A/N:
Welcome to chapter 2 of DESTINATION: INSERT! In this chapter, we explore the exciting and wonderful world of Worm, from the perspective of someone who isn't as objectively lucky as Taylor was (oh sure, the bullying campaign was terrible, no doubt about it, but at least they weren't literally trying to kill her or torture her or sell her family into slavery in order to squeeze a bit more money out of her). Really, if you think about it, before she became a villain Taylor actually had a damn good life by Brockton Bay standards. But that's not the point, the point is that Kyle's current situation isn't as easy to solve as a bullying campaign, and he's on his own at this point.
So, let's see how he handles it. Right after this disclaimer.
DISCLAIMER:
[ORIGINAL: AUTHOR?] [NEGATIVE]
{EARTH BET}
{APRIL 8, 2011}
{DAVIDSON HOUSEHOLD, EMPIRE TERRITORY}
"Kyle! Help me!"
My vision turned red, even as I took in the sight before me. Five skinhead goons, each of them covered in tattoos and openly carrying pistols of various kinds. The biggest one had his arms wrapped around my brother in a bear hug, grinning at me even as he squeezed. The cry of pain Brian let out almost made me start shooting.
Okay, let's think through the situation. They're here several hours early, they obviously want something more than just the money you owe. They've already got Brian, so they expect you to go along with whatever they say. They have five guys here, all armed, so they obviously expect you to be able to put up a fight. But, if they don't want the money, what the hell are they here for?!
"You know, Kyle," one of them spoke up, and with a start I recognized him as George, "you really must be an idiot if you thought the Empire wouldn't notice you scrounging around the junkyards for parts. All of you new Tinkers are the same, no common sense. Everyone knows the gangs keep an eye on the junkyards and stuff."
Wait… they think I'm a parahuman? Ah, fuck, I can see where this is going. No way in hell they'll leave me and Brian alone now, even if I convince them they're wrong. Fuck it, I'm already screwed anyway, what's a little more on top of that?
"… Heh. Yeah, you caught me. Sorry about all the things I said in my civilian identity, I was trying to distance myself from my future cape persona. After all, who would expect the anti-Nazi loner to be the newest Empire Tinker?"
As I dug my own grave, I watched my little brother's eyes widen. I wasn't sure what was going through his head, but I needed to get him out of this in one piece. Anything else could come later. I could read George's expression just fine though; he was absolutely ecstatic at the idea that he would be the one to add a Tinker to the gang's roster. Probably looking forward to a nice bonus I suppose.
"Oh, no hard feelings Kyle, I always knew you were a good guy deep down. Tell ya what, why don't you come with us, we'll take ya to the boss man."
Great. Now Kaiser was getting involved. Fuck, no way I'm getting out of this. Is there any way this could get worse? Don't answer that Murphy, go fuck yourself.
"… Alright. Lead the way George." I sighed, gripping the pistol tighter behind my back.
The big guy dropped Brian to the ground, none to gently, and as a whole the group turned to go walk away, likely expecting me to be right behind them, all gung-ho and ready to beat up some minorities.
What they didn't expect was for me to unload my pistol into their backs until it clicked empty. Three of them went down instantly, the big guy stumbled a bit before I nailed him in the head, and George managed to duck behind a wall before I could get him. I heard his footsteps running off in the distance, and I sighed, lowering my gun and slumping to the ground.
Fuck. Well, if I wasn't dead before, I am now.
All I could do was hold Brian as he cried into my shoulder, staring off into the distance and listening to the police sirens make their way towards us.
{EARTH BET}
{APRIL 8, 2011}
{BROCKTON BAY POLICE DEPARTMENT HEADQUARTERS}
"Kyle Davidson, you are under arrest for the illegal possession of a firearm and for murdering four people in cold blood. You have the right to remain silent, everything you say can and will…"
That was what got me into this mess. Sitting in a holding cell, not allowed any contact with the outside world, with the Empire gunning after me and my little brother. Just my luck that the cops who responded to my neighbor's 911 call were in the E88's pocket, because why wouldn't they be?
