Blurb: Worm AU OC - A Case 53 wakes up in Brockton Bay and falls into an association with Sanctuary, a nascent corporate hero team under the patronage of the mysterious Mr. Gabriel. This new trump gains powers from consuming the blood of other capes. He has to learn to manage his thirst, create his new identity, and make his place in Brockton Bay. He'll find friends and enemies. Telling one from the other may be his hardest task. "Fighting villains is the easy part ..."
Arrival 1.1
Shadow Stalker faded into solidity in time to land on the edge of the storage unit, turned to face her pursuer, and fired a razer tipped bolt from her hand crossbow. Blood from her pulped nose splashed across her shattered mask and arced to the darkened ground a dozen feet below. Barely a heartbeat later the fugitive former Ward launched herself away from the massive man tracking her across the complex of single-story buildings, quickly turning into her shadow form and gaining speed once both feet had left the surface.
Browbeat, the newest independent hero in Brockton Bay, paused in his pursuit as he brushed the bolt aside, his force field flaring at the contact. With a grunt he sprang into motion again.
As he neared the edge of the roof, he reconfigured his field to carry him over the gap between buildings. He glided further than mere muscles could carry him. Then another bolt, this one covered in sinister smoke passed through his force field and sliced into his neck. Blood spurted and his field disappeared. With a gurgling cry, the young hero dropped to the darkened ground between the units.
"Ahh!"
Circus heard a cry that sounded distinctly different from the large hero's voice. They looked more closely and discovered Browbeat was not alone in the shadows. There was another figure. She glanced at her phone screen making sure they were catching the newcomer on the recording.
The figure's tattered rags left it plainly visible that he was obviously male, but the deep red skin, tall spiny head fin, and sharply pointed ears made it obvious he was not human, or at least not fully so. Browbeat had landed on the man, knocking him prone and covering him with the blood that was still pumping from what had to be a severed artery in the young hero's neck.
All at once the red man went into some kind of fit. He started frantically licking and biting at Browbeat and himself in some sort of animalistic frenzy. It only lasted a few seconds before he jerked convulsively and released a scream of what appeared to be agony.
"Arrrgh!"
Through the light-amplified image on their phone, Circus noticed the obvious Case 53 begin to change. The fin and ear points receded into the man's scarlet skin while black hair sprouted on his scalp and his body bulged with new muscles.
A flick of movement caught Circus' eye as Shadow Stalker returned to the edge of the far storage unit and fired another smoking bolt into Browbeat's back. Then a second and third. Soon the young hero stilled and was quickly thrown off the red figure's form.
"Who the hell are you?" the former Ward demanded.
The prone Case 53 panted loudly, moaned, then passed out.
"Fuck it," Shadow Stalker said, reloading her crossbow. "Wrong place, wrong time, dumbass." She took aim and fired.
Circus reacted almost instinctively, drawing her pistol from her hammerspace and firing from the hip. Not at the fugitive cape, but at her bolt. The two projectiles smashed together.
"Who?" Shadow Stalker whirled to find Circus stepping out of the shadow on a nearby third story rooftop. The caped crusader loaded and fired in less than a second, pushing the bounds of human reaction time.
But Circus was not limited to mere human reactions and easily shot down the bolt in flight. "You've had your fun, little girl. Time to run on to wherever you call home now that the PRT is after you. This makes four dead in as many months. Not going to let you have a fifth."
"Four, five, six, what the hell does it matter?" Shadow Stalker screamed as she launched herself towards the interloper.
The pair circled, each firing seven more times before Shadow Stalker had emptied her quiver. The dark huntress sheathed her crossbow and drew her combat knife. Circus seemed to throw their pistol over their shoulder and drew out their flaming sledgehammer.
"Mine's bigger," they said mockingly.
"Fuck!" Shadow Stalker cursed loudly then turned and ran, fading to shadow to glide up to a nearby roof.
Circus watched quietly as the young girl disappeared into the night. She was not the one Coil had sent them after. Browbeat was. But now he's dead.
They leaped to the ground to double check that the young hero was indeed deceased.
He has at least some regeneration, so it was possible… nope. Dead, dead, dead. Coil's not going to be happy. But maybe a new shiny might distract him.
After ensuring that the unknown Case 53 was still alive, they quickly called Coil to explain what had happened.
"You said not to interfere," Circus reminded the mastermind.
"I know I did," Coil replied, irritation plain in his tone. "And I can't fault you for following orders. I'm just vexed at the waste of time we've spent on this dead end. I suppose we'll have to see if this other option you've lucked upon might fill our particular need."
"He's definitely a Case 53," Circus said, sending several pictures of the scene. The video would take much longer to upload. It would be best to wait until they were on a better network to transfer it to the boss.
"Yes," the thinker agreed. "Which usually means no connections, possibly no memories. In short, a potential blank slate. I may well be able to work with that. He looks very similar to Browbeat, at least in size and stature. That seems very … coincidental."
"He changed," the harlequin replied. "When I first saw him, he looked different – smaller, bald, and with a pointy fin on his head. When he touched the kid, he seemed to change. And from the hollering that he was doing, it was not a pleasant experience."
"That makes this more interesting, potentially much more so." Coil motioned to some people off screen. "I think this may be time to roll out my new plan. Even if it just proves to be a dress rehearsal." It was obvious he was speaking mostly to himself, something many thinkers did on occasion.
Then he seemed to snap back to the present. "I want you to take up a surreptitious watch, make sure nothing happens to either the Case 53 or what's left of Browbeat. I'm sending some special personnel to collect both. Once they've cleaned up the scene, I need you to upload your observations to the usual server. We'll need to see if there is anything we can do in the future to avoid these kinds of failures. Understand?"
"Sure thing, boss!"
