The "blue dog-koala thing in kid-sized shirt and pants that smells good" is apparently less threatening than the obviously drunk homeless guy who bliznaks his pants halfway through the bus ride and tries to make drooling nonsensical conversation with a young lady who promptly joined me. I went ahead and moved to the aisle seat while she took the window seat and got a thankful smile from her. A good loud sharp-tooth filled growl and the crazy guy stopped trying to interact with her.
Before the bus even pulled out I started missing New York City, I've always liked visiting it when I was back in my world. Wonder how this one was different with heroes like Legend running around it and having had the city hit by two endbringers. Bet the traffic is much better, but sightseeing is probably too dangerous to do right now, need to settle in somewhere and get my affairs in order first.
The bus ride did give me time to think, I needed ID, food and shelter. I could pretend to be a case fifty-three with some amnesia but had vague memories of Brockton Bay, which is why when I "appeared" in NYC I took a bus here. In hindsight the taxi driver thing was a terrible decision, I bet he remembers picking me up from the airport and the fact that he gained a hole in his gas tank. I should have walked through the sewers again and avoided everyone, but to be fair after almost an entire day of being trapped in plane-rides, I was just getting tired of traveling.
Option one: Join the wards or the Protectorate. Pretend I'm sixteen or seventeen, basically exchange a year or two of going to school (a second time) until the start of canon. The story starts and I'm eighteen, eligible for the protectorate if I want to do that or I can just tell them to shove off and leave if I decide I need to.
I think I would rate as a mid or upper-tier brute with a dozen minor additional powers. I'm not exactly eager to go toe-to-toe with supervillains and I'll happily put off fighting gangbangers, villains, and endbringers as long as possible. As a case fifty-three, I could probably swing free room and board and live "on base", get a paycheck that gets deposited into a trust fund or a savings account. The biggest negative would probably be being assigned a guardian to act as a parent. Oh and school, boring teen drama-laden school.
Or go to the Protectorate which would be the adult version with higher pay grade and I can do whatever I want with the money. Unfortunately, it would be a career, and I'd have to patrol the dangerous areas of Brockton Bay as a full-time job. I think Endbringer fights are optional with hazard pay bonus and additional benefits, but I'm pretty sure that they greatly "encourage" the Protectorate members to go. With just this body's powers I'm fairly certain that would only result in either being drowned by Levi, instant heat death from the hero killer or crushed by a building thrown by the screaming bird ending for me.
Going with the Wards or Protectorate also held the threat of a national-sized cape organization over the heads of the gang members and supervillains. Kill a Ward and end up with higher end capes from the Protectorate coming after you with kill orders in hand. Additional heat that the gangs would certainly not want to draw to themselves while the balance of power favors them. This would give me some protection from the gangs, as they are more likely going for a KO on a ward instead of outright killing them. Risk vs reward, few cape adults are going to want to be known for killing kids.
Option two: Rogue. Starting out as a rogue is an option but a bad one, There isn't many in town to join up with other then Browbeat who might not exist yet, Parian or Circus. Sure running around robbing gangbangers sounds like fun. Until they start following you home and start shooting or burning down your house. Or you stumble into an ambush to kill/injure you.
Option Three: Villain. Could join a gang or make my own and have a lot more freedom and money but also be faced with the risk of death from rival gangs. Regardless, the problem with that plan is that most of the gangs in Brockton Bay are racist, ABB for Asians and E88 for Nazi-whites.
Frankly, I don't see me qualifying for either, and the Merchants or Coil... no… just no.
Faultline's crew would probably be the next best option for me after the Wards, in addition to being case fifty-three friendly she stays fairly neutral as mercenaries for hire, doesn't hold territory and doesn't get involved in the typical gang wars. I think they do get briefly pulled into the S9 nonsense because of Firescar... Fireburn... Whoever it was, coming over for Labyrinth or was it Spitfire?
Wards it is, though I'm not terribly interested in having to see my face on underwear in the future. Maybe I can nix that as a condition of joining. As a backup plan, keep relations with Faultline positive and open.