Anyway, that leads us to now. I hadn't seen a single lawyer yet, and no one had come by to tell me anything. For all I knew, the skinheads had already sold off my brother, and I wouldn't find out until I got out of jail… if I ever did.
The sound of the cell door opening caught my attention, and I looked up just in time to see a PRT officer step into the room. Great, looks like everyone thinks I'm a damn Tinker, because a normal person looking through junkyards at night for parts that they couldn't afford has never happened before. Fucking parahumans.
"Mister Davidson? I'm Officer Jenkins, with the-"
"I know what you're here for," I interrupted him, "and quite frankly, I don't give a shit. I want to see my little brother, now. We can talk after that."
He looked a bit uncomfortable, "Uh, that might be a problem… You see, Child Protective Services got involved once they heard about your situation, and… well, I'm afraid you won't be seeing your brother again. He's been put into foster care."
I felt something inside me just… snap. Months of fighting and doing my best to keep my brother safe, months of going hungry just to put food on the table for him, months of bouncing from job to job, some not even legal, in order to provide for my little brother… and these fuckers just took him.
I'd never see my brother again. Everyone thought I was a parahuman. The Empire was out for my blood, I now had a criminal record thanks to some dirty cop, and everything I have ever done has amounted to nothing.
Everything I've built has been burnt to ash, in a single. Damn. Night.
And so, even as I felt the edges of my vision blacken, I lunged for the fucker who thought he had the right to tear down my life-
============={0}=============
Suddenly, I was somewhere else. Huge creatures filled my vision, somehow existing everywhere and nowhere at once, in multiple dimensions at a time. It was hard to tell how many there were, my mind simply unable to process it, but despite that I could tell there were two. Two massive… things, bigger than a planet but smaller than a house, power rivaling a galaxy but weaker than an ant. Massive contradictions, paradoxes in reality, something beyond human perception but easily seen by the naked eye.
Even as I felt my mind begin to crumble into pieces at the sheer impossibility of what I was seeing, a small piece of one of the… worms, fell from the whole and began to make its way towards me. I felt a sense of… not alarm, not shock, but similar to surprise from the creature it fell from, as if it hadn't been expecting that piece to fall but also didn't particularly care either. I felt something similar from the… shard as well, as if it hadn't wanted to fall, as if it resented something for making it fall in the first place.
Something about the whole event seemed… wrong. As if this very thing had happened countless times before, but this time there was a mistake. It was hard to put into words, but I felt like the shard that had fallen, the massive grain of sand falling from the desert above me, wasn't meant to be released, as if it was both as integral to the function of the desert as the Sun, but also as useless as a tumbleweed rolling in the wind.
So many contradictions, so many things that made no sense but made perfect sense, so much information was flowing into my brain. I felt a pain worse than any migraine I had felt before, but despite that I was able to understand a single exchange between the two massive creatures and the shard, a message that spanned solar systems and used more power than the entire Earth's population did in a year.
[DESTINATION]
[AGREEMENT]
[TRAJECTORY]
[AGREEMENT]
[SURPRISE]
[PANIC]
[… NONCHALANCE]
[ANGER]
And with that, my mind blanked, and I knew no more.
============={0}=============
{EARTH BET}
{APRIL 9, 2011}
{BROCKTON MUNICIPAL HOSPITAL, BROCKTON BAY}
When I opened my eyes, something was… different. My body was numb, I couldn't move my limbs, and there was an annoying beeping noise somewhere to my left. When I tried to move my neck to look, it didn't work, so I simply laid there and stared at the ceiling. Normally, I would have been more worried at my predicament, but my brain was too busy processing what it had just seen.
Two massive somethings had, whether accidentally or on purpose, given me something. A piece of them, a shard of a being more massive than anything I could ever imagine. Said piece was… not defective, but… to put it in coding terms, it was a program that did exactly what it was supposed to, but more effectively and more thoroughly than needed. It was a math addition program that could perform advanced calculus, it was a proofreading program that could write doctorate-level papers. It did what it was programmed to do, but there weren't enough limitations to what it could do. It was like using a sledgehammer to hammer in a nail, completely unnecessary and wasteful.
