A Symbol Of Peace In Brockton Bay (Worm/My Hero Academia) [INDEFINITE HIATUS]

[Prok]

You are Greg Veder.

Yes, that Greg Veder.

You're that Greg Veder, and you just saw your crush walk past you covered in all sorts of sticky juices.

She smells strongly of soda and cranberries, even from where you're standing, and she's making her way out of school, doing her level best to ignore the giggles and laughter sent in her general direction. The rising blush on her face makes you think she's not doing well at it.

As she turns the corner, you sigh, not for the first time, as you wonder why you don't help her.

Logically, the answer is that you're a goddamn coward, who can't do much more than awkwardly talk to her and try and fail to make her days at school a little more bearable.

Truthfully, you know no such thing.

Because you're Greg Veder.

There are clams with more social grace than you.

So you keep trying to talk to her, blind to the fact that you make her uncomfortable, that she's uninterested in what you have to say, and that no she does not want to hear you explain that anime where girls in leather fetish outfits fight each other with oversized swords and the loser gets fed to a tentacle monster!

… I apologise. I may have gotten a little carried away there.

Still, not everything is bad. You feel bad for Taylor. You still want to do something about it, even if your cowardice and fear of being made a target too stop you from doing so. You acknowledge that fear, to some extent, so at least you're not lying to yourself.

You ask yourself a question you've been asking yourself a lot in recent times.

Why?

Why Taylor? Why does Emma, her former best friend, if you remember correctly, bully her so much? Why do Sophia and Madison help her? Why doesn't the school do something about it?! Why can't you just help her?!

Why is there no justice?!

GREGORY VEDER.​

Everything is dark. You find yourself mid-step, with only a patch of hallway underneath your feet keeping you afloat in the sudden void. You decide very quickly to plant your foot on what little solid ground you have at your disposal.

YOU WISH FOR JUSTICE. YOU WISH FOR HOPE.​

There are stars around you. In the very distance, you can see a line darting between them, lighting up every star it dashes through to the point of being painful to look at directly.

THEN YOU SHALL BECOME A JUDGE, AND A HOPE BRINGER.​

It gets closer as it dashes through stars, five, six, seven, eight, nine ten eleven twelvethirteenfourteenfifteen oh god it's coming right for you-

JUDGE WELL, YOUNG ONE.​

You instinctively blink as the line hits you, and suddenly you're back in the corridor like nothing happened. Your eyes don't have the afterimage of a bright light to blink away. Was it... not actually there?

What… was that?

And what are you going to do about it?

[] Ignore it- For the moment at least, it doesn't seem to have done anything to you, so you can probably ignore it for the moment. At least until classes are over. Then you can worry.

[] Don't do that- mmmmnope, nuh-uh, not happening, you do not ignore something like that. Duck out of class, and go somewhere where whatever is about to happen isn't going to blow up in your face.
-[] Any suggestions on where to go?

[] Write-in

---

YOUR CHARACTER SHEET STARTS HERE
​

Name: Greg Veder
Age: 15
Quirk: One For All (Currently throttled at 10% full power.)
​

Spoiler: Goals

Long Term Goals: Rome wasn't built in a day, and these goals won't be completed in one either. These goals can take weeks, months, maybe even years to come to fruition.

Short Term Goals: Unlike Rome and Long Term Goals, these can be completed in a day, maybe two or three at the most.

• Figure out what your new powers can do. (Short Term Goal) Ehh... close enough.​
• TIME TO SAVE SOMEONE OH BOY (Short Term Goal) Completed!

​

Spoiler: Normal Moves

Step- By forcing power into your legs and running, you can gain a burst of superhuman speed. At your current level, you can outrun a car in normal city streets without straining yourself too much.

10% Full Cowl- Through the pushing of power out into the transformation layer of your body, you can enhance all of your physical abilities at once, at the cost of individual power. Well. For now.

Jump Then Fall- It turns out that, even if you can't fly like Superman, you can at least have a fair whack at leaping over a building in a single bound.

​

Spoiler: Super Moves

You don't have any. Yet.

Spoiler: Achievements

Ret, uh, Not Gone- Convince the QM to retcon someone back to their place in canon.
UNITED WE STAND- Manage a completely unanimous vote on at least one main vote.
DIVIDED WE FALL- Have the votes lock on a +5 tie.

YOUR CHARACTER SHEET ENDS HERE​

 

[Prok]

... Look I got it out today and that's a helluva lot better than my usual track record. Going home wins with 2 votes.

|||

… Yeah, no. You don't just ignore something like that.

You're smart enough to realise that what just happened didn't actually happen, and was in fact a hallucination. Despite that, you're not feeling much better about the situation, because hallucinations convincing enough to make you stop mid-step to not fall into an endless void are not a good sign of anything.

Not to mention said hallucination involved a streak of light exploding stars and said streak then passing through you. You're not willing to entertain thoughts of what that means for your future any more than you already have.

You decide to play it safe, and get away from public spaces- you're going to duck out of class, it's only Spanish anyway, and go home. You briefly weigh the pros and cons of going home by way of the nurse's office, or simply leaving like Taylor did.

… Just ducking out sounds safer. The nurse probably won't buy whatever story you give her, and it'll delay your departure, so you simply walk for one of the emergency exits and make your way out. The alarms on these doors have been broken for god knows how long, so you should be safe.

You look around, checking for anyone who would care if you just walked out, and find nobody worth caring about. You push, straining against the rusty bar for a moment until it gives, and the door opens.

There's a moment between moments where you are racked with terror that the alarm isn't busted, and you're about to start a fire drill by accident. The moment passes, and your fears are assuaged by the lack of blaring bells and sirens. You relax slightly, and slip out into the chilly April air.

You check your pockets and manage to scrape together just enough change for the bus home.

|||

On the bus home, your thoughts turn back to what the hell was that?!

Which is a fair question; it's not every day you hallucinate chain supernovae. Eventually, you calm down, and begin to think rationally about this. You don't… feel any different. You feel pretty much exactly the same, aside from the obvious panic you were feeling a while ago, and even that's started to fade now.

… It was real. Well, it was a hallucination, but it happened.

Something happened. You don't know what, but you know it in your core.

By the time you get off the bus and start making your way home, you start to feel ever so slightly… tired.

Not, 'oh god any flat surface will do' tired, just a little weary. Like you've been jogging. By the time you get to the front door, you're starting to feel fatigue overcome you.

Your father looks over from the television to see you stagger inside.

"Greg? Shouldn't you be at school?"

"Felt ill. Decided to come home." You mumble just loud enough for him to hear. It's not even a lie, you feel dead on your feet right now. It seems to convince him, as he just nods and goes back to watching TV.

You make the slog upstairs, each step feeling heavier than the last until you're finally in your room, feeling like your muscles have been replaced with molten lead.

Hey, look. It's your bed. You don't think you've ever seen something as beautiful as your bed right now.

