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Topic: Just another day in the Bay#171
In: Boards ► United States►Brockton Bay►Trigger Events
Bagrat (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)
Posted On February 12th 2011:
Once more, your reliable informant comes in to report the average day in Brockton Bay.
To the surprise of nobody, hours ago, a new cape triggered inside Merchant Territory, and we can safely assume it was all thanks to the Merchants doing their usual activities. This inevitably resulted in a big clash occurring in the landfill.
We have evidence of this event thanks to people posting the clash between the Merchants and our newest cape in town. Of course the merchants' members were completely outmatched by the new trigger and called in for reinforcement in the form of Mush who revealed that his power was much stronger than we first believed because he became a giant monster made of trash causing a lot of mayhem before it was inevitably defeated by our new cape.
[Pictures of Mush's new form][Pictures of Mush suit destroyed][Picture of the new cape holding Mush]
Only to be brutally beaten by him according to what people could see, which is understandable since he was very likely the gang's victim. Which is the reason the heroine Mirko had to step in to stop him before he committed a grave mistake and save Mush, who reportedly was healed before being apprehended and sent straight to the PRT holding cells.
With Mirko on the scene, she clashed with our new parahuman and guys, she lost.
And before her fan-club comes to eat me alive, here is video evidence of the best video quality I could find because people were filming after he beat Mush.
[Mirkovstrigger1][Mirkovstrigger2]
I must admit that was certainly a big debut for our freshly triggered cape. Usually it is the other way around. But moving on, after defeating the rabbit hero, the PRT finally arrived and successfully defused the situation. After that, Glory Girl, carrying Panacea, arrived on scene to heal everyone who was injured in the scene.
However, we don't have much evidence to say what happened next as the PRT blocked all media. Except that the new guy was happy to go with them, but we have yet to get an official statement.
►Navi
Posted On February 12th 2011:
"How did you beat me? I was about to post this thread"
►a (Veteran Member)
Replied On February 12th 2011:
Because you aren't me.
►Spotylicious
Replied On February 12th 2011:
Piss off, nobody cares about your single digit username
►a (Veteran Member)
Replied On February 12th 2011:
My work here is done.
►EgGroll
Replied On February 12th 2011:
But you didn't do anything.
►pyrocool
Replied On February 12th 2011:
Just ignore that loser. But damn, since when has Mush's power been that strong? Has he been holding back all this time?
►Navi
Posted On February 12th 2011:
Very unlikely. I have watched most of his fights (at least all the ones that were recorded) and he never fought inside the landfill, and the only video I could find with him inside the landfill he was instantly defeated by a hero. So I strongly believe that he was never given the chance to fully exploit his ability.
►pyrocool
Replied On February 12th 2011:
Huh, that makes sense.
►Valkyr (Wiki Warrior)
Posted On February 12th 2011:
Interesting. I will be updating his wiki soon, this will raise his threat level at least inside garbage dumps.
►Boosher
Posted On February 12th 2011:
Forget the midget! Didn't you see the new cape doing all that? Cool as f*ck I say. Especially how he gave zero f*cks and created a tsunami with his bare hands! Or the part he became a meteor!
►XxVoid_CowboyxX
Posted On February 12th 2011:
Guys don't be fooled that is not a human, but an interdimensional alien called by the secret interdimensional travelers group that is pulling the strings! They are here to enslave us all!
►Anon123
Posted On February 12th 2011:
The thread has been blessed! PRAISE BE VOID!
►AllSeeingEye
Posted On February 12th 2011:
More like cursed. Isn't it past your bedtime?
►Navi
Posted On February 12th 2011:
You should be asking yourself the same question lol.
►BunBun#1 (Banned)
Posted On February 12th 2011:
⠀ ⠀ (\_/)
(•ㅅ•) Fake news
＿ノヽ ノ＼＿ Prepare to be fluffed.
`/ `/ ⌒Ｙ⌒ Ｙ ヽ
( (三ヽ人 / |
| ﾉ⌒＼ ￣￣ヽ ノ
ヽ＿＿＿＞､＿_／
►BunBun#45
Posted On February 12th 2011:
⠀ ⠀ (\_/)
(•ㅅ•) Cheater
＿ノヽ ノ＼＿ Mirko would never lose.
