to the end of days now.

I opted for a simple butterfly on the ground, and signed it with my new-my only- MY NEW NAME.

Subjugglator.

I felt it had a nice ring to it. Besides, it was traditional. I stood up and wiped the leftover blood off on my loose pants. Off to the PRT to collect my last few powers before heading off.

I hummed to myself as I walked out the door.

~They encourage your complete cooperation; send you roses when they think you need to smile…~

Let's see, I needed some better Mover powers, to get to Brockton in a reasonable time. More Tinker powers would be highly useful; I barely felt a trickle of inspiration as it stood, without a couple more to boost each other I would never manage to build anything useful.

~I can't control myself because I don't know how, and they love me for it honestly, I'll be here for a while…~

I also needed find time to train my Aura, the heights available to me with its mastery were of incalculable value. I smiled to myself as I skipped along the road towards the center of town, content in the knowledge of my intrinsic correctness.

~I gave you blood, blood, gallons of the stuff…~

. . .

I sat on the floor of the Protectorate Miami HQ's power testing room putting the finishing touches on my master piece. Swooping lines of color swirled under and over each other, forming an intricate torus that folded into itself to explode outward in a carefully traced lily. I was quite pleased with the work as I hadn't had much of an artistic streak in my last life. The Thinker I acquired earlier helped a bit with the design, and my new Tinker helped with the implementation. The best part was the Striker though. One of the Wards had touch based hemokinesis to a rather astonishing degree. FUCKING MIRACULOUS SKILL WITH MANIPULATING THE SWILL THAT RUNS THROUGH THEIR VEINS. Rust, fudge, mustard, LIME (how rare, how lucky, such a novel color, now all mine), olive, jade, teal, cerulean, indigo, everybody's blood beneath me, as they should be. Purple I could get from my own pusher's beat, drip-drop straight from the vein. None of that wretched violet or sacred tyrian though… not that I got to paint much with that anyway back in… my apartment? In a temple? …Wherever I used to live.

I was frankly astounded by how lucky I had been, even if I hadn't gotten quite as much out of it as I would have liked. At that thought I looked up to glower at the slowly reforming pile of rubble in the corner.

The local Protectorate, besides the three I had eaten already, consisted of an even 6 Wards, and 6 adult members. The son I was set to spare had been out on patrol with another Ward and one of the Adult members, leaving six at the base. Unfortunately for me one of the Wards was a Case 53, composed entirely of rock that he could manipulate with some minor terakinesis. This made him immune to my emotional manipulation, something I only found out after all my new friends had gathered together in the testing area.

Once he figured out what was going on he had tried to stop me, but he didn't have enough fine control to imprison me effectively. He staunchly avoided inflicting more than minor injuries on me though so I had gotten mad eventually and punched him into pieces. Didn't seem to faze him much honestly, so I wasn't bothered none. What even was he if he didn't have blood to say where he up and was on the hemospectrum? I frowned and used the corner of my shirt to wipe a slight spot off the corner of the picture. No blood meant… nothing? Cull bait… sort of… Mutant. Yes, that was it. No blood meant mutant. Mutant means culling. I… hesitated for a moment. I… didn't need to cull him, he seemed… loyal… an admirable, if foolish, trait… Yes… just… ignore him.

The other three wards consisted of the aforementioned Striker hemokinetic, a Blaster that drained the life/energy out of what he hit, and a Tinker with a specialty in water manipulation. Wave generators, hydraulic cutters, etc. He hadn't explored his abilities much as yet, now he never would (its his own fault for being so stupid, not my fault, not my fault). The two remaining Protectorate members had boring powers. One a Master who could shape water into fragile minions and the other a Breaker with a shadow state. Not like Shadow Stalker, his power was actually marginally stronger in that he turned into a literal two-dimensional shadow.

The hemokinesis was nice for painting, but not strong enough in its present state to do more than mulch someone's internals at a touch. The Tinker was the real prize, but I still only had a few ideas on what to build, I definitely needed a couple more similar powers to start the real earth shaking stuff.

