All the Queen's Men (MCU SI spite fic)

[Mariadreaming9]

Chapter 1

I think I was four when I started to realize what had happened. Or three, I'm not sure. It wasn't until I was nearly five that my full adult mind stopped drifting in and out of focus.

[Quest: Make a mess! Reward: 1 point]

I stared at the small glowing box in front of my spaghetti dinner for a moment.

Oh shit.

I shrieked, flinging my hand through the screen and into my spaghetti in shock.

"Jackie!" yelled my mother as sauce splattered everywhere.

[Mission Complete! 1 point added]

Fuck.

…

"What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck," I chanted under my breath in timeout. Glowing blue box, tiny hands, a person I knew as Mom, but certainly wasn't the mom I used to know. Also, I was pretty sure my name used to be something else, and my hair used to be brown, not black.

[May I help you?] asked another blue box.

I stared at it in the manner someone might stare at a wasp that just wandered into the same room as them. It was both strange and familiar at the same time, and now that I thought about it I could remember seeing it in my new childhood before.

[Host?]

"What. The. Fuck," I said.

[Language!]

I took a deep breath.

"Okay," I said. "Okay. Fuck. What are you?"

[I am the System! My job is to assist you, my Host, in your journey into becoming a wonderful protagonist!]

I looked the box, then decided there was one logical reason for this.

"I'm schizophrenic," I declared sensibly.

[Host!]

Nope! Not dealing with that; not until I'm old enough to be diagnosed and medicated. Until then I was going to be firmly ignoring any glowing blue boxes or anything else that might be out of the ordinary.

…

I gaped at the TV screen.

"Coming soon: Captain America: The Way, The Truth, The Life, a true story to a theatre near you!" said an ad.

"Hmph," said my dad. "Wonder how patriotic this one will be."

I slowly turned to look at him, searching for any sign that he was shitting me.

Dad seemed to be totally normal. He glanced up to look at me. "Yes?" he asked with a smile. "Does Daddy's little princess want to sit with Daddy?"

"Sure," I said. If there was anything odd about my delivery, he didn't seem to notice.

…

Maybe I was in a coma? I totally had enough Marvel brain rot that I wouldn't be surprised that I was dreaming about it.

I had thought that maybe the documentary was a one-time thing. Maybe a joke or something. Until I saw news about how Stark industry's stocks were doing on the nightly news.

To test my theory, I stole some blank post it notes when Mom and Dad weren't looking, then wrote my old name, plus the name of a random thing in my room, and hid it, resolving to check in a week to see if it stayed the same. I'd already done the finger test to see if I was dreaming, and that said I was awake, but who knew if comas affected things like that.

Hopefully by then the annoying blue box would have gone away by then.

…

It had not and the note had not changed.

I stared at the post it note numbly. I really wasn't dreaming, was I?

In that case…

"Ummm… game thing?" I said. "Boxy? Err… System?"

[Yes Host?]

I squeaked and jumped in the air. "Fuck!" I said.

[Language!]

I took a deep breath and glared at the box. "Okay," I said. "I am tentatively- TENTATIVELY- willing to consider that you are not a hallucination."

[Host! ]

I pointed at it. "Don't you start," I said. "Okay, what do you do?"

[I told you! I am the System! My job is to assist you, my Host, in your journey into becoming a wonderful protagonist!]

I sighed. "Okay, but what does that even mean?"

[You live in a wonderful world of adventure! In time, you will grow up and become a wonderful protagonist of your own story. I will help you!]

"That tells me nothing."

[*shrugs*:3]

I rubbed the bridge of my nose. "Okay. Let me rephrase my question. What concrete actions can you do that will help me 'become a protagonist'?"

[I can offer and/or assign quests to reward you with points. These points can be used in the point shop to buy things that will help you in your life and or quests.]

I blinked and then narrowed my eyes. "Show me the point shop please," I asked.

The blue box opened up to show a wide array of products, growing, growing, growing…

I squeaked again. "Too much, oh my god that's waaay too much, can you, I don't know, just display the categories?"

[Done!]

That was more manageable. I read through the list.

"Okay, we have clothing, consumables… SUPERPOWERS!?"

I poked the superpowers button.

"Holy shit…" I breathed. There were like… a lot of options. Expensive options too. I didn't see a single option under 100 points, and the ones close to 100 points were very weak. Stuff like "Beginner tracking technique" and "Minor strength increase".

"Okay that's… no, I'm getting sidetracked. System? Go back please," I said. As much as I definitely wanted superpowers, I still knew way too little about what was going on to consider getting them. At least through this.

There were a lot of categories. Things like books, armor, weapons, something called "Bloodlines", and various other things. Admittedly I had to tear myself away from the section titled "Pets," but I managed to do it.

"Alright. System. How many points do I have?"

[Your point total is: 12]

"Okay. Great. Can you show me all the items you have for sale that are 10 pts or under?"

[Certainly!]

Honestly the selection… wasn't great. Mostly it consisted of candies and potions that created temporary effects, not useful effects either. More like, change the color of your hair for a day kinda thing. Although I just needed something solid to test my theory, I didn't want to just grab something that I'd use up and that would be it. I preferred things that lasted.

Finally, I made my selection.

[Purchase [Quartz Pendant] for 10 points? Yes/No]

Swallowing dryly, I selected yes. The screen flashed then the pendant slipped out of it into my waiting palm.

I looked at it. It wasn't anything fancy, just a dinky quartz crystal on a silvery chain, the kind of thing you'd get out of a dispenser for a quarter at an arcade. The only thing that made it special at all was that I could use it as a pendulum or enchant it somehow. But it was real. It felt real.

There was one last thing I needed to check.

I took the pendant and toddled downstairs.

"Daddy?" I asked as I poked my head into his office.

"Yes sweetie?" he asked.

"I found this in my room." I held up the pendant. "Do you remember who got it for me?"

Dad frowned and walked over to pick up the pendant. He looked it over, brows furrowed. "No, I can't say I do sweetheart," he said.

"That's okay," I said. "Can you put it on me?"

"Sure."

I lifted up my hair so Dad could put the necklace on me. The little quartz went thud on my chest. It felt warm from Dad's hands.

I looked up at him. "Thanks Daddy," I said.

"You're welcome sweetheart," he said.

I turned around and walked back upstairs. Once I was in my room with the door closed, I sat down on the floor hard.

He could touch it. It wasn't a hallucination. Oh fuck.

I curled up on the ground, clutching the little quartz pendant. I started breathing harder. Tears prickled my eyes. Fuck, fuck, fuck-

[Host, do you require assistance?]

I stared at the blue screen, and forced myself to slow down my breathing.

"What do you want," I said around the lump in my throat.

[Pardon?]

"What do you want with me? Why are you doing this?"

[Why am I helping you?]

"Yes. Why are you doing this? What do you get out of it?"

[A high-quality story]

"A high quality story? What the fuck does that even mean?"

[What do you consider to be a high quality story?]

"That isn't an answer. Lots of people have different ideas of what "high-quality stories" are. Since it is apparently your definition that matters, what do you think a high-quality story is?"

[A thrilling and thought-provoking story]

"Those words could mean so many things. And it doesn't answer my original question. Why are you doing this? And why me?"

[You were deemed a good candidate to be a protagonist]

"By WHO?" By this point, I felt like I was beginning to become hysterical.

[You don't have the qualifications needed for that answer]

"Fuck you."

[=C]

"Don't fucking pretend you care." I felt the tears come to my eyes again. No! I wouldn't cry in front of this thing.

I closed my eyes and got my breathing under control. Then I opened them.

"What happens if I don't play along?" I asked.

[Pardon?]

"What happens if I refuse to be a good protagonist? What if I just become a nobody instead?"

[I cannot force you to do something against your will, although I can assign punishment for failed missions. However, have you considered what it would mean if you fail?]

"What do you mean?"

[You have noticed right? This is not the world of your first life. This is the world of Marvel. You know what will happen.]

A golden gauntlet. Six stones. A snap.

[You are not the only one affected by your decisions.]

I heard the front door slam shut.

"Honey, I'm home!" yelled my mom.

"My parents," I whispered in horror.

Thanos killed half the people in the world, even if it was only temporary. There was no guarantee that either of my parents would survive. And aside from that, we lived in Queens. As in Queens, New York.

I started hyperventilating.

"Jackie? Mommy's- Jackie!?" Mom said as she opened the door.

I burst into tears. "MOMMMYYY!" I wailed.

…

We had dinner late because Mom was calming me down. When I finally stopped crying, they asked me what had set me off and I told them I stubbed my toe. Wasn't like I could tell them why I was really upset now could I.

I don't think they believed me. To be fair I was pretty subdued during dinner. It was only once it was mostly over that I spoke up.

"Mommy, Daddy?" I asked.

"Yes sweetheart?" Dad said.

"Can I learn martial arts?" I needed to be able to protect myself. Kiddie classes probably weren't worth much, but they'd get me started.

"Uh, sure I guess," said Mom.

"You know, I think your Je-je used to do martial arts," Dad said.

"Really? Grandpa did?" I asked.

"I didn't know that," Mom said.

"Yeah," Dad waved a fork. "Apparently it was a big thing when he was younger. But he wasn't very good, so he quit after coming to America and starting the restaurant. He doesn't like to talk about it much."

Grandpa was a Chinese immigrant, who started a fairly successful restaurant. Dad personally managed the main one in Queens, but there were several others, all in New York City. Grandpa was still the head, but he was talking about retiring and just letting Dad take over fulltime. I knew he'd come to America young but… I didn't really know his past.

I really hope he didn't used to be a part of some criminal gang.

Not the point though.

"I think there's a karate class by my work," said Mom.

"Can I do taekwondo instead?" I asked. I think I read somewhere that taekwondo provided a good grounding in all the different parts of martial arts. Maybe I should have chosen something Chinese, given that I was now half Chinese myself, but I remember way too many Chinese martial arts cults in Marvel to be comfortable with something like that, with Japan being nearly as bad. But I don't remember any Korean martial arts cults. I mean there probably were some, but with luck they wouldn't be as prominent. So, taekwondo would probably be safest for me.

"Sure honey," said Dad.

"Thanks." I loved my parents. Both my old ones and my new ones. Like fuck I was going to like this hell world take them away from me.

…

I slipped the crayon I hid from my parents out of my pants and hid with my flashlight on underneath my bed, notebook paper spread out in front of me. With a blanket in front of my door preventing any light from shining from under the doorframe, hopefully my parents wouldn't realize I was up past my bedtime.