`/ `/ ⌒Ｙ⌒ Ｙ ヽ
( (三ヽ人 / |
| ﾉ⌒＼ ￣￣ヽ ノ
ヽ＿＿＿＞､＿_／
►BunBun#21
Posted On February 12th 2011:
⠀ ⠀ (\_/)
(•ㅅ•) Mirko number 1!
＿ノヽ ノ＼＿
`/ `/ ⌒Ｙ⌒ Ｙ ヽ
( (三ヽ人 / |
| ﾉ⌒＼ ￣￣ヽ ノ
ヽ＿＿＿＞､＿_／
►BunBun#23
Posted On February 12th 2011:
⠀ ⠀ (\_/)
(•ㅅ•) Fluff is the fluff,
＿ノヽ ノ＼＿ Become fluff
`/ `/ ⌒Ｙ⌒ Ｙ ヽ
( (三ヽ人 / |
ﾉ⌒＼ ￣￣ヽ ノ
ヽ＿＿＿＞､＿_／
►Tin_Mother (Moderator)
Posted On February 12th 2011:
All these posts fall under spam, post again and I will mute you.
►BunBun#1 (Banned)
Posted On February 12th 2011:
[Post Deleted]
Moderator Edit:
I warned you. You didn't listen. Take a three day ban.
►Spotylicious
Replied On February 12th 2011:
Lol, it always happens with Mirko's fanclub. I wonder if bagrat is getting flooded with DMs now.
►Tumbles
Replied On February 12th 2011:
We kinda derailed the topic so let me put it back on track. Why was Mirko on the scene? I mean like, wasn't merchant territory to be New Wave? Not like I'm complaining she was a net positive but New Wave are the ones who respond first.
►Navi
Replied On February 12th 2011:
Simple really. New wave was occupied helping independent capes in ABB territory, who were being kidnapped or attacked, cape unwilling recruitment. Another blatant disregard of the unwritten rules by our resident psychotic dragon. Thankfully everything ended with no casualties.
►Froppyx
Replied On February 12th 2011:
Can confirm, I woke up hearing a lot of screams and noises down the corridor of my apartment building and saw heavily armed ABB thugs dragging my floor neighbor. I had no idea he was a cape.
►Thatguy
Replied On February 12th 2011:
The PRT doing nothing to help independents who could have seen that one coming? Or how they let a mass murder go free and do whatever he wants because he MIGHT help against an endbringer. And they only show up to take credit for others' achievements. Amazing, truly amazing. I wish that the new guy just beat up all the PRT people as hard as he beat up Mush.
►Reave (Verified PRT Agent)
Replied On February 12th 2011:
It was an unfortunate coincidence, but New Trigger events are PRT the first priority crisis to answer. We simply cannot take any chances and risk the lives of thousands of innocents due the unpredictable nature of triggers. We want to avoid another incident like "Little boy" from ever occurring again. And our newest cape proved to be a shining example of good conduct and cooperation with authorities. Others should follow his example.
End of page 1
(Showing page 1 of 4)
She leaned back against her chair with a groan, eyes narrowing at the screen after reading the last reply.
There wasn't much information to gain from the PHO thread. Even though it was recent, she had hoped it would trend fast because Mirko was involved. Whenever the rabbit heroine was the topic or part of the discussion, her fan club swarmed in no matter what, creating traffic that pushed threads straight to the top. It had been working at first, but her luck ran out when a moderator appeared and banned the BunBun Patrol.
And the little information she did get was a just confirmation of what she already suspected.
Sighing, she straightened her posture, picked up her drink, and took a sip from the straw. She refreshed the thread page... and saw it was being raided by fucking Nazis, claiming the coming of their Übermensch. Great. Just great.
Now the moderator would have a reason to lock the thread, forcing her to create a new one and hope it got some attention instead of getting buried in the endless sea of new threads.
She glanced at the right corner of her screen to check the time. It was getting late, so she decided to stay up for one more hour before going to sleep. That meant one more hour to continue her Final Fantasy campaign. Minimizing the browser and booting up the emulator, she quickly loaded Final Fantasy VI and resumed her adventure.
It was a blessing that the Final Fantasy series survived at least until its seventh title. But otherwise, it sucked that the gaming industry had stagnated, churning out what she called mediocre repetitive games. And there were no signs of improvement, so she was stuck with old, obscure games.
That line of thought brought a dry chuckle from her. Calling Final Fantasy an obscure game title? People would relentlessly mock and insult her if they heard her say that. But this was Earth Bet, not Earth.
And for some reason, nobody had developed visual novels.