Sleep... sleep sounds good right about now...

You just manage to climb on, and you pass out before your head hits the pillow.

|||

One For All is a powerful, versatile tool, but it has its, hah, quirks.

Choices must be made.

Your Form:

[] Metamorphosis. Mass, materialising from nowhere, bulking your body up until the end results would be worthy of Hercules himself. Take after the most famous wielder of All For One, and allow it to change your body as All Might's iteration did. You won't be a carbon copy of the man, but you'll certainly look the part of a symbol of peace. Comes complete with the puff of vapour when you deflate.

[] Empowerment. Imagine veins of light dancing across your skin, brightening up the world around you with its- no, your power. Impressive, in its own right, but also more subtle than the All Might approach. Take after Midoriya instead, and ride the lightning.

Your Fortitude:

[] Baby steps are key. Midoriya figured out he could only use 5% of his power safely after about a dozen shattered limbs. I'm feeling a little more generous, and limit you to 10%, with more of your power being unlocked as time passes. Think of it as, ah, training wheels.

[] You get 100% from the get go, and everything that entails. The effect this has on you varies depending on which form you choose.

Your, er, Faculty (I was running out of F words, shush):

[] You've Changed, Veder- something happened to One For All in its journey here. The personality of a former host came with it, and he's... bleeding through. You're not hearing voices in your head, goodness no, but your ideals, your ambitions, they're changing just ever so slightly to match theirs.

[] You Are You, And That's All You Are- There is no outside influence on your personality. You're working under your own steam, and nobody else's. Be proud of that, because there aren't a lot of people around here that can say the same.

 

[Prok]

You woke up again at somewhere around midnight, by your reckoning.

It's four in the morning now. Your clothes, still unchanged from when you came in, are soaked through with cold sweat. Your breath is unstable, leaving you shakily inhaling, only to explosively exhale, in a way that is nothing short of completely exhausting. Your body is filled with a sensation not unlike licking a battery, but 20,000 times stronger. You are filled with something akin to lightning.

​

Somehow you end up on the floor. The impact, aside from hurting your nose, jolts some life back into your limbs, enough to make them move again. You stumble to your feet, something that takes a titanic amount of effort, and leaves you feeling ready to be very, very sick.

Yes, my first transformation was rough too. Midoriya doesn't know how lucky he was.​

As you move, you feel wrong. You're too tall, your arms are too long, your legs are too bulky, your head knocks against the top of your doorframe, ow, on the way out of your room. The hall light is almost permanently on, showing off your landing, a long, narrow corridor, with tables and drawers with all sorts of priceless knick-knacks sitting upon them.

​

On the door immediately to your right, your sister's room. at the end of the hall, your mum and dad's room. On the door to your left, the bathroom.

You silently thank god you don't have to try navigating the hall as you feel right now. You lurch through the doorway of your room, your steps thudding loudly against the floor as you move, each one sounding heavier than the last, and through to the bathroom. You have the horrible feeling you're going to wake someone up if you keep going on this way.

Still, you're in the bathroom now. That's progress. You lay your eyes on the bowl of the toilet, and your stomach lurches almost in response. You drop to your knees, grab the rim, and begin dry heaving. Your entire chest and abdomen are tightening, trying to force out nothing at all, and as they do, you feel your body warping and growing, new muscle forming underneath your skin in a process that isn't painful, but isn't pleasant either.

This power is... was a sacred torch passed down from one generation to the next.​

A few minutes later, as your stomach finally relaxes, you feel like you're half over the size you were before. Nothing came up, but you still feel better than you did five minutes ago. The feeling of lightning coursing through your veins has receded to a slight tingle, and you can stand with little trouble now. You reach over to the light switch, and flick it down.

A power called One For All. One person takes the power, refines it, and passes it onto the next.​

The light flickers for a moment, then turns on in earnest, allowing you your first look at your new form.

At least... that's how it used to go.​

The first thing you notice is your face- rather, the lack thereof. You're now too tall to see your face in the mirror without leaning down. Instead, you get a good look at your chest and stomach, now toned in ways that would make a lot of bodybuilders jealous. Your skin, normally pale and ashen from not leaving your room all day looks to have seen the sweet kiss of sunlight, if a rather chaste one.

I don't know why I'm awake. I... I know I died. This is... unprecedented. And... I suspect temporary. I don't even know if you can hear me.​

Your arms and legs are similarly bulked out and sized up. Your hands look like they could easily envelop a basketball now, and you feel that popping it wouldn't be a problem. You happily note that, as bulked up as you are, you don't look like one of those freaks with shoulder muscles the size of their heads. Everything seems to be in proportion with your new body.

I Probably not. You would have reacted by now, no? But, if you can hear me, even just on some subconscious level...​

You take a deep breath and steel yourself for what comes next. You lean down and take in your new face.

I ask of you... please, make something of this. All For One is a tool of good, of peace, of justice. I ask of you, do good with it.​

The face that stares back is nothing like your old- your normal one. You don't think this change is permanent.

Bring peace with it.​

... You certainly hope it isn't permanent.

Deliver justice with it.​

Anyway, where your old face was round, with soft edges and acne here and there, this new face looks like it's been chiselled straight from marble. Angular, with a jaw you could split wood on. Your cheekbones are prominent now, working with your jaw to give your face a square shape. Most jarring of all is your eyes- you can't see them. They're so sunken back that shadows cover them completely. Your hair, long, blond, and the one part of your image you put any effort into maintaining, has grown even thicker, longer, flowing down your shoulders in a waterfall of gold.

... You're almost my spitting image, young one. I wonder how telling that is of what you'll do with your new power?​

You find your hand coming up to brush your cheek, almost expecting it to be an illusion, or a hallucination, that the moment you touch it. When your fingertips touch flesh and bone, you find yourself emitting a tiny gasp of shock.

Yes, it is rather shocking to realise that's you in the mirror. You'll get used to it, don't worry.​

This is... amazing. You feel amazing. That tingle, the leftover lightning, leaves you feeling like you could do most anything physical right now. You feel healthier and stronger than you've ever felt before, and it's just...

Hah, and that, you'll definitely get used to.​

Amazing.

I... I see potential in you, young man. I may not know you, I don't even know your name, but I... I believe you a worthy successor for One For All.​

It dawns on you what has happened here. You've gained powers. You, Greg Veder, have powers.​

You are worthy of the torch.​

Thoughts of heroism enter your mind almost immediately. You have the body of a Greek god, you could be a goddamn figurehead. Then the other side of the moral spectrum creeps in.

If you... if you're as strong as you think you are, you could do... most anything you wanted to.​

Wh... What?​

The possibilities run through your mind, and the more you think about it, the more you realise that you don't really... want anything like that. There's a reason kids always want to be the hero, after all. The more you think about it, the more you realise you don't really have the stomach for anything entirely villainous.​

...​

No. You want to be a hero.​

Yeah.​

You can be a hero!​

Hell yeah!​

You- can see your sister in the mirror. At some point during your self-examination, she crept from her room and into the bathroom. You turn and face her, drawing yourself up to your full, completely terrifying height. Her eyes widen, and she takes a step back.​

... Well. Uh. Crap.​

... Right. You don't look like Greg Veder. You forgot about that.

