Jackie's always had a tenuous grasp on reality at the best of times, but there is one thing she knows to be true above all else: she can save the world.
A Corpse in the Graveyard [Worm][CYOA v6][OC][AU][Canon Divergence]
- Thread starter keighthundred
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Chapter One
- Location
- California
- Pronouns
- She/Her
This is real, Jackie told herself, but her fingers wouldn't stop trembling. This is happening.
The skies were on fire again, a twirling, incessant blaze that scorched the clouds across the horizon. It was the brightest orange she'd ever seen in her life, a screaming, howling burn. It stung her eyes just looking at it, but she couldn't so much as blink, because if she blinked, maybe it would go away.
And she couldn't let that happen. She needed to stay in the here and the now. Grounded.
"This is real," she said through gritted teeth. "This is real."
She put one foot in front of the other—a herculean effort that left her feeling winded and unsteady. Her bag weighed on her shoulders like rocks, but she shook her head, straightened the straps, and took another step.
She had to get to safety before it was too late.
"This is real," she spat, trudging through the rubble. The wind screeched, batted at her clothes and her hair. At the edge of her periphery, dark shapes moved, swirled, coalesced, called out to her, but Jackie refused to look. Here and now. She took a breath.
Here and now. Fire, wind, steel, glass. A weight against her arm, a gentle push, a bell jingling.
She entered the ruins of the gas station with one hand clasped around her backpack strap and the other reaching out, scrabbling in the dark to feel for obstacles. The sky flashed gold, and for a moment, all was visible—then it faded, and Jackie sank into the little nest she'd set up in the back corner of the building, behind the counter. Half a dozen sleeping bags piled against the wood paneling made for a cozy little nook, considering.
Safety. She let out a breath, let her bag slip from her shoulders.
But her fingers were still trembling. The wind was still howling. Jackie shut her eyes tight, buried herself in the sleeping bags, but the screeching never stopped. It was only when the sound became unbearable that she finally opened her eyes again, and the flames were… gone. It was raining now, a torrential downpour accompanied by the perpetual shrill of wind through narrow corners.
"No," Jackie groaned. "Fuck, fuck."
She blinked. Still raining. She blinked again. No change. Her nails bit hard into skin, drawing blood.
"Goddamn it!"
She shut her eyes. Feel the heat, she told herself. She held out a hand, imagined the sky's flame melting her flesh, licking her knuckles, crisping the skin. She imagined the pain, invited it in, owned it, lived it, and then opened her eyes.
Her fingers were alight, her hand a grotesque imitation of a candle, her skin a wick, her fat the wax. She looked beyond it, out past the window, and the sky was orange again.
She sat quietly, clutching her ruined arm close to her body, rocking gently, and all the while, she whispered to herself, "This is real."
Night fell an hour later, the last tinges of life bleeding from the sky. The storm had finally gone dormant. Jackie fished through her bag, fingers snaking through to where the secret compartment was, until she felt the cool, smooth kiss of glass. She ran a finger over it, just to make sure it was really there.
With her other hand, she flexed, feeling the stretch of skin, the bends of the joints. The flame was gone, her hand was fine, and all was calm once again.
Too calm.
Everything was so quiet, a pitch black ambiance settling over the pitch black sky. The silence was deafening, a black hole of stillness so strong even her heartbeats fell in, disappearing past the event horizon with careless abandon. It hurt like rough fingers against her carotid, like a needle to the aorta.
This was reality, her everyday existence: weeks of screaming silence dotted with moments of incendiary terror.
Jackie felt the glass again, and once more, she felt that ever-gnawing temptation to unstop it, to tip it to her lips and just give in. It would be so easy, in the end, to let it happen.
Keep it together, she told herself. She needed to stay alive, to stay present and focused. She had a mission to accomplish. Slowly, painfully, she pulled away from that seductive glass.
Something rustled in the distance, and she froze, ice running down her veins.
Breathe, she told herself. Be logical.
Nobody was out here, nobody was ever out here. She hadn't seen another human being since the Second Morning, since the day her world had shattered and everyone had left her behind. That was the reality of the situation.
This was real.
Anything that was evidence to the contrary was fake, a dream, a lie. Simple as.
She was alone; ipso facto, the rustling was nothing. But the rustling was still going. And it was getting closer.
Not a human, then. Jackie retrieved the handgun from her bag, hefted it in her hands, and leveled it at the door. There was a shape, beyond that glass gas station door: a silhouette. Two legs, two arms, and a head. Very much like a human.
But it couldn't be.
"Hello?" the not-human thing called out.
Jackie's finger tightened around the pistol. Her index finger wanted so badly to twitch.
"Is there someone there?"
The door shifted. The bell jingled. And there, in the half-light of the moon, stood a girl.
She was dressed in old, ill-fitting military fatigues, which draped over her shoulders. The sleeves were rolled up half a dozen times just to keep them from drowning her hands in cloth. Her dark hair was cut short, the longest strands barely touching the tips of her ears.
She was a stranger, a person, a human being. An impossibility. Her home, invaded.
Jackie blinked, but the girl was still there. "Don't move," she said, her voice hoarse, and the girl went stock-still.
"No way," she said. "I didn't think there were people in this—"
"How did you survive the flare-up?"
The girl paused for a moment, clearly taken aback. And then she smirked. "Raw talent. I'm tougher than most people."
Jackie narrowed her eyes. "You're a cape."
"Yeah. What about you? How have you been surviving out here? How long have you been out here?"
She shook her head, her eyes never leaving the stranger's for a moment. "Hero or villain?"
The girl bit her lip. "That's… a tough question. I mean, these days it's kind of arbitrary, right? Like, there's not exactly an authority to answer to—"
Jackie pulled the trigger. The kick of the gun felt real—too visceral to be made up by her treacherous mind. The impact, the acrid scent of cordite, the flash and bang; there was an intensity to all of it that made it impossible to question. The girl staggered to her knees, clutching her throat, gaping.
And then, grimacing, the girl ripped off what looked like the front half of her throat, revealing fresh, unharmed skin underneath, and tossed the bloodied strip of meat onto the floor. "Fuck," she gasped. "Jesus fucking Christ."
Slowly, Jackie lowered the gun a fraction, her eyes widening. "You're real."
"Yeah, no fucking shit!" The girl rubbed her throat, scowling. "Are you fucking insane?"
Jackie raised the gun again, flicking the hammer back. "Hero or villain?"
"Ex-hero, okay? I was getting to that! Jesus!"
Liar.
