A sort of parody (maybe?) of Self-Insert, CYOA, and OC Fanfics.
I have a Pat reon, nothing there yet but I hope I can change that with enough support. Link - Pat reon . c0m / NJMRIV
An enthusiastic fanfiction lover was just reading another work about the grimdark story Worm when he comes across a special story that he can enter and exit at will. Being excited about the prospect of being able to live out all of his ideas, he's decided to make this story his own. Oh boy.
Earth Bet is a planet filled with crime, a world with its people choking on misery, a plane of reality riddled with filth.
Humanity has always been a heavily flawed race, but the introduction of superpowered individuals called capes has only made things more complicated. Both the good and the bad sides of mankind practically exploded into conflict, all the worst aspects of both come get forced into the forefront, so pretty much nobody on the planet is happy.
And the ones that are? Fucking psychopaths.
That's not even mentioning the giant world-ending threats known as the Endbringers. Living(?) forces of nature whose only purpose is planning destruction, implementing destruction, and the repeat of destruction.
The Parahuman Response Team/PRT tries to control the chaos that the world is drowning in, but they are either unaware or unable to truly make a difference.
The world had fallen off balance towards bad so far that the idea of actual nazis (swastika and everything!) committing crimes is a legitimate worry for everyday people.
So what could fix such a broken world when everyone in it is broken themselves?
Well, at least one answer to that question came about.
Unfortunately, he's far from the ideal choice.
+/+
? POV
The nights of Brockton Bay never stay quiet for long.
Located in the northeast of the United States, this city is mostly known for three things; the capes, the bay, and the overwhelming chance of dying early if one were to live here. With an estimated population of 350,000, almost all of them live in fear of going outside in the dark.
With kidnappings, murders, drug overdoses, and straight-up disappearances happening on the regular, it's mandatory to be cautious when the sun goes down.
Everyone outside at this time is either a hero, a criminal, or a crazy person. I guess I'd be the first and third one on that list.
Looking down from the rooftop of the empty building I'm on, I see one of the many bases of the scum that poisons this city. A simple warehouse, only two guards standing at the front door but much more fortified inside. There are 17 members of the local gang, the Merchants, down there, 19 if I include the two guards outside. They are equipped with bats, batons, knives, and pistols, no rifles based on what I know but best to be prepared.
The guys out front were obviously druggies, probably high out of their minds and with little to no combat experience.
My clothes don't look special, a black hoodie with two pockets in front and two on the back, sweatpants, combat gloves, running shoes, and my head is only covered by a modified balaclava that covers the lower half of my face, the lower half being fitted to look like an unknown respirator, and my glaring green eyes being hidden by a dark visor.
My look practically screams cape though some might think it looks too dark, plus with my relatively average height of 5'10, I won't be scaring criminals with my look alone. But that's fine, they'll be scared soon enough. The clothes are much more special than they appear.
I've already checked the warehouse out before tonight, just to scope it out. It was very easy to find this place too, you just gotta keep your ears peeled when no one is looking.
"Well, hope you freaks chose this life because I'd hate to be seen as the bad guy here." I silently spoke to myself, my voice being disguised by the mask.
I reach down to the rooftop's floor and pick up my trusty weapon, a metal bat. As soon as the cold metal touches my gloves, a beep is heard from the bat and its hidden defenses shut off. I take a couple of practice swings through the air, relishing in the familiarity of the action. I then reach into my left front pocket and pull out my special tool for my entrance.
It looks like a regular baseball, it even weighs the same, but with one difference, there's a button on the side that only responds to my gloves' thumb. I press the button and it starts to blink in red.
Showtime.
I threw the ball up into the air and ready my bat.
And with a mighty swing the ball rockets forward to the front door and-
*BOOOOM*
The explosion was big and close enough to the guards that it knocks them unconscious immediately, probably with their hearing compromised, but still alive. The smoke spreads to the inside of the warehouse, already the Merchants inside panicking.
"What the fuck was that!?"
"We're being fucking attacked!"
"Fuck fuck fuck!"
Boy, they do like their fucks, don't they?
I jump off the rooftop to meet ground level, my shock-absorbent shoes nullifying the impact with the ground. Without missing a beat I run towards the smoke, my visor having already done a multi-wavelength scan of the building lets me see through the smoke, so now only I have a vision of my targets.
The inside was pretty typical, loads of drugs wrapped in plastic or in needles, tables that had white dust that was blown away by the explosion, chairs that were toppled over because the druggies sitting in them nearly shat themselves and fell over, and a catwalk above with two people having a smoke away from the merchandise.