Brockton Bay, the city that weeps broken dreams and broken people. It looked worse than Detroit did back in my world, but at least, it smelled better than Shanghai.
Frankly, the city was depressing to look at, it looked like only a small fraction of the city remained working. Whole blocks of buildings were boarded up, a couple standing houses had obviously been torched at some point. Trash was laying around everywhere, the bus lot we pulled into looked like it was last cleaned and decorated back in the 60's, well at least one thing was the same.
Goal one, go to or get noticed by the PRT and... Stomach rumbled, ok food first. The bus terminal attendant should know where to get some "real" food.
"Hey, do you know how to get to Fugly Bob's burgers from here?"
I hid the Chinese cash, whatever it's called; near the restaurant. Need to have it exchanged for American dollars sometime in the future until then it just leads to questions I don't want to answer.
Ahh the Challenger burger, it consisted of three one pound, hand-pressed patties of delicious meat. Thick slices of cheese in between each layer of meat and topped with pickles, lettuce, and tomato stacked high on a sesame seed bun and skewered together with oversized toothpicks just to keep it from falling apart. It dripped with grease and turned napkins opaque with the heart-clogging fat that pooled sluggishly on the plate while soaking into the sagging bottom bun. The cashier laughed at me when I ordered it along with fries and a drink.
I don't blame her, the monstrous burger was bigger than my head as a waitress dropped it off in front of me.
"Good luck hun, eat it within ten minutes and you can get a free T-shirt and have your picture up on the wall."
I ate it in seconds, I have to admit my mouth is freakishly large for my size and being able to reach up and push it down my throat and into my own stomach whole is an unfair advantage in eating contests. The burger and fries themselves were basically the same as a Five-Guys burger, through the fries were not as good. A free (kid sized) t-shirt and a photo of me grinning that huge toothy grin with a "Peace sign" pose were placed on the wall of winners.
After finishing my grease-soaked meal, I asked the cashier, "Can you give the PRT a ring, I woke up not too long ago looking like…this" I waved my hands down along my body. While waiting, I ate the fries slowly, my stomach visibly distended from the massive burger.
I regret nothing.
They showed up about thirty minutes later and escorted me to the PRT base in a commuter-type van with a steel grill in between the back and front, like a police car. They glanced at me occasionally, but rarely spoke beyond confirming I was the one who wanted to go "register" with the PRT as I sat down on the bench-seat and got as comfortable as I could for the ride.
My meeting with the director herself (in a dressed-up interrogation room of course) lasted all of five minutes since I was "so eager" to join the Wards. Thankfully she left after I signed on, the stench of urine lingering heavily around her which slowly filled the room while we talked. I know it was just her kidney failure issues causing it and most people probably couldn't smell it. The olfactory assault was replaced with an hour-long question session with Armsmaster about what I remembered. His attitude quickly had me giving him increasingly outlandish answers.
Even more amusing was that his lie detector didn't seem to work on me, or maybe he hadn't finished building it yet? I think he figured out that I was lying when I claimed to have some memories of being the inheritor of the Winchester fortune. Worth a try right? This of course only made things worse for me as he now wanted "serious" answers and proceeded to start over.
I slipped up on the name, I wasn't even thinking when I said: "Six two six" in response to what I remembered was my name.
"I don't know where that number came from, I just remember that as being my name," I replied
He leaned over the table, trying to intimidate me with his relative size "You don't remember anything else, who named you six two six, who called you six two six?"
"No, I have no memories of someone calling me six two six, it's just what came up off the top of my head when you asked for my name. I hadn't actually thought of what my name might be."
I mean who thinks about their own name, it's a given you know who you are. But when I tried remembering what my name was, all I got was six two six popping up. I didn't even think about it and just spouted it off like an idiot because I wasn't paying much attention to his questions.
He frowned for a few seconds and said watched me like a hawk, "Prisoner six two six, Experiment six two six?"