I glanced over as the head of the Case 53 finally reformed enough to have recognizable features, eyes rolling briefly in their sockets before coming to rest on me with a baleful glare.

"Hey brother, we all gotta do what we gotta do, and promises are made to be kept. No hard feelings yeah? Makes you feel any better; I do prefer to eat villains, but, well. Don't have as much Thinkering going on as such as I would need what all to find were they all up and are at without a heads up, you know? Anyway, nice beating you, hope you feel better soon. Subjugglator out!"

I pounded a fist on my chest before flashing him a peace sign and wandering out of the building, the normal human staff still cackling madly where I had left them. What even were civillians? If they didn't have powers to harvest, did they even have souls? Not worth my time. Maybe for paint, if I ran low; blood for paint, see how it glistens, whywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhy-

I cracked my neck back and forth as I stepped out the front doors, the blood spatter on my clothes looking more like tasteful paint stains-just paint, only paint- in the dim street lights. I gave a nod to a few passersby and shifted to my new Breaker state, appreciating the reduced weight and visual footprint even if I wasn't quite an actual shadow. I kicked off the ground, a breeze behind me enough to give me some loft. Time to head to Brockton.

. . .

Getting a ride from a normal was easy enough; once one got tired I could just snap their neck and move on to another. The actual drive was interminable, I stared vacantly out the window and let my thoughts wander, trying to achieve a proper stability while my nostrils filled with the scent of old faux leather and spilled energy drink and my glance nuggets were hypnotized by the flickering light of a sun that didn't sear flesh.

I am the top. The HIGH-BLOODED ONE. Everyone else could only serve as paint or a resource to be harvested for the Dark Carnival. That was… no, not everyone. Some people mattered… No, lots of people mattered… right? Yes… maybe… People with names, of course. Chris, Dennis, Collin, Hanna, Ethan, Taylor, Emma, Lisa, Brian, Thomas, Theo, Kayden, Kenta, Newter, Sherryl… Some of those names mattered in a different way though. Some of those names were delicious little cull-bait pre-corpses, some of them were… not. Some of them could be… friends? Yes. Definitely: to interesting to kill.

Corpses are boring, just lying there all day, putrefying, hello mister coffin-fodder, how do you do, oh not at all? how funny, you neighbor said the same thing…

Normals weren't even worth thinking about, what even were normals? Nothing, less than nothing, not even worth thinking about, so don't. Shouldn't kill heroes either or else Eidolon-the Condescension- OR ELSE EIDOLON would come and put us away for good, somewhere far far away, very boring… Yes. That was why I shouldn't kill heroes. Not because it made me feel a little sick inside, not because it made a heavy dark pit in my chest, not because IT GNAWED AT OUR-MY-OUR SOUL, no, no, no, self-preservation, yes, yes, that's why…

Maybe I felt a little bad about it. But not very!

I made another quick stop in Savanah Georgia, an Alexandria package there did regular meet and greets and from on high a miracle, today was the day and now was the time. My mundane chauffer laughed hysterically as the cape strangled me, and then clapped as I took a bow in my new body and sketched a bird on the wing with the lovely jade blood of my previous host. Felt a teeny bit… not good about it. Maybe. Won't do it again, promise, Mr Man, Mister Alexandrian, as pay back for the RIGHTEOUS CULLING. Last time. Just because he doesn't have a name. Not that I would stop if he did have a name! Why would that matter? I don't care, nope, don't care, haha-FUCKING-HA!

Still not enough for true flight, but his Brute aspect was convenient, distributing kinetic energy over his whole person making him essentially bullet proof, though only a modest strength boost. I had set out in the pre-dawn in Miami, met the Alexandrian at about 10, and planned to stop in Richmond Virginia for an early night. My body was still physically rather young and I needed my sleep, though I was certainly not looking forward to what was certain to be a stressful evening. Unfortunately I couldn't keep powering through on energy drinks forever.