"Alright," I said. "Timeline time."

It was the beginning of summer, in the year 2000. I wasn't certain if the Events of Captain Marvel had happened yet, but regardless, I was pretty sure that whole thing was out of my hands.

Careful questioning of the system revealed that the world I was in was mostly the one of the MCU. Mostly. The dickhead of a system refused to explain more aside from that the big crisis's that had marked the MCU (the attack on New York, the Snap, the Blip) were still accurate in so far as I didn't change them, but the smaller, less important characters were not necessarily the exact same as in their TV shows and movies. Which on one hand, god damn am I glad I wouldn't have to deal with Galactus the World Eater. On the other hand, not knowing what was accurate or not was going to give me paranoia issues.

Back to the timeline though. Assuming none of the What if..? stuff happened, Iron Man would have his big debut in 2008, something that was also pretty much out of my hands, given that he lived in Miami, and that I would be 13 at the time. Then come 2010 there was the Hulk attack in Harlem, Stark Expo, and Thor down in New Mexico. I couldn't do anything Thor, but the Hulk? Stark Expo? That I might be able to do something about. Not actually fight, for heavens sake, but I could probably set things up to keep civilian deaths down.

Finally, 2012. The end of normalcy for MCU Earth. People could excuse the Hulk as a science experiment, explain away Ironman as a genius, and ignore whatever happened regarding Thor in the buck end of nowhere, but not a fully fledged alien invasion of one of the most famous cities on Earth. Make it or break it point.

…wait. I was forgetting something.

I went back to the very beginning of my timeline and made a note.

September 2001. 9/11.

...

AN: While I was looking for something I remembered reading this absolutely terrible translated Chinese mcu si fanfic, Heroes of Marvel. So I hunted it down again and it was almost worse than I remember. The writer had little to no clue of the MCU timeline unless in the most general sense, it was a blatant power fantasy, and the mc was just sort of pushed around by the system, which was a shame because the premise had so. Much. Potential.

And since I felt like a writing palate cleanser would do me some good…

Meet my MCU SI spite fic. I am going to try and stick as close to the original premise as I can, while also being realistic and feeling in the blanks as needed along with a corrected timeline. And I am challenging myself to 1). Fully explore the premise wasted by the original and 2). Make it as good as I can.

Because for better or for worse, nothing seems to motivate me to write quite like spite does.

A NOTE ON 9/11 WITHIN THE STORY

9/11 was a horrible tragedy and will be portrayed as such. But I am including it because one of the things that frustrated me about the original fic is that it only focused on marvel and mcu things, ignoring things like how living in and growing up in America would have affected the MC. If you tracked ages and knowledge, the MC would have lived in NYC as a child during 9/11, which should have been a notable event in MC's life or had some effect on him.

Now it is understandable that the OG writer didn't include it, as I doubt that 9/11 has much presence in China's cultural consciousness, and also it starts when the MC is turning 16 a few months before Tony gets kidnapped in Iron Man 1, years after 9/11. However, I am dedicated to exploring the premise within the fic, I am also going to explore what it means to know a tragedy is coming but being powerless to stop it, as well as the cultural details about living in America a Chinese person wouldn't know about.

I mean, could you imagine being reborn, and then realizing when you are five years old that it is 2019 and that covid is coming? It would be incredibly traumatic and that's the energy I'm trying to bring here.

I will make this clear at the start: There is very little that my SI can do to change anything about 9/11. She's a toddler. And even if she could somehow convince people she knows the future, that would just mean that HYDRA would hunt her down. She is still going to try desperately to do something to mitigate effects, because she is a moral person based on me, and trying to prevent needless deaths is something we feel very strongly about.

ALSO!

I am not going to debate anything about 9/11. I am not interested in debates about who was at fault and why, or about how it could have been stopped, or worse, how Jackie the SI could stop it. Please do not trivialize the deaths and tragedy of the people involved.

A few more notes:

I am queer. There will be queer characters in this story.

The start will be fairly slow, as I am starting in 2000, way before Iron Man 1.

I have a long standing interest in occultism which will probably show up.

Although I have a mixed-race family, I consider myself white. I am going to try and be sensitive to racial issues, but there's a good chance I'll mess up. Please feel free to correct me if I do something wrong. If you have no interest in reading a white girl reincarnated as a biracial girl, totally understandable, have a nice day.

Jackie is going to get her childhood friend involved in arc 2, in an attempt to save him, which does involve making him aware of some of the darker sides of the MCU.

If any of these things are not to your taste, again, totally understandable, have a nice day and feel free to ignore my fic.

Full story is currently on Spacebattles, planning up updating once a day until caught up. Crossposting on here because why not? Also on AO3.

 

[Mariadreaming9]

Chapter 2

Now, it would be ludicrous to think I could actually prevent 9/11. Aside from the fact that it was the culmination of years' worth of international affairs that started before I was born, it would also happen a few weeks before my 6th birthday.

No, there was no way I could prevent 9/11. But maybe I could warn people… keep the deaths down.

It would take careful planning.

…

When I came home from my first taekwondo class, I talked my mom's ear off about ninja.

"They're so cool!" I told her.

"Oh, did you hear about them in class?" she asked.

"Yep!" I said, and tried not to think of how easy it was to lie to her. "I really like their costumes!" And more importantly, their masks.

One of the biggest causes of ongoing bodily trauma and deaths after 9/11 was the tons of toxic dust that the destruction of the Twin Towers spewed into the air, dust that was then mostly ignored because then they could reopen the Stock Exchange.

Cloth masks weren't the best solution, and I was pretty sure they'd do jack all against asbestos, but every little bit helped. If I could get my parents to wear some in the days afterwards, maybe that would help. I'd lost my grandpa in my last life to cancer. I didn't want to have to do that again.

I had slightly over a year to prepare. I had to make it count.

"Can we read about ninja next storytime?" I asked.

"Of course, Jackie," Mom said.

…

I started collecting newspapers. When Mom and Dad asked, I said that when I was older I wanted to be able to read what happened. Like a time capsule. They didn't want me keeping a ton of old newspapers, so we compromised, and I just started cutting out the front page. That was fine. I knew that the internet would probably have all these articles eventually if I really wanted to read what happened.

Really, I just wanted to be able to cut out letters to prevent my handwriting from being recognized.

Perhaps if this world had reasonably moral leadership, I would have been more sanguine about being recognized. But this world had Hydra.

And I was not about to let my parents be taken hostage so that Hydra could try and control an apparent precognitive.

…

Several weeks after I started Taekwondo class, Je-je called me into his study. We were having one of our frequent family dinners at his place in Flushing.

"You have started learning martial arts, yes?" he asked me with an unreadable expression. My paternal grandfather in this life was a big, sturdy man. I could instantly believe that he did martial arts in the past.

"Yes, Je-je," I told him.

He regarded me carefully for a moment.

"Why have you chosen this?" he asked.

I straightened up a bit. "I want to be able to protect myself and my family," I told him seriously.

"You know there are other ways of learning defense," he told me.

I looked at him. Like what? Kickboxing? I don't think they do kickboxing classes for five-year-olds. Not that I was going to say that to him aloud.

Grandfather sighed. "You have grown up here, in America. To you it is your home, and you belong here. But just because you feel like you belong doesn't mean you do. America has its own culture, and you need to be part of it."

I frowned and thought. It didn't sound like he was upset because I was doing a Korean martial art, rather that I wasn't being American enough.

"Je-je, a lot of Americans are in my class. Not just Asians either. There's black kids and brown kids and white kids too. Isn't Taekwondo an Olympic sport now? Martial arts is becoming an American thing."

"Is that so?" He looked thoughtful. "And how does your teacher treat you? Do they push you?"

"David Seonsaengnim is very kind. He says that everyone needs to go at their own pace, but as long as you keep doing a little a day, you will get better. He also says that the first thing you should do if you think there will be a fight is try to leave."

Which was good advice for a group of young children, even if it wasn't really applicable to my situation. Hopefully I could get into something a little more hardcore when I was older.

Grandfather hummed to himself.

"Very well. However, if your teacher ever starts to push you, or suggest you go to a more competitive program, I want you to talk to me first, understand?" he said.

"Okay Je-je."

Alright, I was definitely missing some context there. But at least grandpa is okay with things? And it sounded like he isn't in a martial arts cult, or some other Marvel world bullshit, which was good.

Still, maybe once I was older I'd start looking into boxing or another more "American" martial art…

…

Throughout my preparations, I was bothered by the System.

[Quest: Draw on the walls! Reward: 1 point]

"I'm not doing that," I declared as I doodled ninjas on a notepad. The system would pop up every once in a while, to offer me a quest. Sometimes it was having me help out or do something I didn't mind, and that I would do. But sometimes it would have me do naughty things, and that I would refuse.

[Are you sure? You could use the point. You only have 4 right now.]

"Pretty much the only thing that could tempt me in the store right now is a Freya charm for my parents, and that costs 100 points per charm. I've been tracking how often you offer quests, and the payout, and you only offer about 1 point a month. There's no way I'd be able to afford it in time. Also? I refuse to be a dick to my parents in the hopes it would help them."

The Freya charm was something that would keep my parents healthy, and I wanted two. But I also wasn't willing to put my parents through hell to make sure they were safe. People could argue that the ends matter more than the means, especially when it came to saving a life versus dealing with kid shit, but there were lines I wasn't willing to cross.

And I was afraid.

In my past life I had often went with the path of least resistance. And while that fine, even good in some cases, morality was not one of them. Not to mention, I don't think that the store the System showed me would offer literal superpowers if there wasn't the chance I could actually get those superpowers.

This world would see enough horrors coming from people with powers. I would not be one of them.

[Under certain circumstances, I can petition to raise the points earned. Especially if it's just by one.]

"Excuse me?" I asked.

[Under certain circumstances-]

"What. Circumstances."

[That's difficult to explain-]

"Bullshit!" I yelled in my head. "If this were due to the severity of what I am facing, you would have increased the points as soon as it became clear what I am trying to do. If it were due to importance, you would have increased the points before offering this quest in the first place! No, there is only one reason you'd increase the point value after letting me know you could, and that's to control me." I glared at the box. "Fuck off."

I turned back to my work, and decided to include the ninja stabbing a box. A blue box.

[So you will not take the quest? Even for 2 points?]

I gritted my teeth. What would it take for this thing to leave me alone? I took a moment to think of a way to make it clear that I wanted the System to go use a cactus in an extremely inappropriate way when something occurred to me.

