Shhh, don't say it, I know. Chimera Rising will be finished before this actually becomes an active project, but I just had to get this outta my system.
I do not own Worm or Risk of Rain 2-and whatever small crossover elements may be present within.
(Inspired by Worm-In-Waiting)
X.X.X.X.X.X.X
His whole body was tense. Teeth clenched, shoulders hunched, muscles tight. He was coiled; ready to spring loose at the slightest touch. Dark thoughts swirling inside his head as he set his face in a determined glare.
The burning throb in his arm from the needle-which he quickly threw away in the bathroom-and its contents was an ever present reminder as he trudged through the halls, surrounded by the wandering bodies of the other students. He swallowed thickly, feeling his heart beat painfully in his chest as a cold sweat started to build on his brow. He could feel the drug coursing through his veins, filling his body with an unpleasant heat the more he held it in. This wasn't the kiddie shit they let potential recruits toy around with, this was the REAL deal, the ones full members got when they passed selections. Johnny had said as much, the potent stuff just wasn't the same as the diluted mixes-it was more primal, dangerous, got you more worked up and ready to wreck some shit.
It was just what he needed.
Of course, he wasn't anywhere close to being officially 'IN' the gang yet, so he was forced to swipe a syringe from his cousin's personal stash. Asshole owed him anyway, this'll make them square.
He groaned quietly as the warmth inside him began to grow.
Only downside was, once you injected it, you needed to use it immediately or else it'd start burning you inside out. But he didn't wanna use it yet, he needed to wait for the right moment. But he didn't know how much longer he could hold on; God it was getting worse with every second!
Clutching his shirt in a white knuckled grip he came to a halt; his blood boiling, his skin sizzling, his organs melti-FUCK!
A flare of pain across his whole body caused his vision to go hazy, bright spots and darkness creeping around the edges.
He hunched over, face scrunching up, head spinning, tears forming in his eyes from the strain and agony.
A few annoyed murmurs met his ears as they were forced to walk around him-'merchant wannabe' 'retard blocking the hall' 'little pest'-every word fueling the growing storm within him, the world falling away as a silent rage began to grow in volume and intensity, filling his head with sounds of thunder and violence.
A heavy hand clamped onto his shoulder just before a petulant voice from behind demanded, "Move!" and shoved him aside, his body smashing into the locker with an echoing slam-the air leaving his lungs on impact. The act was met with a small round of chuckles and chortles as he slid down to the floor. He didn't look up, instead curling into himself, squeezing his eyes shut and raising his hands in surrender, all the while quietly muttering curses and visceral hatred as more people walked past him: he seethed as they all pointed, and insulted, and laughed, laughed, laughed, and laughed!
"Fucking druggie."Someone sneered before his cheek flared in pain when the sole of their sneaker smashed into his cheek. His head bouncing off the metal door and leaving a dull throb in his left ear.
His eyes snapped open; a momentary pause freezing the world around him. No thoughts, no nothing, just a still ominous quiet that lasted forever and ended too soon. And suddenly, it was over. A snap; like a stiff branch in a windstorm, a thin rope lifting an anvil. His body went dead, blood soared through his ears. His eyes glowed and he exploded.
A blinding white flash.
The sharp crackle of power ringing through the halls.
Horrified cries and gasps of fear as bodies crumbled into charred piles of flesh and fabric.
There was a half-second pause before the dam broke; a flood of bodies pushed and shoved each other in a panic as arcs of electricity thrashed through the air. A single voice rose above the clamor-angry and hurt-roaring as he spewed bolts of power from his body. From his hands, chest, feet and throat, bursts of lightning pounced outward in erratic spears of light that burned and pierced anyone he saw-felling half a dozen people with each swipe through the air. Through tear stained eyes, he watched with grim and dark satisfaction as they ran away. Afraid of him, of what he could do. Finally, finally it was their turn to be helpless!
All the jerks who hurt him. Everyone who watched and did nothing, who laughed and called him a loser.
No more! He'd show them, he'd show them all!
