AN: An idea born from the madness that is Worm. Also, since dimensional travel is a thing (from what I understand) in Worm, I think that this could happen.
Don't expect this story to be particularly happy by the way. This motherfucker is one evil, heartless and manipulative bastard. Since this is for the most part from said bastard's perspective, expect references to his own world that aren't going to be explained... Yet. If you do understand/researched it, you'll get by perfectly. Not to say that people who don't are going to be utterly lost.
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Phonoi
Chapter I
Supplementary
The Phonoi were the male spirits of murder, killing and slaughter. They are the sons of Eris, goddess of strife.
Jack opened his eyes, and found that the bubble that the fucking traitor had used on him. His body was pretty badly damaged, but luckily for him, they were being healed by Bonesaw's bio augmentations.
He walked out of where he had been trapped, and looked around. He let out a small smile at the complete and utter carnage, that had happened. Despite the fact that he hadn't been there to see the world torn apart, it felt good that it had happened.
But, he had to wonder why Gray Boy's bubble hadn't torn him apart - like he had seen it happen in front of his own eyes. Maybe it had happened, he hadn't been in a very lucid state when he had been captured.
It was a rather interesting question when a strange portal opened up ten meters in front of him. He regarded it with vague caution, but decided that terrorizing some new place would be interesting as of itself.
He might not have his allies wherever he went, but he did have his wits, and his shard. Which was enough to pose a danger to most people, for the most part. He might be able to do his game, once more?
Now, that was a thought that interested him.
Skitter had been rather fun, so maybe there would be another valliant hero to take the torch? Who knew?
He strolled into the portal, and walked out into...
An alleyway. Ah. The universe finally has humor, he mused.
Luckily for the former leader, he had landed in an alleyway with nobody else around apart from rats.
He walked out of the alleyway, and looked around letting a small grin appear on his face. This place didn't seem to have any capes, since he didn't see anyone with strange or out of place items of clothing nor did anyone carry themselves with the relative arrogance that every cape had. Of course, there was the possibility that there weren't any in the vicinity, but that was unprobable.
Even he had that slight arrogance, despite the fact that his power wasn't the most damage-dealing in the world, but he was capable of completely decimating normal humans.
Unfortunately, he didn't exactly have a weapon on him that he could use his shard on, but he was still dangerous. He looked around and noticed that people were staring at the fact that he seemed to have blood on his clothes.
Grasping the chance to gain some sympathy, he staggered forward until he fell over, right in the middle of the street.
"Oh god! Some man's been stabbed!" A young woman screeched. Over dramatically, he might add, but that was merely a nitpick.
Somebody hefted his body over to the side of the road, and took off his shirt, revealing the many bloodied wounds that Grey Boy had inflicted on him during his confinement. He hadn't exactly felt them, nor seen them, but there was enough blood and enough of himself on the ground to realize that he had been stabbed.
With his own knife, he added with a mocking laugh, knowing Grey Boy.
"He needs to go to hospital," a robotic voice that he guessed was male, stated, cold hands touching his wounds.
He forced himself to shiver under the robot's touch, and eventually heard sounds of sirens. That normally came after he had done something to someone, instead of the opposite.
Ironic.
His body was lifted onto a stretcher, and he heard vague mutters of 'how the hell did this guy survive', among many others along the same lines. Maybe, Grey Boy was feeling vaguely repentant. He doubted that as much that he knew that the world would end after that prophecy, but it was a relatively nice thought.
That was probably the side effects of hearing so much preaching, before he killed the heroic capes. With a lot of subterfuge, but he still killed them.
After he got out of the hospital with some clothes, and potentially a bit of money, if he really put on a 'poor unfortunate soul' act. That he was quite capable of doing, seeing as most of the more confident capes before his rise to infamy called him handsome/charming.
Not that he needed that particular trait, since he had heard of so called 'ugly' people get pity as well, but he apparently wasn't ugly was he? Not that he even had a concept like that, in his head at the moment, but eventually as he learned the social norms of this strange world, he'd understand that.
Before he destroyed it all, but that was something for later. He had more important priorities at the moment, (he was surprising himself today, wasn't he), seeing as he had to vaguely conjure up a story to say why he had been supposedly 'attacked'.
He let himself what he thought that most 'villains' seemed to ignore but do in private, and fall asleep.
He woke up in around about four hours, finding that he was shirtless, and that they were slowly cleaning his wounds with a strange mix of alchohol and something else unrecognizable.
The doctor (another robot), said clinically, "You have rather impressive pain tolerance, mister...?"
"Jack." The villain answered, calmly. "It's probably adrenaline, I'm assuming."