"System, what counts as "drawing on the wall"?"

[Oh anything. Just use something that can be used to draw, to draw something on any wall in the house.]

"Okay. Then I accept. For two points."

[!?]

I grabbed a white crayon, walked into my wall closet, and drew a smiley face on the white wall covered by my dresses.

[…]

[Quest complete. 2 points added.]

I smirked. Malicious compliance bitch.

…

When it got colder out and the leaves started changing color, I started talking about Halloween.

"I wanna be a ninja!" I declared.

Mom and Dad cooed at me, having easily accepted my obsession with ninjas as one of those random obsessions all kids got. Some kids were obsessed with dinosaurs, some kids were obsessed with princesses, I was obsessed with ninjas.

"We'll see what Spirit Halloween has when it opens," Dad says.

"No! I want to make it myself!" I said.

Mom and Dad exchanged a look over my head.

…

We compromised. Dad would get most of my costume from a store, while I carefully stitched together my mask from two pieces of felt under my mom's watchful eye.

It wasn't a very good mask. When I breathed in and out I could feel all the places the air slipped around the edges.

It still felt like victory, and the pose I struck in the pictures looked triumphant.

…

I kept asking to make masks.

Mom and Dad were justifiably worried about me accidentally stabbing myself with the needles (which to be fair, I did), but I reminded mostly calm when I did, and after a few months when it was clear that I wasn't going to stab anything else or do something dumb like put a needle in my mouth, they stopped watching so closely when I made masks.

I didn't just make a ton of masks. I also made masks with little felt lady bugs on them, or little flowers, or stars. I made stripped masks, and spotted masks, and masks for everyone in the family, especially the uncle that ran the restaurant in Manhattan. Come Christmas I tried to make Christmas tree masks (although those were more green triangular blobs) and by the last day of preschool I had made a "ninja mask" for every child in my class, plus the teachers.

I think some of them had family in Manhattan. I hoped they would be okay.

…

The final phase of my plan came into effect. Every Tuesday my parents had "Date Night" and I had a babysitter. There were several rotating babysitters, but this night it was Mom's uncle, Great Uncle Mark. I didn't know a lot about Uncle Mark, but I did know that he was old, and if I asked to watch TV after dinner, he'd probably fall asleep watching it with me.

I alternatively felt like vibrating out of my seat and puking from the stress all throughout dinner. It wasn't hard for Uncle Mark to realize something was wrong.

"What's up kiddo?" he asked in his gruff smoker's voice.

"I'm not feeling too well," I said. "Can we watch TV?"

"Sure honey-bun," Uncle Mark said with a poorly hidden sense of relief. He was very clearly uncomfortable around young children, and didn't probably didn't want to have to deal with a sick fussy toddler. TV was an escape.

The couches in the living room were comfy. I knew that from experience.

It took half an hour for Uncle Mark to fall asleep.

I waited for five minutes after he started snoring for me to make my move. As lightly as I could, I slipped out of the room and headed to my bedroom. There I pulled out a little shoebox from under the bed, and from the shoebox, several letters.

The letters were the result of all the newspapers I had collected. They read "ON Sept. 1 1 the tWin Tower S Will be Attack!" or "2 Towers Attacked September 11th" and each had a little eye drawn on it. I had made them out of newspaper clippings glued to a piece of printer paper.

It wasn't very good.

But it was all I could do.

From the shoebox I grabbed two sandwich bags to use as makeshift gloves. With those gloves on I carefully folded the letters and placed them into envelopes.

One for the Pentagon. One for Washington D.C., the Secret Service. One for the Chief of Security at the World Trade Center. One for each news company and broadcasting service I could find the address for.

And one for the building I suspected was SHIELD's base in New York.

I hoped it would be enough.

(It would never be enough.)

Aside from ninja stuff, this Christmas I asked my parents for stickers. Number stickers. Letter stickers. Those "special Christmas stickers" from the post office, or stamps. These were what I used to write the addresses, carefully secured with clear tape to ensure none of the stickers fell off.

I carefully checked to see if Uncle Mark was still asleep. He was.

It was still warm out, so I didn't grab a coat. I just grabbed one of the mail flyers from the trash, and put it on top of my envelopes to hide them from any security cameras.

Moving slowly, I checked to see if any neighbors were inconveniently watering their garden or anything.

Nothing.

I padded down the sidewalk to the letterboxes, going to the one belonging to a woman who lived a few doors down from us. Mommy had complained that she kept having "strange men" over, so hopefully that would provide extra security.

I put the letters in the mailbox. I stuck the little flag up.

Then I turned around and walked back to my house.

I felt like I should have felt something. I had done it. Months' worth of planning and it was done. Out of my hands. I should have been relieved.

I wasn't.

I had nightmares that night.

…

I started kindergarten. We had a Mrs. Cherry as a teacher, and she loved wearing things with cherries on them. There were 30 kids in my class, of all sizes and shapes. It was far more diverse than the suburbia I had grown up in during my first life.

I wondered if any of them were Muslim. I wondered if any of them would have to deal with hate crimes because of what was about to happen. I wondered if any of them were about to lose family members.

Over the first few days I carefully learned everyone's favorite colors, then went home and made each and every one of them a mask.

My nightmares got worse. My parents were worried about me. When they asked, I told them I was worried about "bad guys attacking the city". They did their best to reassure me it would be okay.

They stopped watching the news when they thought I was awake, and telling me the newspaper hadn't come that day.

And then it was D-day.

…

AN:

System: Will you do it for a scooby snack?

Jackie: No.

System: Will you do it for two scooby snacks?

Jackie: *thinks about it*

Jokes aside, the toxic fallout of 9/11 and the mismanagement of it is a well-documented phenomena that caused and is causing severe medical issues to people who lived and worked in the zone around 9/11 when it happened. Here are a few great articles about it:

Health Effects of 9/11 Still Plague Responders and Survivors

9/11 Survivors Are Still Getting Sick Decades Later: 'Am I Next?' (Published 2021)

Wikipedia also has a great article about the health effects and the various controversies regarding mismanagement:

Health effects arising from the September 11 attacks - Wikipedia

Again, a quick reminder that this is not the place to debate about 9/11. If you feel the need to do that, please head to the forum for that.

 

[Mariadreaming9]

Chapter 3

Trigger warning: 9/11

I was able to get some sleep, but not a lot. I woke up when the sun started cresting the horizon, and watched it for the last hour before my parents came to get me to wake up.

I had to force myself to eat breakfast. It was a shame, Mom's pancakes were delicious. But I didn't have an appetite.

Daddy helped me pack all my masks into my backpack. "Are you sure you want to bring all of these?" he asked me. I had packed tons of extras of my masks.

"Yes. What if someone doesn't like their mask?" I said.

He ruffled my hair. "Oh sweetheart, how could anyone not like your masks? You worked so hard on them."

I didn't say anything. There was nothing to say.

I stuffed a few extras in, as well as a plastic bag with more masks and my sewing kit. Then we walked to the bus stop together, me with one hand in my dad's, the other fiddling with my quartz necklace.

I sat in what was becoming my normal seat. At the next stop, Sally got on and sat next to me in what was becoming her normal. Sally always wore pig tails, and` her backpack was pink. Her favorite Disney princess was Aurora because she loved fairies.

I offered her a mask. Pink, of course.

She giggled at me. "Princesses are better than ninja, you know," she said.

"Please," I said.

"Fine, you weirdo," she said and let me put the mask in her bag.

"Put it on if you feel scared. Then you can be brave like a ninja," I told her.

"Fiinnneee." Then she talked about the fairy story her dad read her last night for the rest of the ride.

We got off at the school and the nice recess supervisor ladies led all the kindergarten kids to their classes.

Miss Cherry greeted each kid at the door with a high five and a hug if the kid wanted one, then she helped us find our cubbies.

"I see you brought a special surprise today!" she told me. "Why don't we share with everyone at snack time, okay?"

"Okay," I said.

Miss Cherry tilted her head. "Are you alright?" she asked with a smile.

"Yeah," I said. "Just nervous."

"Ahhh," she said. "No worries. Everyone gets nervous sometimes, and that's okay. As long as we try our bestest with a smile, it will be a-okay, alright?"

"Yeah," I said.

"Teacher! Giselle hit me!" screamed one of the boys in my class. "No I didn't!" screamed another boy.

"Uh oh boys," Miss Cherry said as left to walk over to them. "Hitting people makes Miss Cherry sad…"

I tuned her out as I walked to my chair at one of the tables. It was a normal morning, despite what was about to happen. Children bustled about, playing, fighting, crying.

Just a normal morning.

We had morning playtime and then, after everyone got there, announcements and saying the pledge together. Then it was reading time. Miss Cherry pulled out a brightly-colored storybook with a fish on the front.

"Today we are reading 'The Rainbow Fish'!" she said. "And look at all the colors on the fish! Can you tell me what colors you see?"

It was a story about sharing what made you special with others and not being selfish. I both agreed and disagreed with it. Yes, it was good to share, but as Iron Man 2 had argued, giving away your special armor or abilities wasn't always the best decision. At the same time, if only a few people had special abilities, that could easily destabilize society and put everyone else at risk. But who's responsibility was it to decide what should be shared and what shouldn't?

"Now, which character is our favorite-huh?" Miss Cherry was interrupted as the class phone started ringing.

"Oop, just a second. Miss Cherry needs to get that and we'll be right back to reading, okay?"

This was it, wasn't it.

I watched as Miss Cherry bustled over to the phone. Watched her answer with a smile. Watched the smile break and hear the shocked "What?". Watched her glance out the window, as if she would be able to see something, then look over at us, her students, and realize the terrible responsibility she now had to protect us.

Miss Cherry put the phone down, looking frightened and fragile. I would be surprised if she was any older than twenty-five. She had no idea how to deal with this.

"Miss Cherry!" I yelled. "Can I share now?"

"Huh?" she said. "Oh… Oh! Yes, we can do that," she said as gathered herself and walked back to the reading time corner.

"Okay class," she said as she got there. "Just like the Rainbow Fish shared its scales, one of our classmates has something to share with us. Jackie? Can you get your bag and tell us about what you're sharing?"

With Miss Cherry's help, I got my backpack and bag and walked to the center of the reading time semicircle.

"This is a ninja mask!" I declared as I held one of them up. "They were worn by special warriors called ninja a long, long time ago. It can protect you against dust and smoke in the air! And also if you wear it you can be brave like ninja too!"

That had all the important details. Both that it would protect them, at least a little, from the toxic dust cloud that was probably now blooming over NYC, and that it would help them be brave. Like a security blanket.

