Disclaimer: I don't own Worm, it belongs to Wildbow.
PRT ENE Director Emily Piggot had a superpower.
She wasn't a parahuman - no mere parahuman could emulate her ability, earned through long, hard hours of practice and dedication.
You see, she had the ability to express an enormous amount of disapproval whilst only saying one, small word.
"Vacation."
To his credit, the Ward at her desk seemed unaffected. "Yes," Clockblocker agreed, "Vacation. Two weeks. That's what we're supposed to get, right? Well, I'm taking mine."
"I see," Director Piggot looked unimpressed, "And might I ask the reason for this sudden need for a vacation, Clockblocker?"
"Brockton Bay is hazardous to my health," he declared.
She stared. "And?"
"Uh," he amended, "More hazardous to my health than other superheroes."
"Right," she felt the oncoming headache, "And to remedy this, you feel you need two weeks away. Where do you have in mind?"
"The North Pole."
"I'm sorry," Emily set down her pen, "I seem to have misheard you."
"I've been doing my research," the redhead began explaining, "And eventually narrowed down two locations where I would have the lowest possible chance of encountering bugs, guns, or healers. Outer Space, and The North Pole. Nobody was willing to take me to Outer Space until Armsmaster gets the Simurgh, so I settled for the second one. The sea floor was my third choice, it moved up the list a bit with Leviathan out of the picture, but crustaceans are still a little too much like bugs for me to-"
"Approved." Emily stamped her approval on the form, "Approved. God damn it, approved! Just get the hell out of my city, you insane boy."
"Thanks, Director!" Clockblocker said in relief as he clutched the papers to his chest like a lifeline, "I really needed this!"
Kreig was straining, as he tried to stuff the last pair of socks into his suitcase.
"Kreig," he turned his head as the familiar form of Hookwolf entered the room, "What do you want?"
"Ah," he stammered, "Hookwolf! Well, you see," he finally jammed the socks in and closed the suitcase, "I've decided that you would be much, much better at leading the Empire 88 than me, so I'm giving you the leadership. Er, congratulations," he offered with as much false sincerity as he could muster.
Hookwolf blinked. "Huh. Didn't think you would ever see sense. So what'll you be doing?"
"Me?" Kreig felt cold sweat roll down his temple as he wracked his mind for an excuse. "Uh, well, you see. I'm so ashamed of my inability to be a good Nazi that I'm going off to a training camp," he offered.
"A training camp?"
"A Nazi training camp," Kreig agreed, thankful that Hookwolf appeared to be buying it, "So I can practice my Nazi-ing. You don't need it," he stressed, "As you're, er, such an amazing Nazi already, it's why I thought you were prime leadership material. Now I've got to be off, don't want to miss that plane and be a poor Nazi now!" He called as he shot out of the office door.
Hookwolf frowned, then shrugged as he sat down in the office chair, already making plans to take over the city for good - no Lung meant he only really had to take out the Merchants and Coil before the city would be his, and then they could drive the... Protectorate...
He stood back up, pulling out his phone. "Hello? Stormtiger? Yes, it's Hookwolf. I need you to come to the big office. Yes, that one. Oh, and, er, in a totally unrelated matter, can you bring my suitcase? Thanks."
"Ya know, people should listen to you more often, Skiddie."
"I fucking know, right? Everyone knows those fuck-stain thieves don't take drugs. So we just, cover all our shit in drugs, and they don't fucking lift it, right? Those dick-gobbling shit-heads at the meeting just weren't ready for the fucking logic bomb I was dropping."
"Yeah, you're the best, Skids."
"And how," Coil stressed, "Did you fail to capture the target this time?"
"Well," the lead mercenary began explaining, "Those tickets you gave us were only good for the Downtown routes. When the target headed towards the Docks, we had to change buses, but the driver didn't have change, and the smallest thing any of us had was a ten," he shook his head, "Sir, I recommend that our operatives are provided with sufficient change for the next attempt to ensure success."
"And why didn't you just threaten the bus driver?" Coil demanded.
"With respect, Sir, what could we do? If we beat him up or shot him, he wouldn't have been able to drive the bus," the mercenary responded.
Coil held his head in his hands as he counted off Dinah Alcott kidnapping attempt #756.
"So..."
The assembled heroes of the Brockton Bay Protectorate sat around awkwardly.
"Anyone want a game of cards?"
"We did that an hour ago, Assault," Velocity informed him.
"Oh yeah, we did, didn't we?" Assault sighed, "Damn it. I'm so bored."
Meanwhile, with New Wave, a heated argument was being held.
"We need to stage an intervention," Victoria argued, "Seriously, Mom, for the last few days, I've been the responsible sister. Me. Think about how bad things need to be for it to have reached that point."
Carol, on the other hand, was taking Amy's new-found enthusiasm for healing far better.
"Nonsense," she waved it off, "Amy has just rediscovered her heroic tendencies. Yes," she nodded firmly, "There's nothing wrong with her being more... er... enthusiastic, about helping others. Nothing at all. As long as it's about helping."
"So, how's it looking?" Uber asked curiously as he looked over Leet's shoulder.
"I think I've almost got it," Leet confirmed, "The main thing is making sure it's a Master Ball. If we just make a regular ball, we'll never catch one of the others."
"And then we just need to find them," Uber nodded, "Are we still going for Behemoth?"
"It makes sense," Leet agreed, "I mean, Simurgh's obviously part Flying-type. Behemoth can do Electric-type attacks, so he's got super-effective attacks against them both, right?"
"And then we just need the badges," Uber frowned, "Any idea how you're going to pull that off? You can't exactly make eight of the same thing, after all."
"No, I can't" Leet sighed, "Maybe Toybox?"
"Worth looking into. No expenses spared if you want to be a Master, after all."
-Meanwhile, at the Hebert Household-
"All right," Ocean said to the gathered crew as he set up a whiteboard, "We've decided we're going for another job before we tackle the new-and-improved Armsmaster. We were discussing possibilities before Leviathan, and other events, rudely interrupted us, but we think we've given the world enough of a reprieve. Now, Midnight Feline and I have been discussing possible suggestions, and noted a few down for your input." He wrote down several options on the whiteboard:
Scion's Outfit
The Sleeper
The President's teeth
Earth Aleph
Newton's Third Law of Motion
The Great Wall of China
The naming rights of every hero in the Protectorate
"Now, we're ambivalent as to which of these we actually decide to do," Midnight Feline explained, "So we're leaving the decision to a group vote - Skitter? Skitter, honey, what's wrong?"
Regent and Tattletale panicked as they tried to hold down the comatose, spasming form of the second-generation parahuman kleptomaniac.