PROGENITOR: WORM (A Wormquest AU)

CONTENT WARNING: A 20something mafia guy is extremely inappropriate to a 17 year old lesbian and hits on her and is...generally, just, super shitty.

"Fuck this," you say.

"Miss Sato-" the Principal starts, but you're already standing up, your hands tightening as Kelso walks forward, twirling his handcuffs.

"Settle down, you little-" he says, but you dart away from him as he reaches out with his cuffs. They click on empty air as you spring at the wall next to the window. You focus, delete some physics - the kind that say molecules press against molecules, that matter exists for other matter - and for a fraction of a second, the wall is less of a wall and more of a hazily defined quasi-real swarm of quarks. You land on the far side, snapping the physics right back and turn back to sneer through the window at the gaping principal and the officer. Kelso, though, reacts by sprinting towards the office door.

You blink, a bit shocked that he's able to think at all, considering you just jumped through a fucking wall.

He bursts out into the corridor beyond the office. His service revolver is in shaking hands and he aims it at you. "F...Freeze, you freak!"

You gape at him, then scowl. "Fuck off." You turn around and start to walk away.

"I said-"

Maybe...

Maybe that shaking hand meant his finger twitched. You could give Kelso the first bullet.

But the second and third?

You snapped your head back, time seeming to slow as you saw the bullets shooting towards you. One hit the ceiling. One flew at your arm, the last at your head. You glared...and thought: No. The word was clear in your head and the result was even clearer. The air before you turned into dark rectangles, flashing up before the bullets, which struck them and bounced off with whining pings. One sparked off a locker to your right as you grinned at Kelso, feeling rush as he gaped at you, then at his pistol, then dropped it.

Was he horrified at the fact he'd almost shot a kid?

Or was he just scared shitless?

Honestly, you couldn't care either way. You turned and started to jog out of the school, rushing past lockers towards the front doors of the school. Your arms crackled and black lightning seemed to crackle around you as you realized that you could negate mass here, eliminate gravity here, make clothing harden to support your muscles there. It was all subtle, almost unconscious results of your powers - synthesizing into speed and strength. You pushed more power into it and leaped into the air to clear the little handrail that runs along the stairs that lead up to the school...and you find yourself soaring through the air, whistling up and up and up, your legs wheeling under you. Your arms spread wide and you feel the wind blow past you, catching your hair, trailing it behind you.

You can't help it.

"WOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOO!" Your feet smashed down on the hood of a yellow taxi almost two blocks away and you leaped off it, not even leaving a dent as the man in the taxi gaped at you. A skyscraper shot towards you and you pulled your legs up against you, flipped, and landed feet first against the glass, sprinting as hard as you could. You left behind little flashes of ice that melted away behind you as your feet slapped against the panes, the people in the building gaping as you laughed, laughed hysterically. You got to the edge of the scraper, flipped, jumped, and shot down the road, landing on a lamp post, then springing from it to the midsection of a building. You sprinted a few feet, kicked off, flew through the air and landed on roof. Pigeons and secretaries on their smoke breaks both saw you - the secretaries gasped in shock and the pigeons took flight as you spread your arms wide, laughing.

"Ladies!" you said, winking at both, as they watched you walk to the side of the building.

"No, don't!" one says, and you wink at her, then leap off the building, shooting across the street and landing on the next roof over. You laugh, sprinting to the edge of the roof, then jumping again and again and again, clearing the vast, glittering sprawl of New York City in what felt like a flash. Before you knew it, you were leaping through the air and came down before the Stonewall Tavern, skidding to a stop. The sidewalk outside had a few people who gaped at you, looking as if they could hardly believe their eyes. You grinned at them, then walked in through the front doors.

It was the middle of the school day, so only serious drinkers were here - most of the night club wasn't. Despite that, you had...faintly hoped that Sabby or Rachel...or, heck, someone you'd love to see right now? Martha. Martha would know what to do. Instead, you just saw the day bartender, Jack, who was the same fidgety little shit he always was. And...ugh. Worse.

"Well, look at who's playing hookie again," a guy who's basically a walking fridge says, looking you over like he's undressing you with his eyes as he turns from the pool tables in the edge of the bar. The fact that he's got a scar that runs across his entire throat doesn't make it any better. "You couldn't resist me, could you, Lil' Lily."