You have about three seconds before your sister- Mary, by the way- screams and runs, waking up your parents and exposing your secret at best, getting you chased out of the house at worst.

What do?

[] Write-in​

 

[Prok]

Hamming it up and its variations win at 10:2:1.

|||

You need to do something. Fast. Your sister's eyes are wide, and only getting wider as half-seconds go by. You can hear her taking a deep breath to scream her tiny 12-year-old lungs out.

Act the hero. It should calm her down a bit. Hopefully.​

In the fraction of a second you have to think, you come up with an absolutely wonderful idea. You look the hero. Why not act like one?

You straighten up further, plant your hands on your hips, and grin. Logic would dictate that if your new power has changed you this much, a decent smile isn't too far out of its purview.

"There's nothing to fear citizen, because I, Greg, am here!" You rumble, and you do rumble, your voice several octaves deeper than it was before. It also has the slightest rasp to it now, though whether that's an effect of your transformation or not drinking anything for 12 hours straight, you've no idea.​

I said act the hero, not rip me off!​

Your sister takes another step back, then she registers the name you used. Namely, yours. She frowns at you, and the breath that could have been a scream becomes an exasperated sigh.

"Goddammit, Greg..." She mumbles as she begins to rub her temples. You hear the click of a door at the other end of the hall, and Mary suddenly pales. She dashes into the bathroom, just managing to slap the lights off on her way in. The room goes dark in an instant, leaving you and her in pitch blackness, with the sound of a door creaking open at the other end of the hall.​

So your name is Greg, hm? Greg, Greg... English? I'm... a long way from home, aren't I?​

"... Hello? Who's there?" Your father calls out to whoever he thinks is there. "I-I'm armed!"​

​

Yeah, with a shoe, probably.

Your sister waves at you to grab your attention. Once she has it, she mimes pulling the handle on the toilet. You nod and reach over to the brass handle on the side of the cistern. You gently push it down with your index finger, hoping that whatever dormant strength lays within you doesn't choose to manifest and snap the handle in two.​

... What on earth are you two doing?​

... What? It could happen.

Thankfully, it doesn't, and you manage to flush the toilet without any undue problems in the handle area. A second later Mary walks out, the picture of innocence. You watch her rub her eye with a tiny fist as she looks in your father's general direction.

"Mnh... Daddy? What's wrong?" She asks in the most childish way she can manage without overdoing it.​

...​

You can hear his heart softening from here.

"... Mary? What are you doing up this late?" He asks, disarmed by the lack of threat to shoe.

"I had to use the bathroom. Why are you up this late?" She shoots back, hiding behind a facade of childish curiosity. "And why are you holding a shoe?"​

Redirect the question, then answer back with a question of your own, distracting them from their original line of questioning. She's a natural.​

You hear your father stutter and stammer about something, before just giving up and telling your sister to go to sleep.

"Ok, daddy. Goodnight!"

"... Goodnight, sweetheart." Your dad says, and a moment later, you hear the click of a door closing. Your sister walks over to her bedroom door and closes it too. An instant later, her facade drops, and she wheels around to glare at you. She points to the stairwell, then flicks her finger down.​

Oop. I think we're in trouble.​

You get the gist of the gesture- 'Downstairs. Now.'

She storms off down the steps as quietly as she can, leaving you to follow. You take a step and leave the relative safety of the bathroom for the hall. The floor creaks under your new weight, leaving you wincing at every movement you make. Eventually, you make it to the stairs and begin making your way down them. You stay close to the edges, gently testing the carpet for the most silent place to step to. It took you a minute or so, but you manage to get downstairs without provoking your father into investigating again.​

​

You make your way through to the living room, and then to the kitchen, where your sister's poured herself a glass of milk and a grabbed few cookies for her troubles.

She dips a cookie in her milk, chomps half of it in three bites, then turns to you.

"Mmf-" She sprays milk and cookie crumbs everywhere as she attempts to speak. She swallows, and tries again. "Greg. Start talking. Now."

Well?

[]Write-in​

 

[Prok]

You take a second to get your story straight, then you start to talk.

"Well-" You clear your throat and make an attempt to speak with something approaching an indoor voice. "Well, I managed to get out of bed about ten minutes ago, I made it through to the bathroom, realised I had muscles bigger than your head, so I started examining myself in the mirror. Then you came along."

​

Your sister stops munching on her cookie.

"... And that's it? You just, woke up with about 400 pounds of extra muscle on you? Nothing else weird happened today?"

You consider lying about what happened in school, and the past four hours, but then you remember this is your little sister you're talking to. You might not share everything, but this? You can share this with her.

You explain about your... vision, you suppose, and how you felt when you got in and for the past four hours. Like a sudden attack of the flu, followed by a bout of the bastard child of malaria and dengue fever. You go on to talk about how you could feel yourself growing in size as you moved, and how your barely made it to the bathroom without falling over your own feet.

By the time you finish talking, you have a slight spark of terror in your heart that this might be a permanent change. How would you even begin explaining this to your parents? Or your friends?

All For One is not a quirk of permanence. If you will it, you will release your form.​

... Ok, so maybe Sparky wouldn't give a shit- not the point!

"Greg? You ok?" Your sister asks mid-cookie dip.

"What if I can't change back? Oh, god, what if this is a permanent thing?!" You're beginning to panic in earnest now, wondering how exactly you're going to live like this. You put your head in your hands, shivering beginning to make its way up and down your body.​

... This could work.​

You don't want to. You liked being you, sure, you weren't the strongest or the best looking and you always had that stupid bowl cut, but you were you!​

Almost!​

You want to be you again!​

Yes! YES!​

White fog fills your vision, and you hear your sister yelp in surprise and the thud of flesh hitting tile. You feel your eyes widen as the sound reaches your ears.​

... Oh no. Oh no no no no.​

"Mary!" The sudden stab of concern in your chest distracts you from the realisation that you feel much smaller and much weaker, or that the fog is cool against your skin, or that your clothes suddenly feel a lot baggier. All of that is pushed to the side as you dash through the fog to where she was sitting before your smoke bomb impression.

You sigh in relief as you see her sitting on the ground, rubbing her lower back in pain.​

Oh thank god.​

"Oh thank god. You ok?" You ask her.

She looks up at you, still startled by your sudden transformation. "I'm fine, just a little sore. Don't worry." She picks herself up and brushes herself off. "Ok, so, you can turn it off. That is a thing we have learned." She starts speaking as she gets back into her seat, wincing as soon as she lets it support her weight.​

Ok. Panic averted. Your sister is ok.​

Yes. Yes it is a thing you have learned. Therefore, logic dictates, there is also a way to turn it back on. Hopefully.