I passed out the masks to everyone with Miss Cherry's help. Each mask specifically for my classmates were in its own little baggy with their name on it, so that was easy. Once all of the kids had their masks and were playing with them, I grabbed the mask I had put in a side pocket, and walked over to Miss Cherry.

"Miss Cherry? This one is for you," I said, holding up the navy-blue mask. "It has a cherry on it. So you can be a brave ninja too."

Miss Cherry's smile wobbled as she accepted the mask, and she leaned down to hug me.

"Thank you," she said, and I could feel her trembling just a little through the hug. For some reason, it reminded me of a quote.

'The world should have protected you, but you have been asked to protect it.

What an honor.

What an injustice.'

After that, Miss Cherry set us up with Rainbow Fish coloring sheets while she had hushed conversations with people just outside the classroom.

I didn't really feel like coloring, but I hated the thought of doing nothing more. So I gave my fish strips, in red, white, and blue. Perhaps I should have felt something more. Perhaps I should have been furious.

But all I could feel was a sort of exhausted grief.

"Alright class!" Miss Cherry said with false cheer. "I have good news! Most of us are going to go home early!"

She paused to let us cheer. I didn't, but most of my classmates did.

"Okay, now we need to pack. Can everyone go get their water and lunch boxes please? No pushing!"

There was pushing. I didn't want to deal with it all, so I waited for most of the class to get theirs before I got mine. Throughout it all Miss Cherry was helping kids pack their bags and go sit in a line by the door.

The intercom crackled to life.

"Teachers, students. We are evacuating to the gym. Please remain calm and stay orderly," it said.

"Miss Cherry what does e-vac-tu-ae-ting mean?" asked a classmate.

"It means we are going to a safe place," Miss Cherry answered. "So lets hurry up and get our things, okay?" She started singing. "Hurry up, hurry up, hurry-hurry uuuup."

Once all of us were in a line, Miss Cherry gestured for us to stand up.

"Okay, we're going to go to the gym now," she said.

One of the boys raised their hand. "Miss Cherry, I have to use the potty," he said.

I could see Miss Cherry momentarily bluescreen. "You can use it at the gym," she said.

"But Miss Cherry I have to go noooowwww."

"Miss Cherry I have to go too!"

"We are going to the gym!" Miss Cherry said as she started off. "And we will use the bathroom at the gym, it is literally one minute away from here."

The children whined but nobody wanted to be left behind so we all followed. The bathrooms were right next to one of the gym entrances, and Miss Cherry got one of the teachers inside to take the rest of us in while she helped the others use the bathroom.

The mood inside of the gym was tense. Most of the older kids seemed frightened, and some people were hugging each other and crying.

Off to the side, a frantic looking parent was cussing out the office lady.

"Where the fuck is my son?" he yelled at her. "I was told the kids were here so where the fuck is he?"

"Sir please calm down-"

"Don't fucking tell me to calm down when there are people dying out there!"

You could feel the moment when all the kids realized what the man had said. Simultaneously about 20 kids burst into tears while every teacher in earshot glared at the man.

"Daddy!" yelled one of the boys in my class that had used the bathroom as he ran up to the man, followed by an exhausted looking Miss Cherry.

"Ian!" yelled the man in relief, picking up his son and hugging him tightly. "Oh thank god you are okay."

"Daddy what's wrong?" Ian asked.

"He said people were dying outside!" a girl yelled.

Ian promptly started wailing as well, setting off a fresh chorus as his dad frantically tried to calm him.

At that moment a pink blur knocked into me and I found myself being hugged by a blonde girl.

"What- Sally?" I asked.

She was sobbing hard as she hugged me, mask snotty and askew on her face. I froze for a moment before squeezing her back, and let my world narrow and focus.

I've never been good at being strong for myself. But I can be strong for others.

"It's okay, it's okay, we're safe here," I murmured. "Our mommies and daddies will be here soon." I continued hugging her for a few minutes, then said, "I'm going to see about drawing something. Would you like to help?"

Tearily, she nodded into my shoulder. I gently tugged her over to where Miss Cherry, who had the foresight to grab scratch paper and crayons, had set up a little art station.

"What do you want to draw?" I asked as I grabbed a paper, one side being an alphabet writing practice sheet for the letter b, and the other side blank.

"I 'unno," she said.

I hummed and tilted my head. "Want to draw princesses?"

"Okay."

We drew princesses. I gave mine a ninja mask and after a moment Sally did too.

One of the teachers wheeled in the big box tv on the wheeled cart and started playing "The Lion King" in one corner of the room. In another corner, a teacher started reading Harry Potter aloud to some of the older kids. The school nurse had grabbed pillows and blankets and started a nap corner.

And parents kept coming.

Every other minute someone would yell a name and children would run to their parents and vice versa. Slowly the room began to empty.

Sally's mom got there first.

Just like her daughter, she was a blur as she picked her daughter up and hugged her with all her might. "Oh, my baby, oh my princess," she babbled. "You're alright, you're okay, Mommy's here now. Oh thank goodness you're okay."

After she slowed down and stopped shaking, Sally's mom pulled back to look at her face. "And what's this here?" she said with a smile through her tears.

Sally hiccuped. "It'sa ninja mask," she said. "It makes me brave."

"Of course. And what a brave princess you are too," said Sally's Mom. "And who's this?" she asked as she looked at me.

"I'm Jackie," I said as Sally said, "She's my friend."

"Nice to meet you," said Sally's mom.

I nodded, and held out the drawing Sally and I had made together. "Would you like our drawing?" I asked.

"Are you sure?" she asked. I nodded. I didn't want it after all.

"Thank you, that's very kind of you," she said as she leaned down, still carrying Sally, to grab it with one hand. "Say goodbye Sally," she said, "We're going home now."

"Buh-bye," said Sally.

I waved as I watched her mom carry her to the office lady, and then from the room.

I sat down, and wrapped my arms around my knees. I was so tired.

…

My mom came for me shortly afterwards.

Just like all the other parents she scoped me up and held me tightly.

"Mommy," I said as I hugged her back, and wished desperately that she could make everything okay again. "Mommy, I'm so tired."

"Okay, Baby," she said. "We're going to go home now, and you can take a nap there."

"Okay. Can I say goodbye to Miss Cherry?"

"Of course."

Mommy set me down and I walked over to where Miss Cherry was comforting some of the kids who's parents hadn't come yet.

"Miss Cherry?" I asked.

"Yes Jackie?" she said with a tired smile.

"I'm going now. Thank you," I said as I opened my arms for a hug.

She wrapped one arm around me, careful not to dislodge the child in her lap.

"You're welcome," she said. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye Miss Cherry."

Then I left with my mom.

The parking lot was a mess. There was another office lady directing the parents to the gym while parents fought over parking spaces and driving.

Mommy picked me up and put me in my booster seat. Then she got in the driver's seat and we left.

Over the tops of the trees and buildings, I could see a dark cloud of smoke rising from where I thought Manhattan must be. I thought I should be crying, but all my tears were already cried out.

I hoped my uncle was okay.

Dad wasn't at home when Mom got there, but she assured me that he was on his way.

Okay. I was so tired.

Mommy carried up to my bedroom and tucked me into bed.

I fell asleep.

…

I woke up to a blue box hovering over my head.

[CONGRADULATIONS!] It said. [For your hard work at attempting to prevent 9/11, you have earned 1,000 points!]

I-

What-

No.

Nononono

"shut up," I whispered, "shutupShutUpSHUTUPSHUT! UP! I DIDN'T DO IT FOR FUCKING POINTS I DON'T WANT YOUR FUCKING POINTS I-"

Mommy and Daddy came running in.

I wailed.

…

AN: So. 9/11.

I wrote this using these first hand accounts as references;

When the planes hit on Sept. 11, they were at school. Here's what they remember 20 years later.

On 9/11, I Walked My Third Graders More Than a Mile Away From the World Trade Center Attacks

as well as memories of being in lockdown due to school shootings (been in real lockdown 3 times, but never actually in a real shooter situation)

 

[Mariadreaming9]

Chapter 4:

They said we could go back to school two days later.

I didn't really know how to feel about that. It almost felt like there should have been more fanfare or something, right? Like a ton of people died, the country was irrevocably changed, and how do they deal with it?

Back to school missy! It's time to be normal again!

Granted, I… hadn't really dealt with things very well. Mommy and Daddy hid the news from me as best they could, outside of a talk about how "sometimes bad things happen sweetie, that's why we have a big family, so we can help each other out when bad things happen".

Doing relaxing things felt disrespectful to all the people affected by the tragedy, but doing nothing felt even worse. And it wasn't like I, an apparent five-year-old, could really do anything.

So I made masks. A lot of masks. For anyone I could, but mostly for the staff of the restaurant in Manhattan my uncle ran. I overheard from a phone call once the lines were finally working that they could smell the dirty air over there.

The night before school was to start, Daddy pulled me aside.

"Jackie, sweetie," he said. "You know how your school is opening tomorrow?"

After my nod, he continued.

"Well, your principal says that the students can bring something from home so they can feel more comfortable, like a blanket or teddy bear. Would you like to pick one out?"

"Can I bring a mask?" I definitely didn't want cancer, even if I was probably far away enough for it to not matter.

"Of course sweetie," Mommy said. "But would you like to pick out something else too?"

"Okay Mommy," I said as I grabbed her hand and we walked to my bedroom.

"Alright, so here we have Gau," Daddy said as he held up a worn beanie baby dog. Mommy held up a rainbow blanket. "Or you could take the blanket Granny knitted for you when you were three," she said.

I tried to smile at them but it felt flat. They were trying, and I did love them but… I don't think any of us were prepared to deal with this.

Still…

I looked around my bedroom. It was filled with little childish things, a normal bedroom for a normal little girl. Lilac walls. A bed with purple blankets with yellow stars. A shelf full of pretty rocks from various outings. Walls covered in pictures and drawings, and various knickknacks from family adorning the drawers and shelves. But I didn't think I really wanted to take any of them to school.

The toybox at the foot of my bed was full of different things I could take to school, from the ninja action figure that Uncle Mark got me, to the many dolls and barbies, to the brain building "edutainment" toys. But none of those really felt comforting.

