A/N: The Parahumans-verse is the property of John McCrae aka Wildbow. I don't lay claim to any of it. This story is both my tribute and critique of a setting near and dear to my heart. This story went through multiple drafts before I felt confident enough to post it publicly. Finally figure now that if I didn't post what I've got now and see people's reactions to what I have, I'd never post it at all. It turns out writing what is in essence a standalone book is hard work, even in a preexisting setting.
Premise: Lots of people like to fantasize about getting overpowered superpowers, and Self-Insert Fanfiction is the most common vehicle for that. Worm in particular gets a good share of this, due to how well fleshed out the setting is and how well-written the characters are. I approached this idea with a simple premise: what power in Worm sounded really cool on paper, but was actually the poorest suited for a straightforward power fantasy? Then I asked myself: what sort of person would someone have to be to get that power, and how could I play the resulting fallout completely straight, and come out the other side with something approaching an interesting story?
Fair Warning: My writing style can be described as a "slow burn", lots of buildup before the ball ultimately gets rolling, with a big payoff at the end of the tunnel. This will be, for quite some time, a "prequel" of sorts to the events of Worm. Characters and events alluded to in background material, as well as original characters and events, will be referenced or will appear at some point.
Additionally, some characters and events that appear in Worm's sequel Ward may be referenced or make an appearance. Reading Ward isn't necessary to understand the plot of Lindworm, but if you haven't read Ward, proceed with caution of you don't want to be spoiled. Assuming either my untimely death or boredom with don't ultimately take me away from this story, the "present" of Worm will likely look very different from the world at canon's start.
All that said, welcome! I hope I can keep you entertained, for as long as this lasts.
LINDWORM
By Marcus Finch
A story about horrible people in a horrible world, and the horrible man with the powers of a slightly-more horrible man that descended to "Save" them all.
Prologue- The Nobody who could have been Somebody
The room was dark, the only sounds being the sound of typing and the soft scrolling of the mouse wheel. I sat at my desk, a shadow against the glare of the monitor in my face.
On my left screen graphs, charts, and numbers scrolled by. There were two reports due that Monday based on accounting's new projections. That was my supervisor's job, but she'd shoved it off onto me in order to save time.
I honestly didn't mind… not too terribly, anyway. It was nice having people indebted to you, and I actually enjoyed the crunch. The sense of urgency made the days burn by just a bit faster.
And burn by they did. Day after day after day after day…
The door creaked open, but I paid it no mind. I already knew who it must be. I tuned her and the noises she made out as I turned to the right screen.
Another day, another Wormfic to read. The Parahumans fandom was a rather entertaining distraction from the mundanity of everyday life. But like many while I could safely count Worm among the better stories I'd ever read, I had… rather mixed feelings about the sequel.
At least the fanfiction was good. Mostly good, anyway.
The intruder made a noise, but I tuned her out.
The state of the world, Amy's messed up head, the new end of the world, and the insanely overpowered Titans. If you'd posted online two years ago how the sequel of Worm was going to go, you'd have been laughed off the forums.
Another noise, but louder.
But that was the problem with writing fanfiction set in a world that was still in the process of being written, wasn't it? You never knew when the author was going to reveal a twist or add new details that contradicted everything you'd established. Probably the biggest reason nearly all of my own story ideas never saw the light of da-!
She shouted something again, this time loud enough to intrude upon my thoughts. At first the syllables came strangely to me, so far removed from reality was I. Slowly, as I pulled myself back from my immersion in both my work and that fantastical world of titans and capes, my brain processes the sounds she made into understandable words.
It was my name.
"-didn't you hear me!?"
"Hm…?" I grunted wordlessly in acknowledgement, my eyes never leaving the screen in front of me.
"I said clean yourself up. Thomas is coming over for dinner."
Thomas. That name drudged unpleasant memories up from the darker recesses of my mind.
"Is there really a point in getting dressed up to see Tommy?"
A barb disguised as a question.
"Don't start. You know he doesn't like that name anymore. He likes being called Thomas now. It makes him sound more mature."
…Now that made me look away from the screen. I turned my head slowly, languidly and utterly without urgency, a move I knew would subconsciously irritate her without her being able to put a finger on why. It was the casualness of the motion, suggesting I didn't take her seriously in the least.