... You decide not to test it indoors.

"So..." Mary starts again, bringing your attention back to her. "Have you... given any thought about what you're gonna do with it?"

You realise that, beyond 'be a hero,' and the daydreams that come with the territory, you don't really have any plans for what to do with your new powers. As it is, aside from giving you muscles bodybuilders would cry bloody tears of envy at, you don't actually know what you can do.​

​

"I... not really. Hell, I don't even know what I can do. I get bigger... then what?"

You both stay silent for a while. You think it's finally starting to sink in that you're both woefully unprepared for something like this.​

... Oh boy. You really have no idea what you're doing, do you?​

"... Deal with it in the morning?" Mary proposes.

"Deal with it in the morning." You agree.

You leave your sister to finish her cookies and milk while you creep back up into your bedroom. You climb onto your bed, and ten minutes later realise you've had your eight hours sleep for the night.

... Welp, guess you need something to occupy yourself with. (Each action will take up chunks of a 4-hour slot. Fewer actions take up more time proportionally so don't worry about filling the time slot.)

[] You've got a computer. And internet. Use them.
-[] What for? (If someone makes the obvious Avenue Q reference SO HELP ME GOD-)
[] You suppose you could try catching up on some homework.
[] No. Tough it out. Try and recover your sleep cycle. (This takes up the entire four-hour chunk.)
[] Write-in

 

[Prok]

You try in vain for another five minutes or so to try and get to sleep, and realise it's just not happening. Sleeping from four in the afternoon until twelve at night is more than enough sleep for you, and you don't feel the urge to go back to bed.

You did sleep for eight hours straight when you got in. Still, I wouldn't get into the habit of being up this late if I were you.​

You sit up and begin wondering what you can do to fill the little hours between now and the time your parents expect you to rise from your slumber. You get off your bed, turn the light on, and close the door. Right.

What now? Your eyes immediately drift to your computer, but with a titanic force of will, you drag them over to your schoolbag. If the next few days are going to be as packed with excitement as you imagine, you probably won't have much time to do what's on your plate as is. You grab your schoolbag and root around for a random textbook. The first one you pull out is maths, and you groan a little on the inside. You suppose if there's one subject that can put you to sleep, it'll be that. You pull the question sheet you were given yesterday out from the book and look it over.

Hoh? Focusing on your studies, eh? At least you're doing something productive.​

You spend half an hour on a problem sheet about statistics, probably the only part of the class you're not terrible at, and you finish it quick enough.

I was never very good at mathematics when I was your age, in all honesty. I almost wish I'd studied it harder.​

You check your need for sleep. No change, you're as bright eyed and bushy tailed as you were half an hour ago. Mathematics didn't do the trick. Dang.

Once that's done, you once again root around in your bag for another piece of homework. You pull out your biology textbook next and take the question sheet out from between its pages where you'd left it nestled for safe keeping. Biology is easy for you, and the questions are mostly multiple choice. You get through it in about twenty minutes, leaving you feeling good about yourself, and not at all tired.

I preferred physics, myself. Each to their own, I suppose.​

This is starting to get a little frustrating.

Your hand dives in once more and grabs your World Issue textbook.

Think about capes and how they impact the world around you.

... Really.​

Make a list if you want.​

And here I am, the Symbol of Peace, probably one of the most influential heroes of all time, and I can't even speak to you about this.​

Your eyes slowly drag over to your computer.​

I'm not mad. Really, I'm not.​

It's calling to you.

Like a siren.

... You'll just be using the word processor. That's all.​

Riiiiight.​

Honest.

You get up off your bed, careful not to crush any of the paper sitting on it at the moment, and make your way to your desk. Upon it sits your monitor and under it, off to the side, is your computer.

No. Sorry. Not quite.

Under your desk, off to the side, is your baby. Built from scratch, by hand, upgraded as often as your allowance affords, and treated with care and respect. You know it inside and out, and you love it so. You press the power button, and allow yourself a small, blissful smile as you listen to it purr while it boots up.

Less than half a minute later, you're opening up the word processor on your computer, and staring at a blank white page.​

Well? Anything?​

...​

...​

Your mind has gone equally blank.

Oh come on! Nothing?!​

You give it a few more seconds, and concede to the need for internet after you type 'shits fucked lol' and nothing comes to mind from there. You open up Firefox and begin your research.​

Hrm... I suppose this is an opportunity to learn about where I am.​

Within ten minutes you're left feeling even more depressed about the state of humanity. An estimated two-thirds of all capes in the US alone are villains, with rogues and heroes making up the other third. People losing their lives and livelihoods are commonplace, almost a regularity now. And that's just the common or garden capes, not even counting the really messed up people.​

... Oh my god. This is...​

Nilbog, running his tiny kingdom where the town of Ellisburg used to be.​

Are things really this bad?​

Heartbreaker. Less said, the better, really.​

... I... I have no words. How can people do this to each other!?​

The 9. Pictures of them, taken from a tinker drone.​

​

Jack Slash. Mannequin. Tag. Tailor. Crawler. Shatterbird. Burnscar. Lumber.​

...​

Bonesaw.​

... She... looks so young.​

She looks like your sister.

Bile rises in your throat, and you close the browser quickly. After a moment forcing it back down into your stomach, you start taking deep breaths.​

Ah! Are you okay?​

It wasn't like this before. You heard about these terrible things happening, and you thought to yourself, 'what am I to do?' And you had every right to.

Now... you can. For some reason that makes you feel worse about the things you've read over the past half an hour. Like you suddenly have a responsibility to fix them.​

You do. This sacred torch is not something that can be just... left to idle. It begs to be used.​

You feel angry. You know that, from this moment, you're never going to be happy just sitting by and doing nothing.

So you're not going to. Not anymore.

(Homework status: 42% done.)

First- research. Knowing your enemy isn't recommended by one of the oldest scripts on warfare for no reason. The question is simply- who do you intend to research?

[] Empire 88. Look at those who ape the one group considered a universally acceptable target.
[] The Azn Bad Boys. Look at the gang who took 'cool story bro, needs more dragons' just a little too seriously.
[] The Archer's Bridge Merchants. Look at the gang for everyone that got stuck in the drain Brockton Bay is apparently circling.​

 

[Prok]

You decide that, like charity and saving the environment, your crusade against the evils of the world should start at home. Namely, in Brockton Bay.

A wise choice.​

You open up the place for parahuman information, PHO, specifically the cape wiki portion of the site. A few clicks bring you to the Brockton Bay portion of the cape wiki portion of the site, and a list of all the known capes in the city by power set, by legal status, and most importantly to you, by affiliation.

