A Mild Mannered Hero (Worm SI/OC)
- Thread starter kenmadragon
- Start date
-
- Tags
- worm cyoa si self insert
- Location
- Earth Prime
Maybe it's a fortress of solicitude.
Malbutorius
C'est le bien qui fait mal
So, a Church belonging to the Jehovah Witnesses? Or maybe the Latter Day Saints?
They're two of the most common solicitors after all.
- Location
- Earth Prime
Hm. Does it come in pairs or groups?
Duburu
Simurgh Survivor
You forget superintelligent. He is a genius by default but the kicker is that his solar battery power also apply to his brain making his genius into superintelligent
acegunner
Planeswalker - Nicol Bolas
- Location
- Dominaria
I give up trying to rate Superman.
Too many powers.
The quickest explanation of his powers would be the following.
Friendly Near-Endbringer Class Parahuman. Do not antagonize. Assist whenever possible. Repeat, Do Not Antagonize.
Anyone who disobeys this protecterate wide order shall recieve an immediate life sentence to the Parahuman Containment Center.
If a fight breaks between "Superman" and a third party stay clear and prepare to initiate endbringer level evacuation immediately.
In case of endbringer assault contact him immediately in order to reduce cassaulties.
Non-Authorized possession of kryptonite will be tried to the fullest extent of the law, with lethal force authorized for thier apprehension.
Signed: Legend"
Duburu
Simurgh Survivor
Just search up smallville superman power, The TV SHOW actually is literally what all superman power is.
JustinTim3
Lost soul of Ashes
- Location
- iowa
And of course he has to have a stranger power too. To be able to hide his identity behind just a pair of glasses
SpiritualSlacker
Nurse God of Mischief
- Location
- Grandma's attic
Another story added to the ol' list. High-power SIs are difficult to write well, so I wish you the best. You seem to be on the right track there so far, although I have one thing to nitpick: the exposition. And by that, I don't mean the fact that you have it, but the way you've done it. Specifically, the way it sometimes drags on a bit.
In my opinion and experience, it usually works out if you just infer some stuff and leave the reader to figure it out. Or just leave it ambiguous.
Now, you don't have to do it this way, and I've seen super great and interesting stories that had lots of exposition, but in your case it was just something I noticed.
I mean, maybe I'm alone in this and everybody else prefers it differently, but I figure you'd appreciate some honest criticism. I'm still really looking forward to the next installment.
In my opinion and experience, it usually works out if you just infer some stuff and leave the reader to figure it out. Or just leave it ambiguous.
Now, you don't have to do it this way, and I've seen super great and interesting stories that had lots of exposition, but in your case it was just something I noticed.
I mean, maybe I'm alone in this and everybody else prefers it differently, but I figure you'd appreciate some honest criticism. I'm still really looking forward to the next installment.
Crash Landing 01.4
- Location
- In my Lair, on my Hoard
Crash Landing 01.4
'Nice weather we're having?' What the hell? First contact with the local superhumans, and that was the best I could come up with?
I mean, sure, it's kinda weird to use it in these circumstances. I mean, I crash-landed back on Earth, sunk a little bit, and floated out of the water amidst a massive column of steam.
And after that, I was kind of floating around doing nothing while they flew closer. Just stared up at the sky and did… nothing.
And then I opened with that line.
Gods, I must look like an idiot.
If they were phased by the mildly inappropriate attempt at humor in any sense, the two men were good at hiding it. Or rather, the thunder-y Spartan guy reacted with a twitch and glance at the other flying guy, then schooled his body-language to more "neutral-readiness". The energy-man was far more skilled at hiding it, I guessed, because the smile had a little smirk-y feeling to it.
And now I know that if I really wanted to, I could read micro-expressions. Because the guy who looked liked a Rule 63 version of one of my - err, Dexter's - superheroic allies had just run through a gamut of shock, bewilderment, and amusement. However, he seemed to be really damned good at concealing all those tells because it took superpowers to keep up with them.
Oh, wait, pay attention. He's started talking again.