Truly the worst timeline.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a notification popping up on her screen. She paused her game and switched tabs.
It was a private message from PHO. Which was rather curious as she almost never got DMs, so she clicked to check, and it was from AllSeeingEye.
'You are the one who should be sleeping.'
Attached to the Dm was a picture of a shabby building inside ABB Territory.
Anybody else would start to panic if they saw this message because it meant you were doxxed, but she only giggled as the building in the picture was one of her many fake addresses she had set up in advance. She didn't even own them.
Either way, the DM pretty much confirmed her suspicions.
"Tats, Tats, Tats… You never give up, do you?" She murmured as she wrote her reply and then reported her for doxxing.
Nice try, Tats. Enjoy your ban.
The mods had zero tolerance regarding doxxing after all.
And a new DM.
tt: Fuck you.
Tattletale really needed to learn to let go.
-Emily Piggot-
Emily frowned, leaning back in her chair as she looked over the latest stack of reports. Working late was the norm in this godforsaken city - problems never stopped, big or small. It wasn't unusual to find an exhausted employee passed out at their desk after logging too many hours.
But that was the job they'd signed up for.
She mostly kept to her office, only emerging when a situation was serious enough to demand her personal attention. Like tonight, when a sharp rap on her door had summoned her yet again.
A trigger event. Of course.
Emily's lips thinned to a hard line as she rapidly issued orders, dispatching a response team and the available Protectorate to deal with the new parahuman threat as swiftly as possible before it could escalate.
Except this one didn't escalate at all, much to her surprise. The freshly triggered cape had actually complied, returning peacefully to HQ for registration and testing. Unheard of - usually they were lucky if they didn't have over a dozen wounded officers after having to subdue the new threat.
That was why she now found herself in the observation room, eyes narrowed as she studied their new parahuman through the one-way glass. He was dressed simply in an oversized white shirt and black shorts, courtesy of the PRT, but his performance on the standard testing was near flawless. Raw power on a level that reminded her of Alexandria's strength among other powerful capes, making him dangerous. Very dangerous to be left alone.
Yet there he was, calmly filling out paperwork as if triggering hadn't turned his whole life upside down.
"What do you mean Eraser Head's power didn't work on him?" Emily's frown deepened as she turned to Armsmaster. The japanese hero was a very powerful asset for PRT in subduing and capturing villain affiliated capes. A good number of the Birdcage inmates were thanks to him and so far has never failed in his duties.
Until now.
"Difficult as it is to accept, the facts remain," Armsmaster stated, pulling up the incident footage on his tablet. "Eraser Head's costume, especially his bandages, are tinker-tech, utilizing the highest-grade materials. Even if the restrained capes are naturally strong without their power, they shouldn't have been capable of breaking free. But as you can see, he did with little to no effort."
Emily felt her frown deepening as she listened to Armsmaster's report. A parahuman that could shrug off Eraser Head's nullification ability was troubling enough, but the apparent physical transformation just made the situation even more unsettling.
Eraserhead's reputation as a powerful asset for containing hostile capes could not be allowed to take a hit. Too many villains already operated brazenly in this forsaken city.
"Have you done a full background check?" She kept her tone clipped as she glanced again through the one-way glass at the hulking figure calmly filling out paperwork.
Armsmaster confirmed he had, pulling up the file on his tablet to share the details. Emily's eyes narrowed at the image - a gawky teenager who bore little resemblance to the man in the other room now.
"Daniel, no last name... An orphan," she muttered, scrolling through the basics. Seventeen years old, over six and a half feet tall after… whatever had happened to him. A former high school student at Clarendon High.
"You're certain this data matches him, despite the..." She waved a hand, "Obvious physical discrepancies?"
"Yes ma'am. Dragon has verified the information thoroughly."
Piggot grunted, handing the tablet back.
"And his classification? You've designated him as a Brute, I assume?"
"The safest category for now. Though..." Armsmaster paused. "Mirko, who was on the scene and fought him, made a brief call, and she believes he may be some form of Shifter. An...unlikely assessment."
Emily's frown deepened further at hearing that.
But her frown turned into a scowl at the mention of the famous rabbit hero, as she was responsible for far too much collateral damage with her reckless behavior, particularly the recent incident at the landfill that had caused massive property destruction. If it wasn't thanks to the Tinker construction team, repairs would have taken months instead of just a week.