Amongst the stampede of people, a girl ran with her bag clutched possessively to her chest-mindful of the treasure she had packed inside. Her heart raced as frightened tears burned her eyes while she ran for her life. The electricity in the air prickling her neck and causing some of her hair to float. She yelped as a stray streak gouged the locker to her right, the metal blackening and twisting from the hot energy. The momentary distraction caused her to collide with another student, the two of them falling to the floor and curling up into tight balls to avoid being trampled to death by the scared teens rushing through the hallways.
While the rest of the student body rushed for the exits, the two lay groaning on the ground, bruised and bleeding from the heavy footfalls of the others. The girl grit her teeth in pain and lifted her throbbing head inches off the floor, her glasses hanging limply on her face as the left temple had been bent awkwardly. Through blurred vision, she looked over at the other fallen student. She knew him; Eric Stromer. They had worked on history and art projects together. He used to be a quiet and shaky kid, but after getting jumped and robbed by ABB one too many times, he started hanging out with the E88 to feel safe. Soon he was wearing their colors, shaving his head and adopting their language; spewing visceral insults to anyone who was dubbed 'a threat to innocent people'. She felt sad seeing him change and never doing anything about it-especially remembering those talks Chad had shared with the others about how the Empire used people's anger and desperation to guide them over to their side-but she had figured he was too far gone for her to do anything about it. Yet as she looked at him now, all she saw was that same scared boy she had known from art and history, who now had his ankle twisted from a particularly hard stomp from someone's boot. He looked back at her too, his eyes sharing equal amounts of pain and fear as they both recognized the dire situation they were in.
The two turned-the both of them letting out quiet whimpers as they beheld their attacker as he stepped forward, static dancing and coiling through the air around him. His scrawny, pimpled, unwashed face and stained baggy clothes made him look like he belonged with the Merchants. His veins bulged, pulsing with light, shining eyes glaring down at the two of them, his ugly sneer worsening as he focuses on the boy beside her-more specifically his Empire colors.
A desperate plea escaped her dry lips, begging for mercy and asking to be spared. His eyes flicked over to her, regarding her for a moment-his face slackening slightly, causing a miniscule flare of hope to spark within them. But when he turned back to Eric, what brief compassion was there immediately evaporated-a hate filled snarl grotesquely curling his thin lips, the storm of lightning reacting to his emotions and becoming more erratic and violent.
Eric blubbered for his life, lifting his hands up placatingly, not noticing the fingers on his left hand broken and bent.
His begging did nothing to save him.
The girl turned and ducked away as the boy turned killer reared back his arms and blasted the Empire member with searing white hot bolts of plasma-filling the abandoned hallways with his agonized screams. The air turned sick with the smell of burnt flesh and leather, the boy's cries slowly losing volume as he was fried alive by the primal power of lightning. The girl could only hiccup and cry, beyond scared as she listened to the sickening gasps of the dying boy-silently begging for either a quick death or the faint hope that she would be spared.
What happened next, no one would have predicted.
As the boy let out his final choked cries, a single bolt writhed across the floor-the electricity striking the girl's bag that had been discarded a little ways away. The bag split open-being easily torn apart by the intense heat that ate away at the fabric and striking the contents within.
A piercing metallic screech echoed through the hallways-getting the attention of the electrically powered boy and the thin girl who looked to her bag with growing dread and despair for what was potentially lost; only to be shocked stiff at the sight she was met with.
Surrounded by the burning remains of her bag; her mother's necklace was bombarded by a continuous stream of lightning bolts. The strange, heavy, and deeply entrancing set of beads shined ominously from the accumulation of power-the sky blue and black orbs gleaming with a serrated sheen of light.
The cry of the beads grows louder and sharper with every second, causing the girl to wince and cover her ears from the drilling pain. The superpowered boy was in a similar state of agony, howling as the energy in his body was being forcefully siphoned away by the strange necklace, his lack of control over the storm making it easy for the beads to steal the power coursing through him.
As the light grew brighter and the terrible wail became deafening-a crack appeared on the largest black bead.
The screeching ended; replaced with something far more sinister.
A cruel cackling laughter erupted from the bead's fractured surface-blue light flaring into existence, washing the two students in a wave of cold heat; burning frost eating away at their flesh and causing them to cry out and shiver.