"A bit chilly for me, but we are out over the ocean after all," Energy-dude said. As the obvious 'people-person' of the two, he had a nice voice. It was this sort of classic baritone that you got from actors in older movies. I could probably figure out the closest actor to his voice if I gave it a moment, but I really didn't care. Instead, I just blinked as I noted that I was hearing radio-waves coming off of the two.
"I didn't really notice," I shrugged. "But I don't think I'm qualified to judge."
I really wasn't. Ken had designed Dexter with virtual immunity to all manners of environmental harm. Memories as Dexter confirmed that - I had played hopscotch on the moon, swam the depths of the Marianas trench, made snow-forts in Arctic, used an active volcano as a hot sauna…
"Maybe," Krackle-sparky-bang-man said. I don't think he knew I had noticed he was listening to someone on the other end of a comm-link of some sort. I had noticed the two had radio-communications devices on them in active use, but it seemed rather rude to just listen in on that.
I mean, sure, whoever was on the other end was probably listening in on this whole conversation and relaying information or instructions to the welcoming committee. So listening in on whoever was talking to them might yield useful intel. But if whoever was on the other end was anything like Batman, Ken was certain that doing so would probably tick them off if they figured it out.
Plus, it was just plain rude.
So I actively tuned out the rather angry-sounding woman on the other end. On the one hand, if my/Ken's guess was right, then the local Batman-alogue was a woman. Which was kind of cool and kind of terrifying at the same time. On the other hand, if I was wrong, and not actively listening in on them talking, it would never be noticed. No harm, no foul, I guess.
"But," Oh, it looked like Corona-man had finally stopped listening to whoever was on the comm and was asking a question. Thank goodness, that pause where no one was saying anything felt really awkward. "I don't recall ever hearing of a parahuman of your description…"
This was not news. As the Samaritan, I recall going through outfits pretty rapidly in the early days. It didn't help that my initial approach to the whole "super-costume" had been "jeans and a t-shirt, I dunno". At the moment, whatever clothes I was wearing had been torn up pretty badly by re-entry. I also had no shoes.
"Err, is that a good thing, or a bad thing?" I wondered honestly.
Spartan-guy wiggled his hand in a bit-of-both gesture, which sent interesting ripples through the energy field his shield-arm gave off. "We're investigating the… 'atmospheric anomaly' in the area, and your presence raises some…" he paused to find the right word before going with, "questions."
"Oh," I blinked. "Sorry about that. I'll leave you two to it, then."
I made to hover away and let them go about whatever business they were here for before it dawned on me that the "atmospheric anomaly" business was me.
They seemed to have guessed similarly.
"Actually, we were hoping you could answer some of those questions for us." Cosmo-dude interrupted. I hesitated, knowing that they would probably cut me off if I tried to make a break for it.
Besides, I had questions too. Like who in the heck these people were, and who they were talking to. I mean, as much as I enjoyed referring to these superhumans by weird nicknames in my head, the mantra of "don't panic, don't panic" was running constantly in the back of my head, and humor was starting to become a poor defense.
I needed answers as much as these two did.
"Such as…?"
The Spartan answered first. "Well, who you are and how you got to the impact site so quickly, for starters. We had assumed we would be the first responders." The armored superhuman was rather polite and genial about it, but it was a little obvious that he was the more blunt of the two.
"Um…" Okay, time for bullshit. "I just happened to be near by, flying. Flew over when I saw, well, you know."
There was a pause as the two costumed men shared a look. An almost imperceptible nod from the armored one to the other told me nothing.
"So you're a Mover, then." Cosmo-dude grinned. I got the feeling that "mover" was their word for 'guy who can fly'.
"Yeah, I suppose."
"Been trying out your abilities then? Or just stretching your legs, so to speak?"
I shrugged. "Column A, Column B."
Cosmo-dude nodded. "I know the feeling. It's a wonderful sensation, to fly under your own power." That made me grin - this guy got it. Gods above, flying was awesome. The Ken side of me couldn't help but squee at the sensation of openly defying gravity.