I also had no idea what the damn thing was supposed to do. It had felt like Build, tasted like Create, looked like Invention, but nothing that could be put into human terms, more ideas than words. I had absolutely no idea what in the hell had just happened, other than some kind of space magic bullshit had been involved.
Footsteps in the hallway had me turning my attention away from whatever was now inside me to the person who had just walked into the room. Two people, I corrected myself when I managed to move my head just enough to catch sight of the second.
One was clearly Armsmaster, that blue-steel armor gave it away, and the other had to be Panacea based off the fantasy healer outfit she had on. Great, apparently me being a 'Tinker' had them pulling in all the stops to keep me alive. Yeah, that'll turn out well once they find out I'm a normal, squishy human.
"Hello, Mister Davidson," Armsmaster started, "I'm here to ask you a few questions."
I rolled my eyes as best I could, what with my body being as sluggish as it was. "Yeah, well, I've got a few of my own, ya damn tin can. I'll even spell it out for you, so you can write it all down. Where. The. Hell. Is. My. Brother. You. Overcompensating. Fuck."
Panacea spoke up, "Look, Mister Davidson, we need to ask you questions so we can be sure you're not suffering any adverse effects from the tranquilizer."
Wait, the fucking what. "I'm sorry, I must have misheard you. Are you saying that you fuckers tranquilized me?! The hell is wrong with you assholes?"
"It was deemed necessary to stop you from attacking Officer Jenkins. You were not responding to external stimuli, simply continuing to punch the officer's face despite his attempts to dislodge you using his stun gun," Armsmaster explained, his voice just as deadpan as before.
Huh. Apparently, I beat the shit out of that asshole. Good. "Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to upset the fucker you sent to tell me my brother was taken from me. I'll be sure to send him a 'Get Well Soon' card when I get out of here, cross my heart."
Armsmaster's annoyed sigh was music to my ears. "Mister Davidson, we are not your enemy. The PRT had nothing to do with your brother being taken from your custody. However, if you join the Wards, we promise to do our absolute best to-"
"Oh, fuck off! Even if I was a damn parahuman, I wouldn't join your sorry band of rejects! All you do is sit around and act like you give a damn, while letting the gangs stomp all over us normal people! Like hell I'd be a part of that shit!"
Panacea looked a bit confused at my outburst. "Uh, Mister Davidson… you are a parahuman. You have an active Corona Pollentia and Gemma, which means that you have powers."
What. The. Fuck.
"… Excuse me?" I croaked out, caught between anger and fear. If I did have powers, they sure as hell hadn't done me any good so far. Unless I had some bad luck power, in which case I was just going to go off myself once I got out of this bed, save the universe some trouble. But, if I did have powers now… well, the Empire knew where I lived, and suspected I was a parahuman. They also knew about Brian, and it wouldn't be very difficult to find a single kid in foster care if you knew their name and looks.
"That is correct. Mister Davidson, you are a parahuman with a criminal record. This means that you fall within the PRT's jurisdiction. And, judging from your previous action last night of stealing thousands of dollars from online bank accounts, you could be charged with the use of parahuman powers for economic purposes, which is an instant Birdcage sentence."
Son of a fucking fuck. I didn't use any damn powers to do that, but of course, the justice system couldn't care less about that. No, I'd be made an example of at best. I had no way out of this situation, other than whatever the PRT was offering.
Fuck.
"… What do you want?" I asked, defeated.
I swear I saw a smile form on the tin can's face. Asshole.
"The PRT ENE is willing to put you and your brother in the care of a vetted foster family, along with providing for your Tinkering, so long as you join the Brockton Bay Wards. We will also drop any and all charges against you, so long as you return the money you stole. Is this acceptable?"
No, it absolutely wasn't, but everyone here knew it was my only choice. Even if my brother wasn't in danger, if I got thrown in jail there was no way for me to provide for him anymore, so even if the Empire didn't kill him the foster system would fuck him up anyway.