As I twisted the head off of my last driver for the evening-didn't care, nope, not AT ALL- and started doodling idly on the walls of the hotel room; THE ROOM SHIFTED, THE WORLD TILTED, MIRACULOUS EQUILIBRIUM WAS LOST; it occurred to me that I should probably be more disturbed by all the murder, and I trembled in blank horror as I beheld my bloody hands. I hadn't been a total sociopath in my first life (had I?) but now I seemed to be mostly indifferent to the welfare of my fellow sentient life forms. I tapped a finger on my chin thoughtfully, smearing blood across my makeup. Maybe it was the whole purple blood thing? BLESSED WITH THE HIGHEST BLOOD, WHAT SHOULD I CARE FOR THE FILTH WITH THEIR GUTTER SWILL?

I stared at my bloody finger, the drying blood a sticking tacky stain as it tried to weld my nubs together. So much blood, blood on my clothes, blood on the walls, blood on my face and in my teeth and on my hands and in my eyes andandandandand- Why did I feel so, I shouldn't FEEL SO- Whatwhatwhatwhat-

The voices in the back of my mind were rather unhelpful, there were now enough of them that identifying individual speakers was tiresome. Mostly they were just screaming about one thing or another, nothing important, monsterdemonmurderervillain- who cares, though a few of the villains appeared to be psychotic enough that they were just enjoying the show. But I couldn't, I didn't, I shouldn't-

I SHRUGGED DISMISSIVELY AT THAT TRAIN OF THOUGHT, the world bent, the walls shifted, equilibrium was restored. It didn't really matter why I was so comfortable with the killing since it was undeniably valuable for my growth. As I stepped into a shower to rinse all the days grime and paint off I sighed at the comfortably cool water. Tomorrow I would be in Brockton, just in time for Taylor's fight with Lung. A nice juicy power and the chance to meet the goddess before her rise. Eyes closed in the face of the shower head, I smiled in bloody satisfaction.

. . .

Sleeping was NOT FUN.

~0~o~0~

A/N: This is a repost from a better site again; if you want to read this fic complete with formatting, omake, and nifty shipping graphs, check it out on Sufficient Velocity. This is the New Version of Chapter one Part one. lots of people made good comments about the extremely frantic pace, and how odd the MC's behavior was. Hopefully yall find this more to your liking. I've also tried to work in some more in-story references and explanations of troll culture. As I keep saying: YOU SHOULD NOT NEED TO HAVE READ HOMESTUCK TO ENJOY THIS FIC. Anyway, some stuff is deliberately left obscure, either for you to figure it out yourself or to deliberately generate uncertainty. The one thing i will say is, troll vernacular is simultaneously hyper specific and somewhat arcane. This means that they typically do not use proper nouns to refer to objects, instead they use a short descriptive phase. Strut Pods, for instance, are what they call feet (the things at the ends of your legs, not the unit of measure).

Worm CYOA V3.0 Build:

Points:

+2 Case 53, Alternian Troll: Horns, grey skin, yellow eyes, and purple blood. Plagued by crippling nightmares every time I sleep and prone to fits of homicidal rage unless placated.

+1 Pintsize: 4 sweeps old (9 years)

+1 Without a Map: Miami

+1 Geas: Pretty Pictures (Compulsive need to paint a commemorative picture after each kill using the blood of the victim. Will use my own blood if none is available)

+1 Geas: Put my face on (Must cover face with makeup using a new design every day, seeing my reflection without makeup triggers intense panic attacks)

+4 Wanted: PRT (National), The Teeth (Lethal Intent)

+0 Reincarnation: Totoro Yagata, Purple Blood Troll

Perks:

-3 Special Snowflake (immunity to power altering Trumps), Man of Mystery (immunity to most Thinker powers), Comic Book Pretty (everything aesthetic)

-3 Twins: Butcher; Jailbroken: (I cannot be perma-killed. Whenever I die my consciousness and powers transfer to my killer who rapidly shifts in appearance to match me. If the killer is uncertain, precedence is given to proximity. My personality and powers are dominant, relegating the voice and powers of my host to a weakened position. When my current host dies their appearance shifts back to their own. All previous host's powers and voices transfer with me. Slightly enhanced strength.)

-2 Twins: Cherish (long range emotion manipulation and detection)

-2 RWBY Aura