... I wonder how much of Midoriya's research was the result of website trawling?​

You look over the different gangs and think through your choices here. There are three main gangs in Brockton Bay, all of whom have different numbers of capes with different abilities. In terms of sheer numbers, the Empire won out severely, with a staggering 16 capes under their belt. Manpower wise, they were the second largest, and probably the most well equipped and connected out of the three gangs at large. You... decide not to mess with them.​

Pick your battles wisely. Always good advice.​

Next, is the ABB. They only have four capes by comparison, but by god are those capes powerhouses.

Lung. A man who gets stronger the more he fights, and got strong enough to fight an Endbringer to a draw? Nope! Nope, you are not having a piece of that cake! Add in a teleporter, a portal creator, and someone who can explode stuff just by clapping their hands, and you have a bunch of people you're not touching with a ten-foot pole.​

That last one...​

Mainly because Lung would probably set it on fire.​

And you've scrolled down. Typical.​

That leaves you the Archer's Bridge Merchants. You read through their wiki pages, giving you at least a decent idea of who they are and what they can do.

The leader of the gang is a man called Skidmark. You get a rather... unflattering picture of him, with his half-mask and not quite teeth anymore on display as he sneers at whoever's got the camera. The powers section is brief, but telling- He creates light gradients that affect momentum. Move across it one way, it slows you down. Move across it the other way, you speed up. He can layer it to make the effect stronger.​

It's... not bad, as quirks go. It's certainly got potential use as area denial.​

You know how railguns work. You sincerely hope he doesn't.​

... Ah. Yes, that is a terrifying prospect.​

Moving on, before you lose your nerve, you click onto the next villain. Toothache, the title says, with a small subtitle stating 'Fucktooth redirects here.'​

Charming. I'm not sure if it would be worse if he picked that name himself or not.​

The description says his power involves manipulating the enamel in his teeth, expanding them into long, sharp blades he shoots from his mouth and controls in order to move around. He's a small, thin man, who forgoes a costume in exchange for wrapping his head in his own teeth. You're not sure if it's a side effect of his power or just good hygiene, but the enamel is pearly white, leaving the impression that his head is covered in fresh gauze, barring the large, gaping red maw that is his mouth, his tongue hanging out like a slick, grey worm.​

Wow I never thought I'd be happy about not having a stomach.​

You click off that page sharpish. Moving on, the next cape of the group is Mush- a cape that can change his body around to support a second body, made of whatever particulate matter is around.

After a quick search, you realise that means he just gathers whatever's around him at any one time, be it dirt, sand, or, most commonly, the contents of the nearest dumpster. He gathers it all together and uses the mass to create a large suit of material which increases his strength. The single picture is of him in his trash golem form, threatening a car.​

Hrm. It's... not as gross, I suppose.​

The fourth cape in the gang is a woman called Squealer. A Tinker who specialises in vehicles, and tends to build them big and ugly. The gallery has no pictures of her personally, but instead holds pictures of various projects of hers, in varying states of disrepair. There's nothing to use as a scale, but you would eyeball the smallest to be about quad bike sized and the largest around the size of a minibus. You click onwards.​

​

The fifth and final cape, and the second woman of the group is called... Smooch? Really? I mean, Fucktooth is a stretch, but that's just lazy.​

I call your opinion on that name and raise you Baron of Explodo-kills.​

Ok, fine, whatever, what's her power? She... heals people. By kissing them.​

She... has Recovery Girl's quirk? I'm... I'm not the only one, am I? I mean, one coincidence is an isolated incident, but... Three?​

... Well, the name's accurate, at least. She's the white mage of the gang, as far as you can tell, keeping mooks out of the hospital and keeping them on the streets.​

... Who else is around here then?​

She has the largest picture gallery of all of the capes, which is to say she has more than one picture. Her general attire seems to consist of a stained white tank top and cargo shorts, and a half-mask that looks like a plague doctor's had his beak lopped off. The other pictures seem to be demonstrations of her power.​

I... oh. Oh. Um. Well. That's... I'm not sure what I expected, but it wasn't... that.​

She seems to prefer the more... intimate kinds of kissing. We're, we're talking full French here.​

... I'm... somewhat glad that Recovery Girl didn't share her passion for her methods.​

You have to wonder how she can stand to kiss Merchants on the mouth, and immediately stop wondering as you imagine what kissing a Merchant on the mouth would be like.​

​

You dig around some more for information on them and begin to compile it all in a word document that will allow you easy reference later on.​

Ah, smart. Information on one's enemies is vital.​

You consider theorising about how to counter their powers and remember that, besides the transformation itself, you have no idea what you can do. You don't even know how to transform again. A sigh escapes through your nose, and you save the document, resigning yourself to waiting until tomorrow to figure out the extent of your powers.​

Don't worry. One For All is rather... user-friendly. You should be able to figure it out even without guidance.​

Patience is a virtue, you suppose. You glance down at the clock and realise it's around half seven now.​

​

Huh. Time flies when you're planning a crusade against an entire gang.

You've already decided which gang is getting axed first, you don't know how you're gonna go about doing that because you don't know what you yourself can do. You suppose you could go back to homework, but chemistry and physics don't really appeal to you right now.

It's late enough in the morning that you could get away with claiming you felt like getting up early, so you're no longer confined to your room on pain of being asked uncomfortable questions.

[] Grab Breakfast- you have a long day ahead of you. You should probably fuel up.
[] Go For A Walk- you have had a long ass... night, you suppose. You need some fresh air to clear your head.
[] Write-in​

 

[Prok]

Looking at the clock, you realise you're no longer confined to your room on pain of uncomfortable questions about why you're up so early. Now, you can get away with saying you felt like being an early riser for once. Granted, your parents may be shocked by the fact that you're up and coherent before ten o'clock on a Saturday, but frankly, you need to get out of your room now, which is... a foreign feeling, to say the least. You save the document about the Merchants and close down your computer.

Finally! I was wondering when you would stop cooping yourself up like this.​

Almost on cue, your stomach rumbles, signalling the perfect excuse to go and mill about in the kitchen until your sister is up and you can discuss what the hell you're doing for the day. As it is, you just go downstairs to grab a decent breakfast, absentmindedly grabbing your physics textbook from your bag as you leave. You enter the kitchen, empty aside from you now, and for all that happened last night, nothing seems out of place, bar your sister leaving her empty glass in the sink.

... Brat.

You shake your head and begin thinking about what to get for breakfast. Your stomach decides that a big breakfast is probably in order, and break out the frying pan.

... I wonder if I share your sense of taste?​

Bacon. Eggs. Sausages. Orange juice. Toast with butter. Cereal. Over the course of about twenty minutes, you create a veritable feast to sate the grumbling beast where your stomach used to be. You didn't realise it before you came down here, but now that you're here, surrounded by the wonderful smells of cooking meat and bread and Cinnamon Crunch, you realise that you are absolutely ravenous.

Heavens, you're making me hungry, young Greg.​

You manage to restrain yourself and actually cook everything before you start wolfing it down, but your eggs end up runnier than usual, and your bacon a little chewier than you prefer.