The bead continued to crack, the boisterous chuckle rising in pitch and reverberating in their minds, filling them with a fierce and unknown sense of primordial dread. The light turned blinding, the cold numbed their bodies; if it was possible to go mad at the brink of death, they were both sure that they were on the cusp.
Eventually, the laughter reached its peak: the bead shattered, the light broke.
Their screams turned silent.
Sensations became lost in the echoing quiet, the impossible stillness drowning them in a feeling unspeakable. Soon, they were swallowed in a sea of eternal darkness, floating islands, and sharp blue crystals.
A realm of cracked time.
A frozen infinity.
A Moment Fractured.
A measured shallow breath released a tiny cloud of air from her nose, disappearing to soon be replaced by another cold wisp. After a long complicated career as a Hero, Alexandria had gotten used to breathing in the frigid thin air of the upper stratosphere.
It was here, in the dim light of the half moon, floating among the sea of drifting clouds, that she felt the most at peace. It was the silence and isolation that she adored, there was nothing in the entirety of the world that she would trade for this momentary respite from the enormity of her life. Hers was a chaotic existence, at all times, she was constantly moving, reacting to one thing or the other. And this was expected of her, for multiple reasons. Chief among them, she was a bastion, a symbol to not just her countrymen, but to the world as a whole. And she made sure to properly represent herself as such. She was stern and determined, many who got to know her would say she was fierce and unshakable, a nigh unstoppable force of nature that plowed through her enemies like a bullet through sheet paper-and her power certainly helped to solidify this image-as such, she made it a point to maintain that persona at all times, even among friends and allies. It helped give hope to the masses, morale for her comrades, and was even useful in helping her subdue criminals with her sheer presence. Honestly, it was hardly even a mask anymore-she had grown into this face so thoroughly that she could hardly tell when to let her defenses down. Perhaps it was telling that she didn't particularly mind that fact, and that a small part of her partially preferred it that way.
But when she was up here, hovering alone in the dark sky, her ink black cape waving in the gentle breeze-she could admit to feeling more relaxed. Less guarded. There was freedom in this solitude.
Up here, there were no masses looking at her with adoration and trust.
Up here, there were no blood starved criminals, seeking to test their mettle against one of the strongest capes in the United States.
Up here, there was no need to hold up a facade to hide her face...and she could let fall the tears that so desperately ached to escape from her lone eye.
Now that she was alone, her defenses down and her body loosened, she could feel it. A raging storm bubbling and writhing within her, held at bay by an ironclad will and practiced control. If she dared to look closer, she would find in it everything she wished to destroy. Those stubborn hideous things, spitting and hissing at her. Badgering and constantly reminding her of their presence. A lifetime of routine and application had shown her how to shackle and drown them. Sometimes they survived, sometimes they died-either way, she would find a moment of contentment, and if she was lucky it'd last for a while. But the worst ones that refused to be silenced always made their way to the surface-either by brief remembrance or momentary pondering-they'd mock her with their continued survival. And so, ready or not, she would be forced to confront them.
Of all the battles she fought, those were the ones she rarely won.
A light tremor began to pass through her, the cruel voices of her deeds beginning to struggle and fight against their restraints as they broke through layers of her heart so that they could be heard once more. In a mingle of voices they screeched, some sounding random, and others very very familiar.
She watched their young faces-stained with tears and pain-as the apathetic scientists around them injected them with burning serums and stabbed them with large needles for their experiments. Being done for the day, they were led away to a cold dark room. Test Subject 22-a crying little mousey girl with a shaved head-caught sight of her down the hall as she was being led away. Her sobbing abruptly cut off, face crumpling into a hateful glare; no doubt remembering her promise of safety, comfort and warmth as she rescued them from underneath piles of rubble. With her glowing yellow eyes locked on her, she screeched in a scratchy wavering voice,'Liar!'
She swallowed.