I waste no time and swing my bat right at the skull of the nearest Merchant, and with a small jump, my right foot kicks another one in the face at the same time, they both go down.
Their adrenaline is still spiking and they're high off their asses, no one else in the building but me is thinking straight.
I continue moving, never staying still for a moment, never giving them a target just in case they can see me.
I jump over a table and kick a Merchant standing behind it into the wall, I then turn and incapacitate two others that were next to him, their eyes wide at my sudden appearance. A kick to an ankle, a jab with the bat to the other's face, and one swing to the skull each then they were down.
*Bang* *Bang* *Bang*
Gunshots ring out, none hitting the others or me thankfully.
There are two things about guns that people forget thanks to modern movies; One, they are much louder than you think, without proper ear protection or a suppressor, your ears will definitely be in pain after firing them, and Two, using a gun isn't as simple as "point, bang, target dead", especially if you're only shooting with one hand and panicking like these bozos were. I don't have to worry about them hitting anyone right now.
I needed to take down the guys on the catwalk though, their guns are drawn and they have the birds-eye advantage.
I switch my bat to my left hand and reach into my right front pocket, bringing out another baseball, but this one is heavier than the bomb one. I throw it into the air and hit it, aiming for the two guys on the catwalk.
The ball hits one on the side of his head and the ball rebounds and strikes the other one in the center of his forehead, the saying two birds, one stone comes to my mind for a brief moment.
Cries of pain and sounds of my bat hitting skulls get drowned by the gunfire, I should probably take care of that.
I take out six more people in just a few seconds, focusing on the ones with guns, never taking more than two hits to drop them, and never letting them react. I see the smoke is starting to clear and meet the eyes of a merchant who'd finally gotten his bearings. His hands were shaking and holding a knife.
Everyone else sees me as the air finally clears. I'm standing in the middle of the room, the last six left holding melee weapons.
The guy I'm looking at sounds to be seconds away from pissing himself as he speaks. "Shit! It's a fucking cape."
The others around me swear at their rotten luck.
"W-what do we do?" One with a wooden bat asks. "Should we run?"
"You fucking stupid? What makes you think we can get away?"
"It doesn't matter now!" A guy holding a baton in each hand screams, his voice a tad more confident than everyone else's. I fought off a grimace at the wrong way he was holding the batons. He then speaks to me. "You got nowhere to hide now you dumb fucking ninja-looking ass!"
Rude.
"S-so why don't you just run along a-and maybe we won't kill you!"
That's his angle? I'd laugh if I wasn't trying to look like the mysterious badass.
I bring a finger up to my chin and tapped it, pretending to think about the offer.
"Sounds like a good deal," I trail off. "But, I gotta better one, how about I-"
I don't finish my sentence and rush toward the one with the knife, unprepared by the sudden charge he clumsily tries to swipe at me as if I was suddenly in front of him. Too bad for him I wasn't actually a speedster, would've been cool if I was though.
I just extend the bat forward and hit him straight at his nose with the end cap, safely away from the range of his swipes. I quickly disarm him and I throw the knife toward one of the charging Merchants, not hitting him since I aimed for the front of his foot but that was enough to stop him in his tracks. They must've thought that ganging up on me would be the best way out of this.
It probably was their best chance, maybe increasing their chances of getting away to 0.02% or something.
A swing for the back of my head is easily dodged by ducking, the bat instead hitting his friend when I grab him and pull him closer towards the swing. I grab the attacker by the wrist, and with a reverse grip on my bat, I ram the knob to his upper arm, right into a nerve, and force him to let go of his own bat.
With a reverse grip swing towards the first goon and an overhead swing with the wooden bat into the other, the two guys are down.
Four left.
Dual-wielding two weapons is rarely ever a good idea, using both hands for offense usually just leaves the attacker himself open to an attack. Better to use the other weapon to block and the other to fight with.
As three Merchants get close, I deflect the swing of two merchants holding pipes and pull back from a knife swipe. When one swings with the pipe again, I deflect it so that it hits the one holding the knife. He's disoriented so I'll focus on the other two, meanwhile, the last one is now coming to join his friends, can't have that.
I dodge to the side from another sloppy swing and bring my bat to hit him in the stomach. His breath leaves him and I kick him towards the last Merchant, causing both of them to stumble to the floor.
I was getting tired of this, so I should start trying now.
My arms become a blur as I swing both bats faster and strike the two Merchants still close to me four times in one second. They both drop like a sack of drugs, pun definitely intended.