And I didn't.
I met her piercing gaze.
"You think the name… makes him sound more mature." I let the syllables slowly roll off my tongue, toying with them even as they left a bitter taste in my mouth. "You know what else could make him more mature?"
She said my name again. A warning.
I ignored it, of course. This was too much of a sore spot for me to resist. This was a dance we'd both danced countless times already, and we'd no doubt dance countless times more. We both knew it, and still neither of us would budge.
"He could actually act like a mature adult for once in his life."
"He has a problem…" she said my name again. "He needs help."
"Oh, so now you admit he has a problem?" I stood up from my chair. "And how much more help does he need? After all we've already done for him, after everything I did-!"
She slammed her hand loudly against the side of the doorframe, the way she used to when I was but a small child. An empty threat, but the unpleasant association was still enough to give me pause.
"I'm not having this argument with you again!" she shrieked my dear, sweet mother. The hag. "You will get cleaned up, you will get dressed, and you will be supportive to your cousin."
'I was supportive, once,' I almost snapped back. 'Until he showed me how little he actually deserved it.'
This time, however, I managed to resist the impulse to say something I'd regret. It was pointless, like so many of the things I did, now. Instead, I buried the impulse. Buried it deep, deep down below the surface, until the blazing anger started to smolder and sputter out.
I kept my mouth sealed shut until my emotions regained equilibrium, then I went over to the window. I opened the blinds. A sunny day outside in a quiet suburb. Totally normal, peaceful and plain. Just like me. The normalcy was, in a way, soothing. I guess.
"Getting dressed?"
The voice was like a gunshot, a painful reminder that I wasn't alone, that my tranquility was being interrupted by an invader. Again, I buried the impulse and gripped my composure with both metaphorical hands in an iron grip to keep it from slipping.
I turned back to look at her, face level. "…Yes."
Mistaking my calmness for acquiescence, she relaxed a bit.
"He needs help," she repeated, as her face softened a bit.
I relaxed a bit, too. She was well aware this was a sensitive topic for me.
"Yes." I nodded. On that much, we agreed. What we disagreed on was whose problem Tommy was supposed to be. The family thought he was our problem, I thought he should be the local halfway house's.
But still, neither of us enjoyed this… this love-hate thing we'd had going for a while. My family and I had been closer, once. Never truly a healthy family, but at least this omnipresent animosity hadn't been so overt back then.
But I'd drawn my line in the sand a while ago. The family had crossed it, and I'd chosen to stand my ground. Now here we stood.
She closed the door, giving me some privacy. I checked the clock, eyes widening. Four-thirty already. Had I really spent the whole day screwing around in the dark? Again?
I stripped out of the pajamas I'd been wearing all day. A quick shower, shave, and a wardrobe change. I stepped down dressed semi-casual, khakis with a belt and a nice sweater.
As I stepped off the stairs, I came face to face with the framed picture of my smiling face on graduation day hanging on the opposite wall, surrounded by my various awards.
Honors society. My academic excellence award. My honors from the business school. Me with my scout troop. Once happy memories… now all tinged with regret.
…I really needed to take those down.
The familiar smell of cooking meat came from the kitchen as I came down into the foyer. A familiar tightness welled up in my chest, my suspicions rising.
"What's for dinner?" I asked, already knowing the answer.
"Chili. Why?" my mother's voice called from the kitchen.
I grit my teeth. "You know I hate your chili."
"…Really?" came the absentminded reply. "You should have told me."
...Pointless. All so pointless.
"Mind setting the table?"
I ignored her, instead crossing the room and opening the front door as quietly as I could. Which wasn't very quiet at all, since the lock on the old door was old, and it would pop open with a sound that was as loud and distinctive as a gunshot in the quiet house.
Not a second after I had the door all the way open, my mother's head peeked around the corner.
She shouted my name. "Where do you think you're going?!"
"Going out to eat," I said with a shit-eating grin. "I got dressed up and everything, so I thought I'd go somewhere nice. Say hi to Tommy for me though."
"You said you were going to be supportive!"
"Never said it!" I called back as I stepped off the porch. "You just assumed it!"
I knew she wouldn't chase me. She did have at least that much decorum to know what a scene that would cause. She'd patiently wait until I came home -long after I was sure Tommy was gone- and then give me an earful.