Those independent heroes who operated outside of the Protectorate's oversight were always causing more trouble than they solved, unleashing their powers with little care for the consequences. So Mirko's assessment couldn't be fully trusted - she was likely jumping to conclusions again without all the facts.
"I want a full work-up on his abilities from the testing results," Emily said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Whatever that vigilante thinks she saw, I need hard data to gauge the threat level accurately. And keep that loose cannon out of this investigation entirely."
She turned her steely gaze back through the one-way glass, watching as the young man - if he even was that anymore - continued filling out the forms with an eerily placid demeanor. As if he had no idea the potential danger he now posed.
Her jaw tensed. "And secure that footage - I don't want even a hint of this leaked to the masses."
"All footage posted on social media that showed any semblance of Eraser Head's failure has been censored. Dragon has done an excellent job of containing the news from spreading."
Emily gave a curt nod. "Good. The last thing we need is that kind of damaging information spreading and emboldening every reckless villain in this cursed city."
Emily's eyes narrowed as she watched the young parahuman suddenly drop the paperwork and strike an exaggerated heroic pose, flexing his muscles.
"I'VE TOLD YOU ALREADY MY FRIEND. I AM THE INCARNATION OF JUSTICE!" he bellowed, startling the PRT staff member with him.
She turned an annoyed look to Armsmaster. "Has he talked at all...coherently?"
Armsmaster shook his head grimly. "That's...difficult to say. He does talk and answer our questions with enthusiasm, but the problem lies in his answers not being adequate or relevant to what we've asked."
Emily opened her mouth to demand clarification, only to be interrupted as the supposed teenager continued his melodramatic antics.
"EVIL WILL COWER BEFORE THE BLAZING LIGHT OF TRUTH AND RIGHTEOUSNESS!" he cried out, adopting another ridiculous stance.
The PRT staff looked increasingly rattled, shooting pleading glances toward the observation room.
"Exactly that," Armsmaster said with a sigh, gesturing toward the bizarre display. "We don't have concrete evidence yet, but the current hypothesis is that he has suffered traumatic memory loss tied to his trigger event. He's subconsciously created this new… excessively fervent persona as a coping mechanism to deal with the trauma and block out his previous identity."
Emily's frown deepened as she watched the clearly delusional young man prancing about, ranting his overblown delusions of heroic grandeur.
"So he's unstable and unbalanced, on top of being a walking force of destruction..." she muttered grimly. "Just what we need in this damn city..."
As if Lung wasn't enough for Brockton Bay already.
Piggot pressed her lips into a thin line as she considered their options. Dealing with newly triggered parahumans was always a bothersome situation, but it was her job to keep Brockton Bay as safe as possible. In this case, the young man's apparent delusions of being an "incarnation of justice" presented both problems and opportunities.
"We need to get him contained and under our structure soon, before he decides to take his self-appointed role too far against the wrong targets." Emily's frown deepened at the thought of the collateral damage an unrestrained powerhouse like him could unleash.
But if they played their cards carefully, perhaps they could turn this potential crisis into an asset for the PRT's beleaguered public image.
Successfully recruiting him through official channels would be a positive PR boost. It would be a visible demonstration that the appropriate course for newly awakened parahumans is compliance with the law, and they could forgive initial problems like it was his massive fight in the landfill. Also, because that fight was unnecessary and the rabbit hero's fault, they would make sure that point was heard everywhere.
Emily was pragmatic enough to make use of whatever means were required to maintain order and authority. They needed every potential win they could manufacture, and she wouldn't leave any more dangerous loose ends left unchecked.
Not in her city.
-Daniel, pending cape name-
Communication is still an issue.
I'd thought maybe the drawback of my overly dramatic heroic speech was limited to combat or life-threatening situations. But even after arriving at the Headquarters of the PRT, the words coming out of my mouth are still cringeworthy - like a bad superhero movie.
Fuck.
Thankfully, this ridiculous affliction doesn't extend to my writing, something I've discovered as I filled out the registration forms and some other boring paperwork they've given me. Not that I'm idiotic enough to sign anything resembling a binding contract. But the loophole of communicating naturally through writing is a relief, finally a way to communicate like a normal human being.
Not that I plan on revealing that little secret to the PRT. That would completely change their approach to handling me, and their inevitable efforts at recruitment would become even more annoying. Better to play along with the role they've cast me in and try to find some amusement at their expense. Because this is still a silent torture.