Jack was analyzing the whole area, discretely of course so that they didn't think that he was some kind of former soldier. He was just a poor bastard that got stabbed, because of an upset boyfriend. Heh. Probably a believable story in this relatively stable Earth.
"That's probably it." The doctor concluded, before his analytical blue orbs for eyes stared at the cataclyst for the destruction of the world. "You also seem to have an incredibly resilient skin, it must have been a strong person to stab you."
"An angry former boyfriend," He supplied, before adding, "What's your name, then?"
"Tekhartha Zenyatta. The hospital required my presence for help, and I came." The monk said, patiently despite the fact that there was a suspicious undertone to his voice.
"Well, thank you." Jack stated, despite the fact that it probably would have healed by itself. Not as fast, though, he suspected.
He could tell that this Zenyatta person was supposedly wise above his years according to the way that he carried himself, and that anything that opposes his ideals should be at least told his point of view on the whole thing in an attempt to stop them.
A rather dangerous opposition if his plans to form another version of Slaughterhouse Nine, were done the same way that he converted that he had done with Amelia.
"He's fit to leave," Tekhartha ordered the patients, soothingly.
He felt an urge to kill the robot, there and now. That could wait for another time, though. He was incredibly patient.
Those orbs though, were rather fascinating. Jack wasn't sure if they were part of a shard, but that was inprobable seeing as capes were common as soon as even the concept of a shard appeared somewhere.
But, there were people with abilties in this place. They might not have shards, but they could amuse him for a while before he killed them.
With help of course, because he had a feeling that those orbs could both fuck him over and do the opposite.
And whilst he was strong, he didn't exactly have the same terror campaign that was helping him out in this universe, that both weakened and empowered his enemies.
The only reason he had been beaten, was because of a traitor, but that was merely an hypothesis. The 'heroes' could have caught up with him, or he'd be betrayed by someone else.
Then again, he had been betrayed because he was too weak in the eyes of the traitor. He was feeling angry against his former underling, but now, he was going to be even stronger then before to counter react that argument.
First thing's first is to get a weapon, and check to see if his shard was still intact. Second, was to read up on what happened in this version of Earth.
He vaguely suspected of being in the future, but hadn't seen that much different. Sure, there were robots that acted like humans and floating cars, but he suspected that every version of Earth had something different to them.
But, he first needed to act like a normal person and pretend that his body wasn't healed yet.
Oh, if the heroes could see him now. They'd think that he was a completely different person.
Zenyatta looked over at the now dozing off man. He believed that females (and men) would call him attractive, and he was sure that the man definitely used that to his advantage.
But, there was something... Unnatural about him. It was as if, he was hiding something incredibly dangerous.
Genji would call it his sixth sense, and he disagreed. It was more of an instinct then anything else.
He was more suspicious of the fact that this Jack looked at everything with nonchalance, but he was also evalutating them. Their weaknesses, their strengths, among other things.
Dissecting them, for a better word.
That was not the action of a normal civilian. It was the action of either a trained terrorist or soldier, that was in an unknown enviroment. He had seen it, when he visited the countries that were still at war with the Omnics such as South Korea or Russia.
Jack was essentially unsettling, if you looked into it. Under a pretty face, lies a devious mind. The quote perfectly suited the bearded man.
So, he would make a call to check if this man actually existed.
"Genji. I need to check if someone actually exists in any country in the world. Could you do that for me?" The Omnic asked.
"Why though? I'm willing to ask Winston, but he'll need a reason." His friend/student answered, carefully.
"It's that sixth sense that you insist on praising me for." Zenyatta said. "He acts like one of those veterans that you have at that base of yours, except he's dangerous."
"Alright. I'll try, you might not get anything though." The cyborg admitted. "He might be one of those illegal immigrants without paperwork."
"At least, try and find someone with his description, my student." He replied, before giving him Jack's description. "He's a tall, black-haired who's hair is thrown back. He has a goatee, and was on the news for being supposedly stabbed."
"He's that guy on the news? The news reporters all wanted an interview with him, since nobody normally survives injuries like that." Genji commented.
"Those veterans of yours have." Zenyatta pointed out.
"I have to hang up. People are demanding use of the phone, to call their families and all that. See you." The ninja said, after a beat of silence entered the call.
"Goodbye, Genji." The Omnic replied, quietly. And the call ended with a loud beep.
At least, he would have a vague chance of finding out who this person was, for better or for worse.
Jack got out of the hospital, an hour after that robot (that were called Omnics from what he had casually eavesdropped) had appeared. They had given him a pair of clothes, seeing as his own were torn to shreds.
He now was wearing a casual black button up shirt, and grey jeans which was essentially different colours for his old outfit. He didn't care about what he wore, if he wore something.