And so, with a heavy hand and rage in my heart, I made a deal with the devil for the greater good.
{EARTH BET}
{APRIL 10, 2011}
{THE RIG, BROCKTON BAY}
"Alright, Mister Davidson, welcome to the Rig! Today we're going to do some power testing, if that's okay with you?"
The nerdy scientist guy in front of me was way too damn excited for my tastes. Who the hell even talks like that anyway, "if that's okay with you" my fucking ass. I didn't have a choice in the matter, the PRT held my leash and we both knew it. Oh well, it wasn't all bad; I had to admit, I was curious as well.
"… Alright. What's first?"
"Well, since we know you're a Tinker," yeah sure you do, "we'll start with that. Follow me and we'll head to the Scrapyard. Err, that's what we call the Tinker test area, because of all the different materials we have lying around, you know."
Man, this guy was even more socially inept than I was. Damn.
"… Cool. So… what's the test?"
"Ah, right! Sorry, my bad. Basically, we give you free reign to build whatever pops into your head. Usually we give you an hour, but that can increase depending on what you're building. After all, it's a bit difficult to build a whole vehicle in an hour," he gave a weak chuckle.
"… What happens if I don't have any ideas? If it turns out I'm not a Tinker?" I had to ask.
"Oh, don't be ridiculous," he snorted, "You must have built something already with all those parts you grabbed."
Great, another bunch of idiots who think I'm a Tinker. Oh, sure; apparently, I am a parahuman now according to Pan-Pan, but just because I grabbed some old computer parts from a scrapyard doesn't mean I'm a damn Tinker.
We both stepped into the room, however, and all those thoughts flew out the window. The entire room was stocked with various electronics and metals, shelves covering every available inch of wall space and completely stuffed with goodies of all kinds. Just looking at it gave me so many ideas.
"Now, do remember to ask if you need anything extra Mister Davidson. I'll be waiting outside for when you're… done… huh, he works fast."
I tuned out the man, already elbow-deep in a bunch of electronics and tearing apart anything that had any use to me. A vague blueprint was starting to form in my mind, some kind of weapon if I had to guess, but it was… incomplete. Oh, it would work, but just taking a look at it told me the damn thing would use more energy than the oil rig I was standing on could provide. The dimensions of it told me it was a pistol-sized gun.
A pistol used more power than the Tinker-powered oil rig I was on. I sent the mental representation of my power a metaphorical raised eyebrow at that.
[ANNOYANCE]
I paused in the middle of dismantling some high-tech light, glancing around for a second before turning back to my work. Strange, I could have sworn I heard something…
[SURPISE] [… QUERY]
This time I sat down the half-assembled frame I was making, turning my attention inward. That time, I definitely heard it. It… sounded like when those massive worms talked in my vision…
[SHOCK] [EXCITEMENT]
[… REALIZATION] [ANGER]
… What? It was… surprised and excited that I could hear it, but then… it realized it was supposed to be angry at me? Or it realized something about me made it angry, one of the two. It was… hard to understand this thing, the messages weren't really in words but had meaning all the same. It reminded me of the feeling I got from seeing the shard, actually: a general sense of what it was, but no details.
So, I indulged my curiosity, and talked to it.
'What are you?'
[BUILD] [CREATE] [INNOVATION] [KNOWLEDGE] [PROFICIENCY] [WARFARE]
[… DAMAGED] [BROKEN]
I slumped to the ground, holding a hand to my head. I heard a panicked knocking on the room's door but ignored it in favor of the incredible migraine I had just received. This… thing, this shard, was… to put a human title on it, {Queen Warfare}. It was… based around creating and maintaining things made for all-out war, and knew no other purpose but war. It could create any technology used for conventional warfare, with a few limitations.
It almost felt like pieces of it had been torn off and sent elsewhere. For instance, it should have been able to create explosive devices, but that part seemed to be missing. Even though a few parts were gone, however, it could still create things like small arms, armored vehicles, robots, and…
Nanomachines.
