So... not sure what the PRT uniform looks like so I've decided to Word of God it.

C1.4 Start.

I left the shower room without looking back. I shivered lightly from cold or spent adrenaline, I couldn't say which. Part of me, that part that had never stopped loving Valentine and Earth, recoiled in shock at what I'd just done. The rest of me was just glad it was over and done with. The threat had been ended, the boy wouldn't come after me like that again.

I paused at the sinks, deciding a good scrub was in order. I rinsed the suds off my arms and did my best to scrub the lingering feeling of what I'd just done from my hands. Eventually I looked up, gazing at myself in the mirror as the water continued to run. 'So this is me now.' It was a strange thing to look in a mirror and see a face not my own, but it wasn't the first time. At least I wasn't seeing Peter's dead eyes staring back at me.

I was definitely at least a couple years older, perhaps more. My new face was too severe to pretty, but it wasn't exactly plain either. The girl had likely been bullied for a long while, judging by her condition. Her cheeks were moderately wide, but there wasn't an ounce of fat on them. Like some half-starved supermodel her cheekbones stuck out far too prominently, her wide brown eyes sunken and bruised from lack of sleep. Her dark hair seemed the only thing she had kept good care of. It's lustrous length hung down past my bare shoulders, reminding me that the rest of me was bare as well. I'd indulged curiosity long enough, it was time to go. First, however, I had to find something to cover myself with. The blood- and grime-soaked clothes I'd worn in were an absolute last resort.

I glanced down the row of lockers as I left the sinks. It was irrational, but after my recent imprisonment in a locker I felt a touch of apprehension at going near them. Added to that was the risk of having another man enter the locker room and accost me. Was it really worth the risk to search around for something to wear? No, I decided, it really wasn't. So far I had yet to meet a nice person in this world, and with such a weak body there was no guarantee I'd win against my next attacker. It was better to leave now while I was still able to. Besides, the women's lockers were just next door, and I'd probably have better luck finding clothes that fit there anyways.

I opened the door a crack, listening for anyone out in the hallway. Nothing. I stepped out, sunlight warm against my skin. 'How long as it been since I felt real sunlight?' The days had blended together towards the end. Stuck inside an asteroid with no view of sun or sky, forced to direct armies for hours on end before catching a quick nap only to go into battle yet again... what I wouldn't have given to experience this simple pleasure. But alas, I couldn't linger. Leaving the sunlight behind I made my way towards the women's locker room, stumbling slightly as a leg threatened to give out. I clasped the door handle gratefully for balance before swinging it open.

There was a surprise inside. "Hello there officers. I suppose you're looking for me?"

Considering I'd given up peacefully they'd gone about subduing me a little more roughly than I felt was necessary. I'd had to hold myself back from breaking the Irishman's trachea when he got a little handsy. After that came the walk of shame as they half dragged, half walked me down the hallway. My left leg had given out entirely by this point, willpower no longer enough to move its exhausted muscles and bruised bones. All in all I was sure I was a pretty pitiful sight.

Thankfully just before I got pulled out in front of the reporters in front of the school a gray-haired detective tossed his trench coat over my shoulders. I wanted to believe that meant there was at least one kind-hearted soul in this world I'd fallen into, but I couldn't be sure whether he did it out of kindness or to avoid repercussions from dragging a nude minor in front of the press. Either way, I found the trench to be rather drafty and uncomfortably rough. I hoped prison clothes would be more comfortable.

As I got stuffed into a cop car I noticed the black girl being carted into an ambulance. A sudden wave of hate swept through me, the force of it leaving me shaking. 'Strange.' I wasn't prone to hate. Sometimes I actually wished I could hate more, but hate was born from ignorance. I understood the world and its people too well to ever feel much hate for anyone or anything, save perhaps myself. Setting the issue aside I examined my surroundings carefully. Much as I disliked it, I was what the military had shaped me to be. Submission simply wasn't my forte.

I didn't truly intend or want to escape, or at least not until I discovered how this would all play out. Nonetheless, plans began spinning out, growing more and more detailed. Very few of them had a high chance of working, but the exercise helped stave off boredom as I waited for the officers to drive me to the station. I would have had a lot better chances of escaping if not for the bum leg, or known more about the world around me. Without more information there was no way of telling whether I had traveled back in time (in which case I could probably hotwire the car given a little experimentation) or whether I was in a parallel dimension that was in the middle of a retro movement. I hoped it was some form of the latter. I had no wish to be press-ganged into another war with the Formics.

My eyes widened as I caught sight of an argument between the cops and several men all in curious red and white body armor. A stylized shield was printed on their left shoulders. The slight differences between them probably denoted rank, or possibly their function in the organization. The rifles on their backs suggested they were military of some sort, but I didn't recognize the uniform. Admittedly I wasn't a historian, but it was still a point in favor of the parallel dimension theory.

The cops didn't look happy, which suggested they were losing the argument. A couple minutes later after both groups had called in their superiors it came to a head, one disgruntled cop leading the funny-colored swat team my direction. Did someone out there really think one girl was too much for the cops to handle? Hell, for all I knew they were some sort of dimensional breach investigators. I put on my best smile as the cop opened the door.

"Get up."

Calmly I obeyed, moving carefully to keep from stressing my leg.

"Get out of the fucking car."

Once again I was manhandled, his hand tight enough on my arm to bruise as he swung me around to face the shield group. I would have fallen when he released me had one of the shield group not moved to hold me in place. Their leader's mouth was set in a tight line but they said nothing about the unnecessary force as they went about their business. A much stronger and flashier set of manacles was placed on my arms before the cop removed the original handcuffs. 'Do they think I'm some sort of gorilla?'

The restraints were well beyond overkill. My chances of escape if I felt the need had just dimmed considerably. Not only was it impossible to slip out of them or break them with implements commonly found in a tool shed, they were heavy enough that even my good leg was having trouble supporting me. The blinking light suggested some sort of tracking device thrown in as well. Was it possible the girl whose body I'd taken was some sort of Russian spy?

End 1.4

So... fairly sure now that I'll be fusing the Wormverse with Marvel and DC (pls no sue-me) to a small degree (60%/10/30). This means I'll probably be nerfing the Entities slightly (though possibly more villainous). Won't be any Earth Aleph or doorways to other dimensions. Cauldron will probably exist, but not in the same way. Contessa will either be nerfed or mysteriously implode through Diabolus ex Machina because honestly, she's complete bull&%#$.