"What do you want?"
"I was just trying to find other survivors! Anyone!"
Liar.
The glass in her bag felt more conspicuous than ever. "Well, you found me. Now get the fuck out."
"Wait, listen—you're the first person I've seen in months, and—"
"Let me make it real simple for you. You leave, or I shoot again."
"Okay, fuck, fine! I will! Just—do you know where the portals are? I've been looking, and—"
Liar.
Jackie's finger tightened around the trigger, and—
And there was no bang. The lights were on, hazy fluorescents buzzing happily above her. She looked up. Those lights hadn't been working for at least a year. Around her, the building was in its prime again—the shelves were upright, fully stocked; the refrigerator hummed an electric sigh in the corner; the sleeping bags were gone. And it was raining outside.
"Fuck," she whispered, dropping the gun, which clattered against the floor. "No, no, fuck!" She blinked, and nothing changed. She pictured the fire, the heat, the pain, and nothing changed. She pictured the girl, and nothing changed.
She pictured darkness, moonlight, a smattering of dust, sleeping bags in the corner, and still, nothing changed.
This isn't real.
She couldn't be here. She had to go back, she had to be there, in the right place and time to carry out her mission. Her bag—she reached behind the counter and her bag was still there—and frantically she shoved her hand inside, searching for glass. It was only when she found it that she was able to breathe again.
It was still there. The mission was still on. She could still save the world.
She scooped the gun off the floor, stowed it away in her bag, and slung the straps over her shoulders. With as much haste as she could muster, she pushed her way outside, into the rain, which ran sickeningly warm and slick-wet down her arms.
She left that gas station behind, that place that had served as a home for the last three weeks. It was burned now, spent, violated, and she had to move on. Out of the corner of her eye, Jackie thought she might've seen a shape leave through the door behind her, but refused to pay it any mind. Her only thoughts were of her precious cargo, packed deep inside her backpack: her little vial of powers.
The skies were on fire again, a twirling, incessant blaze that scorched the clouds across the horizon. It was the brightest orange she'd ever seen in her life, a screaming, howling burn. It stung her eyes just looking at it, but she couldn't so much as blink, because if she blinked, maybe it would go away.
And she couldn't let that happen. She needed to stay in the here and the now. Grounded.
"This is real," she said through gritted teeth. "This is real."
She put one foot in front of the other—a herculean effort that left her feeling winded and unsteady. Her bag weighed on her shoulders like rocks, but she shook her head, straightened the straps, and took another step.
She had to get to safety before it was too late.
"This is real," she spat, trudging through the rubble. The wind screeched, batted at her clothes and her hair. At the edge of her periphery, dark shapes moved, swirled, coalesced, called out to her, but Jackie refused to look. Here and now. She took a breath.
Here and now. Fire, wind, steel, glass. A weight against her arm, a gentle push, a bell jingling.
She entered the ruins of the gas station with one hand clasped around her backpack strap and the other reaching out, scrabbling in the dark to feel for obstacles. The sky flashed gold, and for a moment, all was visible—then it faded, and Jackie sank into the little nest she'd set up in the back corner of the building, behind the counter. Half a dozen sleeping bags piled against the wood paneling made for a cozy little nook, considering.
Safety. She let out a breath, let her bag slip from her shoulders.
But her fingers were still trembling. The wind was still howling. Jackie shut her eyes tight, buried herself in the sleeping bags, but the screeching never stopped. It was only when the sound became unbearable that she finally opened her eyes again, and the flames were… gone. It was raining now, a torrential downpour accompanied by the perpetual shrill of wind through narrow corners.
"No," Jackie groaned. "Fuck, fuck."
She blinked. Still raining. She blinked again. No change. Her nails bit hard into skin, drawing blood.
"Goddamn it!"
She shut her eyes. Feel the heat, she told herself. She held out a hand, imagined the sky's flame melting her flesh, licking her knuckles, crisping the skin. She imagined the pain, invited it in, owned it, lived it, and then opened her eyes.
Her fingers were alight, her hand a grotesque imitation of a candle, her skin a wick, her fat the wax. She looked beyond it, out past the window, and the sky was orange again.
She sat quietly, clutching her ruined arm close to her body, rocking gently, and all the while, she whispered to herself, "This is real."
Night fell an hour later, the last tinges of life bleeding from the sky. The storm had finally gone dormant. Jackie fished through her bag, fingers snaking through to where the secret compartment was, until she felt the cool, smooth kiss of glass. She ran a finger over it, just to make sure it was really there.
With her other hand, she flexed, feeling the stretch of skin, the bends of the joints. The flame was gone, her hand was fine, and all was calm once again.
Too calm.
Everything was so quiet, a pitch black ambiance settling over the pitch black sky. The silence was deafening, a black hole of stillness so strong even her heartbeats fell in, disappearing past the event horizon with careless abandon. It hurt like rough fingers against her carotid, like a needle to the aorta.
This was reality, her everyday existence: weeks of screaming silence dotted with moments of incendiary terror.
Jackie felt the glass again, and once more, she felt that ever-gnawing temptation to unstop it, to tip it to her lips and just give in. It would be so easy, in the end, to let it happen.
Keep it together, she told herself. She needed to stay alive, to stay present and focused. She had a mission to accomplish. Slowly, painfully, she pulled away from that seductive glass.
Something rustled in the distance, and she froze, ice running down her veins.
Breathe, she told herself. Be logical.
Nobody was out here, nobody was ever out here. She hadn't seen another human being since the Second Morning, since the day her world had shattered and everyone had left her behind. That was the reality of the situation.
This was real.
Anything that was evidence to the contrary was fake, a dream, a lie. Simple as.
She was alone; ipso facto, the rustling was nothing. But the rustling was still going. And it was getting closer.
Not a human, then. Jackie retrieved the handgun from her bag, hefted it in her hands, and leveled it at the door. There was a shape, beyond that glass gas station door: a silhouette. Two legs, two arms, and a head. Very much like a human.
But it couldn't be.
"Hello?" the not-human thing called out.
Jackie's finger tightened around the pistol. Her index finger wanted so badly to twitch.
"Is there someone there?"
The door shifted. The bell jingled. And there, in the half-light of the moon, stood a girl.
She was dressed in old, ill-fitting military fatigues, which draped over her shoulders. The sleeves were rolled up half a dozen times just to keep them from drowning her hands in cloth. Her dark hair was cut short, the longest strands barely touching the tips of her ears.
She was a stranger, a person, a human being. An impossibility. Her home, invaded.