You roll your eyes. "Fuck off, Alphonse," you say, walking past him. One of the other guys at the pool table - they're all the straights in the bar, which means they're all tough, they're all mean, they're all packing heat, and almost all of them are Made - laughs. That means that Alphonse has to do something about it or else he'll look all weak infront of his...goombahs or whatever the fuck they're called. He swings the pool cue around behind his neck and hooks his arms over it, swaggering towards you.

"You know, you just haven't had the right man-"

"Oh, and it's totally going to be you, Zipperneck," you say, smirking at him.

His face starts to redden. "Don't call me that."

You grin at him. You don't need to take his shit today.

"Why not...Zipperneck?"

"Listen, you little-"

"Alphonse, baby, what are you doing!?" A very, very, very welcome voice sings out and Martha comes bustling in. She's looking absolutely fabulous, even though it's not night and she's not even in full gear - no wig, no flowers, just her dress and her normal hair. She looks like she came running downstairs when she heard your voice. Which...aww. "You know Lily's too young for you."

"She's old enough to be here, isn't she?" Alphonse muttered.

"And didn't I hear you and Grimes were heading out soon?" Marie asks, glancing meaningfully at the bartender. The bartender gives you a smug, smug, smug, smug smile. Like, way more smug than a man like Jack fucking Grimes should possibly be able to give, considering he's not Italian enough to be made, not competent enough to go legit, and too fucking in over his head to do anything but tend bar during the day time.

"Yeah...yeah, we gotta catch the train, Russo. Remember? For...the gig..." Jack says, with such weighted, obvious import that your eyes start to narrow.

"Yeah, I guess," Alphonse said, then smirked, reaching down to grab your ass. The only reason you do not punt him through the goddamn wall is the last thing the fucking world needs is Alphonse "Zipperneck" Russo getting goddamn superpowers. As Jack hangs up his little mop and Alphonse talks in rapid fire Italian with his Mafia goons. All of them nod, and then they all start off, the whole group making five. As the door swings shut after them, Martha takes your hands in hers, looking at you.

"Honey, you can't come here every day - your school is going to notice." She smiles at you.

You smile back.

So...

Shit, where do you-

"Oh, and...what happened to you?" Her finger brushes your jaw. You wince. She's already noticed your bruise. Shit. "Come on! Come!" She drags you up to the back of the place.

"You have to give me Sykes for this."

"Absolutely not."

The room that J. Edgar Hoover, General Colt and the President of the United States of America wouldn't have, couldn't have, existed in 1967. In the bald face of things, it didn't even exist right now. The 'room' was a mental construct, a replica of the nuclear hardened safe house under the White House, stitched together despite the fact the President was in Washington, Hoover was in the FBI headquarters (which, coincidentally, was also in Washington. Hoover was just nearly eighty and didn't like having to shuttle himself around unless he was in the form of a younger body) and Colt was in Edward's Air Force Base in California.

It beat the hell out of telephone, Hoover thought. And he knew for a fact Colt couldn't read his mind here - if he did, then he'd have found and destroyed Hoover's file on him already. The file that detailed Colt's little drinking problem...his little tryst with the waitress in Kenosha, Wisconsin that his wife didn't know about...

Hoover never once entertained the idea that Colt did know, but he also didn't think that Hoover's petty bullshit was worth distracting himself from the incredibly important and dangerous job of being the United State's most powerful (and only) telepath. This room construct was an irritating focus that Colt wished he could just drop - there were literally hundreds, thousands, of troops who needed orders and direction right now. But he had to admit...this situation in New York was worth the focus.

If only so he could stop Hoover from doing anything too stupid.

"Listen," Hoover said - his mental projection of him in his youth, which was either a reflection of his newly found vitality and sense of purpose or an indication that his self image had never quite gotten out of the 1920s - leaning forward and tapping the table with his finger. "I've not just met or seen or heard about this Sato woman. I've taken her form and I know what she can do. She could level the whole goddamn city like she's a walking A-bomb. Every second she's not under out control is another second she might decide to kill a million Americans because they pissed her off."

The President frowned. "I understand your concerns, Director," he said, all polite and smiles now that he wasn't alone with Hoover. "But Mrs. Sykes is a military asset."

"And we've lost nearly six thousand troops in the past twenty four hours from the detonations alone," Colt said. "And I have no idea who is causing it or how - they're moving around too much for me to pinpoint them. And that's just one of the fucking things that the NVA have thrown at us. There's a teleporter - she was spotted in Cape Canaveral, stealing one of our spacesuits. Less than a week later, she dropped a ten ton asteroid on Nevada."

"On empty desert," Hoover muttered.