"By the way, have you thought of what to call yourself?"
Huh?
The confusion must have been rather apparent as the Spartan-themed man tried to explain, "A cape-name… to go with a costume and mask… You know, what people would call you to protect your civilian identity? Your cape-name."
"Ah… yeah, I, uh…" Oh crap, not that again! I hated having to introduce myself. It was always embarrassing, doing that. Mostly because I could never settle on a good one. Because seriously, "The Samaritan" was nice and all, but it'd be nice to have something catchier, and less religiously associated.
"It's okay, most new capes don't have the best of ideas about their powers or abilities, and cape names are sometimes difficult to come up with." Well, at least Cosmo-dude seemed to understand that trouble. More points for Cosmo-dude as my favorite between the two.
Thankfully, that gave me the perfect opening to actually learn their names. "Yeah, like how long did it take to come up with your names?"
The two seemed to freeze for a moment, a shared shudder passing through them. Spartan-dude seemed to mouth a silent curse. I'm not the best of lip-readers (and since when was that a skill of mine? Oh, right, picked it up when I was 13), but it looked like it involved someone named "Glenn".
I made an internal note to avoid this "Glenn" at all costs, maybe save me from whatever trauma they'd inflicted upon these two gents.
"Thankfully, not too long. And I'm glad I managed to snag 'Legend' before someone else did." Cosmo-dude - no, "Legend" - had a small smile. The aura about him fluctuated invisibly to the naked human eye. I still caught it every time it shifted throughout the entire conversation.
I parsed his words quickly. So Cosmo-dude was called "Legend", and could be reasoned as having worn the costume for quite some time.
I didn't recall anyone going by "Legend" back in Neotropolis with my Dexter-memories, and Ken-memories didn't really have anything actionable either. Though he could still be Rule-63 Celestial, even if the energy patterns had some marked differences. Then who was Spartan-dude a parallel for? Anubis? Nah, didn't look like a nano-machine hive formed the power-armor like it did for good old dog-head. The armor was physical, but super-charged with some kind of exotic energy.
Plus, Anubis didn't use a lightning spear. He was a flying-brick type with a super-laser.
Really getting more tallies for the "Alternate Universe" theory. So what, was there another version of the Samaritan running around? Of Dexter Lancaster? Of Ken?
Questions for later.
"I can imagine," I said conversationally, before glancing at Spartan-dude. "How about you? How long did it take to get…"
"... a while. Not long, but longer than you'd think." Spartan-dude looked thoughtful, and I had to restrain myself from eavesdropping on what the man interjecting on the other end was saying to him. This told me that they had more than one person on support staff as overwatch.
So… more than one person as The-Guy-In-The-Chair? What was this, the CW?
Was this an alternate universe's CW show-verse?
Oh wait, I didn't get a name for Spartan-dude. Right, back on track.
"Yeah, I get that. I mean, there's only so many options you can have when you look like you stepped out of a Grecian city-state and look like you're wearing lightning. I mean, what was your first try, Zeus?"
"Defiant, actually." Oh hey, I got Spartan-guy to smirk!
"Why didn't you stick with that? Sounds awesome."
"I liked Dauntless better."
Couldn't argue with that logic.
"Neat. Maybe I could snag Defiant, if it's still on the table," I mused before shaking my head. "Nah, it'd send the wrong message. Not the message I want to send."
"And what message is that?" queried Cosmo-dude - I mean, Legend - who had an expression schooled to register as 'inquisitive'.
"That I Am Here," I shamelessly ripped off from one of the anime Ken watched. First thing that came to mind, honest. I even had the goofy grin, and everything. "If I called myself 'Defiant', then there would always be the question of who I was trying to defy. Or what I was defying by doing whatever it is I'd do.
"Nah, I think I'll let people call me whatever they will. I mean, I can fly. For all I care, 'Defiant' could stand for 'defying gravity'. But I doubt others would see it that way.
"I just want to help people."
It was as simple as that.