Jackie blinked, but the girl was still there. "Don't move," she said, her voice hoarse, and the girl went stock-still.
"No way," she said. "I didn't think there were people in this—"
"How did you survive the flare-up?"
The girl paused for a moment, clearly taken aback. And then she smirked. "Raw talent. I'm tougher than most people."
Jackie narrowed her eyes. "You're a cape."
"Yeah. What about you? How have you been surviving out here? How long have you been out here?"
She shook her head, her eyes never leaving the stranger's for a moment. "Hero or villain?"
The girl bit her lip. "That's… a tough question. I mean, these days it's kind of arbitrary, right? Like, there's not exactly an authority to answer to—"
Jackie pulled the trigger. The kick of the gun felt real—too visceral to be made up by her treacherous mind. The impact, the acrid scent of cordite, the flash and bang; there was an intensity to all of it that made it impossible to question. The girl staggered to her knees, clutching her throat, gaping.
And then, grimacing, the girl ripped off what looked like the front half of her throat, revealing fresh, unharmed skin underneath, and tossed the bloodied strip of meat onto the floor. "Fuck," she gasped. "Jesus fucking Christ."
Slowly, Jackie lowered the gun a fraction, her eyes widening. "You're real."
"Yeah, no fucking shit!" The girl rubbed her throat, scowling. "Are you fucking insane?"
Jackie raised the gun again, flicking the hammer back. "Hero or villain?"
"Ex-hero, okay? I was getting to that! Jesus!"
Liar.
"What do you want?"
"I was just trying to find other survivors! Anyone!"
Liar.
The glass in her bag felt more conspicuous than ever. "Well, you found me. Now get the fuck out."
"Wait, listen—you're the first person I've seen in months, and—"
"Let me make it real simple for you. You leave, or I shoot again."
"Okay, fuck, fine! I will! Just—do you know where the portals are? I've been looking, and—"
Liar.
Jackie's finger tightened around the trigger, and—
And there was no bang. The lights were on, hazy fluorescents buzzing happily above her. She looked up. Those lights hadn't been working for at least a year. Around her, the building was in its prime again—the shelves were upright, fully stocked; the refrigerator hummed an electric sigh in the corner; the sleeping bags were gone. And it was raining outside.
"Fuck," she whispered, dropping the gun, which clattered against the floor. "No, no, fuck!" She blinked, and nothing changed. She pictured the fire, the heat, the pain, and nothing changed. She pictured the girl, and nothing changed.
She pictured darkness, moonlight, a smattering of dust, sleeping bags in the corner, and still, nothing changed.
This isn't real.
She couldn't be here. She had to go back, she had to be there, in the right place and time to carry out her mission. Her bag—she reached behind the counter and her bag was still there—and frantically she shoved her hand inside, searching for glass. It was only when she found it that she was able to breathe again.
It was still there. The mission was still on. She could still save the world.
She scooped the gun off the floor, stowed it away in her bag, and slung the straps over her shoulders. With as much haste as she could muster, she pushed her way outside, into the rain, which ran sickeningly warm and slick-wet down her arms.
She left that gas station behind, that place that had served as a home for the last three weeks. It was burned now, spent, violated, and she had to move on. Out of the corner of her eye, Jackie thought she might've seen a shape leave through the door behind her, but refused to pay it any mind. Her only thoughts were of her precious cargo, packed deep inside her backpack: her little vial of powers.
Meta
Original Character
Create a character from scratch. This character can have had powers, but they don't anymore, or they already had the powers they're supposed to be gaining in this CYOA. Then put them through this CYOA.
Someone Else
Gain: 5 CP
Someone else made the choices, but the (Meta) Target has to deal with the results.
Difficulty
Standard
Normal number of SP and CP gained from Scenarios, Perks, and Drawbacks.
Normal
Gain: 10 SP
Gain: 10 CP
You have the normal of starting SP and CP.
Scenario & Setting
July 1st, 2015
Gain: 10 SP
Gain: 10 CP
You find yourself half a month before the start of Ward. Sorry, I seem to have gotten the info wrong; Wildbow is a post-cognitive and a precognitive.
Earth Bet (Alternate Continuity)
Instead of arriving on Earth Bet's main continuity you enter an alternate timeline (This is essentially the existing fanfic option).
(East Coast) North America
Cost: 3 CP
North America is a big place, you might want to be elsewhere in North America. Choose any location on the East Coast of the United States of America that isn't with 100 miles of Brockton Bay or Boston. This includes Greenland, Central America, and any island between the Americas and Europe.
Character
Reincarnation
Thankfully, whatever method was used to make the portal, is allowing your consciousness to remake your body using the molecules left from your shredded self and the previous test subjects. After your body is complete you shall be reincarnated as someone who fits your criteria. You shall have all their memories and skills, you'll be able to act just like they did. You can decide how far you merge, if it's just your mind in their body with their memories and skills, or if your personalities merge completely. If you want you can decide how this works if you want to figure out a way to make this not stealing someone's body, mind, and soul from them.
Neutral (Order)
You don't go out of your way to break laws, but you won't hesitate to break them if you feel it's necessary. On the other hand, you might just be lax about the law.
Bonus: Your morality bonus will be more effective in some way.
Neutral (Moral)
You're not necessarily a good person, but you're not bad either. You're not about to sacrifice yourself for others, but you're not going to go and kill them either. You can be biased toward one side or the other, but don't necessarily have to.
Bonus: You are very talented when it comes to business. Whether that business is negotiations, bartering, haggling, or paperwork, you're very good at it. You are, however, slightly worse at befriending new people. If you're True Neutral, you are much better at bluffing, though not good enough to fool everyone. People like Jack Slash or Tattletale would see straight through you.
Hero
You're ostensibly one of the good guys. You use your powers to help people. Even if your motives aren't entirely altruistic, people will recognize you as a Hero.
Bonus: You can convince people that you're doing something for a good cause so they'll be more likely to assist or listen to you when needed.
Same Gender
Your gender does not change from your previous life.
Other (Weak)
Cost: 1 SP
Another character not present in this list
Perks & Drawbacks
Wildbow? Where have I heard that before?
Gain: 5 SP
Gain: 10 CP
You forget everything you know about Worm. Why? You had a chance to save everything! Stop the bloodshed, save the multiverse! Well, there's still a chance if you got Backup that you'll save everyone, or that you'll be powerful enough to save everyone by chance. Please don't pick this without Backup, and especially not if you chose to arrive on April 8th, 2011!
