Adapt 1.0
Lisa Wilbourn, known to the world—or rather, to her world—as Tattletale, stared at the ticket in her hand. Oceanic Flight 815, business class. All because Cauldron, in all their infinite wisdom and resources, couldn't even think to setup base on all seven continents on each alternate earth. Typical.
The airport terminal had a lot of people to read, her eyes looking from one face to another, picking up on the little tells that people thought they could hide. A man in a suit, slightly wrinkled—nervous about an important meeting he wasn't prepared for. A young couple holding hands—wait no siblings, both were trying to suppress guilt.
Her power fed her these insights in an endless stream, a constant whisper that never truly stopped. Useful sometimes, sure, but exhausting. Long ago Lisa learned to filter out the noise, focusing only on what mattered. What mattered now was getting on that flight and figuring out where the hell the local cape groups or Cauldron branches were on this earth because it sure as hell wasn't in australia.
A man walked by, slightly disheveled dirty blond hair, eyes darting around. She eyed his style unzipped black sweatshirt over a striped gray shirt with worn denim jeans , her mind supplied. Musician. Addict. Jittery because he was running low on whatever he was using to keep it together. She felt some sympathy but mostly disdain,being reminded of the merchants. Addiction was a messy business, and not one she cared to deal with.
She smirked to herself, a habit that often put others on edge. Not that she cared. It kept people off balance that's what mattered. A necessity when you knew as much as she did, saw through as many lies.
As the boarding announcement came over the speakers, Lisa stood, stretching lazily. Her mind filled with possibilities, none of them particularly appealing. She wasn't thrilled about being here, likely having to play errand girl for an organization she barely trusted once she landed be it whatever the hell the PRT equivalent here or more likely some local Cauldron chapter. But if it meant getting answers and returning to Bet, she'd deal with it. She always did.
Her smirk widened. Scrub was gonna get quite the tongue lashing once she got back. Accidentally closing a portal to this backwater earth australia. But she'd play by her rules, and she'd make damn sure to find out what game the capes on this earth were really playing. The little Evidence she found online seemed to point to more capes being in North America than other continents. She hoped that with more capes and familiar scenery she'd find some resource to get her back to Bet.. She tucked the ticket into her pocket and stood,eyeing around the busy terminal one last time then heading toward the gate. Her eyes flicked over the passengers in line around her, cataloging them out of habit. Nervous flyer, trying to hide it. Guy in a suit—stiff, bit buzzed, dealing with grief. Nothing special.
With a final roll of her shoulders, she walked toward the gate, ready to board.
Lisa slid into her aisle seat at the end of business class, sparing a brief glance at the man already settled by the window. He had long curly black hair and a rugged, but surprisingly clear face. There was a distant look in his eyes as he stared at a photo laid across the blanket over his hands. The photo showed a woman with a warm smile, he looked at it as if the very image could come alive and give him solace, Lisa could guess there was a lot more to the story. Her power nudged at her, whispering of love and torture.
For once, she didn't push for more. Whatever his story was, it was no business of hers. Besides, he seemed far too absorbed in his thoughts. Good. The last thing she wanted was a chatty seat neighbor. She needed this flight to be quiet, uneventful. A chance to gather her thoughts and figure out her next move once they landed in Los Angeles.
As more passengers filled into the plane a young boy, maybe ten or eleven, caught her powers attention as he walked through the airplanes corridor. He had an intense look, like he was carrying something heavier than power hummed, picking up on an unusual vibe from him. It reminded her of other thinkers she'd met—people whose minds worked differently, processing the world in ways most couldn't fathom. The boy's thoughts felt strangely familiar, almost... resonant.
Lisa's eyes narrowed slightly. She shifted her focus, extending her senses toward the boy. Walt, her power supplied, though she couldn't pinpoint how she knew. His mind was a storm of thoughts, quicksilver and elusive, yet oddly calm at the center. There was something more here, something deeper. Not quite like the thinkers she knew, but still was a curiosity she couldn't ignore.
Her gaze looked to the man beside him, no doubt the boy's father. Michael, her power whispered, just as easily. He looked tired, worn down, a great many worries, a woman named Susan, an unease about his son…, she tried digging more but felt a headache start to come on. They settled into their seats a few rows back, the boy absorbed in a comic book even as he went to sit, his father staring out the window with a troubled expression.
The whole dynamic bothered her. Capes were hidden here, their existence largely denied Cauldron didn't even seem to be a rumor here, their secrecy intact, not even PRT—just whispers on obscure forums, hints that someone out there knew the truth and that cauldron had some limited presence here, but without the knowledge she had from Earth Bet it would've been impossible to catch. It was like this world had collectively decided to bury their heads, pretending parahumans didn't exist. She hated it. It made her mission to get back to her Earth Bet a thousand times harder, and she couldn't help but wonder how anyone who manifested powers here coped with it. She could imagine the chaos of a kid like Aiden with big ideas and bigger fears, ended up in a place like this. It would be a nightmare.
She shook her head, pushing away the troubling thoughts. For now she was stuck here, and had to deal with it. Focus on the task at hand: get to LA, find someone who could help, and get back home. Simple, and easy right? Though nothing was rarely ever so simple for her.
As the plane speed down the runway, she leaned back in her seat, closing her eyes. The hum of the engines grew louder, a steady vibration under her feet. She felt the subtle tension in the air, a familiar feeling before any of her travels, yet somehow different this time. Like something was just waiting to go wrong.
But for now, all she could do was wait. The pieces would fall into place, and when they did, she'd be ready. She always was.
