A/N: So, story time.
My laptop has been having problems for a few months. Random freezes, refusal to start, some overheating. So around New Year's, I'm struggling to complete chapters with holidays going on, and then my laptop just bricks. I don't have a job, so I couldn't take it to a shop, and ended up waiting a week for a family member to take a look at it.
After a thorough cleaning and inspection, we've determined that my laptop is a dirty liar, and that it has issues. However, as long as I refrain from using it for anything more than video streaming, it should hopefully stop crashing. It's a stopgap measure, and I miss my steam library, but it works.
That said, I think I need a different update schedule. I want to do weekly updates, but I keep having trouble meeting those deadlines. I also have lots of story ideas that I'd love to write, both in Worm and original work. I'm going to give itsome thought, but for now, I think I have to just release my stories when I can. I think that will let me make larger chapters with better flow, but I do wish I didn't need to do this.
TL;DR: laptop pulled through, but I didn't. Updates are officially 'when I can'.
Imbalance 4.A
Assault loved being a superhero. It was so nostalgic sometimes.
Sure, in his tenure as a Birdcage-bound escape artist, he'd done a lot of crazy stuff. Gotten into a bunch of crazy fights with a bunch of questionably-sane people shooting at him or fighting alongside him. And now, he did that on the other side of the coin, and was happy for it. Sure, you had to fight these bastards too, but that was something he'd done as Madcap anyway.
Normally, being a hero was pretty tame. Saving cats instead of criminals. But getting told by your boss that the plan was for him to shoot you? That was just like the old days.
The beam struck him, a lance of kinetic energy being redirected into a kick. His wife, bless her little puppy heart, was punted at what had to be just under the speed of sound straight into Behemoth, sending the bastard staggering back. A moment later, Revel released her lantern, sending balls of light dancing towards Behemoth, while Sam returned to his side with the remains of the burst of invulnerability. Behemoth recoiled as the lights struck him, digging deep and doing visible damage. Sammy curled back into the ball, and he picked her up and sat her on his shoulder to charge.
Legend was supplying them with the energy needed to do their attacks. He was also doing them the favor of absorbing any lightning that came his and puppy's way. And thank god for that, he thought, as his once-captor, now-boss crackled with energy from another bolt. He shifted, picking Sam off his shoulder. Time for another round.
Legend shot him in the back, shot Revel's lantern. Sam went flying as he dropkicked her again, striking the monster, rinse, repeat. Revel's lantern-lights did their thing.
Other capes moved in to do damage as well. Some were hurt, and one or two fell to lightning or fire. So few of those that remained could enter the kill aura, leaving a loose clearing that moved with the walking disaster. Puppy was one of only three melee fighters on the field right now, and the only one that was actually a ranged attacker.
Once more, he picked her up. "Hey, puppy?"
"Yes?" The exasperation in her voice was adorable.
"Let's go for breaking the sound barrier this time."
A laugh. "Go fuck yourself, honey." The humor in her voice was clear.
He wound up for the kick, and replied without losing a beat. "I believe that's your job now, puppy!" He sent her flying.
Revel sent him a look. "We're in the middle of a fight for our lives, here. This really the time?"
"Of course! If you can't find humor in domestic Battery, there's no point to the Assault!"
She groaned as Battery returned to his side. "Now I know why Armsmaster always has a stick up his ass."
"What, did you talk to him? Shouldn't have done that. I'm only able to put up with him through something akin to Stockholm Syndrome," his wife commented as she curled into a ball.
He huffed. "I'm hurt that you would say that!" He couldn't hide the grin as Revel gave an exasperated sigh, then it was time to do another attack.
Puppy flew towards Behemoth, breaking the sound barrier with a crack. Unfortunately, the Endbringer was ready this time. As she struck, he redirected the energy of her attack into the ground, sending a massive spiderweb of cracks through the concrete streets. Assault's heart fluttered as he saw Battery scrabble for purchase, barely managing to escape the kill aura in time. The volley of Revel's lights hit a moment later, buying time for Assault to rush in and get his puppy to safety.
Legend flew down. "Alright, we need a new plan. Any ideas?"
Assault thought a moment, pushing aside his urge to go try to punch the fucker out. "Yeah," he said, all humor in his voice lost, "I might have one or two."
-Shangri-La-
Rebecca awoke, and immediately knew something was wrong.
There was noise around her. Faint, dampened by something. Sounds that nonetheless were familiar to her, of pain and terror and the slow creep of death.
There was the ache. She hadn't felt pain in many years, so there was no reason she should have an ache.
There was the fogginess in her mind, noticeable in the way her thoughts were sluggish and repetitive.
It reminded her of her last days as young Rebecca. She hated those days.
She dug into her memory to find out why she hurt, why she was foggy.
Ah.
She breathed in, and out. Slowly, she opened her eye, and looked down.