I couldn't help but twitch in shock and replied slowly "Yes, experiment six two six sounds familiar."
He took a wild stab and hit a nerve I didn't even know I had. I think he jumped to a wholly different conclusion about that number, though, likely thought I was "case fifty-three" number six hundred and twenty-six.
I paid a bit more attention to the questions after that and stuck with my generalized story of waking up in an alley and making my way here because I remembered it. Just in case, he reviews the video and calibrates the lie detector to me I used misleading answers whenever possible so as to not an outright lie.
An easy white lie of "remembering" to have turned seventeen at some point and one frustrated Armsmaster had me turned over to the "recruiting" department. Which was responsible for the actual legal issues and paperwork. Being cooperative and having some notable and easily provable "thinker" abilities like memorizing some of the legal documents in seconds and then reciting it from memory smoothed over any awkward "you certainly don't act like a seventeen-year-old" moments.
As awesome as this fluffy super-strong body is, it does have some substantial drawbacks which are quite irritating. For instance, nothing is really set at my height, the door handles, and light switches, countertops, couches, refrigerators, and chairs are all designed for people much taller than I am. Having to either jump up or climb up a wall or door just to turn a knob or open a cabinet gets frustrating the hundredth time you have to do it. Likewise, falling into the toilet because the hole is wider than your body is both inconvenient and embarrassing.
I definitely didn't spend the last ten minutes of my life taking an impromptu bath in the bathroom sink and used most of the paper towels in the dispenser to dry off.
Nope, didn't happen.
Also, now I'm naked, the clothes of course just ended up in the trashcan though I guess its ok as I am covered in fur. I rescued the cash, washed it and stuffed it ontop of a ceiling tile for now, I'll just grab it later.
"I thought you were wearing clothes when you went in there." my "oh so helpful" PRT escort commented as I finally exited the bathroom.
"I don't want to talk about it"
"You took an awfully long time in there, did you...?"
"Not another word" I growled out.
His lips tightened in a line of barely repressed laughter as he led the way.
Fantastic, this just makes everything even more awkward for me.
The PRT agent stopped in front of a metal door and pressed a button. "Just give them a few minutes to get their masks on."
After a short wait, the door unlocked and opened. The PRT agent closed the door behind me as I entered.
The dome-shaped room was well decorated with various bits of furniture, looking vaguely like a living room with dozens of computers monitors and multiple chairs off to one side. A countdown clock ticked away above the door I just entered though marked with "time until next tour group"
"Oh my god! He's so cute!" In seconds of entering, I was attacked by what must be a blond human shaped missile. It could only be Missy, aka Vista, and of course, she's taller than I am.
"You're so heavy. Wow, you smell good too!" as she tried to lift me up into a hug but only ended up dropping me immediately. Yes, thanks for commenting on my weight and treating me like a stuffed doll within seconds of meeting me. I'm so glad I was able to get the other "smells" out of my fur.
I gave an awkward four-armed hug around her in return, "Yes, um... thanks you can let me go now, though." she just clung to me more and rubbed my head and ears. Ok, I'm not complaining anymore, it does feel good.
"Anyways, I'm Vista, he's Aegis. Kid Win's on the console tonight and Clockblocker and Gallant are out on patrol." She points to a fairly muscular teenager standing next to a table with what's obviously homework strewn ontop of it. And no mention of Shadow Stalker, awesome.
"Vista..." the larger teen warned.
"But he's so fluffy!" she replied energetically while petting my head.
"Ittt'sss fine" I said melting a little as she enthusiastically rubbed the bases of my ears. uuuggghhhh. I then slid onto the ground face down and spread out all six limbs and did my best impression of a puddle.
"So Fluffy!" I think she said
Vista continued treating me as a fluffy teddy bear and continued cuddling, hugging and petting me. I think the other wards eventually came in at some point and poked me a few times but I was fairly out of it by then and half-asleep but I did manage a few halfhearted waves. It was obviously the jet lag catching up with me, totally the jet lag.