Thank goodness I have experience talking like this as The Samaritan. The Ken side of me would have probably stuttered halfway through that at some point.
Dauntless and Legend had this grin on them now, and I couldn't help but grin as well. In that moment, we all took each other's measure. I tried to straighten my back and look suitably heroic (for a guy who was wearing tatters), and gave them the classic superhero grin.
Mine was a little awkward, but genuine. Theirs had the look of long-practiced perfection.
Kindred spirits.
"Have you thought about joining the Protectorate?" asked Legend, relaxing slightly.
"Not till this moment," I replied honestly.
Dauntless snorted in amusement, lowering his lightning-lance. "You want to be a hero, and you never considered joining the Protectorate?"
I just shrugged. "Honestly, I've been playing it by ear so far."
Technically, that wasn't a lie. I'd been flying by the seat of pants this entire conversation and typically acted as a rather reactionary force in my quest to combat crime back home.
"Well…" Dauntless started, and I knew they were going to make a pitch by the way his lips twitched upwards. "We're not far from The Rig, so we could always tell you all about it over there. We'd even be willing to help you with power-testing - you'd be surprised what our scientists can do about helping you figure out your power's full capabilities."
I suppressed the slight frown that came from the thought of power-testing. I remembered the last time I did that - the Wreck Room at Stevenson Evolutionary Technologies in Neotropolis had been a scrapped plot-line in Ken's memories (Martin Stevenson's player had vanished unexpectedly), but as Dexter I recalled having shown up at Anubis's invitation. Martin had always played A.N.U.B.I.S. off as his 'bodyguard', but I knew his secret identity. But we played the game, and other heroes showed up too. The Wreck Room became our occasional sparring room and dojo for martial combat.
I shook my head.
"Uh, I doubt I'll need power-testing. But I will need directions to wherever this 'Rig' is…" I said, rubbing the back of my head, acting a little embarrassed. "I got kinda lost getting here, and would appreciate help getting my bearings."
"We'd be glad to help," Legend waved off my concerns. "Here, we'll escort you to The Rig. If you have any questions, we'd be happy to answer them on the way."
"Sounds grand," I smiled back at them, trying to ignore how they moved to flank me in escort position. Dauntless was a little behind me, and Legend was leading. Probably standard procedure, just in case I got lost. Besides, it'd give me some time to think.
After a few moments of silence, I managed to gather from our direction in relation to geomagnetic fields that we were heading on a roughly western heading. Good, that matched my memories from when I plummeted through the atmosphere. But more than that, I pondered what they meant by "Rig". It was totally a base of some kind, ostensibly for this Protectorate, but I had to wonder what kind of base it was. Was it a building like Avengers Mansion, or the Hall of Justice? I doubted it.
"Say, what kind of team is the Protectorate anyways?" I asked, just to keep the conversation going.
"We're a collective of parahuman superheroes who are assigned to protect and serve the people of the United States and Canada," Legend's response was clearly practiced, but you couldn't help but feel the pride he had in his words. "We work in tandem with the PRT to help keep civilians safe from parahuman criminals and bring villains to justice."
I smiled. It sounded like the Protectorate was this world's version of what Ken remembered about the Justice League of America from DC Comics. That was actually sort of cool, though it made me wonder if there was another Superman-alogue here on this world - my opposite number, so to speak.
But I had no idea what the PRT was. Maybe it was like SHIELD? But SHIELD was a spy agency in the comics I recalled, so why be so open about it? Unless this PRT was another independent organization, maybe from the civilian side of things.
"And the PRT? How does that work?" I'm pretty sure they knew I was fishing for information. Then again, they weren't saying anything I probably wouldn't find with a net-search anyways, so I guess it didn't matter if they knew I was trying to get them to tell me stuff. Let them come to their own conclusions.
Besides, I hadn't had the chance to check my pockets, and see if anything else survived reentry besides the remains of my pants and my underwear. So it's not like I could just whip out my phone and start making searches on the web.