David was standing there, maintaining a green field around them both. Around the bed. She ignored him a moment, looking to her left.
Yeah, it was gone. She could still sort of feel where it should be, but it was gone.
David began to talk, and she didn't respond. She knew exactly what he'd said, she just needed a moment.
"Becca? How are you feeling?"
"Fine." The word came out curt, sharp. She reiterated, softer this time; "I'm fine." Not much better. She could see the hurt on his face, and knew she should take it back, but instead let it stand.
"I'm sorry. I did what I could, but my power wouldn't answer my call. This was the only option I had."
"I understand."
He wanted to say more, she could tell. Probably more apologies, more platitudes and pleas for forgiveness. She wasn't in the mood for it. Setting her face to a 'genuine' smile beneath the visor, lilting her voice just right, she spoke. "If I'm not out there, they probably need all the help they can get. I'll be fine. Get back out there and be a hero."
She saw it fail. Saw him almost accept her mood change, then see past it. Just as expected. He left without another word. Later, she would make a careful apology. She knew she was being harsh, but she needed the outlet right now.
As he left, the barrier went down, and the screams flooded in.
-Shangri-La-
Amy was used to the screams.
Once, she had been horrified by them. Felt obligated to run, heal everyone she could as fast as they could be healed. It had taken several months of ER visits to realize that she was wasting her energy. She could save more by pacing herself, lasting longer so that more healing could be done.
By necessity, then, she had to get used to the screams.
"OH GOD, MY LEG!"
Everyone had a reason. Pain, fear, attention.
"I need a nurse over here!"
It wasn't like she didn't feel empathy and sympathy, or that she thought they were unimportant.
"AAAAAAGHHH!"
It was just a way to cope.
She walked through a curtain.
"Do I have your permission to heal you?"
The cape nodded emphatically. "Jes, jes, please, help me!"
She stepped up and placed a hand on the man's forearm. She shut off the pain receptors temporarily, and went to work. The man's leg was put back in order, the burns healed. The man thanked her in broken English, and she nodded, already moving on. She changed the appropriate flags once outside. He would be uncuffed and back on the battlefield shortly.
She sighed. The Herokiller lived up to his name. This tent was far less full than Leviathan's had been. Her first Endbringer fight, and they'd been swamped both by rain and bodies. Behemoth left few in any condition to return.
She opened another curtain. "Do I have permission-" she stopped, surprised. "Alexandria?"
"Panacea. A pleasure to meet you, if not under the happiest circumstances," the woman said. "You certainly have permission to try."
Amy nodded, swallowing. Alexandria reached out with her gloved right hand. Amy put a finger into a gap where the material had worn away entirely, making skin contact. Alexandria's body flooded Amy's awareness, and she frowned.
"I'm not sure what to make of this," she said. "Your body is stuck, sort of. Vital processes going on, but there's no cell division. Muscles aren't contracting right, on the molecular level. You still have bloodflow, but it's mostly supplying your brain and organs. It's like a facsimile of a normal body." She shook her head a bit, clearing the stray thoughts from her mind. "Sorry about that. Let me actually try to heal you."
Alexandria nodded. "That would be best."
She focused on the eye. Both it and the shoulder looked to her power like much older tissue, skin grown over scars. She told the older cells to divide, told the blood to redirect biomass from one place to another. She'd need extra to build the arm, but it shouldn't be hard to rebuild the eye with what she had. Well, it shouldn't, but…
"I can't. Your body is refusing to respond, even in the more internal areas. I'm afraid your invincibility applies to me, as well." She felt the adrenaline spike, saw the muscles in the hand clench ever so slightly. Subtle hints at her emotions. Amy realized, then, that she had just told the strongest woman in the world that she would never heal. She reflexively jerked her hand away.
Alexandria spoke, sounding puzzled. An act, they both knew it. "Is something wrong?"
Amy shook her head, trying to quell the rush of epinephrine she saw pouring through her system, despite not actually being able to control it. "No, nothing's wrong. I'm sorry I can't heal you." She paused. Her body was screaming at her to run, but her brain reminded her of her professional duties.
"You're low on blood. You might notice some major dizziness and impaired cognition, and possibly blackouts from pushing yourself too hard. Normally, we could fix that in an hour, but since we can't do an IV and I can't help, make sure to take a few weeks off from strenuous activity and ingest plenty of iron and fluids." She took a moment to calm herself a little. "I'm afraid that means no more fighting today."
Alexandria nodded, sighing. "I understand. I'll be sure to get an escort home, as well. It wouldn't do to black out over the ocean."
Amy nodded dumbly. Alexandria was pissed off right now, and she needed to stop reminding the woman that she couldn't fix her. Finally giving in to her instincts, she exited the curtained cubicle.