Less than ten minutes later four guys in white suits showed up in a van with a symbol Circus had not seen before. It looks like there's more to the evil mastermind than I'd suspected. Who'da thunk?
Three minutes later both bodies had been loaded and the area swept for forensic evidence. Soon after that Circus returned home. It had been a long night already and there was a report to get out.
# # # # #
My first clear memory was of the light green walls of what looked like a hospital room. Several machines were beeping, wheezing, and fluttering. All involved in my treatment I assumed. I rolled my neck, feeling pain shoot up as it twisted and popped. My view swept across my recumbent form. My arms were uncovered by either the thin sheets or the hospital gown, though there was a cuff wrapped around my left bicep. The blue of the cuff contrasted sharply against my skin.
My arms were red. Not sunburned pink or betadine umber, but a deep red, almost blood colored.
That didn't seem right.
I couldn't recall ever seeing anyone that color before. I moved my hands and uncovered my lower legs and feet only to find the color was consistent across my body. Just to be sure I tried rubbing it off. No effect.
Maybe that's why I'm in the hospital, I considered.
Try as I might I couldn't remember anything that might explain either my scarlet condition or my current location.
The last thing I remember was … Fuck! I couldn't remember anything, at least not about myself.
A quick mental quiz was disturbing.
Current Prime Minister? Jay Jayamohan. It was a good start.
What city was I in? No idea.
My job? Nope.
My family?
Name?
Nope. Nothing specific.
I felt myself starting to panic. I could perceive my serotonin, norepinephrine, and gamma-aminobutyric acid levels fluctuating in a very unhealthy manner. A moment's concentration allowed me to regulate both them and my other physical symptoms back to a nominal state.
That was interesting. I had no idea how I'd done it. But I was sure that kind of control was not something people were supposed to be able to do. It went far beyond any biofeedback or mediative methods with which I was familiar.
Then I was struck by the fact that I knew what meditation and biofeedback were. That caused another panicked spike in my neurotransmitters. Which I quickly regulated, setting the adjustment to be automatically activated when my brain chemistry exceeded certain parameters. Again, I was not sure how I knew how to make these changes.
It was then that I noticed that my biological fluctuations were causing the monitoring equipment to react.
I was trying to determine if there was any way to quiet the machinery when three people walked into the room. A woman, dressed in what I assumed was medical garb though it was different from what I vaguely recalled, went to the machines and with a few pushed buttons was able to stop their alarms. Another similarly clad man reached my bedside and began listening to something in my chest with a stethoscope. The third person – a tall thin man in a white suit, black gimp mask, and black gloves – settled into a chair out of the way of the others, but well within my sight.
He looked at me silently, his mask preventing me from reading any expression that might have suggested his thoughts or purpose. I stared back with equal speechlessness.
"Heart rate and BP are normal," the man said, looking at a cuff on my arm.
"The fluctuations seem to have been temporary," The woman replied. "But we'll need to keep an eye on them."
"Not that we know what normal is in this case," the man huffed.
"I can hear you, you know," I interrupted, finally moving my gaze off the masked man.
Speaking, I realized English was not my native tongue, though I had no idea what was. I had no trouble understanding it. Nor did my accent sound too different from theirs, at least to my ears.
The two medics turned to gaze at me, a look of restrained astonishment on their faces. "You speak English?"
"As you see," I replied simply.
"Ah," the woman grunted, a blush spreading up her cheeks. "How are you feeling? Do you have any pain anywhere?" She took out her own stethoscope as she approached me.
I considered my condition. Other than the initial twinge in my neck I could find no particular pains. "Nothing beyond the expected discomfort from your invasive needles and tubes not to mention the restrictive monitoring devices."
I lifted my arm, bringing attention to the IV connected to the back of my right hand.
"Those are necessary for the moment," the male medic said.
"Then I have no particular complaints," I assured them. "Though I do have quite a few questions." I addressed the last to the man in the chair.
"I'm sure you do." His voice was deep and smooth, almost comforting, yet with the familiar tone of command. "And we'll do our best to answer what we can. But first I suggest that you let Dr. Moss and Mr. Culkin see to your immediate medical needs."
I lay back in quiet acquiesce allowing the medics to complete their examination. Other than answering direct questions I spent the time involved in my own internal exploration.
I could feel everything happening in and on my body. Bones, muscles, nerves, organs – everything under my skin, as well as the skin itself. I could sense everything, almost to the cellular level. And I could control it, making changes to achieve specific goals.
Increase bone density? Twist here. Improve twitch speed? Poke that. I was not controlling each nerve or muscle, though I knew I could. Instead, I was giving orders that my body's systems carried out almost on their own.
It was easy to get lost in the internal experimentation.
"Please stop that!" Dr. Moss barked; her face red not in embarrassment but pique. "We can't get accurate measurements with you doing … whatever you're doing."
"Right. Sorry."
"I assure you, we'll spend as much time as you want exploring your powers," the masked man injected. "Once the good doctor is finished."
"I think we have enough," the doctor quickly supplied. "We have base ranges for the majority of our measures. And more importantly, our patient is not suffering any discomfort. That's the best we are likely to get at this time. Though I strongly recommend continued monitoring at least for the next twenty-four hours."
"I think that can be arranged," the masked man replied, raising his hand to forestall any more from the woman.
"Very well," she said, then smiled at me. "Just press this button if you feel any discomfort or have any problems. Either Mr. Culkin or another nurse will respond. They can reach me at any time if I am needed. You just … take care."
"Thank you, Doctor." I was confused by her odd tone at the end. But I was confused by most of my current situation, so this was just one more thing.
"Yes. Thank you," the man in the white suit said, his tone a clear dismissal.
He turned to me. "I think it's time to address your questions."