Well, if I wanted comfort…

I looked at my collection of stuffed animals. I wasn't really attached to any of them, but…

From the middle of the pile, I picked up a teddy bear dressed in a Captain America outfit with a little stuffed shield. I had gotten him about a year ago, when I was still trying to figure out if I really was in the MCUniverse or if I was just hallucinating. One of the stores had been doing a promotion with the new documentary coming out, and Dad caught me staring at the display for too long. Since my birthday was coming up, he bought me one. I hadn't had the heart to tell him I had been looking for a little Sony Entertainment or Disney tag.

"Oh, you want to bring Captain?" asked Mommy.

I nodded as I hugged him. It would be a good reminder, that it wasn't just me, and this wasn't forever. Someday Steve Rogers would wake up, Tony Stark would become Iron Man, and the Avengers would be formed.

I just needed to be ready.

Daddy knelt down to look me in the eye. "I think Captain will do a good job of protecting you," he said. "Do you want to put him in your backpack now or in the morning?"

"In the morning, Daddy."

"Alright princess."

…

School had a late start. Mommy and Daddy both took time off of work to drive me, and I don't think anyone protested. Everyone wanted to spend time with their families right now.

There was a long line of cars to get into the school. If it were a normal day, I'd probably be worried about being late, but today, it felt like it didn't really matter.

Finally, we reached the front gate. As Dad was helping me get out of the car, a voice called out to us.

"Harry?"

I turned to see an auburn-haired man with a magnificent mustache get out of the car behind us.

"Scott?" Dad said.

"Oh, Scott!" said Mom as she was also getting out of the car.

"Mary! It's been a while…" the man tried to smile but then grimaced. "Hey," he said. "How've you been holding up?"

Dad shrugged, looking uncomfortable. "Well, no one in the family got hurt… but…"

"Ah. Yeah."

Scott opened his arms and he and Dad hugged, then he and Mom hugged.

I looked around my parents to look at the little boy clutching a firefighter teddy bear behind the man. Awkwardly, I silently offered him a hug as well, and he accepted. He was bigger than me, but not by much, and I could feel his hands shake as he gripped my t-shirt.

"Ah, your daughter?" said Scott. "Jackie, right?" he asked me.

I nodded.

"This is my son, Tom. I don't think you've ever met." He gestured at the boy.

"Nice to meet you," I said.

He nodded, then turned to his dad.

Daddy knelt down by me. "Time for school," he said as he hugged me. "I love you."

"Love you too Daddy."

Mommy checked my backpack. "And you have Captain in here if you get scared. I love you sweetie."

She held her arms out for a hug.

"Love you too Mommy," I said into her shoulder.

Then it was time to go to enter the school.

…

Class was the quietest I could ever remember it being. A few kids played halfheartedly, but most were just quietly sitting at their desks or scribbling.

Miss Cherry had handed me Captain after she helped me unpack my backpack, and I sat hugging him as I waited for class to really start.

One of the first things we did was go to a morning assembly about 9/11.

The principal started out by telling us how sorry he was that this had happened to us, and that was all I heard before I tuned him out. I had gotten enough of that from the news and family.

There were a lot of empty spots in the bleachers.

…I wonder how many of them were mourning friends and family.

"…it is important for us to be strong in times of adversity…"

Strong, sure. But was that really the best response to this?

"…we will be having extra school counselors come in to help in these difficult times…"

That was nice. I wonder how the school was affording that. Volunteers maybe?

"That is all. Thank you. You may return to your classes."

…

After the morning assembly, Miss Cherry had us drawn our feelings and what happened. I wasn't really certain what I was feeling, so I just drew the smoke from the wreckage I'd seen over the rooftops. Some other kids drew the same thing. One kid had seen a video of the towers falling on the news and drew that.

Then we got in a circle and gave each other hugs. A lot of kids cried, but I wasn't one of them. I suppose if there was anything I was feeling it was… detached. Disconnected. Like I had cried out all my feeling and was now just drifting along.

Suppose it was a good thing I hadn't tried to draw that.

We had lunch.

Then recess.

The whole day had a quiet, shell-shocked feeling. I was sitting in a corner of the playground when I heard "You caused it! You caused it!"

I looked over to see an angry red-haired boy with a splotchy face point at a cringing dark-skinned boy that was in my class, Samar or Omkar or something.

Frowning, I got up and wandered over.

"You people made the towers fall!" said the red-haired boy as he pushed my classmate.

"No we didn't!" yelled… Onkar?

"Hey!" I interrupted.

Both boys turned to look at me.

"Wanna play Captain America?" I asked my classmate, ignoring the other boy. If I remembered right, one way to deescalate a situation was to engage the victim in calm, friendly dialogue while ignoring the perpetrator. Regardless of how annoying they are.

Sam…kar? Nodded while the other boy scowled. "He doesn't deserve to play Captain America!" he yelled.

I ignored him. Don't hit the child.

"Okay, I have a Captain America teddy. Do you want to hold him? I can be Bucky," I spoke calmly to my classmate.

"Stop talking to the terrorist!" Tiny hands shoved me.

I exploded.

"HE'S INDIAN YOU RACIST FUCK!" I screamed as I threw Captain at his head.

The red-haired boy stumbled and landed on his butt. Then he started wailing.

So of course that was when the recess supervisor noticed us.

…

AN: Witness the rise of Islamaphobia. BTW I just wanted to mention that obviously the way that kid behaved was not okay regardless of if he was or was not actually interacting with a Muslim. I just wanted to make a point that often phobes incorrectly identify their target, like transphobes doing things such as targeting masculine looking cis women.

 

[Mariadreaming9]

Chapter 5

We got sent to the principal's office.

Stephen, the red haired boy, and Omkar (thank you office lady) were wailing all the while, Stephen saying we'd attacked him, Omkar saying he'd attacked us, and then there was me, saying nothing at all.

I was so done with all of this.

Just so done.

Logically I knew that this was a reasonable thing for the school officials to do. No one was watching except for us, and none of us had much of a reputation, therefore this was now a he-said-she-said situation. Likewise, I realized that Stephen was probably just repeating what he'd heard at home. After all, he was five. He probably didn't really understand what he was saying. That, or he wasn't thinking about what it really meant.

I didn't care.

I had been on an emotional rollercoaster these past few days, and I was tired.

Fuck all of this.

I stared at the principal as he scolded us for fighting, and told us that he was calling our parents. Like yes, please waste everyone's time with this bullshit.

Of course, that just made Omkar and Stephen cry more.

The crying settled down as we sat in the office's waiting area to await our parents. By the time I heard multiple pairs of adult footsteps coming to the door, they had calmed down to mere sniffles. Which of course meant it started up again as each kid saw their parents and ran to hug them.

My parents were last in through the door, and unlike the two boys I walked to hug them.

"I hate school," I said into Mom's shoulder.

I felt more than heard the huff of laughter as she said, "Yes, I felt that way many times myself."

"Mary…" my father said.

"What? It's true." She smiled as she looked up at him.

"Ahem," said the office lady. "Now that everyone's here, we can begin. If you would enter the office?"

My parents sighed, schooled their expressions into something more serious, and we all walked into the principal's office room.

It was a tight squeeze. Since Omkar, Steven, and I were little, we sat in our moms' laps while the dads squeezed in behind us.

The principal shuffled some papers with his dark-skinned hands before he looked up at us.

"Alright," he said in his deep, steady voice. "We all know why we're here. Now, I know that everyone is probably feeling a lot right at this moment, so lets try to keep that in mind and stay calm. My hope is that we can get this squared away today, without it becoming a huge problem. Alright?"

Everyone murmured an agreement.

"Wonderful. Now, let's begin. Stephen, why don't you tell us your side of the story?"

Stephen told everyone a highly edited version of what happened; according to him he was "talking" to Omkar when I wandered over, ignored him when I asked Omkar to play Captain America, then I hit him when he tried to talk to me.

Honestly I couldn't even tell if he was lying or he just didn't know the words for harassing Omkar like he was; it could've been either.

Then it was Omkar's turn.

"Stephen was being mean to me-" "No I wasn't!"

Stephen started crying again, which set off Omkar. I had to resist the urge to rub my face and sigh. Oh no, not more crying.

Luckily with both their parents in the room they were quieted quickly, and Stephen was firmly told to let Omkar speak. That allowed Omkar to tearily finish his story. He was much nicer to me, insisting that Stephen attacked me first and that I just swung at him, not actually hit him.

Then it was my turn.

"I heard yelling so I looked over," I said. "Then I heard Stephen tell Omkar that his people made the towers fall. So I asked Omkar if he wanted to play Captain America so we could leave and hopefully Stephen would stop bothering him. Stephen said that Omkar didn't deserve to play Captain America, then he pushed me so I threw Captain at him. Then Stephen fell on his butt and started crying. Yes, I realize hitting people is bad. I will apologize if Stephen says sorry to Omkar, because he started it."

Now please let it be over. If I had to deal with more crying children I was going to start hitting things.

The principal frowned. "Did you say that?" he asked Stephen.

Stephen mumbled something, while Omkar said, "Yes he did!"

The principal sighed. "Well, before we do anything else, I think Stephen needs to say sorry to Omkar and Jackie needs to say sorry to Stephen."

"You believe them?" said Stephen's dad in a dangerous sounding tone. I blinked up at him. Wait… something was off about how he looked. Was… was he drunk?

Stephen's dad's eyes were slightly unfocused, and he might have been swaying.

Holy shit. This guy was sloshed.

"They have the same story. And Stephen's teacher said he was behaving similarly to other kids in his class."

"What, is she a terrorist too?" Oh no. This was gonna end badly.

"Sir, please do not call any of my faculty terrorists. They are wonderful people who work hard at their jobs and they deserve respect."

"I bet you'd say that, you-"

"Dear!" his wife interrupted him. With that he paused, seeming to realize he had errored.

Principal took his glasses off and looked at Stephen's dad.

"I think this is a discussion that we should have without the children present," he said.

That was all I needed. I was off my mom's lap and headed out of the room, pausing to grab Omkar when it looked like he wanted to stay with his mom. Stephen's mom scooped Stephen up and deposited him outside the door as well.

As soon as the door closed the shouting started.

Omkar grabbed my arm in a death grip as he stared at the door. Stephen looked like he might cry again.

I sighed. As much as I didn't like him, this wasn't Stephen's fault.

"If you say sorry to Omkar, and promise to be nice," I told him. "Then you can sit on my OTHER side."

Stephen hesitated, but then the shouting got louder and he darted to my other side. "Sorry," he hissed under his breath.

"Promise not to do it again?"

"Fine."

It wasn't much, but if he broke his promise I'd tell the other kids and that would do the rest.

Kids could be cruel like that.