Selective Amnesia
Gain: 5 CP
Gain: 10 SP
You forget everything from your first life EXCEPT Wildbow's predictions. Wow, that's some serious dedication. You don't remember your thoughts or feelings about Wildbow's predictions, just the facts.
Insane
Gain: 20 SP
Gain: 15 CP
Incompatible: Entity
You hallucinate and cannot differentiate your imagination from reality. You have moments of clarity. Your powers get stronger the lower your clarity is at any point in time. At your worst, your powers are twice as powerful. At your best, your powers are slightly stronger than described.
Skills
Survival
Cost: 5 CP
You know how to survive without money, whether that's in the wilderness or in a city.
History
Cost: 5 CP
You have the equivalent of a degree with a major in history.
First-Aid
Cost: 5 CP
You know how to do basic first-aid. You know stuff like mouth-to-mouth, how to stop bleeding, and how to stop someone from biting their tongue off from pain. You have a college 101 course level knowledge on both biology and anatomy. You find learning further about these subjects to be easy.
Language
1
Cost: 1 CP
You know any one language in all the forms it is communicated in (written, spoken, and more if they exist).
Shard
No Powers
Gain: 50 CP
You have no Shard. You may not take any powers and some Perks will be restricted to you.
Powers
Equipment & Items
Budget
Cost: 0 CP
Cheap and humble, zero fashion points
You won't bother with your costume, whether because you can't afford it or find it needless. A simple mask bought in a store you were passing by and casual every day clothes is the best you can expect
Melee (Slashing)
1
Cost: 3 CP
Your weapon can be used at melee range to slash your opponents. This can include swords, daggers, axes, halberds, scimitars, and scythes.
Gun (Short to Mid Ranged)
1
Cost: 5 CP
You have a gun that can hit people accurately at less than 200 meters.
Regular Clothing
Cost: 2 CP
Seven sets of non-combat clothing tailored to your tastes. Additionally, this includes one set of athletic wear and one set of sleepwear. You can choose to wake up wearing one of them if you didn't choose Character Insert.
Survival Gear
Cost: 2 CP
A backpack or messenger bag filled with survival gear. This includes a water purifier, a map of your starting location, some rations, a bedroll, and a firestarter.
Hygiene Items
Cost: 1 CP
You have a set of items necessary to keep yourself clean. The exact contents change depending on your sex. Can include a razor, a toothbrush, toothpaste, towels, soap, shampoo, conditioner, a hairbrush, a comb, menstrual products, and more.
Cauldron Vials
1
Cost: 15 CP
You have a Cauldron Vial, a serum created by Cauldron to provide powers. You have a total of 10 SP to spend on powers that this vial will grant. There is no chance that whoever uses this vial will experience mutations from gaining their powers. This vial will have no effect if given to someone who is already a Parahuman.
Companions
Point Converstion
Original Character
Create a character from scratch. This character can have had powers, but they don't anymore, or they already had the powers they're supposed to be gaining in this CYOA. Then put them through this CYOA.
Someone Else
Gain: 5 CP
Someone else made the choices, but the (Meta) Target has to deal with the results.
Difficulty
Standard
Normal number of SP and CP gained from Scenarios, Perks, and Drawbacks.
Normal
Gain: 10 SP
Gain: 10 CP
You have the normal of starting SP and CP.
Scenario & Setting
July 1st, 2015
Gain: 10 SP
Gain: 10 CP
You find yourself half a month before the start of Ward. Sorry, I seem to have gotten the info wrong; Wildbow is a post-cognitive and a precognitive.
Earth Bet (Alternate Continuity)
Instead of arriving on Earth Bet's main continuity you enter an alternate timeline (This is essentially the existing fanfic option).
(East Coast) North America
Cost: 3 CP
North America is a big place, you might want to be elsewhere in North America. Choose any location on the East Coast of the United States of America that isn't with 100 miles of Brockton Bay or Boston. This includes Greenland, Central America, and any island between the Americas and Europe.
Character
Reincarnation
Thankfully, whatever method was used to make the portal, is allowing your consciousness to remake your body using the molecules left from your shredded self and the previous test subjects. After your body is complete you shall be reincarnated as someone who fits your criteria. You shall have all their memories and skills, you'll be able to act just like they did. You can decide how far you merge, if it's just your mind in their body with their memories and skills, or if your personalities merge completely. If you want you can decide how this works if you want to figure out a way to make this not stealing someone's body, mind, and soul from them.
Neutral (Order)
You don't go out of your way to break laws, but you won't hesitate to break them if you feel it's necessary. On the other hand, you might just be lax about the law.
Bonus: Your morality bonus will be more effective in some way.
Neutral (Moral)
You're not necessarily a good person, but you're not bad either. You're not about to sacrifice yourself for others, but you're not going to go and kill them either. You can be biased toward one side or the other, but don't necessarily have to.
Bonus: You are very talented when it comes to business. Whether that business is negotiations, bartering, haggling, or paperwork, you're very good at it. You are, however, slightly worse at befriending new people. If you're True Neutral, you are much better at bluffing, though not good enough to fool everyone. People like Jack Slash or Tattletale would see straight through you.
Hero
You're ostensibly one of the good guys. You use your powers to help people. Even if your motives aren't entirely altruistic, people will recognize you as a Hero.
Bonus: You can convince people that you're doing something for a good cause so they'll be more likely to assist or listen to you when needed.
Same Gender
Your gender does not change from your previous life.
Other (Weak)
Cost: 1 SP
Another character not present in this list
Perks & Drawbacks
Wildbow? Where have I heard that before?
Gain: 5 SP
Gain: 10 CP
You forget everything you know about Worm. Why? You had a chance to save everything! Stop the bloodshed, save the multiverse! Well, there's still a chance if you got Backup that you'll save everyone, or that you'll be powerful enough to save everyone by chance. Please don't pick this without Backup, and especially not if you chose to arrive on April 8th, 2011!
Selective Amnesia
Gain: 5 CP
Gain: 10 SP
You forget everything from your first life EXCEPT Wildbow's predictions. Wow, that's some serious dedication. You don't remember your thoughts or feelings about Wildbow's predictions, just the facts.
Insane
Gain: 20 SP
Gain: 15 CP
Incompatible: Entity
You hallucinate and cannot differentiate your imagination from reality. You have moments of clarity. Your powers get stronger the lower your clarity is at any point in time. At your worst, your powers are twice as powerful. At your best, your powers are slightly stronger than described.
Skills
Survival
Cost: 5 CP
You know how to survive without money, whether that's in the wilderness or in a city.