Then again, he was going to admit that he would refuse point blank to wear anything that females wore. That was just plain idiotic in every sense of the word.
He exited the hospital with little to no problems, and exited the hospital noticing that there were a fair amount of news reporters that were patiently awaiting his next move.
Normally, they were running away from him, he mused. Irony was personifying him at the moment, it seemed.
Jack merely waved, giving them a fake, reassuring grin. Who knew that he was a good actor for facial expressions?
It seems that he was going to get away with faking a stabbing. Which he was the one that normally did those things, but that was in the past.
He strolled along the street, looking he guessed, healthy in the eyes of the public.
He did plan on changing that perspective of happiness that the world seemed to have, at the moment.
But, he had to first familiarize himself with the world. Which meant going to a library, and gaining any information on this world as he could. He was only going back in history for one hundred years.
After that, it would be pointless, and probably similar to what happened in his Earth. World War 2, and all that crap.
He would also have to see if there were any sharp huntsmen knife in the area, since that was the only legal way that he was going to get a sharp knife without delving into a life of crime.
That would happen after he got his knife, and went on a murdering spree. It was how he got into Slaughterhouse Nine, after all.
Maybe, people similar to that Zenyatta would come and... Amuse him for a while. If they became annoying, he'd kill them for sure, but any version of capes were interesting in his eyes.
He might be able to convince them to join him, on his quest for another world ending.
Not that he'd tell them that, apart if they felt the same way about life. That anyone could have it, and that anyone could take it away. An apathy, he believed that it was called, about life.
He managed to find one relatively quickly, and quickly entered.
"Mister. What can I do for you?" A polite blonde-haired woman said from her position at a desk.
"I'm just trying to read up on a bit of history." Jack replied with a grin plastered onto his face.
"Go ahead. It's on the second row to your left." She motioned.
"Thank you, miss...?" The murderer asked, with a charming smile. He felt relatively annoyed, but felt that there was an opportunity here.
"Brittany." The woman answered, flushing slightly red.
"See you in a bit, then." He said, waving from behind his back. He heard vague squealing, and swallowed his contempt forcefully.
He was going to distract himself anyway. It wasn't that much of a problem, in the long term. He did plan on manipulating her into giving him free items, so that he didn't have to resort to stealing from this place.
It would take awhile, and he would probably just read up on it.
He picked up a random book called, 'The Last One Hundred Years', and hastily opened it.
After an hour of reading the book, he found mentions of a team of heroes in disgrace, called Overwatch. Also, there were occasional mentions of an organization called Talon.
There was also apparently the Omnic Crisis that happened 30 years ago, which caused massive destruction to life on Earth.
He might have to get... In contact with one of the scientists that created the Omnics to find out a way to control them. It would be beneficial, but could wait for a few years.
He wasn't exactly pressed on time, at the moment.
Also, there was an Endbringer-like robotic monster terrorizing South Korea, at the moment that was interesting. Not even a quarter as powerful, he was willing to bet, but apparently enough to hold off the technology that this Earth had developped.
A little fact was that he was around about seventy years in the future? Interesting, since he'd have thought that he would have stayed in the year that he had been captured.
Then again, the world hadn't been destroyed when he last seen it, so maybe he had been seventy years in the future.
Who the hell knows, because he hadn't exactly looked at the date when he had travelled to this Earth. It wasn't even that important, in the grand scheme of things, he mused.
He didn't gather much more then that, apart from the fact that peace was a major thing and that people were actively dealing with anything out of the norm. Sounded like an unofficial Protectorate, in his opinion except that this was a much less corrupt version.
He exited the library, not before making a bit of progress on that receptionist, but he suspected that she wasn't needed in the long run. No, he knew that she was a mere pawn.
A plaything for him to manipulate, and eventually discard whenever he got bored.
The thought made him resist the urge to let out a small smile. He didn't doubt that it would appear completely 'psychotic' as Harbringer had called it, when they were in the process of making plans to overthrow King.
Now, that was a thing of beauty. Seeing the surprise look on his face, when the man saw that he had torn his guts apart. He was still alive, or at least enough to say, "Why?"
Rather simple really. He hated being underneath someone, when he knew how every part of his brain and power worked. Jack had known that he could easily, tear him apart.
Close range was King's style, with his shard that enabled him to transfer any injuries, that he sustained onto any person that he had touched within a day. Incredibly easy, to counter and tear his guts apart since he intentionally didn't get touched for a twenty four hour period.
He wondered what he was going to do, at the moment since he had to get money from somewhere now that he was a law abiding citizen. He resisted the urge to laugh.