There was simply no need to hunt me down. She already knew I didn't have anywhere else to go.
I started up my car and pulled away. My phone started ringing, and I tossed it over my shoulder, a meaningless gesture of defiance that made me feel foolish the second I'd done it. Confidently out of view of prying eyes and ears, I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed.
"Everyone's so eager to offer help," I grumbled. "… Except when I needed it most."
…
OBSERVING
…I would have preferred you hadn't seen that, but I suppose what's done is done.
Hello. My name is… well, I don't suppose it's all that important. You can call me generic college grad #253617.
That little debacle with my mother and the countless other ones like it that happen day to day with the rest of my family notwithstanding, I'd like to think I was a reasonably nice guy, living a reasonably average life.
Granted, I was still in my mid-twenties, buried under a mountain of crippling debt and living with my parents. But it's not entirely bad, though. I bought and owned my own car, and unlike most people I knew from college, I actually had a full time job that covers my expenses… Barely.
It was a… comfortable enough existence, I suppose… If you looked past how unfulfilling it actually was. Three meals a day, a roof over my head, and enough cash after the bills came in to be able to afford the occasional luxury. Not bad at all… if not for my personal lack of self-respect, and the lack of respect-respect from my parents and the gaping hole in my existence where a social life once was.
For a while now, I've had a feeling like I've been treading water in life. The ambitions I had in college failed, my job is dead-end, and I've little clue where to go from here.
Like a lot of shut-ins, fiction was an escape for me. I'd always loved a good story, especially ones with worldbuilding detailed enough to feel lived-in. Which is why I'd felt so blessed when I'd managed to find Worm.
It was wonderful. One of the best novels I'd ever read. The world was wonderfully fleshed out, with loads and loads of characters not just from the narrative, but the bevy of side materials the author continuously put out. I lost hours poring over it all, enjoying the emotional highs of the victories, and the painful lows of the defeats both big and small.
I'd been pleasantly surprised when I'd heard the story was resuming after a two-year timeskip. I'd dug in quickly, eager to see how the world I'd fallen in love with had changed. After getting into Worm while I was at school, seeing how the world had changed over the years after seeing how much I'd changed was something I'd looked forward to.
I'd hoped reading Ward would have cheered me up a bit.
Reading Wildbow.
To cheer myself up.
Yeah. Not my best idea.
ASSESSING
Ward was… different from Worm. Darker, even more cynical, if that was even possible. While it had its share of awesome moments, heartwarming scenes and characters that were very endearing, I honestly found it very hard to read. I'd say it was the tone, but if I'm being honest with myself, it was how far the whole setting had fallen.
As a huge cape geek, seeing the world I'd fallen in love with destroyed… hurt. Ruin, devastation, starvation and S-Class threats stalking the landscape were largely just background details to the suffering in the narrative. And throw in some good-old fashioned anti-cape racism and yet another impending apocalypse, and you've got the whip cream and cherry on top of a grade-A crapsack world sundae.
Still, making the best out of a bad situation, soldiering on through the pain. I could sympathize with that aspect of the story's message, at least.
I pull into the parking lot of a steak place I liked. Now and then, when I had some money saved up, I liked to treat myself to a good meal.
Alone, usually.
ASSESSING
…Well, time to eat! I step out of the car and make my way towards the door. I considered pulling up the rest of the last Ward chapter on my phone and finishing it while I ate… then remembered I threw it in the car. Cursing, I started walking back the way I came.
Okay, I admit it, my life wasn't very good right now. But that didn't mean it was all bad, and it's still not too late for things to get better.
Even still, when I looked back at not just Ward but my own in hindsight rather lackluster life choices…
… I just know there had to have been a way to have done it better.
SELECTION
I get halfway to my caaaa-
-Aaaand then a bolt of lightning strikes down almost right next to me. I don't hear it, though. I don't hear anything, in fact. The world goes completely silent as my vision goes white.
'Am I dead?!' Is the first thought to enter my mind, my brain leaping to the most logical conclusion.
Then the burning in my eyes catches up to me, and I realize no, I'm not so fortunate as to have met a swift and painless end. I desperately begin rubbing my eyes to clear them. I feel like I spent the whole day sitting in the dark, and then someone snuck up on me and set off a camera flash in my face.