... Not bad. At least you can cook a meal for yourself.​

By the time you actually get around to your cereal, you remember your physics textbook and the chapter you're meant to be reading. You place it down on the table and flip it open to the pertinent chapter. By the time you finish your cereal and reach the section on different types of radiation, Mary of all people walks through. Considering she's usually up later than you most days, you're kinda surprised.

"Hey. You're up early." She says, sounding just weary enough that you notice it, the bags under her eyes, and the way she slouches slightly as she moves. She glances over your many plates, but aside from a slightly raised eyebrow, chooses not to comment.​

She doesn't seem to have slept well.​

"I've been up for eight hours already, what's your excuse?" You shoot back between spoonfuls of cereal.​

​

She sighs loudly and climbs up onto the stool across from you. She winces and shifts back slightly in her seat, but soon settles down.​

​

"... I couldn't sleep. Did... did last night actually happen, or did I just have a very convincing ni-dream?" She asks you, catching herself at the last second, a cheesy smile of desperation plastered across her face.​

... Are quirks really that rare here? That this level of denial can be achieved?​

You can't stop yourself from smiling back. "Nope. All real, down to the puff of smoke."​

... This place really is different. Hrm.​

Your sister's face falls, and she buries her head in her arms. "Uuuuugh..." She lifts her head up and takes a deep breath. "Ok! You have superpowers! That is a thing that is happening now!" She says a little louder than you'd honestly like.
​

"Hey, keep it down!" You look around, ears straining to pick out anything that might suggest anyone else had heard that. After a few seconds, you relax and turn to her. "Ok, look, yes, I have powers, and yes everything I said yesterday was true. I have no idea how I ended up with them, what I can actually do, or what I'm really going to do with them. We said we'd deal with it in the morning, and the morning is here." You try and make your problems as concise as possible, condensing them into something that will hopefully get through to her.

Well said. Admitting your weaknesses to someone else is never easy. Trust me.​

She stares at you for a minute.

"... You really have no idea what you can do?"

He does not. At all.​

"Nothing at all. I... felt stronger, like, a lot stronger." You realise almost immediately how lame that sounds, but you lack the words to properly describe the feeling.

It does tend to elude description, doesn't it?​

Out of curiosity, you feel about yourself internally, and almost immediately the lightning jumps to attention, a small reminder that it's still there.

Your sister pauses, waiting for you to continue. When you don't, she blinks, surprised at something. "Uh, alright then. I suppose... you should test them?"

"... Where?" You ask honestly. You can't think of many places that would be isolated enough to test your powers, let alone anywhere safe to test them.

"... The Boat Graveyard? It's abandoned, there's plenty of places you can't see from the main road, and there are a few clearings between the boats that you could work in." Mary suggests.

... She makes very good points.​

You frown, suspicious of your sister for a moment. Why does she know so much about the Boat Graveyard?

... You make a very good point.​

You ask her that very question and get a squeak in response.

​

"Uh, no particular reason! Just, stuff I heard here and there, that's all!" She quickly tries to cover for herself.

You decide not to prod any further and antagonise her.

"Otherwise... there's the Protectorate, I guess. I mean, they have to get new heroes somehow, right?" She muses after a few moments awkward silence.

The... Protectorate? Is that a hero team?​

Hm. Point. It would offer a controlled environment to test in, at least. Would they offer to test someone who just walked in off the street at random, though?

Choices, choices.

[] Go to the Boat Graveyard- you don't need no steenking Protectorate to test your powers!
[] Go to the Protectorate- You'll get a better idea of what you can do, but you'll become a known quantity in the process, and they may not offer to test just anyone who walks off the street.
[] Do something other than test your powers? Like what?


Also:

[] Take your sister with you.

[] Don't take your sister with you.

 

[Prok]

You weigh the pros and cons of both choices in your mind. On one hand, you have the Boat Graveyard- according to your sister, it's isolated, devoid of human life, and has 'natural' clearings between the ships to work with. You suppose that aiming out to sea would at least mean nobody's going to be in the way of your potentially horrifically dangerous power. It would at least let you ballpark what you can do, first.

All good points. Learning to use your power before being tested would definitely be a boon.​

On the other hand, the Protectorate might give you hard numbers, maybe pointers on how to use it, as well as making you a known element to people you'll possibly be developing a working relationship with in the future. On the other hand, they might not even offer testing to capes who aren't affiliated with them, let alone any prat who just walks in off the street claiming he has powers and wants them tested.

That... could be a problem, true. Besides, untrained One For All in a closed space? Nnnnnot the best idea.​

You suppose you could transform, which might lend some more weight to your claim, but otherwise...

No, the Boat Graveyard is the better option right now. You need to get a feel for your powers before you go and talk to the Protectorate. Even just learning how to transform back and forth would be progress at this point.

Yes, Boat Graveyard first, Protectorate later. After all, when you're being tested is hardly the best time to experiment with your powers.

"Helloooo? Earth to Greg?" Mary says, waving her hand in front of your face. You snap out of your thoughts and join your sister in the here and now.

"The Boat Graveyard." You blurt out suddenly. A moment later, proper coherent thought returns, and you begin elaborating. "We should go to the Boat Graveyard. I... don't actually know anything about my powers. At least there I can work out what I can do without being a danger to anyone."​

​

Your sister blinks. "'We?'" She asks, confusion plain in her voice.

... 'We?' Either you're more aware of me than you've been letting on, or-​

"... Well... yeah. I, kinda assumed you would want to come along." You admit awkwardly, wondering if you've overestimated your sister's interest in this.

Of course. Still, it's..rather sweet, that you wish to include your sister in this.​

"... I don't have anything going on. I know you don't. So yeah, I'll come."​

Family is important, young Greg. Before all others, they will be the ones you can turn to in times of trouble.​

You manage a weak smile as you realise this is probably the first Saturday in a long while where you've left the house of your own volition. And probably the first time in ever that you've spent time with your sister, outside, on your own.​

​

You hope your father's heart can take the strain.

In the meantime, while you wait for them to wake up so you can tell them you're going out, you decide a change of clothes and a shower is needed. You've been wearing the same clothes for well over 24 hours now, and the constant sweating from whatever happened to you last night is leaving you smelling a little... ripe.​

... Well, I didn't want to say anything, but yes. You stink.​

You leave your sister to grab her own breakfast, piling your own dishes into the sink to soak, and walk to the bathroom. You check the handle of your toilet, out of some semi-misplaced fear that you somehow damaged the handle, and find it as intact as you remember it being.​

Hah. One For All isn't that easy to use.​

After a quick shower and brushing of teeth, you go back through to your room and after some quick drying, you grab some clothes to change into. A flash from last night of your visage in the mirror, and how tightly drawn across your body your shirt was- you now realise it's been stretched at least a few sizes larger-, you decide to go for some of your baggier clothes. White T-shirt, a large burgundy hoodie from a cousin who overcompensated while guessing your size, and cargo shorts. This should withstand your transformation. Hopefully.​

I should think so. The cargo pants will survive at least.​

You decide to go back downstairs and wait for your sister to get ready. You grab your physics textbook from the kitchen table and sit on the couch to continue reading.​

You... really are rather diligent in your schoolwork, aren't you?​

(Homework Status: 66% complete)

A while later, your sister joins you, and you chat for a while, eventually deciding to just leave a post-it note somewhere your parents will see it. Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission, right?​

Hah! I hope your parents have a sense of humour, young Greg!​

You grab your wallet and phone before you leave, and the two of you make your way to the bus stop. It's too early for anyone without responsibilities to be up and about yet, and you live in a decent part of the city, so you don't feel like you're going to be accosted by anyone of ill repute. You make it there without anything untoward happening to either of you and board a bus that'll drop you off a few blocks away from your destination.