History
Cost: 5 CP
You have the equivalent of a degree with a major in history.
First-Aid
Cost: 5 CP
You know how to do basic first-aid. You know stuff like mouth-to-mouth, how to stop bleeding, and how to stop someone from biting their tongue off from pain. You have a college 101 course level knowledge on both biology and anatomy. You find learning further about these subjects to be easy.
Language
1
Cost: 1 CP
You know any one language in all the forms it is communicated in (written, spoken, and more if they exist).
Shard
No Powers
Gain: 50 CP
You have no Shard. You may not take any powers and some Perks will be restricted to you.
Powers
Equipment & Items
Budget
Cost: 0 CP
Cheap and humble, zero fashion points
You won't bother with your costume, whether because you can't afford it or find it needless. A simple mask bought in a store you were passing by and casual every day clothes is the best you can expect
Melee (Slashing)
1
Cost: 3 CP
Your weapon can be used at melee range to slash your opponents. This can include swords, daggers, axes, halberds, scimitars, and scythes.
Gun (Short to Mid Ranged)
1
Cost: 5 CP
You have a gun that can hit people accurately at less than 200 meters.
Regular Clothing
Cost: 2 CP
Seven sets of non-combat clothing tailored to your tastes. Additionally, this includes one set of athletic wear and one set of sleepwear. You can choose to wake up wearing one of them if you didn't choose Character Insert.
Survival Gear
Cost: 2 CP
A backpack or messenger bag filled with survival gear. This includes a water purifier, a map of your starting location, some rations, a bedroll, and a firestarter.
Hygiene Items
Cost: 1 CP
You have a set of items necessary to keep yourself clean. The exact contents change depending on your sex. Can include a razor, a toothbrush, toothpaste, towels, soap, shampoo, conditioner, a hairbrush, a comb, menstrual products, and more.
Cauldron Vials
1
Cost: 15 CP
You have a Cauldron Vial, a serum created by Cauldron to provide powers. You have a total of 10 SP to spend on powers that this vial will grant. There is no chance that whoever uses this vial will experience mutations from gaining their powers. This vial will have no effect if given to someone who is already a Parahuman.
Companions
Point Converstion
Chapter Two
- Location
- California
- Pronouns
- She/Her
The I-93 was essentially a two-hundred mile long graveyard encased in amber: all along the corridor, dead cars sat in neat little dead lanes, unmoving trees stood vigil by the sides, and the unmarred corpses of millions sat proudly on display, one to four slack-jawed human bodies splayed across the seats in each little vehicle.
Jackie lumbered down the road, slipping between the cars, careful not to touch any of these silent, mobile tombs. You could never be quite sure when one of these things were booby-trapped, or had lingering power effects on them. The sun watched malevolently from its mantle in the sky, judging each measured step with the intensity of a starving animal.
No clouds, she thought to herself. No storm today. No flare-ups.
No more rain. She was back in the here and now.
But it was hot, rays beaming down, sweaty skin sticking to cotton, that sense of exhaustion like the early onset of heatstroke. Light scorched everything, from the dead birds to the yellowed grass to the pavement to the shiny metallic paint of the cars.
The cars she knew were real, because they were from before. She remembered them, remembered seeing the golden light lance the horizon. She remembered the gaping wound carved into the earth, the pure sensory overload of raw power. Now she was here, walking along a scar that would never heal.
And it was real, or as good as. That was her one comfort as she walked south toward Boston, and eventually Brockton Bay. She popped a potassium iodide tablet, swallowed it dry, and slipped the plastic bottle back into her bag.
She'd spent too long in that last ruined town—that much was clear. It was the first time she'd slipped from her routine since starting this whole ordeal, and that little deviation had cost her. She'd spent too much time there, too many days scavenging the empty houses for supplies. She'd gotten greedy, grown fat off of her successes in the previous few towns, and it'd pushed her to take risks she shouldn't have. Two meals a day was unnecessary. Two meals a day had almost gotten her killed, or maybe even worse.
The girl in the gas station was still on her mind. What had she really wanted? She wouldn't have been the first to try to steal Jackie's vial, to sabotage her mission out of greed. But the girl was a cape. She already had powers. She didn't need a vial for that.
Whatever. Capes were threats. Better to shoot first and ask questions later.
Something touched her arm, and she glanced down. Her skin was ever so slightly damp. A water droplet had splashed against her wrist. Jackie gazed up at the sky, which was still painfully clear. "Don't you fucking dare," she muttered.
It wasn't going to rain today.
The trees whispered to her as she walked, telling her things that only trees could: the agony of the eternal summer, the sorrow of loss, the beauty of a spring breeze, the pleasant company of birds. But it was all bullshit, of course, all fake, because every tree here had died long ago. Their still, unrotted corpses were all that remained. They'd shed their leaves years ago, and all that was left now was cold, preserved bark—a monument to Scion's cruelty, in the end.
Still, it was nice to listen to. The corpse-trees had soft, calming voices. If they wanted to spew lies, so be it. She'd just let it be background noise.
You know they're following you, right? asked a dead cedar.
"Shut up," she murmured.
They want you dead. They'll slit your throat for that pretty little vial of yours.
She shut her eyes, feeling the heat on her face. "Let them try."
They'll win. You're weak. You're a coward. Isn't that why you won't drink it yourself?
"You know, I'm glad Scion killed you," she said viciously, opening her eyes. "World's better without you in it, you leafless little shit."
It's so obvious. Connect the dots. You're afraid of all the monsters in the dark, but you're even more afraid that you'll turn into one, so instead you'll let them kill you.
She glanced at the sun, ever watchful. "News flash—it's not dark."
But it will be. Night always falls, Jackie. Seasons change. That's the way of things. You're going to fail. You're unstable. You always have been.
"I've survived this long."
Have you?
It rankled, that she couldn't say 'yes' and be a hundred percent sure that it was true. Jackie shook her head. "If I'm dead, then there's no point in worrying about it, is there?"
Touché.
"Now go back to photosynthesizing or whatever. Oh, wait—you can't. Because you're dead."
And soon you'll join us, if you haven't already. You won't find your happy ending here, Jackie. You should lie down in our little grove. Let it go. It would be easier. Less painful.
"No thanks," she said. "I'm good."
Something rustled behind her, and Jackie snapped her head in that direction. But there was nothing there. There were only unmoving cars, and the corpses held within them. She held her gaze for another minute, narrowing her eyes, looking for any signs of motion. And then, reluctantly, she turned away and continued walking.