I looked towards the ceiling, and hummed something I'd heard on the radio that morning to try and block out the noise from the office.

After what felt like way too long, but was probably only a few minutes, the door opened and Stephen's dad stormed out. He grabbed Stephen, swept him up into his arms and marched out of the office towards the parking lot.

Stephen's mom hurried out after them. She paused at the door to look back at us.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "He's not a bad person, it's just that Harry lost his sister in the towers, and he took it badly. He's not normally like this. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive him."

Omkar's mom looked at her. "I'm sorry for your loss, but that doesn't make anything he just did okay," she said. "And you aren't the one who should be apologizing, or asking for forgiveness."

Stephen's mom hunched inwards for a moment, before Stephen's dad yelled, "Martha!"

"Coming!" she yelled back, before looking at us one more time. "Sorry," she said again, then she disappeared out the door as well.

The principal sighed. Then he knelt down to look me and Omkar in the eye. "I'm sorry you had to see that," he said. "Sometimes adults get upset and fight too, even though that's not okay either. Are you alright?"

Omkar and I nodded.

"That's good," said the principal. "Now, in light of what happened, I don't think either of you should be punished. So no punishment, okay? But Jackie?"

"Yes?"

"I think that maybe you shouldn't bring Captain again." He tapped my teddy bear. "Can you bring something else tomorrow?"

"Sure." Would be easy enough.

"Good. Now, I know that none of this has been fun, so parents? Would you like to take your kids home for the day?"

"Please," said Mom.

"Very much so," said Omkar's dad.

I waved goodbye to Omkar as my dad picked me up and his parents fussed over him. Then it was out to the car.

Oh thank god. I was so tired. I just wanted to collapse onto my bed and pass out.

We drove out of the parking lot. Unlike earlier, my parents didn't turn the radio on as they pulled onto the main roads.

After a moment, Dad started. "Are you okay Jackie?" he asked.

"Yeah." We lapsed into silence again.

"Hey Jackie?"

"Yeah Mom?"

"You know how me and Dad look different?"

"Yes?"

"Well, not just how different people look different, but different groups of people look different?" Mom started to ramble.

"Mary," Dad interrupted her. "Let me. Now Jackie. You know how I'm Chinese? And my side of the family is Chinese?"

"Yes?" It was extremely obvious.

"And how Chinese people look different from people that have dark skin? Or people from Mom's family?"

"Yeah." Oh. We were doing the racism talk.

"Well sometimes, people group everyone that looks similar together and judge them."

"Like Stephen's dad?"

"Yes, exactly. And that's not right. Even if they judge that group in a good way, its not fair to the people being judged."

"But most of the time they decide all the people who look different from them are bad," said Mom. "And then say that its okay for them to treat those people badly because of that badness."

"Okay."

"What we're trying to say is that sometimes you will run into people like that. People who will say you are bad because of the color of your skin and the shape of your eyes."

"Ah." What was there to say about that. I cringed inside. Hopefully this would be over soon.

"And that isn't true," said Dad. "You are the person who decides who you are. But there isn't a lot you can do to stop the people who say you are bad. Often times, the only thing you can do is ignore them."

"I can do that." I was good at ignoring things by now.

"Good," said Dad awkwardly. "But you can always come to us as well. We'll help if you need it."

"Thanks dad." It was a sweet gesture, even if I knew they probably wouldn't be able to do anything if something happened either.

"Of course. Love you Princess."

"Love you too."

Was it over? Please let it be over. This was more awkward than the sex talk I'd had in my first life.

"And Jackie?" It was Mom this time.

"Yeah Mom?"

"You know how Martha- Stephen's mom, asked that we forgive Stephen's dad?"

"Yeah."

"I want you to know that she wasn't being fair when she asked that either."

"Okay."

"Jackie?" Mom twisted around to put a hand on my leg. "I mean it. It wasn't fair for her to use the all the bad things that happened to them to excuse what Stephen's dad did, without Stephen's dad doing anything. Sometimes people will do that too. They'll use bad things as excuses to act mean to others. That's not fair either. Yes, sometimes we have bad days. And sometimes we say mean things to others. But then we need to make it up to them before we ask for forgiveness."

"Like how I was mean to Stephen?"

"A little. But he was mean first, so it was okay to defend yourself. You just need to make sure you don't go further than defending yourself. And I saw you comfort him when everyone was yelling, so I think you made it up."

"Okay. Thanks Mom."

"Of course, Sweetheart."

Finally, we were home.

…

The next day I went to the counselor's office first thing instead of class. Principal had apparently suggested it to my parents during a phone call after we got home, and they agreed it would be a good idea.

There were several counselors apparently, as they were volunteers after 9/11, and the school was in the middle of trying to decide where to put them, so I ended up having my talk in a corner of the teacher's break room.

"So how are you feeling?" said the woman who was going to be my counselor. She was young, probably a recent graduate or something.

I shrugged. "Okay, I guess."

"Are you sure? I know you went through a lot yesterday. How do you feel about that?" She leaned down to meet my eyes, her tone gentle but concerned.

"Annoyed, I guess? I don't like Stephen, but I do kinda feel bad for him. I think his dad is making his problems everyone else's problems." And I didn't know if he was like, racist-racist before, but he was definitely falling down a far-right rabbit hole now.

"Stephan is the boy you hit yesterday, right?"

"AFTER he pushed me and said mean things to Omkar. I didn't start the fight. I finished it. And I hit him with a teddy bear, not something hard."

"Of course. I'm glad you didn't start a fight. Can you tell me what happened then?"

I sighed. I didn't really want to go over this again, but trying to avoid it would just make this longer. Best rip the bandaid off.

"I was on the playground when I heard Stephen say really mean things to Omkar and blaming him for the tower falling because he looked like the people who did cause it, I guess. So I went over to Omkar and offered to play with him so we could get away from Stephen. Stephen got mad because he thought Omkar shouldn't play Captain America so he called Omkar a terrorist and pushed me. That's why I threw my teddy bear at him. Yes I know it's bad to hit people. I won't do it again."

"Ah." She blinked at me. "While I'm glad you realize that violence is bad-" Ha! Tell that to the real Captain America. "-I'd like to go over the fight from the beginning."

"'Kay."

"When you heard Stephen say mean things to Omkar, why didn't you get a teacher?"

I shrugged. Why didn't I get a teacher? It would be the logical thing to do. I guess, maybe it was because I used to be an adult? It wasn't like there were recess supervisors in real life, well, real adult life. If you wanted something done, you had to do it yourself. So I did.

"Jackie?" But it wasn't like I could say that to Miss What's-her-face here.

"I dunno," I answered her.

"Okay. Then let's change the question. Why did you go over to Omkar and Stephen yourself, instead of ignoring it or telling another kid."

That was easier. Bystander syndrome. But that was a little advanced for a five-year-old, so… How to phrase this…

"I heard that when bullies see people watching them but not stopping them when they do mean things, the bullies think those people are supporting them, even if they aren't. That makes them feel it's okay to do mean things. So it's always important to make sure that the bullies know you think they're doing something wrong if you see them do something mean."

There. Think I nailed it.

"So you wanted Stephen to know that you thought what he was doing was wrong?"

"Well, that other people thought it was wrong, not just me. And also I wanted to make sure Omkar was okay. It's not fun when people don't leave you alone."

Granted, my experience was more with annoying kids not understanding "I don't want to play with you right now," but still.

"Okay," said the counselor. "But why couldn't a teacher do that? Why did it have to be you?" Gahh, would you leave it alone? I did something dumb, I get it.

"A teacher could have. I don't know why I didn't get a teacher. I'll get a teacher next time, okay?"

Shit, that came out a bit too aggressive, she was frowning now.

"Okay," she said. "I can tell this is bringing up some big emotions. Now I know big emotions can be scary sometimes, but we have them for a reason. They let us know when something is important to us. Since you are feeling big emotions now, that means there's something important here. Let's try to figure out what that thing is, okay?"

"Okay." Right, she wasn't going to let this go. I guess I'd have to phrase it like I did with Bystander syndrome.

"Because teachers aren't always there, I guess. Sometimes it's just you, the bully, and the victim, and if you don't do something, no one else will. That's why you have to be the one to do it."

Iron Man and the Iron Monger. Captain America and the Red Skull. The Avengers and the Chitauri.

And now me.

Up against a rouges gallery that could kill the universe.

"No one else?"

"Yes. No one else." Because normal guns don't do shit against alien warships.

"Okay." She paused a moment to regard me heavily. "Jackie, can I ask you something?"

"Sure." Not like I could stop you.

"You talk about the bully, and how bullies think other people who don't do anything when they are being mean think that being mean is good. Is that right?"

"Yes."

"If you think about it that way, then are the people who don't do anything responsible for what the bully is doing?"

I frowned and squirmed. "I mean no, but, like, the bully might be worse later because they think that people like what they do."

"But they aren't responsible for the bully's actions. The bully chose to be mean."

"Yes."

"Do you feel responsible for what Stephen did?"

"What? No, not him." That was his father's fault, mostly.

"What do you mean, 'not him'?"

Shit. I didn't notice the slip.

"Jackie?"

Fuck. I-

Well.

Maybe this was a good thing. Heavens knew I was dealing with everything badly. Maybe…

I peered at the guidance counselor. She was young and pretty. Her waterbottle had one of those "Coexist" stickers on it. She didn't look like a Hydra agent. Not sure why a HYDRA agent would be in a primary school anyways. Even with the letters, this seemed too soon.

If I phrased it right…

"I had bad dreams," I said. "About 9/11. Well, about bad guys attacking New York, before 9/11. Sometimes… sometimes I feel as if I were just able to warn the right person, I could have helped. Save people, you know."

I felt tears prickle my eyes. Stupid. I knew the letters were a long shot. I just wish…

I just wish I could've helped.

What's the point of knowing the future if you can't help anyone?

"Oh Jackie…" she leaned down to put a hand on my head. "Jackie, listen to me. There were a lot of people that day, who chose to do both good and bad things. But you aren't responsible for that. You aren't responsible for their choices. Maybe you could have helped, yes. But maybe you could have made things worse."

"I know." God, did I ever know.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Good. Then you shouldn't have any problem with this. Can you repeat after me?"

"Sure?" Repeat what?

"I," she started

"I," I dutifully repeated.

"Am not responsible for others' actions."

"Am not responsible for others' actions."

"If people choose to do bad things,"

"If people choose to do bad things,"

"That is not my fault."

"That is not my fault."

"Good!" she smiled at me. "Now, do you remember those words?"