Within an hour, you're standing inside the Boat Graveyard proper.​

... My god. It's like the beach all over again.​

The skeletons of ships long rusted and crumbling under their own weight as the material erodes, leaving all the exposed parts with a mottled patina of grey and red upon a sheet of white sand. They're all hollow, the insides having been gutted for anything useful long ago, holes worn into the hulls with some sort of plasma cutter, you would assume, leaving many cubbyholes and empty spaces to claim for your own, if you're feeling particularly brave. Here and there, you see signs of people who have been here before- the odd crushed can of beer, smashed glass bottles, old campfires, of all things, among less... mentionable things.​

We have work to do.​

You have gained:

1 Wallet, containing 60 dollars, miscellaneous change, and some loyalty cards for various outlets.

1 cell phone, flip variety.

Well. You're here.

Now what? You're gonna try and figure out how to transform, and then...?

[] Write-in

Please indicate a time on each action involving testing One For All.

I.e, [] Test your legs- run, jump, hop about, just move and see how your legs keep up. (20 minutes)

For every hour's worth of actions, roll 2d20. Other actions, like talking to your sister, are assumed to be done in tandem with one of the other options, and thus don't count towards the current hour. You have a maximum of six hours or 12 timed options, whichever comes first. ​

 

[Prok]

Apologies for the wait. Turns out training scenes aren't my greatest strength.

|||

You stroll to one edge of the corridor-like clearing, surrounded by the shells of ships, covering you from the roadside and offering you a nice view of the sea, in spots. You can't help but feel claustrophobic while surrounded by these hulking nautical carcasses of the past.

... I-I mean, when you put it like that... I feel small now.​

"... Well? C'mon, let's see the magic happen." Mary calls out from the sidelines, snapping you from your thoughts. Right!

Right, yes! We were out here to train!​

Just need to transform, and then you can start testing! Yes, that's all you need to do. Just, transform, then you can start doing stuff, figuring out your power, and take your first step towards being a big damn hero!

... Oh God you have no idea how to trigger One For All.​

... You have no idea what you're doing.

And you can't hear me, so I can't tell you.​

Ok. Think.

... God fucking dammit.​

"I'm waiting!" Your sister yells.

​

"And you're not helping! Gimme a minute!" You yell back over your shoulder, slightly annoyed at her impatience.

Ok! Ok, I believe in you! You seem smart enough to do this on your own! Please be smart enough to do this on your own! Please.​

Ok. Think. The first time you used your power was maybe around four, five hours ago. You focus on how it felt.

​

Lightning.

Come on, my boy, I know you can figure this out!​

That's the word that comes to mind when you think about your power, about how it feels. When you were lying on your bed, too weak to move in that half-formed body, it was internalised, leaving you almost paralysed with the sensation of electricity running through your body. Then you grew properly, and it sort of... surfaced.

Yes, focus on that, you can do this!​

So... you just have to make that happen again. Just kind of pull it out.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. As you think about calling it forth, that same energy leaps forth at you like a sudden rush of adrenaline. Instead of letting it go, like you did at the table, you make a point of calling it forth even further.

Yes! Yes!​

You want this. You imagine your new form, muscled, defined, larger than you in body and spirit. You imagine the sensation of raw power that you held no less than six hours ago, and how you felt knowing you'd gained powers. That feeling of elation, the idea that you could be something more than just Greg Veder. You focus on the idea of being a hero. You feel your muscles go taut for an instant, the energy grabbing hold of your muscles.

You want to be a hero.

YES!​

You feel it in your core first. There's a sudden crack of something shifting into its rightful place once more, and the lightning comes, eager to be released, relishing the idea of being used. You feel muscle and bone materialise from the aether, your scalp tingle as your hair grows out, and you fight the sudden disorientation of growing two feet up and out in less than ten seconds. You feel your cotton shirt and hoodie strain against your new musculature, your shorts less so, and the feeling of electricity tingling across your skin greets you again like an old friend.

HAHA! WOO, THIS FEELS JUST AS GREAT AS IT USED TO! Hah... Ok. I'm calm.​

(Current power level- 10%.)

You move, and the feeling of your new muscle shifting underneath your skin is...

Heady. You gently rotate your wrists, simply fascinated by how different it feels to be this muscular. You move on to your arms, the sensation much the same but somehow better.

"Um. Wow." You hear from right behind you, breaking you from your one man flexing contest before you can move on to appreciating anything else. You turn back to see Mary staring at you with wide eyes.

"Well? Has the magic happened yet?" You ask, your voice carrying across the clearing with ease and a confidence you wouldn't normally associate with yourself. You feel your chest and throat rumble as you speak, drawing your attention down to your pectorals- focus, focus. Admire later.

Right! Now that you've figured it out, I suppose you'll be working out how to use it, no?​

... Possibly in front of a mirror.

It snaps your sister from her shock, leaving her slowly shaking her head. "I... Yeah. Yeah, it has. Um. Wow. I didn't think it would be that... fast."

"Honestly, I didn't either." You admit. You expected it to be a slow, drawn-out process of figuring out how to transform, then the transformation itself being slow and uncomfortable.

In a world where villains can appear with little notice, one must have their tools ready at all times!​

... You're not complaining. You're just surprised.

"Well... what next?" Mary asks, prompting you to stop and think about what your next step is.

So far, your transformations have either been in the heat of the moment, or you just sort of feeling about until something happens. You should... probably work out something a little more concrete to use. A trigger, so to speak.

That would be a good start, yes.​

You say as much to your sister, and then you think about...

Pushing the power down.

Ah, um, that's not a very good idea-​

Your attempts to push it down works, somewhat- the tingling dives deeper into your body, condensing in your bones as a sensation you would normally attribute to shoving a fork in a wall socket, almost fighting back against your attempts to shove it down. After a moment, you let go of it, unable to bear the feeling much longer. It rises back up to the surface, setting your skin prickling again.

... I did try to warn you. You can't say I didn't try.​

... Ok. Forcing it is a little too aggressive. Got it. What about just... letting go?

