AN: I finally have enough material, I think, to warrant posting some Worm fanfic. It's one of my favorite stories, so if you haven't read it, I highly recommend it. Especially because it's free at Parahumans dot wordpress. This story is going to have a bit of Bleach tossed in, mostly aspects from the Espada, if you couldn't tell by the title. I'm not ripping parts of Bleach wholesale, but playing with the concepts of the Espada and what they are (Aspects of Death) and using the Worm characters to do so. I wanted to wait until I had at least a whole arc done before posting, but I have a few chapters, and that'll be enough. The next 6 chapters after this are basically all interludes/character studies though, so eh. Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

I really wanted to light up.

Not for any particular reason, I just really felt like smoking. Honestly it was probably too early to start since it was only half an hour into Mrs. Knott's class. I, of course, had finished my work, but now I was bored beyond belief. Probably why I wanted to smoke so bad. I'd reached a point of apathy a few months back, in January, but not apathetic enough to just light a cigarette in the middle of the class taught by the only teacher I had a positive opinion of. So I tried to keep myself occupied with the internet. I scrolled through PHO for interesting threads. I'd basically memorized everything I could about local capes and the gangs they belonged to, so there wasn't much point in that.

There was a thread about a cape fight in downtown the previous night, a thread about Trigger Events, a thread about where the Nine might be, some (really far too many) about how hot capes were and what they looked like under their masks, and the fifteenth iteration of a thread of people designing capes for fun. I tended to explicitly avoid the parts of the forum that was full of tinfoil hats and fan fiction writers. I had no idea what their obsession with Capes banging was, but I wanted no part of it.

I checked the clock and found only fifteen minutes had passed.

I really needed to fucking smoke.

"Mrs. Knott, can I go to the restroom?" I asked.

"Sure, dear." She said.

I stood up, grabbing my stuff because I didn't trust a soul in this building, and walked out. Luckily for me the bathrooms were a bit far from Knott's class, so I could get away with smoking a bit longer than I would other wise. I walked down the hallway, aware of everywhere someone might see me, then turned a corner.

If someone had been following me it would have looked like I pulled an escape maneuver out of a movie. One of my powers let me just remove myself from the regular plane of existence. Everything looked the same, there were just no other people. I also couldn't really interact with things. Anything that wasn't the floor beneath my feet I could walk through like a ghost. Though for some reason I could still sit on things if I wanted.

I pulled my cigarettes from the inside pocket of my hoodie and snapped my fingers. A blue flame lit on my thumb and I brought it to the cancer stick hanging loosely from my mouth. I shook my hand and the flame went away. Whatever form of energy control I had was super useful for mundane things.

I grimaced slightly, thinking about my powers. I was strong. Extremely powerful by even the highest cape standards, but they were weird. I could tell, inherently, that I wasn't really a cape. I had powers, but I had far too many extremely strong abilities to be a regular cape. Even a grab-bag. They had a bunch of small abilities and maybe one big one. I just had a bunch of abilities that would make for powerful capes all on their own.

Then there was my tattoo.

I slipped my glove off my left hand. The number "1" was tattooed on the back of my left hand when I got my powers. It just showed up with my abilities. I had an idea there would be more people like me at some point just by looking at it, but I had no way of knowing when they'd show up.

I pulled the cigarette from my lips and tossed it to the ground, not bothering to stomp it out. Not like anything could burn in this dimension. I took a peek into the real world to make sure no one was around before fully reappearing. I walked back into class feeling much better than I had before.

—

I really hated Mr. Gladly. He and Blackwell were some of the few people I could actually manage to muster the emotion to actually feel negative about. He was just… So transparent. He knew about everything, knew who did it, but never bothered to try to stop it. He just let everything slide because he wanted his students to like him. I didn't really know what his deal was, but I knew whatever it was made me actively dislike him. I looked him dead in the eyes as one of Madison's friends dumped pencil shavings in my hair and he didn't say a damn thing about it. Never was I happier to leave a classroom then at the end of his.

Even with his class being right before lunch, I was glad to leave it. An hour might have been a bit too long when my bullies could actually do anything to me, but now they'd be lucky to find me any time before the bell rang. I wasn't so lucky today, however. The second I walked out of class I was ambushed by Sophia, Emma, and their Groupies. I could easily get out of this situation, and I wouldn't say I was all that shy about using my powers, but the last thing I needed was the PRT breathing down my neck. Emma and Sophia would definitely go straight to the government to get me in trouble if they had the faintest idea I had powers.

They started with the insults immediately, doing this thing where they were talking to each other but still directly insulting me. I didn't really care. I was over all of them. They had me backed against the window, which I was staring out of absently. I reached into my jacket, laughing slightly through my nose when some of the girls backed away, and pulled out a cigarette. They all seemed to relax when they realized it wasn't a weapon. Not that I'd need one to send them all to the depths of hell. I pulled a lighter from my pocket, the fancy Zippo ones, and with practiced ease popped it open against my leg with a back swipe and lit it on the return. I popped it closed when my smoke was lit and pocketed the lighter.

"Wow, smoking now? I didn't realize you were so pathetic." Emma said.

I took a deep drag before turning to her and blowing the smoke out my nose right into her face. The girls coughed and waved it away while Sophia grimaced at me.

"Oh, you think smoking makes you cool, is that it?" Sophia asked.

"No. I smoke because I want to. Hey, did you know your name comes from a Greek word, Sophia?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"I'll get to it. The word it's from means "Knowledge"." I blow another cloud of smoke from my nose, upsetting all of them. "But the word I think fits you most is "Sophist". Which is someone who pretends to be smart without really knowing anything." I said.

"Yeah?" She asked, stepping up to me.