At least they had the decency to provide clothes that actually fit instead of leaving me to wander their halls half-naked. Walking around in just my boxers was starting to feel pretty awkward.
I take another sweeping look around the barren interrogation room, if that's even what this weird space is. The PRT agent who has been doing some basic testing here definitely made a hasty but silent exit. Safe to assume the whole team is discussing how to deal with their freshly triggered cape in a secret room and figure out what to do.
The infamous director Emily Piggot will undoubtedly be leading that discussion. The woman who is known to have a hate boner for capes, or at least those who she doesn't control.
So logically speaking, it would be her discussing with other Protectorate members and finding a way for me to join their Ward program or perhaps a way to strong-arm me into joining them because I've caused quite the ruckus on my first appearance.
But they have been treating me surprisingly well so far, not even trying the stupid good cop/bad cop routine. So it's likely they won't attempt to force me into joining and will opt for a more diplomatic approach initially. But...
Fuck that.
I want to be free, not tied down and collared to any organization's agenda. Ignoring, of course, the massive multiverse eldritch Company that literally owns my soul already.
Either way, remaining fully independent is the best path in this grimdark world - especially if I want to start paying down that debt anytime soon. I've got one month to earn a couple dozen credits to partially cushion the loan before outrageous interest rates kick in.
My number one priority is getting away from PRT custody and returning to my new home base - the deluxe apartment the Company so generously provided, not my former cheap, run-down Merchant-territory roach motel that's undoubtedly been re-invaded by squatters since my departure.
So I need to leave this place. And I might as well have some fun while doing so.
I calmly rise from the chair, stretching my arms out wide with excessive flair, before marching towards the only door, which looks pretty reinforced. As I grasp the handle, I "accidentally" apply a bit too much of my excessively enhanced strength, ripping it clear off its hinges and letting it fall onto the floor.
Although, I don't even get a chance to step through the now ruined door before a red and black blur is blocking my path.
"Whoa whoa whoa whoa! Easy there, buddy." Assault throws up his hands in a placating gesture. "Where do you think you're going?"
Suppressing an inner eye roll, I strike another heroic pose, lightly thumping my chest. "Why, to deliver justice to the evildoers, friend Assault! Care to join me in my righteous crusade?"
The poor guy just rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck. "Eh, I wish I could, but I'm kinda busy with...righteous paperwork and console duty today."
I laugh in my head, watching him struggle to imitate my cringe, so I pat his shoulder sympathetically, flashing an overly wide grin. "Then keep up your own righteous work, my friend!"
With that, I brush past the protectorate hero, resuming my search for the exit of this building.
"W-wait!" Assault calls after me, but I pretend not to hear him.
Crossing more corridors, I deliberately ignore the PRT employees desperately trying to get my attention. Until a woman in a skintight white and gunmetal gray costume with glowing blue circuitry bars my path.
"Greetings, ally of justice!" I bellow with a boisterous sweep of my arm, extending an open hand.
Battery eyes me warily for a beat before reluctantly accepting the exaggerated handshake. "...hello?"
"I'm on my way to bring down villains," I declare, puffing out my chest. "Care to join me on my righteous crusade?"
The heroine forces an awkward smile, clearly trying to adopt a diplomatic tone. "Don't you think it's a little late for that sort of thing?"
Thumping my chest with melodramatic flair, I shake my head solemnly. "Justice never rests, noble lady! Unless..." I appraise her with an exaggerated squint. "You too are engaged in some righteous work, like friend Assault?"
"Ummm...yes?" Battery grimaces, thoroughly nonplussed.
Then I shall not deprive the world of your valorous efforts any longer!" I wave a dismissive hand and sidestep around the heroine, ignoring her protests calling after me.
Chuckling inwardly at my repeated success, I round the final corner into what appears to be the PRT's primary lobby or reception. My dramatic entrance draws stunned looks from clerks, officers, and miscellaneous personnel alike. An agent even loses her grip on a coffee cup, shattered ceramic clattering to the tiles.
So I spread my arms magnanimously. "Carry on with your righteous work, fair citizens!"
I was expecting the place to erupt into a pandemonium but it remained silent, everyone frozen in place. So I keep walking forward.
Probably somebody tried in vain to stop me, but I didn't hear their pleas over the catchy heroic tune I was humming to myself. Soon enough, I reach the grand pair of metallic doors marking the entrance and, grasping each handle in hand, throw them wide open.