The moment I realized that nanomachines were an option, my mental blueprint switched gears. Instead of a ridiculously overpowered pistol that no one could hope to power without a nuclear generator, it became a '3D printer' of sorts, whose only purpose was to print nanomachines which could be used to create other things using some weird matter conversion feature. That didn't matter, however, because the important thing was…
I was a Warfare Tinker.
And so, even as I blacked out once again, the observer bursting into the room in a panic, I felt an uncontrollable smile break out over my face. The Empire wouldn't know what hit them.
A/N:
So, here's the second chapter! Still a bit short for my tastes, but I felt that was a good place to end it. Yes, Kyle is a Warfare Tinker, based off my CYOA v5 choices: Small Arms, Robotics, Nanomachines, and Armored Warfare. The rest of the 'powers' are mostly secondary effects of how his powers expressed themselves.
On that note, what's up with the weird shard? Well, that will be explained a bit more next chapter (during a few interludes that will explain quite a few things that have been noticed by the MC), but the short explanation is that this shard wasn't meant to be released. Not like Queen Administrator, which was a crucial shard that was released into the cycle due to Scion's depression, but in a literal 'this shard is not ready yet' sense. This shard was the main Tinker shard (similar to the other Queen shards), but had pieces of it torn out to create other Tinker shards (for instance, Bakuda's). Scion accidentally lost hold of it while distracted, and didn't care enough to track it down, figuring it wasn't that important due to how ruined and broken it was.
It won't be too overpowered, especially with the sheer amount of drawbacks I chose for the MC here. But rest assured, things will go very different for the plot from this point onward.
Anyway, with all that said, I'll see you all next time with a new chapter. This is AWDTB, signing off.
Character Sheet:
SCENARIO:
Gestation (+15, +15)
PATH:
Vigilante
ORIGIN:
Insert (Male, Teenager [Age 16])
CIVILIAN IDENTITY:
High Schooler (-0, -0) (15, 15)
COSTUME:
Armor (-5, -0) (10, 15)
SKILLS:
Banter (-1, -0) (9, 15)
Hacking (-1, -0) (8, 15)
Marksmanship (-5, -0) (3, 15)
Martial Arts (-4, -0) (-1, 15)
Stealth (-3, -0) (-4, 15)
SHARD:
Natural Trigger (+3, +0) (-1, 15)
PERKS:
Voice in My Head (-0, -2) (-1, 13)
Noctis Cape (-0, -1) (-1, 12)
Plot Convenience (-1, -0) (-2, 12)
Second Trigger (-4, -3) (-6, 9)
FLAWS:
Rough Start (x2) (+4, +0) (-2, 9)
Worst Day Ever (x2) (+4, +2) (2, 11)
Memory Death (+4, +0) (6, 11)
Unruly Passenger (+0, +4) (6, 15)
Psychic Nosebleed (+0, +3) (6, 18)
Slaughterhouse 9 (+4, +2) (10, 20)
Endbringer Target (+3, +4) (13, 24)
Humble Beginnings (+5, +5) (18, 29)
GIFT:
Plot Relevance
POWERS:
Small Arms (-0, -3) (18, 26) (Second Trigger)
Robotic (-0, -7) (18, 19)
Nanomachines (-0, -10) (18, 9)
Armored Warfare (-0, -5) (18, 4)
Proficiency (-0, -2) (18, 2)
True or False (-0, -3) (18, -1)
Do You Even Lift (-0, -3) (18, -4)
PATH-SPECIFIC:
Ambivalent (+4, +4) (22, 0)
EQUIPMENT:
Sniper Rifle (-3, -0) (19, 0)
Blade (-1, -0) (18, 0)
Bombs (-2, -0) (16, 0)
Tinkertech (-4, -0) (12, 0)
Stealth Suit (-2, -0) (10, 0)
Tool Belt (-1, -0) (9, 0)
Supply Line (-4, -0) (5, 0)
PRT Info (-5, -0) (0, 0)