I muttered a number of colorful invectives under my breath, and eventually spots of color returned to my vision which then became blurs, then shapes. Looking down at myself to make sure I wasn't horrifically burned. Dusting myself off, I breathed a sigh of relief as I turned towards my car-
-And almost walked face-first into a pillar of lighting. The lightning bolt was still there. As if it were frozen in time, a jagged pillar of light not much wider across than a man, suspended in the air, touching the ground before stretching up into the sky out of sight.
On a bright, cloudless sunny day.
I stared for a moment, dumbstruck. "What the..?" I mumbled as I looked closer at it. The longer I stared, the more it seemed to glimmer. I could see myself, shimmering and distorted staring back at me from its surface. It was mesmerizing, but also incredibly terrifying.
I reached out a hand to touch it….
And almost immediately realized that was a horrible idea and pulled my hand away.
…
Yeah, fuuuck that. No way in hell I'm sticking a part of my body into a glowing wall of solid lightning like some gormless idiot.
"Nope nope nope," I mutter to myself as I walk around the wall of death, keeping a generous distance between it and myself as I move back towards my car. I'm just gonna pull out my phone, take a few pictures to confirm I'm not crazy, then drive far, far awa-
REACHING
-And then a tendril of light reached out of the flat surface and wrapped around my wrist.
I'll be the first to admit, I screamed in absolute terror.
Babbling wordlessly, I pulled against the alien force as it started reeling me in towards the crack in the sky. Dragging my feet and shouting for help, did nothing as I was slowly and steadily pulled in.
"No!" I shouted as the fingers of my trapped hand came inches from contact with the surface. "NO!"
And then my hand went through.
It was… cold. The surface of the crack felt… brittle, solid for a moment, before breaking apart and sliding out of the way like ice as my arm went through. Despite the crack in the sky being only as wide as a man, my entire arm went in without feeling any sort of end in sight.
"Heeeeellllp-!" I impotently shouted to the empty courtyard, one last time before my head and torso were pulled through.
REACHING
I was falling.
Ever watch the movie Galaxy Quest with Tim Allen? It was a pretty good Star Trek parody, so of course my then Star Trek obsessed dad had me grow up watching it over and over again. But as good as it otherwise was, there was always just one scene that always scared the shit out of me, even well after I stopped being a kid.
There's a scene about a quarter into the movie where Tim Allen gets trapped in a see-through, skintight escape pod and gets shot into a black hole at light-speed, screaming his lungs out all the while. That's the best way I can describe the feeling of what happened next.
I felt like I'd been wrapped up tight, too tight to move, and was shooting through darkness at breakneck speed. And every second I spent like that, it felt like I was only being squeezed tighter and tighter. Couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything but try to scream.
G
I'd been strapped to the front of the racecar from hell. Blinded by the wind with nothing to do but wait for the last impact I'd ever feel when it finally crashed.
They say when you're dying, your entire life flashes before your eyes. Well, I was pretty sure I was dying, except the images I was seeing most certainly weren't images of my life.
Stars.
The Earth.
The Monolith. Shattering, reforming, and shattering again. Over and over, growing larger each time it reformed. Now and then a piece would break off and refuse to return to the main mass, and from each lost piece grew another Monolith.
More and more, on and on.
Until the end of time.
And Beyond.
CONNECTION
With a crack of thunder and a flash of light, I found I was finally able to scream.
What I thought would be my dying scream was aborted as I found myself dropped straight down onto a hard and slippery surface. Instead of hitting the ground with enough force to send my shins through my shoulder blades, I landed with no more force than if I'd jumped off the second bottom step on a staircase. Regardless, after having been held up by an invisible force for so long, I collapsed like a puppet with my strings cut the moment I touched solid ground.
"Wha… what?" I stammered as I flopped on the wet floor like a fish, my thoughts still a jumble. Water soaked into my clothes.
"Wh-where…?"
I staggered upright, leaning on a railing for support as I tried to take in my surroundings. I wasn't on the street anymore. Instead I was standing on the deck of a ship, floating on a dark ocean. Lights of distant ships bobbed on the horizon while bright lights of different colors floated in the clouds. Glancing down at where I'd stood a moment ago I saw the deck was seared, as if I'd arrived on this ship riding a lightning bolt.