Only to be greeted - and slightly blinded - by a cascading barrage of flashing cameras from what were likely very eager journalists hoping to make tomorrow's headline with this late-night drama. But I know exactly how to play to such an audience, and my modifier can agree on what I plan to do next.
"Greetings, fair citizens of Brockton Bay! The hero of Justice has arrived!" I shout, striking a dramatic pose and holding it for a few seconds before transitioning into another that better showcases my biceps. Then I turned in profile, allowing the overworked journalists to endlessly capture my perfect silhouette.
Admittedly, it was all rather dumb...but also undeniably hilarious in its own way. Because this is totally going to cause a lot of problems and headaches to the PRT.
Sadly, my silly fun is cut short as the doors burst open once more, revealing the imposing armored figure of Armsmaster accompanied by a man in a Western getup, face obscured by an outdated gas mask.
Rather than await their inevitable attempt at stopping me, I take the initiative, extending my right hand toward the famed Tinker. "Hello, metal friend!" Then my left hand to his companion with a bright, disarming smile. "Cowboy friend!"
The two heroes look briefly stunned before each accepts the peaceful handshake in uncomfortable unison. I vigorously pump their grips with excessive enthusiasm as the cameras continue flashing away wildly behind us.
"So how may I assist my fellow heroes this fateful night?" I flash a grin.
Armsmaster recovers first, voice flat but carrying authority. "You need to come back inside." His first gambit to pitch the Wards program, no doubt.
"My deepest apologies, friends!" I lament, throwing an arm out in a dramatic point towards the skyline. "But my heart can't abide such restraints any longer! For my sacred duty awaits out there!"
They try to protest further, to rein me back in, but I don't give them the chance. Throwing an exaggerated wink, I bellow out, "We shall meet again on the line of duty, friends!"
Then, with a wiggle of my hips and a deep crouch, I propel myself high into the air with a single jump. For a brief, glorious moment, I appear to defy gravity entirely as I soar upwards, leaving the flashing lights and shocked crowd far below.
Of course, I am not actually flying, but I just happen to jump really good and fall with style.
I land atop a nearby building before rebounding into the night sky once more, traversing several blocks effortlessly until the PRT headquarters and surrounding commotion fades from sight.
Only then do I finally angle towards an empty, isolated alley and let my momentum bleed off, dropping softly to the cracked asphalt below like a cat. A quick glance around confirms no people, so I focus a little and imagine my Company-issued smartphone.
The sleek phone materializes in my outstretched hand. A few quick taps later and I've activated the pocket dimension app, opening a swirling cerulean vortex against the brick wall to my right. Without thinking it twice, I leap through the glowing portal.
And emerge instantly into my lavish new apartment, blissfully far away and totally safe from that Earth-Bet. I take a deep, cleansing breath, savoring the crisp, filtered air - a far cry from the smog filled city.
More importantly, I'm finally free from everything.
There will be time later to explore my new and luxurious place. For now, I simply make a beeline to my new bedroom and collapse onto my big bed.
As my eyes finally drift shut, I can't help but chuckle wryly.
What a fucking day.
-Next day-
My eyes snap open, and I roll over in bed, stretching a little before letting out a long yawn. Finally, I slowly get up from my comfy bed, feeling the cool air against my skin. My gaze drifts downward, taking in my enhanced physique and still wearing the same humble clothes from yesterday.
Yep, still the same, no mysterious switch off.
With nothing else to see or think, I head straight to the bathroom, take off my clothes, and step into the shower. The hot water cascades over me, washing away the remnants of sleep or dirty spots. I haven't really noticed it before, but the whole place was built to accommodate my new stature—a thoughtful touch by the Company and incredibly convenient.
I exit the shower, wrapping myself in a plush bathrobe, and use a towel to dry my face. As I make my way to the wall closet, I feel a sense of routine setting in.
When I finally towel off, I catch my reflection in the fog-free mirror and… it is somewhat weird to look at myself.
Because the mirror doesn't lie - I've become almost obscenely idealized now. The short, spiky blonde hair, chiseled jawline, piercing blue eyes and the perfect teeth make me look every bit the hero.
All the superficial genetic "perfection" that are considered to be desirable traits by many, especially to a certain group of skinheads, because those idiots were everywhere. And the cruelest irony? Before my 'trigger' I had these same winning lottery tickets all along - just hidden under years of neglect and malnutrition that made me short and lanky, and overall terrible complexion.