"Yes."

"Alright. When those thoughts about 9/11 and bullies creep up on you, I want you to repeat them, okay?"

"Okay."

"Good girl. I know it's important to do the right thing, but sometimes it's important to remember that sometimes you can't do what you think the right thing is. Just like it's important to remember that you aren't the only one who can help, okay?"

"Alright."

The mantra was stupid. But it made me feel a little bit better.

…

AN: Jackie gets some therapy! Finally!

Quick note, before the conspiracy theories come out: Miss Rostershire, the therapist, is not a member of HYDRA. She is a perfectly normal recent college grad who volunteered to help with dealing with the aftermath of 9/11. She does not think that Jackie is a precog, she thinks that Jackie just saw some tv that had cities being attacked and had dreams about it happening to NYC.

 

[Mariadreaming9]

Chapter 6

After school was done I went back to the teacher's lounge to meet my parents, who were talking to the counselor.

As soon as Mom saw me she leaned down to hug me.

"Hi Jackie," she said.

"Hi Mom. What's this about?"

"Right." She looked at Dad for a moment with an awkward expression on her face, then turned back to me. "So, your dad and I were talking to Miss Rostershire," she nodded to the counselor, "to see how we could help you better."

Oh, was that her name? Okay.

"Okay?"

"And she mentioned- well…"

Dad kneeled down to look me in the eye. "We talked about your nightmares, Jackie. And how your Mom and I responded to them."

"Ah." Awkward. I told them about my nightmares in the vaguest terms possible, because it was obvious that something was going on, but they took it way more to heart than I had expected. "Okay."

"Your mom and I were worried that you had seen something on TV that made you have these nightmares," Dad said.

"So we tried to hide it from you," cut in Mom. "But Miss Rostershire explained that that might have been the wrong thing to do. Because if we know something is hidden that makes it even scarier, because we don't know what it is."

"And," Dad added. "It's clear we made you feel that you couldn't share with us more about your nightmares because of how we responded."

I cringed inside. I did not mean for them take it like that. Seriously I was trying to comfort them by giving something for them to actually do, instead of the parental nightmare that was having your child tormented by something you could not affect.

"Jackie," Dad said. "I-We, we wanted to tell you we are so sorry for anything we did that made you feel like you couldn't trust us."

"It's not that!" I said. "I just- didn't want you to worry when the nightmares didn't get better." Because as much as I wished they could, my parents couldn't just wave their hands and fix the future. Might as well let them be happy when they could.

"Oh Jackie," Dad said. "That's not something you should ever worry about."

"We're your parents," Mom added. "It's our job to worry about you."

"Okay," I said, and tried to make it look sincere.

There was a pause, then Mom spoke again. "Now, I know it might take a while to stop worrying, and that's okay. But another idea Miss Rostershire had was to try learning a team sport, like soccer or baseball."

"We want you to feel like you can rely on others," said Dad, "And learning to work in a team would be a good way to practice that."

"Okay," I said relieved. This was a much more reasonable proposition, and something that I could actually do. "Soccer sounds good." I had played that in my past life.

"Okay," said Mom. "You don't have to pick right now of course. But if you still want to do soccer by the end of the week, we'll see about signing you up. Okay?"

"Okay."

Miss Rostershire got up from her chair. "There's one last thing we wanted to discuss with you Jackie. I noticed that when I talked to you that you seemed very smart and mature. So, I'd like to see if you can move up a grade. That way, you'd be in first grade this year, instead of kindergarten. Would you like that?"

I thought of the past few weeks. Of all the screaming, snotty children. The girl that constantly cried whenever she didn't get her way. The two boys that were always fighting. That time someone peed their pants in class.

"Yes please!" I said.

And that was that.

…

Once we got home, I headed up to my room to have another conversation I'd been putting off.

After plugging the door to ensure that my parents wouldn't hear anything incriminating, especially after the talk we just had, I cleared my throat.

"System? Are you there?" It hadn't shown up since I'd yelled at it, but that wasn't necessarily abnormal. It often spent weeks not talking to me.

[Yes host?]

"We need to have a talk."

[Sure! What would you like to talk about?]

"I want to repeat an earlier question: What do you want? But! Before you give me that spiel about 'a wonderful story', hear me out."

I gave a moment to stare at the blue box of the system.

"I don't like you," I started. "I don't trust you. But. I can't do this on my own." It was a confession that hurt to make. But it was honest, and trying to delude myself would just make things worse. Knowing the future was an awesome power. But it was limited, as 9/11 proved, to the people I could get to listen to me. And even if I had the ear of every politician and superhero from here to the Nova corps planet, against Thanos? There were no guarantees.

"So, let's make a deal," I said to the system. "I do my utter best to create the best story that I can, according to the criteria that you set. And in return, you help me save as many people as I can. Deal?"

It might be a deal with the devil. But it was one I was willing to make.

[…]

[I have a question]

"What?"

[Why are you so motivated?]

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

[All previous hosts were mostly content to follow along questlines, whether given by this system or from others. You are the first to have involved yourself in the world to such a degree, without any rewards being needed. You have even rejected rewards. Why? And why are you so different?]

"Wait, I'm not the first person you've done this too?" I blinked at the system. "No, nevermind, you already answered that. I'm afraid I don't know enough about your previous hosts to say exactly why and how I'm different. Can you explain a bit more about them?"

[They were standard system host protagonists.]

"That means nothing to me." I frowned in thought. "Maybe it would help to explain why you are doing this. You asked what motivates me, well, what about you? What motivates you?"

[Wonderful stories.]

I dropped my head into my hands. "Okay, now we're going around in circles." I put my hands on my hips and blew a raspberry. "Right, lets try this: what do you do with the stories? Why are the stories so important?"

[Stories are my reason for existence. They created me. Sustain me.]

"So stories are kind of like… food? To you, that is."

[That is not completely accurate. But it is an apt way of thinking of it.]

"Well, that explains some things." If I were starving, there was a lot I would do to eat. I still didn't like the system, or trust it, but assuming it wasn't lying I felt like I understood it better.

"Okay, next question: what kinds of stories were you trying to make? Not just 'wonderful', I'm talking like, genre, tropes, stuff like that."

[Generally, most stories created by my hosts would fit under the genres "Scifi" and "Fantasy". Of those, superhero and supervillain stories were the most common, followed by isekai stories, and harem stories.]

Wait… isekai? Harem!?

"System, are you telling me you generally create power fantasy stories?" Something else occurred to me. "Wait, does that mean all the main characters in the shitty system power fantasy stories I've read were real people?"

['Power fantasy' was a common description left on my stories, yes. And while I am not familiar with your previous reading history, some our stories are leached into your worlds, so it is possible that some of the main characters you are familiar with were real people.]

"Holy shit. I just lost so much faith in humanity." Because some of the main characters in the stories I read were… YikesTM

Still that would explain a lot as to why the system seemed confused about how I behaved.

"Okay, so, to answer your question: assuming that your previous hosts were standard power fantasy protags," aka bland everymans designed to allow people to insert themselves into them, "I think one big difference is that… I care. About people, I mean."

I waved my hands in the air. "Like, I know that most people care about others, including your protags, but like, I CARE-I care. Down to my very bones, I care about other people."

I started pacing. "It's not just people I know either. It's EVERYONE, to some degree or another. The thought of someone getting… stunted, prevented from living a full and fulfilling life enrages me to the point I want to eat glass. Like with 9/11!"

I turned and pointed at the system's box.

"Do you have any idea how many people died, will die, because of that fucking terrorist act?" [Approximately-] "Not the point! Now, were some of those people evil? Probably! Would I have hated some of them? Almost certainly! But they didn't deserve that. No one deserved that."

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. If I thought about it anymore, I was going to start crying with rage and frustration.

"My point is, I care about other people. I care about other people so much I am willing to make a deal with what is possibly a devil to try and save as many of them as I can."

I opened my eyes and looked at the system's box. "So. Do we have a deal?"

I got the sense of being studied by something very old and inhuman. [Very well.]

I closed eyes again and sighed. "Thank you."

When I opened them there was another question. [You are motivated by saving people? Y/N]

"Yes. I am motivated by saving people. Or helping, really. I like helping people."

[…Due to your efforts in saving others, you have been rewarded with 100 points for every person who has survived 9/11 due to your interference. You have gained 500 points.]

I felt my knees go weak.

"I did it?" I whispered. "I really saved people?"

[Yes.]

I sat down. Five lives. It wasn't a lot. But it was worth it. A year of stress and tears, in return for saving five lives. It made it worth everything.

"Thank you," I whispered. "Thank you."

…

The system was inspired by Neil Gaiman's The Sandman series, the Omniscent Reader manhwa, Jill Bearup's Fantasy Heroine miniseries on Youtube, various Scum Villain's Self-Saving System fanfics, and Spacebattles own Stewart92's Spirit of the Gamer series.

A note on Miss Rostershire's session. She actually noticed two problems with Jackie; the guilt issues that she worked on unpacking in the session, and the fact that Jackie apparently doesn't trust adults or others to watch out for her, which is a concerning trait in a five-year-old from an apparently happy and loving family. But that isn't something that Miss Rostershire can just talk therapy away, so she's roped Jackie's parents to do it.

A note on the five people Jackie saved: I have no plans on Jackie ever finding out who exactly she saved. That is because a). I think it's more powerful that way. The idea that it doesn't matter who you saved, just that you saved someone is important, especially in a superhero verse where civilians are often treated as red shirts/collateral damage. b) I feel its disrespectful to the people that actually lost their lives in 9/11 to be like "and in this fanfic, this real person who is mourned by other real people survived!". BTW Jackie doesn't know which of her actions specifically saved people. Butterfly effect and all that.

Next chapter is the last in the arc, and the one where Jackie gets finally gets superpowers! Please keep in mind that the chapter is already written and that her first superpower isn't going to be her only superpower. If you want to guess, feel free! Here's some information about how the system works to help, spoilered for length:

Spoiler: How the System Works

This is based on the system in the original Heroes of Marvel fic. Essentially, throughout a host's childhood they are given minor quests to get them used to completing requests and to set up story arcs for later. Normally, over the course of their childhood they raise between 500-1000 points in total. Then, once they turn 16, they start the "Mainline Quest" which is apparently prepared by an oversystem and adminstered by the normal systems. The Mainline Quest is becoming either a superhero or a supervillain, and once a host starts it they rapidly gain more and more points. However, their costs increase too as, unless they are rich they have to buy things like equipment, weapons, and other necessities from the System store, on top of superpowers. As this Heroes of Marvel is a Chinese fic, the first free superpower is a cultivation method (aka martial arts spiritual training to make you strong and tough) and all of the superpowers offered shown in fic were cultivation methods, so you could buy weaker methods and slowly buy better ones as you got more points and slowly got in more and more danger. Personally, while I recognize that it's a great mechanic for a system, cultivation in the method of they system doesn't quite do it for me. As such, I'm saying that most superpowers that are powerful enough to actually be useful for a superhero (and that aren't superstrength/toughness etc) are at least 5,000 points, with most being above the 10,000 point range.