It had to be her imagination.
That's all it ever was. Just her mind playing tricks on her, as usual.
Even so, her hand reached for her pistol, fingers encircling the grip. She kept walking, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, on the world that was in front of her and not the one that threatened to bleed in from her daydreams.
And then the rustling was back, and she twisted on the heel of her foot, gun trained at whatever had made the noise. But again, there was nothing there.
It was only as she began to turn back that it showed itself: a four legged monstrosity, human-toned flesh flapping and dripping like melted wax, a head that was more beady eyes and needle-like teeth than anything else, body language like a jaguar, all stealthy and predatorial.
Jackie called these things wolves, despite their lack of resemblance.
"Fuck," she said, firing the first few shots at the beast. Each bang made her heart skip, but the wolf barely flinched, shrugging off the tiny wounds with a bloodcurdling roar.
There weren't supposed to be wolves in this area, but when Jackie blinked, focused on the sun and the heat, it was still there. It was real. And it was preparing to charge at her.
"Shit," she spat, turning and running.
She weaved and bobbed around the cars, always keeping at least one machine between her and the wolf. The monster had no such compunctions; it slammed into a car, sending two tons of metal careening her way. She barely dodged out of the way in time, landing on her side so that her backpack—and the vial inside it—would stay safe.
She scrambled to her feet and kept sprinting. The beast pursued, its heavy tread all wet slaps and scrabbling hisses. Her heart was racing, her lungs were on fire, and it felt like she was carrying a whole freighter on her back.
She couldn't run like this forever. Sooner or later, the wolf would catch up to her. It could run faster, and for longer, and this highway was just one straight road.
With a curse, she skirted to a stop beside one of the cars—a faded brown sedan with four doors—wrenched on the rear left side door handle, and the moment it gave way, she leapt inside. She slammed the door shut as hard as she could, shuffling away from windows as far as she could and—
And something clammy touched her hand. She recoiled, as if burned. It was a corpse. A dead body; a boy, maybe eight or nine years old, his unblinking, dry eyes open to the world. His body was otherwise perfectly preserved, as pristine as the day he'd died.
"Sorry," she mumbled, pushing the body out of the way.
Barely a moment later, the wolf crashed into the side of the car, denting the frame, smashing the glass, launching the whole vehicle forward about thirty feet before it slammed into a stationary bus, and Jackie was thrown against the seats. Her nose broke against a faceful of pleather.
Still want to fight, Jackie? asked the dead cedar.
She pushed herself upright, ignoring the pain, drawing her gun and aiming it toward the now-broken window. The moment the wolf showed itself, she fired five times, a deafening roar in the confined space of the car. Her ears were ringing, but the wolf was retreating, if only a little, its two dozen eyes blinking in anger and agony.
It won't last.
"Shut it," she grumbled, pushing the door behind her open, slipping out the opposite side of the car from where the wolf was. She fell to the asphalt, knees digging into the rough surface, but immediately got up and kept moving.
It was all about keeping momentum.
She had—she thought for a moment, pushing back the adrenaline—three bullets left in the magazine. And then another ten in her bag, which wasn't easily accessible. So, realistically, just three bullets.
The wolf was hurt, but not that hurt. Three more bullets, even if she nailed it in the eyes, wouldn't be enough to stop it.
Think, Jackie told herself. Running wasn't a long-term strategy. Killing it didn't seem possible, not with the equipment that she had at hand. She needed an out.
There were cars everywhere. Maybe she could commandeer one, maybe the car batteries were still functional, maybe the engines hadn't been damaged by Scion's attack, maybe there was still gas in them. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
The wrong maybe could get her killed.
It would have to do. She couldn't think of any other plan that might work. She swept her eyes over the road ahead of her, and—there! A two-door coupe. The driver's corpse, she could see, was already slumped to one side.
Something wet touched her hand. She glanced down, just for a moment. It wasn't blood.
It was rain.
"Goddamn it," she mumbled, glancing up at the rapidly darkening sky. "Not now, not here."
This wasn't real, and she couldn't afford to lose her shit here, especially not while she was being chased.
You can't lose what you never had.
"Shut the fuck up," she said, frantically tugging on the door of the coupe. It wasn't locked, fortunately. She dove inside, shoved the body of a forty-something man aside, and closed the door behind her. The keys were still in the ignition, which was… probably not a good sign. She twisted it, and… nothing.
Not even a little whir. Not a peep.
The wolf rammed into the driver's side door, butting the whole car fifteen feet to the side until it collided with a guard rail. Jackie's head jerked painfully. It was a wonder she hadn't died from whiplash yet.
All around her, it was raining, an entire hurricane's worth of rainfall spilling onto the earth like a vertical flood. And through it, the wolf dove right towards her. She aimed and fired out the window over and over until her gun clicked empty. The beast staggered back, just for a bit, and the rain intensified.
The world was shrouded in darkness, and there was no light, and she couldn't see any further beyond three feet out the window. Everything else was obscured by the storm. She tried the ignition again, but of course it wouldn't work.
This is how it would end, apparently. She let the pistol fall to the floor. It was useless now.
She had nothing left.
Poor, poor, Jackie. So afraid of the monsters in the dark, but never willing to do what it takes to kill one.
She wasn't going to use the vial. Maybe after she died, someone else would come by at some point and find it. That was all she could hope for.
She shut her eyes. If she was going to die, her mind could at least do her a fucking favor and show her something nice before it happened. Something comforting. Something to ease her way out. No more storms, no more monsters. No more asshole trees.
When she opened her eyes again, her little sister was there, sitting in the passenger seat beside her. The driver's dead body was gone, nowhere to be found. Jackie cracked an expression that was halfway between a smile and a sob. Of course.
"Hey, Claire," she mumbled.
"Hey, Jackie."
"This is it, huh?"
"I think so."
"I tried really hard," she said, tears blurring her vision. "I was going to save the world. Like you asked."
Claire patted her hand in that gentle, awkward way that she always did when she wanted to help, but didn't know how. "I know."
Jackie shut her eyes. "I wish you were really here."
"Me too."
"I mean—" She let out a choked laugh. "I guess I don't, because this would be a shitty way for you to die. Shittier. But you know what I mean."
"'Course I do."
"Guess I'll be seeing you soon, huh?"
Claire nodded sadly. "I'll be waiting."
Jackie looked out the window, into the gloom, the rain, and in it, she saw the wolf rushing right toward her. And then—
And then something tackled it, fucking bashed it to the ground, and Jackie's eyes widened.