Despite the fact that I still hate the patron who screwed me over, I have to admit—he, she, or it gave me the perfect glow-up.
I make my way to the wall closet. I open it to reveal two distinct rows of clothing: one for everyday wear and another for skin-tight suits, all bearing the same design. These must be my cape suits, the ones I'm expected to wear from now on.
I grab one at random, feeling the fabric glide over my skin as I put it on. Walking towards the large body mirror, I take in my reflection and focus on the cape suit. It molds my body flawlessly, offering no discomfort. The suit is predominantly white, but the chest is a striking blue with gray lines and a draconian symbol in the center. A golden belt lies undone at my waist, which I quickly fasten. The design isn't the most imaginative, but it's a blank canvas waiting for my personal touch, or maybe a professional touch.
Returning to the closet, I pull out a pair of blue jeans, a long-sleeve light blue shirt, a leather jacket, and black boots. Everything fits perfectly, layering seamlessly over my cape suit without any discomfort. Now, I feel ready to leave and explore fucked up world.
But that train of thought stops me in my tracks. Yesterday's events flash through my mind, particularly meeting the famous heroes Mirko and Eraser Head and beating the rabbit girl in a fight. And it hits me—Worm has merged with My Hero Academia.
The Clash of World modifier.
With a sense of urgency, I race towards my computer, which is already booted up and waiting. With lightning speed, I type 'All Might' into the search engine and hit enter. Yet, the search yields zero results for 'All Might' as a standalone name; it only appears within phrases. Frowning, I try 'All for One,' only to meet the same dead end.
I rub my chin thoughtfully. Maybe All Might and All for One simply don't exist in this tangled mess of an universe. Or perhaps they did exist, but died before they could do anything. Also, I need to consider the fact that Leviathan attacked Japan. It's plausible that such a catastrophic event could explain their absence.
I shake my head, pushing the thought aside. It's not really important in the grand scheme of things.
So I type "UA Hero Academy" into the search engine, and this time I get results. However, as I browse through them, it becomes apparent that the information is about a failed Japanese project aimed at training young heroes. The program was swiftly taken over by the PRT and merged with their Wards program—a far cry from the prestigious institution I remember from My Hero Academia.
I tap my head a few times, trying to reconcile the disparities. It's certainly not how things were supposed to be, but in a twisted way, it makes sense. Deciding not to dwell on it too much, I shift my focus to searching for other famous superheroes or villains names that I can still remember.
Yet, my massive search yields no fruitful results. Instead, I'm met with articles that refer to different heroes by unfamiliar names or nicknames. For instance, Iron Man is not the narcissist but philanthropic Tony Stark but rather Kaiser, a nod to his power and costume design.
Frustrated by the lack of real results, I stop my search and let out a sigh. It seems like any heroes or villains from other universes are either hiding, have someone actively hiding their tracks, or have simply changed their identities altogether.
Glancing at the date in the corner of my screen—February 13, 2011—I realize it doesn't offer much help. I'm not well-versed in the timeline, even less with two worlds merged, but at the very least I do know that Brockton Bay is set to be attacked by Leviathan.
And a lot of people will die.
I don't have an exact date for when that tragic day will occur, but I know it's looming on the horizon. Brockton Bay will soon be under siege by the Endbringer Leviathan—a Tier 9 threat. But it's not just Leviathan I have to worry about; there's also Behemoth, Simurgh, and Zion, not to mention any new potential Endbringers or threats the Company might unleash just for kicks
That's the modifier given to my build, they can throw anything from a T1 waifu to a T10 waifu capable of obliterating the world.
I have to be prepared for those occasions.
But before I can do that, I need to deal with that annoying loan.
New Mission alert!
A New Hope:
Make your real debut as the new hero of Brockton Bay and stop the ongoing ABB assault happening on a nearby bank, led by the villain-affiliated mercenary Muscular.
Rewards:
- 2 credits.
- 10000 dollars
I blink, then rub my eyes, staring at the screen in disbelief.
A mission.
So this is their way of compensating for the myriad of restrictions they've placed on me. It may be just crumbs compared to what I could potentially earn by capturing and selling companions, but everyone has to start somewhere. Plus, I've been itching for a real debut in this world.
"Time to spread some justice."
…and hopefully find a way to remove this crippling cape speech. Fuck!
AN: I know I know, the symbol art is fucked up, no matter what I did it kept fucking it self up every time, blame FF forced formatting