"Yeah." I say, blowing smoke in her face.

I hear her growl and grab my shirt.

"Say something again. I dare you."

"You truly live up to the title. Pretty little sophist."

She scoffed, pushing me back against the window.

"I don't have to listen to the opinions of prey."

"Prey, huh? Is that how you see the world?" I asked.

"I call it like I see it." Sophia said.

"What a pathetic way of looking at the world. So animalistic."

"Are you calling me an animal?!"

"I call it like I see it." I said.

She swung at me. I dodged the blow. It wouldn't do to get outed from her breaking her fist on my face. As I dodged her second hit I noticed Gladly watching from his room. Spineless coward. I dodged back towards his door as Sophia tried to tackle me. She turned back to me, steaming mad and rushed forward. She was too good a fighter to run at me with her fist raised like an amateur, but it still wasn't hard to dodge her attack and send her shoulder charging right through Gladly's door and into the man himself. The realization she'd just barreled a teacher over seemed to sober her up real quick.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Gladly. Taylor tripped me."

"It's alright. Just see that it doesn't happen again." He said, not seeming at all bothered that she'd just flown through the door and right into his arms.

I scoffed and walked off. If anything came of this incident I'd probably be the one getting in trouble. And that was assuming it wasn't just swept under the rug as usual.

—

Recently I had found few things as peaceful as listening to music while eating lunch on the roof of the school. I was Isolating myself, so there were no birds or other people to watch so it was lonely, but it was better than having to deal with being bullied. A person to talk to would be nice, though. Even about mundane nothings like how clear the sky was.

I had slipped my gloves off to eat and was staring at the tattoo again.

Even as I ate my sandwich I couldn't stop staring at that number. I knew, to some degree, what it was, but the idea was too abstract to really wrap my head around. The number was relevant for more than just that it was related to my powers, too. Almost all my abilities, for some reason, were related to being alone. I could Isolate myself from reality, become intangible, manipulate space, and even stop things from happening. All my powers centered around making sure nothing could really affect me if I didn't want it to.

I chuckled to myself, dry and sarcastic. Even my powers were trying to keep me from making connections. Not that it really mattered. The chances of me actually making friends with anyone before high school ended was slim to none at this point. I was honestly beginning to doubt I'd really make a friend again at this rate.

I pulled myself from my funk to check the time. Five minutes until math. I finished my food, slipped my gloves back on, and walked right through the roof access door like it wasn't there.

—

I was glad to finally make it home for the day. Usually, at least. Every since I'd been pulled out of that locker Dad had been even more withdrawn. He even started drinking, not really caring whether I saw or not. Not even the fact that the dock workers were getting more work seemed to cheer him up. I did try to talk to him, but he was usually too tired or just not in the mood. Which actually annoyed me, somewhat. I'd been so withdrawn, we both had, since mom died. Then the bullying started and he was too lost in his own grief to notice something was wrong while I was trying to hide that anything was wrong. Now that I was actually trying to reconnect with him I was just annoyed that he couldn't pull himself out of his funk long enough to entertain a conversation with me.

Most nights were me cleaning the house after school, doing a bit of homework, making dinner, then trying to coax even a menial conversation out of him. I was usually lucky to get him to talk about his day for a few minutes. Even better if he decided not to have a beer or two with dinner.

Tonight was not one of those nights. He went straight for the fridge after getting home and popped a beer open, barely grunting out a greeting to me before sitting on the couch to wait for dinner. He was at least a bit tipsy by the time I finished the food and I could barely get more than a few words out of him.

I really had no idea what had gotten him to this point. He was just… He was so down on himself for seemingly no reason. I had an idea I thought my cheer him up.

"Dad." I said, coming down the stairs.

"Yeah?" He asked, not looking up from the T.V. He was slumped into the couch like a stoner with a beer in hand.

"I was wondering if you wanted to watch a movie with me. You like Casablanca, right? I've never seen it, but since we have it on DVD I thought we could watch it together."

He seemed to perk up at the idea. He checked the time and shook his head.

"Sorry, kiddo, I've got to get to work early tomorrow. I should head to bed." He said, dragging himself off the couch. I helped him steady himself.

"Oh… Alright." I said. "Goodnight."

"Night." He mumbled before stumbling up the stairs.

I stood in the living room until I heard his door close. I took a look around the living room. It wasn't too bad. He'd knocked over some magazines, and there were a few beer cans on the table and floor, but nothing too bad.

I sighed as I started grabbing the cans.

"I really need a fucking smoke."

—

I found myself in that room again. I ended up there most nights. It was a calm, quiet place just for me and whoever else ended up like me. There were no walls in this room, just a floor, numbered black thrones, and an infinite purple star scape. The thrones were set in an obvious hierarchy with 1 at the top of a set of stairs maybe three feet off the ground and 6 and 7 at the ends on floor level. Each throne had more than enough space for two of me to sit in comfortably. They looked to be made of a black stone, but they were still comfortable to sit in. The numbers were carved into the back of each throne, proudly depicting the number above the head of the would be owner.

The sky went on forever. The light that filtered into the area was purple yet didn't color anything while the sky was still black and every star could be seen with clarity. If it wasn't the fact that this place was so weird, I would have had questions. Well, I did have questions, but I didn't really care to have them answered. As long as this place remained somewhere safe for me to relax and stargaze, I wasn't going to complain.

Taking a seat on my throne, I leaned back and got comfortable before sliding a cigarette between my lips, snapping my fingers, and lighting up. I sat there for minutes, staring off into the sky and listening to my CD player.

"God I wish I had someone to talk to." I sighed, blowing smoke.

My wish was answered as the air in front of the steps split open in the familiar tooth like pattern and someone stepped through.