"They know we have nuclear bombs," Colt said. "They can blow our cities up, but we can blow their cities up. Meanwhile, the only thing keeping ARVN in the fight at all is that we have Sykes flying around, putting out fires and swatting those detonations out of the sky before they can land. We're going to barely hold out until reinforcements show up. And there's reports that this is just the first of it. We've heard reports from ARVN that there's a walking statue the size of a building that's leveling their positions!"

The President nodded. "I agree. We can't bring in Sykes, not right now."

Hoover snarled and leaned back in his seat. "Oh, what are you going to do, then? Send in some beat cops? The NYPD finest!?"

"You were organizing them, weren't you?" The President asked.

"As support," Hoover said. "I was hoping I'd get Sykes here."

The President shook his head. "Keep them at a distance. Colt, keep the ARVN in the game - we lose south Vietnam, the commies take the whole shebang, and they get the second largest population of...what did those eggheads call them?"

"Metahumans, sir," Colt said, seriously.

"Right. Metahumans," the President said, looking thoughtful.

"Mr. President, respectfully," Hoover said, without any respect in his tone at all. "What are you going to give me to work with?"

"I'm going to try one thing first. Maybe we can solve this without Superman and Rex Luthor tearing up downtown New York," the President said, before his form shimmered out of existence - vanishing back to the material world.

"There has to be something you can give me, Colt," Hoover said.

Colt looked across the table. He could feel Hoover's desperation - and his fear. That, more than anything Hoover had said, communicated to him just how powerful this Lily Sato was. He sighed, slowly.

"There is one thing..." he said.

You wince as Martha pushes what looks like a plastic bag of frozen peas against your jaw. "Owww..." you whine, softly.

"It'll feel better in the long run, honey, believe you me. I've...had to deal with this more than you," she says, her voice gentle. Then, quietly. "So...tell me everything."

You blush. Your eyes dart to the side.

And you tell her.

Everything. Everything. More than you expect, actually. You start with the blackmail, then work to the building, then the VC, then the explosion. Then Mz. Wendell. Then you start crying. "S-She was...she was blackmailing me, but she saved my life, I don't get it," you say, sniffling and sucking in air past your now snotty nose. Martha hugs you close, while still keeping the peas against your skin.

"Oh honey," she whispers, shaking her head. "It's okay." She holds you tight, and her voice is soft and husky - somewhere between contralto and soprano, and you close your eyes. "People are more than just any one thing. Sometimes, that one thing is brighter and more obvious than other things - like me being so dang beautiful." This startles a giggling snort out of you. "And some things, they're real ugly. But they're never all the person is. Even the ugliest person, inside, might have a tiny spark. And...I know I have some darkness in me too." She petted your head, gently as you nodded.

"...you won't tell Sabby or Rachel I cried right?" you mumble against her.

"Cross my heart and hope to die," she says, laughing.

"Okay." You drew back, your hand on the peas. "...there's something else."

She nods, watching you gently.

"...I got superpowers from the explosion," you say. "And I think I can give you superpowers too."

Martha's eyes go very wide. She looks at you, and you're not sure if she believes you or not - or if she's about to say something. Because that's when the door bursts open and one of the staff at the Stonewall - a guy who looks like he was called in to cover for Grimes now that Grimes had booked it, is standing in the door. "Sato!" he says, his voice edged with an absolutely panicky, confused tone. "Sato! The fucking President is on the phone for you!"

"What?" you and Martha ask the same thing, at the same time.

The two of you hurry down the stairs after the bartender, with Martha whispering behind you. "Oh my, I think you are actually telling the truth, oh my, oh my, oh my-"

You come to the telephone, which is being held by a shocked looking waitress. She holds it out to you and you take it, gingerly, as if it might explode. You put it to your ear.

"Hello?" you ask.

Through crackling pops and hisses, you hear the familiar sound of LBJ's drawling voice.

"Miss Lily Sato?" he asks, drawing out the a in your name. "This is President Johnson. I would like to talk to you about the current ruckus that's going on - your, ah, new amazing powers and what they mean for yourself, for your family, for the United States and the world. Now, I'm aware that this is quite a lot to heap on a woman of your tender years, but I'm sure you're up to the task. I'm calling to ask if you wouldn't mind meeting somewhere in person, to discuss this here face to face."

Martha, who is watching you with boggling eyes, leans in close and you're pretty sure she just heard all of that.

---
What do you do?
[ ] Write in

CURRENT STATUS
Health: Fine
Willpower: 30