'Maybe I did…'
I shook my head as if to literally shake off the absurd thought-
And realized I couldn't hear anything but static. No wait, that's just the rain. And it was a torrent. The rain pounded the deck with such force as to make any other sounds inaudible, the density of it limiting my vision to a few feet out to sea. I leaned forward, trying to make the details of the lights moving further out-
Just in time for the wave to hit me.
A colossal rush of water surged over the bow and crashed directly into me. My mouth, still open as I tried to greedily suck in air, instead got a mouthful of foul-tasting, salty water.
I went from crouched bow-legged on the deck while leaning on the railing to being slammed flat against the side of the window to the ship's bridge. Remarkably the glass held, saving me from the ignominious end of being disemboweled on the broken edges of the window as it shattered. Still blinded, sputtering and choking, I thrashed and reached blindly for something to hold onto as the wave began to recede over the side, slowly sucking my limp form with it. Through sheer blind luck, my hand grabbed onto the railing and seized it in a vice grip, managing to avoid being pulled into the sea.
"Il est vivant!"
The cold was unbelievable. For someone whose experience with swimming came from the occasional dip in the middle of summer, this water was so cold as to be downright painful. After pulling myself back back up on board, I'd barely crawled a foot away from the edge before the second wave hit me in the back.
Sprawled over the deck, already numbed by the ocean, and gasping like a fish I couldn't resist as the water washed over me. This wave wasn't as tall or forceful as the last one, but I still couldn't resist as it pulled me along the deck back towards the edge. As I neared the edge, I felt a sort of peace washing over me that was simultaneously unspeakably terrifying because I knew I should be struggling. My eyes started to slowly shut
-And that's when the body landed on top of me. My relief only barely overwhelmed my pain as I felt something in my torso crack, but at least my slide towards the edge was halted. A strong pair of arms wrapped themselves around my body.
'…I hate my life. I hate, hate hate it.'
I felt the person on top of me start to squeeze and for a long, terrible moment I thought I'd been saved from the sea by someone who wanted to strangle me themselves. Jolted awake by the pain, I started thrashing again until I heard a gruff voice with an unfamiliar accent shout from on top of me.
"Je l'ai!"
A moment later, a voice answered from farther away.
"Pull, lads!"
The next thing I knew I was being dragged across the deck. Another wave came, but this time I saw it coming, barely managing to hold my breath as it washed over us, but this time our combined weight was enough we weren't swept over the side. A shift of motion rolled my face into the receding water, and I was left blind and sputtering.
"Quick, pull them in!"
Next thing I knew I was being hauled upright and dragged, then laid back down again on something… soft.
I frantically wiped my burning eyes clear of saltwater as I struggled to sit up and see what was going on.
"Détendez-vous, vous êtes en sécurité."
I was inside the bridge of the ship, safe for the moment. A drenched man slammed the door shut on the storm; a rope still tied around his waist.
'My rescuer,' I realized.
We weren't alone. Around me were three other men and a mousy looking young woman in various states of dryness. One man worked the helm while the man who'd tackled me untied himself from the railing. The man speaking the incomprehensible language fussed over me as I struggled to rise, still confused as to what exactly was going on.
"Hey! Ne bouge pas. Puex-tu me comprendre?" the bearded man spoke as he put a hand to my chest, gently nudging me back down into the folding cot that they'd set up in the corner.
Key work there being "attempted".
The moment he pressed against my ribs, pain shot through me and I hissed between my teeth.
I cursed loudly in pain.
"Shit, he's hurt!" another of the men exclaimed in clearly understandable English. "Audrey, call in, let them know we've got wounded with us."
"Oh God, give me a second!" the woman said as she rushed off. She had to step over a man and a young girl I hadn't noticed huddled together on the floor before she reached a cabinet on the wall and started rifling through it.
The man, presumably the girl's father, was barely keeping it together as he hugged his child close, his every other breath hitching as he held back sobs. The look on the girl's face was what really gave me the chills, though. She had that thousand-yard stare down pat. Hers was an expression that belonged on a grizzled soldier on the other side of the world, not a girl that didn't look like she was even out of middle school.
As my mind cleared and I took in the expressions of my rescuers, I could tell one thing:
'Something bad happened here. Something really, really bad.'