"Over here, ugly!" shouted the girl from the gas station. The cape.
Her sleeves were rolled up, and her arms looked off. Too big, too thick, too featureless to be natural. At the end of her left arm, instead of a hand, there was just a big sac of flesh, a featureless ball.
The wolf righted itself, turned its attention to the cape, and lunged. The girl shoved her right arm out, let the wolf bite down on it, and shoved it back. With explosive force, she took her left and slammed it into the wolf's face hard enough that the flesh sac burst, splashing clear liquid all over the beast's head.
The thing burned, melted, collapsed to the ground in an inhuman flailing. The clear liquid ate straight through the wolf's body and splashed onto the floor, where the asphalt hissed and bubbled.
The girl stepped back, took a breath, and began to tear off the damaged bits of her arms, letting the mangled flesh fall to the floor. Underneath, her skin was raw, blackened like it had been burnt and never healed. Once it was all off, she let her sleeves down and put on a pair of rough leather gloves.
Jackie glanced at her surroundings. Claire was gone. The rain had stopped. It was sunny again, that angry yellow glow that never let up.
The girl from the gas station walked over to Jackie's car and knocked on the roof, leaning toward the shattered window. "So," she said. "Are you gonna shoot me again if I help you out of there?"
Jackie lumbered down the road, slipping between the cars, careful not to touch any of these silent, mobile tombs. You could never be quite sure when one of these things were booby-trapped, or had lingering power effects on them. The sun watched malevolently from its mantle in the sky, judging each measured step with the intensity of a starving animal.
No clouds, she thought to herself. No storm today. No flare-ups.
No more rain. She was back in the here and now.
But it was hot, rays beaming down, sweaty skin sticking to cotton, that sense of exhaustion like the early onset of heatstroke. Light scorched everything, from the dead birds to the yellowed grass to the pavement to the shiny metallic paint of the cars.
The cars she knew were real, because they were from before. She remembered them, remembered seeing the golden light lance the horizon. She remembered the gaping wound carved into the earth, the pure sensory overload of raw power. Now she was here, walking along a scar that would never heal.
And it was real, or as good as. That was her one comfort as she walked south toward Boston, and eventually Brockton Bay. She popped a potassium iodide tablet, swallowed it dry, and slipped the plastic bottle back into her bag.
She'd spent too long in that last ruined town—that much was clear. It was the first time she'd slipped from her routine since starting this whole ordeal, and that little deviation had cost her. She'd spent too much time there, too many days scavenging the empty houses for supplies. She'd gotten greedy, grown fat off of her successes in the previous few towns, and it'd pushed her to take risks she shouldn't have. Two meals a day was unnecessary. Two meals a day had almost gotten her killed, or maybe even worse.
The girl in the gas station was still on her mind. What had she really wanted? She wouldn't have been the first to try to steal Jackie's vial, to sabotage her mission out of greed. But the girl was a cape. She already had powers. She didn't need a vial for that.
Whatever. Capes were threats. Better to shoot first and ask questions later.
Something touched her arm, and she glanced down. Her skin was ever so slightly damp. A water droplet had splashed against her wrist. Jackie gazed up at the sky, which was still painfully clear. "Don't you fucking dare," she muttered.
It wasn't going to rain today.
The trees whispered to her as she walked, telling her things that only trees could: the agony of the eternal summer, the sorrow of loss, the beauty of a spring breeze, the pleasant company of birds. But it was all bullshit, of course, all fake, because every tree here had died long ago. Their still, unrotted corpses were all that remained. They'd shed their leaves years ago, and all that was left now was cold, preserved bark—a monument to Scion's cruelty, in the end.
Still, it was nice to listen to. The corpse-trees had soft, calming voices. If they wanted to spew lies, so be it. She'd just let it be background noise.
You know they're following you, right? asked a dead cedar.
"Shut up," she murmured.
They want you dead. They'll slit your throat for that pretty little vial of yours.
She shut her eyes, feeling the heat on her face. "Let them try."
They'll win. You're weak. You're a coward. Isn't that why you won't drink it yourself?
"You know, I'm glad Scion killed you," she said viciously, opening her eyes. "World's better without you in it, you leafless little shit."
It's so obvious. Connect the dots. You're afraid of all the monsters in the dark, but you're even more afraid that you'll turn into one, so instead you'll let them kill you.
She glanced at the sun, ever watchful. "News flash—it's not dark."
But it will be. Night always falls, Jackie. Seasons change. That's the way of things. You're going to fail. You're unstable. You always have been.
"I've survived this long."
Have you?
It rankled, that she couldn't say 'yes' and be a hundred percent sure that it was true. Jackie shook her head. "If I'm dead, then there's no point in worrying about it, is there?"
Touché.
"Now go back to photosynthesizing or whatever. Oh, wait—you can't. Because you're dead."
And soon you'll join us, if you haven't already. You won't find your happy ending here, Jackie. You should lie down in our little grove. Let it go. It would be easier. Less painful.
"No thanks," she said. "I'm good."
Something rustled behind her, and Jackie snapped her head in that direction. But there was nothing there. There were only unmoving cars, and the corpses held within them. She held her gaze for another minute, narrowing her eyes, looking for any signs of motion. And then, reluctantly, she turned away and continued walking.
It had to be her imagination.
That's all it ever was. Just her mind playing tricks on her, as usual.
Even so, her hand reached for her pistol, fingers encircling the grip. She kept walking, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, on the world that was in front of her and not the one that threatened to bleed in from her daydreams.
And then the rustling was back, and she twisted on the heel of her foot, gun trained at whatever had made the noise. But again, there was nothing there.
It was only as she began to turn back that it showed itself: a four legged monstrosity, human-toned flesh flapping and dripping like melted wax, a head that was more beady eyes and needle-like teeth than anything else, body language like a jaguar, all stealthy and predatorial.
Jackie called these things wolves, despite their lack of resemblance.
"Fuck," she said, firing the first few shots at the beast. Each bang made her heart skip, but the wolf barely flinched, shrugging off the tiny wounds with a bloodcurdling roar.
There weren't supposed to be wolves in this area, but when Jackie blinked, focused on the sun and the heat, it was still there. It was real. And it was preparing to charge at her.
"Shit," she spat, turning and running.
She weaved and bobbed around the cars, always keeping at least one machine between her and the wolf. The monster had no such compunctions; it slammed into a car, sending two tons of metal careening her way. She barely dodged out of the way in time, landing on her side so that her backpack—and the vial inside it—would stay safe.