And now there were two.
Nothing fancy happened there now, I was already on them before they could get up and I put them to sleep.
As the last guy took a nap I took a deep breath from beneath my respirator, thankful that the smell of drugs was being filtered by it, and released it as the feeling of victory comes to the forefront.
19 guys against me, and not a mark on my costume.
"He… Hehehe…" I couldn't help but let out a few giggles at my accomplishment. I couldn't help it.
A few days ago, I never would've dreamed of doing something like this! I was just a guy at home, unfit, lazy, and not all that smart. But now?
I couldn't contain it, I let out a loud, "WHOO!" and the laughter just burst out of me like no tomorrow. I really tried to stay serious as my character should be but I just couldn't help it!
The rush!
The power!
I wish I could just stay like this.
"I'm the coolest motherfucker in the world! Hahahahaha! Suck on that Z! I can be the strongest thing on the planet! Hahahahahaha!"
Twenty seconds later though I then hear something, sirens, looks like the police have finally arrived.
Huh, four minutes? Took down all these guys in three, damn I'm a badass.
Still, this was a faster reaction time from the police than I was expecting, so I better go. The plotline for this character demands that he remains mysterious! For now at least.
But first…
I reach into my back left pocket and pull out the card.
My calling card.
A baseball card to be exact, though there isn't a picture in it, there is a simple message written in front.
Strike was here.
Well, this has been fun, but I gotta go home now, mom's ordering takeout and I do not want to miss out on that!
So I drop the card on top of the unconscious Merchant, closed my eyes, and decided to exit. There was no bright light or sudden shift, I just suddenly feel myself sitting again with my hand on top of my computer's keyboard, and the breeze of my room's air conditioner. My eyes open again and I see the words of the story, the story I've just entered and changed with one of my own created characters.
It's only been a few days since I've discovered this story and already I've gotten pretty addicted to it. I already miss that feeling of confidence, the power, the intellect, and the overall badassery of my character.
It was weird at first, suddenly finding myself in another place and time at the exact moment I blinked as soon as I touched the story. It was some kind of template for the writer to fill in and insert their own character. Not unlike the CYOA stories.
But this one, through some kind of magic or bullshittery, as soon as I try to write my ideas and characters into the story, I become the character in the story with all the powers and skills inserted in. Freaked me the hell out before.
But that was before I realized the implications.
This story.
It's my playground.
I'm basically a god in that world, I can become anyone I want, with anything I want, and just make my own story.
But I'm no amateur writer, no sir! I have over 300 favorites in my other story so I'm basically a pro now. I'm not just going to make a power wank story with my OCs, I'm going to make a story that will make hearts pound in suspense, minds fly with possibilities and theories, and panties wet from sheer awesomeness!
And the best part?
I'll have a front-row seat to everything.
Oh man, I can't fucking wait-
"Vince! Take out's here! Come on down while it's hot!" I hear my mom's voice from downstairs, knocking me out of my thoughts.
Right.
Dinner first. I enter the story world as full as I am in the real world.
I wonder, what should I do tomorrow?
New Character has entered the story!
Character:
Name: Unknown
Alias: Strike
Stats:
Strength: C+, Peak human.
Agility: B-, Bordering on inhuman.
Durability: B-, Only peak human toughness but too stubborn to go down easy.
Intelligence: A, His knack for strategy and combat is so high that he is commonly mistaken for a Thinker.
Skill: A+, Master of both close and long-range combat, and master of all Non-Tinker-Tech weapons.
Coolness: A+, He's the coolest.
Info:
Strike's past is unknown to everyone except himself, no one knows if he's even a native of Earth Bet. His real name, who his family was, or what he did before he became the fighter he is now, all information about him was either destroyed or never existed in the first place. What is known about him is this, he is hands down the greatest fighter to ever live, and even more surprising, his power had nothing to do with his skill.
His close-quarters combat skill is so great that he can beat combat precogs in a one-on-one fight. He has mastered all known forms of Martial Arts on the planet, even some he's created himself, and he's a master of all Non-Tinker-tech weaponry. Despite this though, he's decided to pick a baseball motif for his cape weapons for reasons known only to him, so he carries special baseballs with different uses and a modified baseball bat as his primary weapon.
He didn't build them himself though.
Power:
?
So, I don't know why I thought of this, when you read so many stories, ideas just buzz in you're head that you want to remember, no matter how ridiculous they may seem. This was one of those ideas. I would've put in humor as a tag but I'm not funny.