The big man who'd pulled me out of the water was at my side before the woman was, carrying a steaming mug of something.
"Drink this, son." The man spoke English now but still had an accent, one that I couldn't quite place. I was so cold.
I didn't need to be told twice, I was freezing. I greedily grabbed the hot mug from the man's hands.
"Wait-!"
No more waiting. Even as the feeling that was slowly returning to my hands was telling me the liquid within was very, very hot I forced my chattering teeth to part enough to chug it down. Ignoring the burn as it worked its way down my throat, I closed my eyes in satisfaction a moment later as I felt the heat pool in my gut and spread throughout my body.
"...Thanks," I finally breathed.
The man smiled and nodded. "What's your name, son?"
I told him.
A troubled look settled over his face. "Where were you when it… Where are you from?"
I looked up from my drink, confused. What was he talking about?
I told him where I lived, and the man's softening expression was quickly filled with concern. "You must have really hit your head. You're nowhere near there now, lad. I meant where were you during the attack?"
"…The attack?"
"Do you at least remember how you got out this far out to sea?"
I thought back to what I'd experienced still only just minutes ago, the tunnel of darkness and the bolt of lightning. Considering what I'd seen and felt -and was still feeling- it wasn't hard to write the whole thing off as a hallucination.
"I… I don't remember," I finally said, and I partially meant it. What I'd seen so far today was weird enough I'd believe it if I found out I'd hit my head and hallucinated everything that had led to this moment.
The man gave me another concerned look, which was starting to make me worry. He grabbed my head, gently but firmly. He turned my head from side to side and brushed back my hair here and there. Probably looking for gashes or brain injuries. With a spike of alarm my hands went to my own head, almost to fell slippery blood or sink straight into soft grey matter.
To my relief, neither of us found anything. Just a hard, beautifully intact skull.
"Ease off him, Luke," the man at the helm called back. "God knows how long he's been in the water. He's not thinking straight."
"Yeah, man." The girl chimed in. "What used to be 'far out at sea' doesn't count anymore. Fucking Leviathan."
…What?
"Leviathan?" I muttered in confusion.
Was this guy joking? What Leviathan? The sea-monster? Another image came to my mind, of the lanky giant monster I'd only read about in a web novel. Why would someone bring up some fictional monster after pulling a guy out of the ocean?
I was about to ask that very question, when I saw the father and daughter cringe at the name. The man who was interrogating me -Luke, apparently- shot the girl a dirty look.
"Where are we?" I finally asked, bringing the focus back to me. I took another deep swig of my drink, which now I realized was coffee. You know, now that I was warm enough to actually take the time to taste it instead of just quaffing it back.
"…Off the coast of Newfoundland," Luke explained, but his pained expression told me there was something he wasn't saying.
Newfoundland.
In conjunction with the mention of Leviathan, sent all sorts of alarm bells ringing.
The ship lurched violently as another monster wave rocked us.
"It's getting worse out there," the helmsman reported.
"Then get us back to shore," Luke sighed after a moment. "I think…. I think at this point we've done all we can for anyone else pulled out this far."
Everyone else shared a look of grim agreement. Meanwhile, I felt like I'd been doused in ice water again. My fingers trembling again from something other than cold, I set down my cup and stood up. With wobbly legs, I started stumbling towards the window.
"Hey!" the girl approached me. You shouldn't-!"
"Where are we?" I cut her off with a wave of my hand. I was aware of my voice slowly rising, but I didn't care. She was looking increasingly alarmed as I advanced. "Don't fuck around with me. Where are we?!"
Another wave, and I found myself stumbling forward until I was pressed up against the window. Through the window, I saw something that made my heart stop. A light, racing through the storm clouds. No, not just a light: a man.
A man in a yellow spandex outfit with a helmet with a visor, soaked to the bone and riding on a trail of light that emerged from the arm extended in front of him. He was carrying a limp figure over his shoulder and was gripping the arm of another man as he awkwardly dragged behind him on the golden trail.
And he was coming right towards me.
"Hey, what are you-!" Luke started to say as he ran up to grab me, then saw the flying man and cut himself off.
"…Everyone!" he shouted. "We've got company!"