"The Protectorate works for the PRT to organize and maintain our many super-teams around North America. They're the more mundane response to parahuman threats as law enforcement and emergency response." Dauntless explained. It was subtle, but his speech betrayed his confusion to me. Benefit of super-senses.
I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye for a better look, and peered at what I could see of his face. From that I guessed he was trying to supress the urge to ask why I didn't know all this already. It was probably common knowledge for people in America on this world, and I hadn't made any effort to appear as anything but.
The fact I was fishing for information on what should be common knowledge was concerning to them. Whatever conclusions they were drawing, the people on the other end of their communications were being silent. I suppose they were still trying to figure out what I was fishing for, or why I was asking those questions.
"Cool. So you beat up the bad guys, and hand 'em over to the PRT for clean-up. Sounds like a sweet gig."
Legend laughed. "Yeah, at least until you have to deal with paperwork."
I didn't bother suppressing the shudder. Both strains of memory agreed on that - paperwork was truly evil.
"Sounds awful."
"You get used to it," Legend shrugged.
"Perils of legitimacy: bureaucratic oversight," Dauntless chipped in. "Still, it beats going it alone."
I almost froze at Dauntless' words. The words "Bureaucratic Oversight" set off dozens of alarm bells. Ken's memories screamed stuff about things like Registration Acts and bad guys in positions of authority, while Dexter's just huffed about assholes in suits and super-soldier programs. The government of this world was running the superheroes.
Shit.
"That…" I tried to find the most diplomatic way to phrase things. "...sucks."
Legend glanced at me for a moment, searching my face. Thankfully, I'd schooled my expression in time. I hope.
In the end, it didn't matter, because that's when the missile showed up, and everything went to hell.
OOC: So, it's been a while since my last post. I blame getting really, really busy near the end of the semester, then various relatives visiting for the holidays. Which reminds me, Happy New Years, everyone. Gonna try and get this fic back and running on something sorta regular.
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- Location
- In my Lair, on my Hoard
Uh, I'd like the say "Civilian" for the first question. But that's not wholly accurate because he's worn this "outfit" while out hero-ing once. But then again, in that case, he still had the remains of his shirt and the damage was due to tearing and ripping. In this case, it's due to Power Shenanigans during Re-Entry messing with physics.
I think I mentioned it earlier in this latest update:
@Tangent on SB joked that our hero was "some flying nudist", because he's basically not wearing anything but the tattered remains of his pants and his underwear. And that's not much, given the pant legs are uneven - one a few centimeters over his knee, the other at mid-thigh, and the edges of all his clothing is singed.
Plus, there's all that steam.
It's a joke among the players the character came from that The Samaritan is the game's consistent "Mr Fanservice".
It just... happens.
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- Location
- Australia
Someone launched a missile at New Guy "Tossed at the planet and I didn't even get a tan", Dauntless "Occasionally mistaken for Zeus" and Legend "My other form is designed for intergalactic travel"?
Okay, maybe I'm overselling Dauntless a bit
, but... wut? I'm trying to figure out who's that crazy. Should I be shouting "TAAAAAAGG!" in a bad Kirk voice?
Okay, maybe I'm overselling Dauntless a bit
, but... wut? I'm trying to figure out who's that crazy. Should I be shouting "TAAAAAAGG!" in a bad Kirk voice?- Location
- Milky Way
Sure hope he didn't join the Protectorate
- Location
- Little Rock, AR
I hope he does after he looksaid at the world and gets over himself on government superheroes on a planet he knows nothing about.
Though it's really weird they didn't introduce or declare themselves like cops or nail him as the dude. With his clothes and coming out the ocean. I mean why else would their be a flying brute in clothes that bad not spooked.
Though it's really weird they didn't introduce or declare themselves like cops or nail him as the dude. With his clothes and coming out the ocean. I mean why else would their be a flying brute in clothes that bad not spooked.
Maximum Power
The Unchosen One
- Location
- The Ormulum
Looking good. It's nice to see this back! Hope it stays back.
- Location
- Canada
Thinker interference maybe? There are probably a few on call