She was having a minor panic attack. She could literally watch the endorphins running through her body, changing brain chemistry and metabolism in preparation for running the hell away. The worst part was that it was justified. She'd just told Alexandria that she'd probably never heal. That kind of thing could have gotten her killed with a less heroic cape.
She leaned against a stretcher, catching her breath. Tuning out the sporadic yells and screams, just focusing on calming herself. Soon enough, she returned to her duties, well away from the section Alexandria was in. She went to work treating the patients that had already received all the help the doctors could provide for now, for better or worse. Trying to hit the bad cases, maybe save the ones that normal medicine wouldn't be able to help easily.
She ran across another familiar face there, so to speak. The new Ward. M-something, she couldn't quite remember. The broken arm kid. His outlook wasn't good; a coma at best, and this wasn't the best scenario.
She stepped inside.
-Shangri-La-
I woke up in agony, my skin on fire, my body cold. Screams of the damned echoed in my ears. I could barely move, barely think. A figure loomed over me, spattered with blood across its bone-white hooded robe. I tried to speak, to beg for mercy, and found my voice still gone. Couldn't I at least have that, if I was in hell?
The figure spoke, the words distant and quiet, barely audible past the horrible wailing. "Do I have permission to heal you?"
I nodded, slowly and carefully, hissing at the pain even that small action elicited. The figure did have a cross on her front; maybe she would save me from the pain.
She laid a hand on my forehead, and a sensation of calm swept through me. My whole body ceased to voice its agony to my head, and I knew peace. I slowly began to realize where I was. A hospital; at least, I hoped it was a hospital. Could still be hell, judging by the screaming. The girl next to me was a point against that idea, though. No way Amy would be in hell.
I smiled up at her, before remembering my mask. It was good to see a familiar face.
"Oh, good, you're coming back to awareness. I'd ask what the hell you did to get in the condition you were, if you could answer." She sounded a bit put off. "You were almost dead. Heavily damaged organs, minor but widespread internal bleeding, shrapnel, electrical burns and related nerve damage, ruptured eardrums, smoke inhalation, partial blindness. It looks like you were blown up, struck by lightning, and blown up again. Not to mention the older wounds. It's ridiculous."
I frowned, trying to remember what had happened. It was slow, like my memories were slipping through metaphorical fingers like water. I tried to bring my arm up, ask for a writing pad, but she pushed it back down. "Don't move yet. I'm about to start fixing nerves. This might hurt a bit."
I was subjected to a few minutes of cramps and pains, which I accepted without complaint, mostly because I couldn't. I was thankful when the sensations subsided and my head began to clear.
"You need to be more careful. You nearly died. Plus, too much injury at your age may stunt natural growth." That really seemed to be a bit unimportant, given the current situation. I indicated that opinion with a raised eyebrow. "Don't give me that look. I'm not gonna be there every time you need to be put back together, and natural healing will take away from your growth."
She paused, sighing. She sounded very, very weary. "Anyway, you'll want to eat more for a few days. I used up most of your remaining fat reserves, and your metabolism's gonna skyrocket for a while." She took her hand away. "You're healed. Try to stay that way." She moved to leave, and I reached out, trying to grab her hand. I found it handcuffed to the bed, but she heard the clinking and turned. I gave her a nod. I would try.
She left, and I lay there, thinking. Where had I gone wrong?
The first thing that came to mind was that I'd relied on my dream worlds far too much. I'd almost died several times thanks to the distractions it offered. I'd even had the thought that I shouldn't rely on them, then did exactly that minutes later. Stupid and reckless. I'd been willing to die, but I didn't want it to be a waste.
The last thing I remembered was falling. No, that wasn't quite right. I had vague impressions of some combat, but it was little more than flashes of action. Fires blocked, lightning dodged. I'd been fighting Behemoth? How the heck? It was like trying to remember a dream; I wasn't getting anything from it. I gave up, and went back to assessing the situation.
On the equipment side of things, my suit looked to be useless. It was still just a mess of flickering panels. I was stuck with writing till further notice, I guess. As for the staff - oh jeez, it was probably a complete loss. I'd had it with me during the trap, but it certainly wasn't here. I felt bad about that. Chris and Armsmaster worked so hard on it. If I made it out of this, I'd have to make it up to them somehow.
A nurse came in, unlocked my cuffs, and told me to make my way out. I followed the signs, flinching occasionally at the yells and cries. A man was teleported in nearby, his arm a charred mess, moaning, and I winced in sympathy. The teleporter winked out of existence a moment later.
I'd seen people die, out there. Been unable to save them. But I'd put them aside, because I hadn't been able to focus on their loss. But now?
My powers might mess with my head, but right now, I was me, and I had problems with being that distant. I would have no more distracting powers clouding my judgement, no matter the possible benefits. There would be risks ahead, but no more being reckless with my life. And no more letting people die.
Mind sorted, I took off toward the battlefield.