A moment later the door was opened, and the water slowly started pouring in. The transparent golden trail flowed in a moment before the… the superhero did. Despite descending on a slope, his descent slowed as he came through the door until he came to a stop. Stepping off and slowly lowering both of the people he was carrying to the floor, he surveyed the bridge.
"My name is Lightrail. I'm with the Guild rescue effort," he introduced himself, ignoring the awed looks everyone was giving him.
….No.
Luke stepped away from me to speak with the man. "I'm the captain. Name's Luke Wilson."
"Captain, do I have your permission to leave these men here with you?" the hero asked, though his tone carried an edge of command and desperation that made it clear it wasn't much of a request. "We've confirmed the Endbringer has retreated, but there were too many people… to many of us still on the island when it-" He swallowed. "…When it sank for me to carry these people back to shore. I need to rejoin the search and rescue team."
….No way.
"Of course, sir. It's no trouble." Luke looked back over to his daughter. "Audrey, get some more blankets-!"
"No fucking way!" I shouted aloud, loud enough to startle my hosts.
"…Is he alright?" Lightrail asked as he sized me up. Maybe he was considering what to do if he needed to subdue me.
The helmsman shouted my name over his shoulder. "The waves threw him up on board. He's in shock."
I stumbled towards the open door to cries of protest. Lightrail threw up one of his golden trails, curving it so that it sealed off the exit. "Woah, there!" the hero exclaimed.
I pressed my hands against the transparent glowing field, finding it as solid as a pane of yellow-tinted glass. I looked out at the waves again. Lighting flashed overhead-!
Just in time to illuminate the body.
Some poor bastard with his shirt partially torn off was bobbing on the waves a little way off from the boat. I only saw him because the lighting illuminated the night just right, the light reflecting eerily of his pale, frozen skin.
Further off, what looked like the shattered trunk of a tree was floating, a tangle of roots visible as the waves washed away the clay and dirt that stubbornly clung to it. As far as I could see (which admittedly wasn't that far, but still), the water was congested with signs of death and desolation.
"Hey there, calm down kid." The hero approached, the gold of his costume gleaming even brighter in his reflection on the field. "Take it easy, these nice people just want to help you."
His tone was comforting, but his words barely registered as everything settled into place. I knew where I was now.
But that didn't terrify me nearly as much compared to the when.
"…What year is it?" I muttered, although I already knew the answer to that too.
"What was that?"
I spun around and grabbed the man by the shoulders. "I said what year is it?!"
That's when I felt the Connection. A force, a pressure I just then realized had been hovering at the back of my mind this whole time, overlooked in the confusion of what was going on, finally pushed its way to the forefront where I couldn't ignore it.
Like a spring bubbling from the earth, from the haze of emotion a rush of crystal clear, alien information emerged from my subconscious for review. How to fight hand-to-hand. How to disable an opponent with a touch. How to convince enemies to become my friends. A near-limitless arsenal of potential solutions to my problems stretched before me, rushing by so quickly it almost overloaded my senses.
And on the distant horizon, when I looked in Lightrail's direction…. I saw a shard.
And in that instant, it was looking right back at me.
We recoiled from each other simultaneously. I let go of the hero's costume and fell to the floor, staring at my hands. Lightrail blinked in confusion, recognizing something had happened without understanding exactly what that something was.
The crew ran over to secure me, leading me gently but firmly back to the bunk. I went without a struggle, still staring at my hands as the crew apologized profusely, blaming the shock and a possible concussion. Lightrail paid them no mind, still looking at me, right up until his hand went to the side of his helmet where some sort of communicator had no doubt been installed.
"I need to get back out there," he said abruptly as he returned to the door. He pointed back at me. "Make sure he gets checked out."
"Of course!"
I tuned out the rest of the exchange along with the chatter of the crew. I didn't care. Not about my injuries, and certainly not about having embarrassed myself in front of a hero.
Because I was on Earth Bet. I was in Worm. I was in a fictional universe, where a young girl with the power to control insects would one day save the world from a godlike alien that sought its total destruction.
But I'd landed in Canada, following the attack on Newfoundland. Which took place in 2005. In other words… I was in Worm six years before the story even started. And…
…And I had the same powerset as one of the smartest, scummiest, underhanded, conniving, and scariest capes in the setting.
I had Teacher's powers.
"…Fuck."