She scrambled to her feet and kept sprinting. The beast pursued, its heavy tread all wet slaps and scrabbling hisses. Her heart was racing, her lungs were on fire, and it felt like she was carrying a whole freighter on her back.
She couldn't run like this forever. Sooner or later, the wolf would catch up to her. It could run faster, and for longer, and this highway was just one straight road.
With a curse, she skirted to a stop beside one of the cars—a faded brown sedan with four doors—wrenched on the rear left side door handle, and the moment it gave way, she leapt inside. She slammed the door shut as hard as she could, shuffling away from windows as far as she could and—
And something clammy touched her hand. She recoiled, as if burned. It was a corpse. A dead body; a boy, maybe eight or nine years old, his unblinking, dry eyes open to the world. His body was otherwise perfectly preserved, as pristine as the day he'd died.
"Sorry," she mumbled, pushing the body out of the way.
Barely a moment later, the wolf crashed into the side of the car, denting the frame, smashing the glass, launching the whole vehicle forward about thirty feet before it slammed into a stationary bus, and Jackie was thrown against the seats. Her nose broke against a faceful of pleather.
Still want to fight, Jackie? asked the dead cedar.
She pushed herself upright, ignoring the pain, drawing her gun and aiming it toward the now-broken window. The moment the wolf showed itself, she fired five times, a deafening roar in the confined space of the car. Her ears were ringing, but the wolf was retreating, if only a little, its two dozen eyes blinking in anger and agony.
It won't last.
"Shut it," she grumbled, pushing the door behind her open, slipping out the opposite side of the car from where the wolf was. She fell to the asphalt, knees digging into the rough surface, but immediately got up and kept moving.
It was all about keeping momentum.
She had—she thought for a moment, pushing back the adrenaline—three bullets left in the magazine. And then another ten in her bag, which wasn't easily accessible. So, realistically, just three bullets.
The wolf was hurt, but not that hurt. Three more bullets, even if she nailed it in the eyes, wouldn't be enough to stop it.
Think, Jackie told herself. Running wasn't a long-term strategy. Killing it didn't seem possible, not with the equipment that she had at hand. She needed an out.
There were cars everywhere. Maybe she could commandeer one, maybe the car batteries were still functional, maybe the engines hadn't been damaged by Scion's attack, maybe there was still gas in them. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
The wrong maybe could get her killed.
It would have to do. She couldn't think of any other plan that might work. She swept her eyes over the road ahead of her, and—there! A two-door coupe. The driver's corpse, she could see, was already slumped to one side.
Something wet touched her hand. She glanced down, just for a moment. It wasn't blood.
It was rain.
"Goddamn it," she mumbled, glancing up at the rapidly darkening sky. "Not now, not here."
This wasn't real, and she couldn't afford to lose her shit here, especially not while she was being chased.
You can't lose what you never had.
"Shut the fuck up," she said, frantically tugging on the door of the coupe. It wasn't locked, fortunately. She dove inside, shoved the body of a forty-something man aside, and closed the door behind her. The keys were still in the ignition, which was… probably not a good sign. She twisted it, and… nothing.
Not even a little whir. Not a peep.
The wolf rammed into the driver's side door, butting the whole car fifteen feet to the side until it collided with a guard rail. Jackie's head jerked painfully. It was a wonder she hadn't died from whiplash yet.
All around her, it was raining, an entire hurricane's worth of rainfall spilling onto the earth like a vertical flood. And through it, the wolf dove right towards her. She aimed and fired out the window over and over until her gun clicked empty. The beast staggered back, just for a bit, and the rain intensified.
The world was shrouded in darkness, and there was no light, and she couldn't see any further beyond three feet out the window. Everything else was obscured by the storm. She tried the ignition again, but of course it wouldn't work.
This is how it would end, apparently. She let the pistol fall to the floor. It was useless now.
She had nothing left.
Poor, poor, Jackie. So afraid of the monsters in the dark, but never willing to do what it takes to kill one.
She wasn't going to use the vial. Maybe after she died, someone else would come by at some point and find it. That was all she could hope for.
She shut her eyes. If she was going to die, her mind could at least do her a fucking favor and show her something nice before it happened. Something comforting. Something to ease her way out. No more storms, no more monsters. No more asshole trees.
When she opened her eyes again, her little sister was there, sitting in the passenger seat beside her. The driver's dead body was gone, nowhere to be found. Jackie cracked an expression that was halfway between a smile and a sob. Of course.
"Hey, Claire," she mumbled.
"Hey, Jackie."
"This is it, huh?"
"I think so."
"I tried really hard," she said, tears blurring her vision. "I was going to save the world. Like you asked."
Claire patted her hand in that gentle, awkward way that she always did when she wanted to help, but didn't know how. "I know."
Jackie shut her eyes. "I wish you were really here."
"Me too."
"I mean—" She let out a choked laugh. "I guess I don't, because this would be a shitty way for you to die. Shittier. But you know what I mean."
"'Course I do."
"Guess I'll be seeing you soon, huh?"
Claire nodded sadly. "I'll be waiting."
Jackie looked out the window, into the gloom, the rain, and in it, she saw the wolf rushing right toward her. And then—
And then something tackled it, fucking bashed it to the ground, and Jackie's eyes widened.
"Over here, ugly!" shouted the girl from the gas station. The cape.
Her sleeves were rolled up, and her arms looked off. Too big, too thick, too featureless to be natural. At the end of her left arm, instead of a hand, there was just a big sac of flesh, a featureless ball.
The wolf righted itself, turned its attention to the cape, and lunged. The girl shoved her right arm out, let the wolf bite down on it, and shoved it back. With explosive force, she took her left and slammed it into the wolf's face hard enough that the flesh sac burst, splashing clear liquid all over the beast's head.
The thing burned, melted, collapsed to the ground in an inhuman flailing. The clear liquid ate straight through the wolf's body and splashed onto the floor, where the asphalt hissed and bubbled.
The girl stepped back, took a breath, and began to tear off the damaged bits of her arms, letting the mangled flesh fall to the floor. Underneath, her skin was raw, blackened like it had been burnt and never healed. Once it was all off, she let her sleeves down and put on a pair of rough leather gloves.
Jackie glanced at her surroundings. Claire was gone. The rain had stopped. It was sunny again, that angry yellow glow that never let up.
The girl from the gas station walked over to Jackie's car and knocked on the roof, leaning toward the shattered window. "So," she said. "Are you gonna shoot me again if I help you out of there?"