That... might work. It seems that One For All has a different set of triggers for you.​

You focus on that in the same manner as you did for pushing it down, and find the results a little more promising. You focus on letting go, and suddenly your vision is blocked by a white vapour that suddenly fills your hoodie. Like before, the transformation back is almost instantaneous, leaving you in the clearing, feeling really very small.

... Well I'll be damned. No clenched buttocks for you, then.​

You're... gonna have to get used to that, aren't you? As you get used to your new, er, old body, you realise that your clothes are thankfully not much worse for wear. Your shirt is a little looser than it was this morning, but other than that, everything else seems fine!

That's good. You focus on calling the power out again, finding it much easier now that you have an idea of what you need to do, and suddenly, you're a wall of meat again. Getting into the right mindset takes about five seconds by your (rather hazy) count, and the transformation another two or three. The transformation back, too fast to count.

You think you have the hang of it now. Time to move on to more productive pastures.

Finally!​

|||

First hypothesis- you look strong, therefore, you are strong.

Correct!​

Supporting evidence- you feel stronger. That could just be a side effect of the transformation, but you still feel a lot stronger.

Proposed testing method- You are the muscle wizard now. It's time to cast Fist.

... What on earth is a muscle wizard?​

"You sure this is a good idea?" Your sister asks from behind you and a large piece of metal that's buried itself in the sand.

"Why? It's not like I'm going to be hitting anything solid."

You choose to not use your power against anything solid in case you're over/underestimating it. Causing a collapse would be worse than breaking your wrist against a rusted steel hull, but both are still bad outcomes. So, shadowboxing it is. At your full power.

You take up a semi-decent boxer's stance you're fairly sure you just ripped from Rocky, legs apart, hands curled up into fists brought up to face height. You don't... technically know how to fight, so you're just... doing what comes naturally.

... Oh no.​

You stay stock still for a moment.

"..."

"..."

...​

"... You have no idea how to throw a punch, do you?" You hear from your personal peanut gallery.

"Nope." You admit as bluntly as humanly possible.

... I don't know what I expected.​

You hear the sound of flesh hitting flesh behind you.

​

"Goddammit Greg."

"I've never needed to! I don't get into fights!" You protest, turning and abandoning your boxer's stance to glare at her.

Really? Not even the odd tussle as a kid?​

"Guh... Fine, fine, just... don't tuck your thumbs into your fists, bend your knees, and don't lock your elbow at the end of the punch."

... Wait, isn't that a type of mushroom?​

That's... helpful, you suppose. Choosing not to question your sister's basic knowledge of fighting, you mentally dive through your memories to dredge up what you can about the martial arts, more specifically, anything about boxing.

You... think you might be able to jab. You take up the stance once more and work out the basic logistics of punching an imaginary face. You're currently facing down the clearing, towards the open sea. Nothing in your way. Just you, your fists, and a big, long stretch of empty space. You focus on your hands.

That's... close. Bring your chin down a bit, and keep one hand further out than the other. And spread your legs a little, your base is rather shaky.​

Jab. Your fist reaches out, twisting your knuckles to point to the sky in a movement that could almost be called fluid. You bring it back and repeat the motion with your other hand. As you get used to the feeling of punching, you begin mixing it up, left, right, leftleftrightleftright- The world falls away as you focus entirely on the motions, entering an almost meditative state of jabbing an imaginary opponent. You focus deeper, on the well of strength your power seems to be composed of and try to will it to do something more. You don't believe for a second that that feeling of sheer physicality means nothing. Honestly, you would be disappointed if that was all it was. An artificial high. No, there's something more there. You just need to find out what it is.

I believe in you, my boy. You can figure this out. All you need to do is pay attention to yourself.​

So, you concentrate. On your arms, on the strength rushing through your muscles, how it seems to rush to your fist and stop at the very end of every punch, burning against your knuckles. You just need to figure out how to get it past them.

You can do this. I know you can.​

How? You can feel it trying to force itself out, you just need to give it that last... little... Push.

Yes! You're so close! I just know it!​

You feel more power being drawn from your core, a feeling like molten metal rushing up your arm with the movement, pushing against your knuckles with incredible force then snapping free with the completion of the strike, the feeling drawing a yell from you.

"HA!"

The first sign it succeeded is the wind. Whatever force your punch had was enough to kick up a rather breezy wind, causing sand to shift, digging a ditch about two hundred feet long, by your estimates, and a couple inches deep. You watch the water ripple in a cone outwards, kicked into a small frenzy by the energy of your blow.

For your first proper use of One For All? Not bad. I mean, it's not smashing a giant robot's face in, but you still have all four limbs unbroken, so, score one for you.​

You lower your now shaking fist. It wasn't... much. But you knew that wasn't all you could do. If anything, you got the feeling that that was just a taster of what you can do.

You're... not wrong. If I had to guess, I would say that was... ten percent?​

... Holy shit that's a rush.

I know, right?​

"... Greg? You ok, buddy?" Mary snaps you from your reflection as she creeps out from behind her shelter, thankfully still standing. You turn to her and, now that the shock has worn off, start to get genuinely excited.

There's the adrenaline rush!​

"Did you see that?! One punch, and I dug a giant trench all the way out to the sea! Holy shit, I didn't think that would work!"

"I... you didn't think what would work?" She asks, ever so slightly concerned.

Right, you never actually told her how you felt your power, did you?

"I just started thinking about pushing my power out into my punches, then that happened!"

I told you it was user friendly! You didn't hear me, but I did!​

Your sister is quiet for a moment.

"... Huh. Well... at least you know you don't just look strong anymore."

Damn right you don't just look strong!

"You're pretty fast, too." She notes almost casually.

"How fast?" You ask, curious about what she saw. You didn't even notice- you were too focused on your inner self

"You started going fast enough that I couldn't see your fists near the end. They were just... a blur."

... Huh. So you're strong and fast. Good to know.

You're beginning to get honestly giddy now.

You're exploring your powers! And they're fucking awesome!

You might actually stand a chance against the villains in this town!

Your name is Greg Veder. You are the latest in a long line of people to carry the sacred torch of One For All.

And you just. Can't. Stop. Smiling.

... We may make something of you yet.​

...

You get the terrible sinking feeling that you just handed the universe a blank card to fuck you with-

Now now, don't think like that-​

Someone screams in the distance.

... Or do. Because apparently Murphy's Law is true here.​

"HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME!"

...​

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU BITCH!"

Goodness. Such language towards a lady. You should probably go and check that out.​

There- Sorry, there it is.

​

Well?

[] Ignore it- You're sure someone else will deal with it. Y-you should focus on your training. You wouldn't want to... to hurt someone, even if they are just a neonazi. Goodness no. You'll just, you'll just train for now. And, and then next time you'll be ready. Promise.

[] Investigate- See all that up there, in the Ignore It option? Fuck. That. Someone is in danger, you can help them, untested powers be damned. You're sure you'll figure out some way of stopping it with or without what little training you've had.

[] Write-in