But, it was admittedly a pressing problem. He really didn't want to become a homeless person.
He gazed around, before finding some guy getting beat up by some thugs in an alleyway, about twenty meters to the right of the library.
Normally, he wouldn't intervene, but maybe he'd get some of that luck that the heroes kept on having, and find that he'd a job for free? Even if not, he could raid the thugs pockets. He wasn't picky.
He strolled onto the alleyway, and took the despicable way to attack. According to the heroes that he tortured at least. The back.
He landed a solid kick in the back of one of them, quickly spying a knife that clattered onto the ground when he fell over to the side.
He picked it up, and looked back at the men that were all wearing hoodies. "What? I'm just getting a rather cool knife."
"Don't you know that this is our territory?" One fo them asked.
"What, this alleyway?" He taunted, his carefree smile plastered on his face, as he took the knife in his left hand.
He forced the knife to project the tip, where it clipped their hoodies, tearing their hoods off. He probably shouldn't kill them, since there was an innocent nearby, and he didn't want to get a potential buyer of his services to get afraid. Just yet.
"What the hell happened?!" One asked, sounding terrified suddenly.
Jack just decided that he was going to call them by their height. Much simpler.
"That was me." The criminal said, getting their attention back to him. "Aren't you going to fight me like men?"
He knew exactly, what he was doing. They'd get angry because of their pride, and become predictable.
"Get here!" Tallest called, his fist throwing itself towards his face.
He narrowly moved to the left, before letting his punch land on Tallest's neck, who fell forward having put all of his body behind it.
First out of four. Not bad.
Jack took a step back, and grabbed Tall by his leg, and brutally launched him towards a wall. Short followed suite, with Shortest at his back. Teaming up. It was amusing.
Blocking Short's punch, he kicked him in the nuts, and kneed him in the face when he keeled over.
Shortest followed suite, with well placed punches to the neck.
They were all knocked out, which spelled well for him.
"Sir? Thank you." The guy who was getting beaten, thanked him.
He waved him off with a fake smile, and answered. "I'm fine. I just need to find out if they have anything on their boss."
"Okay. I live down the corner at the fifth house, if you need me." The fool said, before leaving, incredibly hastily wanting to pacify him.
Jack scowled, and quickly searched their pockets after thirty seconds. He took out around about five hundred pounds, four credit cards, and a packet of... Sweets?
Hmm. Might as well take care of that loose end, right now.
Jack looked at the house in front of him, apathetically. It seemed as if they were all asleep. He knew exactly what to do. He projected the knife onto a window, and managed to get the blade under the windows, before pulling.
It opened relatively easily, but the knife was incredibly brittle now. He'd have to get a new one, he had decided.
He crept into the window, noting that he was in the living room now.
The murderer looked around, and seeing that there wasn't anyone downstairs, since there was only a kitchen and a living room, he went up the stairs.
Letting his feet sound against the stairs, he called out, "Who's there? Knock knock, who there? It's the Slash."
Jack heard a small, terrified whimper of absolute terror. He walked towards the sound, and upon opening the door, he saw that it had come from a seven year old girl. He projected the edge, and stabbed her in the throat.
"MUUUMMMM!" The older sister cried out, crying her eyes out at the sight of him murdering her sister. "DAAAA-"
He slashed his knife, and the sound silencing completely as the girl fell over, dead, a terrified look in her eyes.
He walked on, a cold smile on his face as the father, the one that he had saved before, stared at him, horrified. "It's you..."
Jack said nothing instead stabbing forward, as he projected the tip. It entered the eyeball, and the man screamed in utter pain.
He forced it out, and decapitated the father, before moving onto the mother.
"I think that I'll let you live..." Jack stated, chuckling darkly. "Just tell them that Slash is now here, alright?"
"But... Why?" The woman got out, sobbing at his bloodsoaked clothes.
"Because I wanted to..." He lied. It wasn't that. They were merely loose ends, in his eyes. People who could jeopordize his plan. "I am Slash, and I'll leave you a reminder."
He stalked forward, before grabbing her finger, and slowly cutting it off, not even projecting the knife. Blood splattered onto his stolen hoodie (that the disposed of thugs had worn), but he ignored.
She screeched, as it fell off, as she garbled out nonsense.
Might as well, make the police and everyone else, absolutely terrified whilst he was at it, as he left the house.
AN: Believe it or not, I did plan all of this. Not only does Jack get exposition of the world, we discover how he (always) is a messed up piece of shit. Expect quite a bit of symbolism, as well.
The title went through quite a few changes but since Jack is a point blank evil guy, it fit well, in my opinion.
Anyway, expect messed up things in the future.