Lisa settled into her seat, glancing around the cabin. A few rows ahead a man sat upright with a posture that seemed almost unnatural. Her power nudged again—The man was older, perhaps in his mid-forties, with graying hair cut short in a style that screamed military or law enforcement, Marshall her power provided. His face was set in a permanent scowl, lines etched deep around his mouth and forehead, suggesting a life spent frowning. Used to being in control, a stickler for rules and order. The kind of person who probably got a thrill out of catching people out on technicalities or bending under pressure if it even inched away from his neat and ordered worldview. Lisa smirked; Is this the second coming of Piggot?
Just then, a flight attendant entered the cabin from the galley, a short brown haired and brown eyed woman with a smile that seemed a touch too practiced. Cindy her power provided, Caught in the monotony of her job underneath harboring a smug sense of being above the passengers she served. The woman tried to hide her boredom behind a veneer of professionalism, but the cracks were there.
Cindy made her way down the aisle, stopping at Lisa's row. "Would you like a snack, miss?" she asked, her tone polite but distant.
Lisa accepted the offering—a cookie, larger than she expected, and a small bag of pretzels. She inspected the pretzels with mild disdain; they looked stale, probably had been sitting in the storage for a while.
The man in her row simply shook his head. She wondered what fancy meals some of the more luxury airlines were serving. Meanwhile she got stuck with oceanic, and its slightly above economy business class experience. She imagined some rich folks up there, sipping champagne and enjoying fine dining, while she nibbled on a subpar snack. She watched as Cindy continued down the aisle, her movements almost robotic.
A few minutes later, Lisa noticed the jittery musician from earlier, the one her power had pegged as an addict, get up from his seat. He moved with a shaky nervousness, his face set in a determined frown as he rushed toward the upper deck restroom. It didn't take a mastermind, to guess what was on his mind. Lisa shook her head slightly. Addicts typically were a predictable sort.
It seemed the flight attendant took an interest however. Cindy's eyes narrowed and she begun to follow the man, her face tightening. She turned and walked briskly after him, her earlier composure replaced with concern. Lisa's power hummed with information—Cindy suspected what Lisa already knew. There was a good bit of professional worry, a fear of the potential complications and even violence that might come from the situation.
Lisa sighed and leaned back, biting into the cookie. It was surprisingly good, a little solace in this otherwise dull and tense flight. She just hoped the situation with the off-brand Merchant and the internally bitchy flight attendant wouldn't escalate to something that required an emergency landing. Not that it seemed likely—where would they even land in the middle of the ocean?
Just as she was beginning to relax, the plane jolted. The overhead lights flickered, and the cabin shuddered. Lisa gripped her armrests, a sinking feeling settling in her stomach. The turbulence hit like a rocking wave, throwing the passengers into momentary chaos. Gasps and murmurs spread through the cabin as the plane shook. She looked around, studying the varying reactions. Her silent seatmate had a tight grip on his armrest, his face tense. the Marshall was alert, the latter's hand subtly moving towards his sidearm, a reflexive motion. Cindy was gripping a seatback, a professional mask coming over her as she tried to reassure the passengers. In the distance she saw more airline staff coming towards Cindy once the turbulence settled all begin to follow towards the restroom, the addict musician whoever he was entered
Lisa took a deep breath. When the plane begun to shake again, This was no ordinary turbulence; it felt... wrong. Her power offered no insights, just fog a static void where information usually flowed whispers replaced a high pitched sound. Odd, unnerving She did not like it one bit.
Suddenly, the plane dipped sharply. A scream echoed through the cabin, followed by the harsh sound of something heavy crashing to the floor. Lisa's eyes darted around, taking in the panic-stricken faces of the passengers. Her power buzzed erratically, overwhelmed by the flood of fear and confusion. For once, it offered little comfort or clarity, leaving her feeling strangely blind.
Then, with a mechanical whir, the oxygen masks dropped from the ceiling. The yellow cups dangled in front of each passenger, swaying slightly as the plane continued to shudder. Lisa grabbed hers, pulling it over her mouth and nose. The plastic felt cold and alien against her skin, and she took a few deep breaths, feeling the rush of oxygen flood her lungs. Her thoughts cleared slightly, and she forced herself to focus.
Next to her, her seatment was already halfway through putting on his mask. His hands were steady, but his eyes were wide, reflecting a quiet intensity. As he secured the mask, Lisa heard him mutter something in Arabic, his voice low and fervent "Astaghfirullah" her power supplied he was asking god for forgiveness.
The plane continued to plummet, the descent rapid and terrifying. The noise was deafening—metal creaking, the whoosh of air, and the muffled cries of passengers. Lisa's stomach lurched with every drop, her knuckles white as she gripped the armrests. She double checked her mask was secure then looked to her seat mate: He caught her eye, a moment of shared understanding passing between them. Lisa offered a tight nod
Leave it to her to die in some alternate backwater world on some b tier airline:
As if hearing her thoughts, the front of the plane got torn off, and the descent accelerated. The The weightlessness returned, a sickening drop that made her stomach flip. Her grip on the armrests tightened, knuckles white with the effort the tail falling apart to. For a brief, absurd moment, she thought of all the things left unsaid, the people she'd left behind—Taylor, the Undersiders, all these messes she'd been tangled in.
And then, there was no more time for thoughts. With a deafening crash, the plane hit land. The impact was brutal, a bone-jarring force that slammed Lisa forward and back against her seat. Everything went dark, the sound of tearing metal and shattering glass drowning out all else. Water slashed across her back, icy and relentless, dragging her back to harsh reality.
Lisa gasped as more cold hit her, the shock stole her breath. Her vision blurred, but she forced herself to focus. She was alive. One simple thought in the forefront of her mind: Survive.
A.N. Randomly was thinking about wormand lost two days ago and needless to say this came to be. Curious what people think and any speculation or critique is appreciated.