PRT Troopers were grabbed and hoisted away by Junta Fighters. They fought against their bonds, punching and grappling only to be overpowered by their numbers. A couple looked to her for aid, for a rescue that they knew wasn't coming-desperately hoping they were wrong. She stood impassively as they were lined up and pushed to their knees, a line of gunmen taking aim at them.
Her teeth grinded against each other.
She carried on, snatching the dying man from his family as malnourished and desperate hands hung off her leg, begging and crying out to leave him alone. She kicked the wife away, hearing a loud pop as the woman was launched into a table. Her four children shouted for their mother, piling around her and watching as she carried their father through a glowing white portal-all the while she never looked back.
She flinched, her fists tightening.
Her hand rose up, dripping with blood as a voice called out,'You monster!'
'There has to be another way!'He frantically struggled, unable to stop them as she held onto his arms before stomping and breaking his leg to keep him down.
'Please help me!'The beaten and broken Ward begged before she flew away, letting the ring of gangsters enclose around the young heroine as guns and knives were brandished threateningly.
Deranged and bloodshot eyes fell upon her and her comrades as they floated above the large tank. The body within began to dissolve, melting into a pool of black ink as their molecules liquified. With the last vestiges of sanity, a wrathful and garbled voice rang out,"You'll remember what I'll do, I swear! I'll make you and everyone suffer!"
Surrounded by the smoking remnants of their battle, she stared down the agonized and desperate trembling man kneeling before her. Blood and tears leaked from his eyes, taking quick shallow breaths as he beheld his killer.
"Rebecca…please…"He wheezed painfully.
Her heart squeezed, her lips pressed together so tightly they may have hurt, a few tender droplets seeped from beneath her shut eyelid, the fragile glow of the moon catching onto the tears, a diamond like sheen appearing over them as they slid down her cheek, rapidly cooling and evaporating in the cold air and wind-the evidence of their existence erased as soon as they were conceived.
Her head wrenched back, a pain filled cry rippling through the cloudy night.
She wrapped her arms around herself, squeezing in a grip that would've squished solid steel as her chest heaved with stuttered gasps and loud hysterical sobs. She didn't know how long she cried for-choking and convulsing on air as she squirmed and twisted from internal agony-it could've been minutes, it could've been hours: yet the result was still the same. No matter how many tears she shed, it never eased her conscience-not even for a moment. And so, she did the only thing she could; she suppressed her guilt to keep herself sane.
It took a few minutes to gather her composure, after which, she wiped her face clean and began to re-chain her memories, tightening their bindings and listening to the fading defiant cries as she pushed them down to lay in the dark places she never dared to venture.
With the deed done, a deep sigh burst from within her as tension began to flow out of her body. Her hands unclenched, her face softened, and a weight lifted itself off her shoulders, allowing her to straighten her back. She reached out, absorbing the tranquility of her surroundings; the sound of the wind, the pale light of the moon, the tickle of clouds as they brushed over her. Then, she focused in. Feeling and enjoying the steady pound of her heart as it beat in her chest, the flow of her blood spreading warmth throughout her body. In this stillness, she found stability, a drop of happiness and release from the torment of her heart and mind.
A white light flared into existence behind her, casting her shadow across the rolling clouds.
"We've been called. Emergency Council Meeting.''A low voice called to her.
She didn't turn around, not acknowledging the presence behind her, instead soaking in the last few vestiges of harmony before she subconsciously slipped into her guarded persona.
"What's the situation?"She asked, mentally calculating any and every threat or situation she could think of that would warrant an immediate summons to the Tower. On the optimistic side, they could've gotten a new lead on Manton and a few of the stolen Vials and Artifacts, or a New World may have been discovered that held great promise for their goals. Pessimistically however, The Red Mother could have awakened herself and was now making her move with her army of War Daughters or one of the aforementioned Artifacts was now in the hands of a dangerous enemy.
"On the east coast, Brockton Bay; there's been an incident that's garnered The Council's attention."
She turned, her interest piqued, to stare at her teammates's silhouette against the bright light.
"I remember hearing about that earlier. What about it warrants The Council's attention?"She inquired.
"If what I read about it is true, then we're looking at something we've never encountered before."
X.x.X.x.X.x.X
And the results...were Electric~