 

[Mariadreaming9]

Chapter 7

The school wanted to put me through tests to make sure I was ready for first grade, but it was pretty much a done deal once they realized I could already read. There was talk of sending me to second grade, however my parents explained that they were worried that would isolate me too much so that didn't happen.

As such, on Monday I entered my new class, slightly after everyone had a chance to settle down.

Mrs. Wood, the office lady who I had seen entirely too much of this past week, introduced me to the class with "Okay! This is your new classmate, Jackie. Jackie? Can you say hi to your new classmates?"

"Hi," I said. "I'm Jackie-"

"Ninja mask girl!" yelled a boy that looked familiar.

"Yes?" I was wearing one of my masks.

"I know you!" he yelled. "You had a Captain America teddy! Where'd it go?"

"Tom," said the teacher, an older looking man named Mr. Wilson. "Settle down please. You'll have a chance to talk to her later. Actually, since you have a seat open next to you, why don't we make that Jackie's seat. Okay Jackie?"

I shrugged. Might as well sit by someone I might know, especially if they're friendly.

With that, I grabbed my backpack, put it away, and sat in my new seat.

Tom practically vibrated in place until the teacher was turned away then he turned to hiss at me. "Psst!"

"Yes?" I whispered back.

"What happened to him?"

"The teddy bear?"

"Yes!"

"I hit a bully with him, so they said I couldn't take him to school anymore."

Tom gawked at me. "Cooooool," he whispered.

I couldn't help but snort. Cute kid.

"Hey, hey," he poked me. "Do you play basketball?"

"I don't know how," I admitted.

"I can teach you! I'm good at basketball!" he said a bit too loudly.

"Tom!" the teacher said. "Quiet!"

Tom gasped, slapped his hands over his mouth dramatically and turned back to the front.

Heh. He really was a cute kid. Still, maybe I should pick up basketball. I know I'd been thinking about soccer, but basketball would help me stay in shape just as well…

…

When I got home that day, I went back up to my room to have another talk with the system.

"I've made my decision," I told the system as I dug around my closet

[You've decided what power to buy?]

"Maybe," I said as I flipped open the Disney notebook I'd grabbed. "I think I want the growth telekinesis, level 1. But before you make the transaction, let me ask a few questions."

I'd used the notebook to make a list of superpowers I could buy, and write pros and cons for both. So far, telekinesis had won, for several reasons. Firstly, it didn't require me to move my body. So even if I were fully restrained, I could still use it. Anybody that kidnapped me would need to knock me out to stop me from using tk to escape. As an added benefit, it meant that I could use it anonymously. So I could still get involved in plot without revealing myself as someone with powers.

Also, it meant I'd be further away from harm. Major respect to those who fought with nothing but their bodies and melee weapons, but I wasn't into pain and I wanted something more immediately helpful if I got kidnapped than the slight enhanced healing or increased toughness I could buy with a measly 1000 points.

Not to mention the sheer variety of things you could use telekinesis for. If I needed to I could probably pretend to be like a waterbender or earthbender or something like that. Then, if I got kidnapped and stuffed in a cage without any of that element I could be like, "Haha, you thought I could only manipulate water? Fools!" and wreck them.

Plus. Like. I might be able to use telekinesis to fly.

So. There was that.

I found the page that I used for the growth telekinesis. "Okay," I said to the system. "First, and most importantly: What's wrong with the growth telekinesis I?"

[I do not understand your question.]

"Minor telekinesis, which would be like the power to lift a pencil with your mind, is only 750 points. But REGULAR telekinesis abilities, aka the kind of thing that actual superheroes have, start at like 10,000 points. So why is growth telekinesis, getting a telekinesis ability you have to train to be stronger, worth only 1000 points? Even if it's the weakest level, it doesn't add up."

[Growth telekinesis starts even weaker than minor telekinesis. Although a user can train it to do nearly anything short of Omega class actions, that takes an incredible amount of time and effort.]

"But that's just the thing! It sounds so overpowered! You could use it to do nearly anything! So why is it so cheap?"

[Incentive. A power that you need to train makes for better stories.]

I stared at the screen for a moment and used a pencil to tap my lips. "Okay," I said. "That makes sense." For a being designed around stories anyways. "Let's go to the other questions then."

I went to the next question on the page. "Is the growth tk considered a psychic power, magic, or something else?"

[Psychic]

"Will it turn me into a mutant? Or Inhuman or other genetic weirdo like that?"

[No. Humans just sometimes end up being psychic.]

"Will other people be able to sense that I can use telekinesis? Through like machines or other means?"

[Possibly, but it's unlikely. Your world's organizations have had little reason to develop methods to sense psychic powers.]

"Any physical indicators of having telekinesis? Like a big head or something like that?"

[No, at least on the outside. A brain scan may notice unusual development based on strength of ability.]

"Do I need to eat or do anything special? Or like, does using telekinesis too much do anything bad to me?"

[You may notice a minor increase in the calories and electrolytes you need to consume. Overuse of telekinesis causes increasingly severe headaches, which may be debilitating.]

"What's the growth rate like? I mean, how like long does it take to grow stronger?"

[You can train up to a minor level talent in approx. 2-3 weeks with dedicated training. After that, there is a rapid growth slow down, as it gets exponentially harder to train. Purchasing [Growth Telekinesis II] and [Growth Telekinesis III] will increase the speed of growth.]

"Is there any particular way you have to train?"

[No, you train in the same way you train anything else: by repeating using it to do what you want to train in.]

"Okay. This sounds perfect for me, which honestly makes it sound suspicious. Like, at this point I have nothing but time."

[Most hosts don't gain enough points to afford it before they turn six years old.]

I laughed. "Okay, yeah, that's fair."

[So, you have made your decision?]

"Yeah, let's do this. System, exchange 1000 points for the 'Growth Telekinesis' skill." It'd be my early birthday present to myself.

[Purchase [Growth Telekinesis I] for 1000 points? Yes/No]

"Yes." That would leave me with 524 points as both a safety net and for a few more purchases.

The box glowed for a minute, and I felt a tingle in the inside of my head, almost like the fizz of soda down the back of my throat.

"Okay, let's test this out."

I put a tissue in the middle of my desk. Then I felt for the part of my head that had tingled, and focused on the paper.

Something seemed to shift inside me, and the paper flew up as though I had blown on it.

"Yes! Ow," I said, as a headache immediately made itself known. "Geez, you weren't kidding about how weak this ability is at the start."

[Yes. I look forward to seeing what you do with it.]

"Save the world, hopefully. But first…"

I flipped to a fresh page in my notebook and made a chart. On the top went the categories date, strength, precision, distance, stamina, and speed. Then I carefully noted the date, and filled it in. It would be about 6-7 years until the events of Iron Man 1. With training, hopefully I'd be able make a difference.

I winced as my head throbbed.

Well, training once my headache died down.

…

At dinner, Mom asked me a question.

"So Jackie!" she said brightly. "Do you have any idea what you'd like for your birthday party?"

I blinked at her. Even though I had been aware for a year now, sometimes I still got thrown when I was treated like a kid. Gosh, I remembered the crazy birthday parties I'd wanted when I was really a child.

Still, decorating the room with princesses or ninjas didn't really appeal to me anymore. But maybe…

"Can we do something nice for the people helping with the Twin Towers?" I asked. I realized that Miss Rostershire might have had a point with me feeling guilty over things I didn't really have the power to affect, but I still wanted to help.

My parents blinked at me. "Are you sure?" Dad asked. "We can have a big party too."

"Maybe something small," I said. "But I'd rather help the firefighters and such. They probably feel really bad right now."

"Oh Jackie," my mom said with a smile, and I got alarmed when I saw her eyes get misty.

Suddenly she reached over and grabbed me into a hug. "Our baby's so kind!" she wailed.

Dad chuckled and I realized his eyes were misty too. Geez, I wasn't that special…

"Sure," he said. "I'll see what we can do."

…

A few days later, Dad knocked on my door. I quickly closed the notebook I'd been documenting my tk growth in. "Yes?" I asked.

He paused awkwardly. "Do you remember what you wanted to do for your birthday?"

"Yeesss?" Oh don't tell me we wouldn't be able to do anything.

"Well, your auntie really liked the idea. She liked it so much she might be taking over. But she wants to do it next month instead. Is that okay? Would you like to do something else instead?"

I blinked at him. "As long as it still happens, it's fine. What does she want to do?"

Dad shoulders relaxed when he realized I wouldn't make a fuss about it. "She wants to do a charity dinner at the big restaurant in Manhattan, and she thinks that most of the rubbish should be cleaned up in a month, so they'll be freer."

"Okay. Can I still help? I want to help make the food or something." I still had over 500 points, and some of the healing potions were pretty cheap.

"Aaahhhh," Dad said as he tried to figure out how to say no. "Maybe you can help give water?" he offered.

"That works."

…

Time went on.

I started Chinese classes on Saturdays, and after I asked why I was learning Mandarin instead of Cantonese when most of the family spoke Cantonese, I started spending a few hours on the weekends helping Yeye and Mawmaw while learning Cantonese.

I also started YMCA basketball. It wasn't my favorite thing to do in the world, but it was fun and kept me active. Tom was delighted, and we ended up playing together often at recess time.

After I had determined that no, Hydra didn't magically learn I had superpowers and wouldn't swoop in and grab me for practicing telekinesis alone in my own home, I finally felt okay to spend some more points. 200 of those points went to purchase a [Jade Healing Bamboo] that had a mild healing aura and would purify the air around it, and gave it to Uncle to put in his restaurant.

"Thank you for hosting the dinner," I told him. "Here. It's lucky."

He huffed in a fondly exasperated way but accepted it. It didn't hurt that it was very pretty plant, without any strange brown splotches or discoloring.

The night of the dinner was chilly enough that Mom had me dress in layers underneath the thin qipao I'd wear as the "birthday girl"/owner's niece.

I stood at the door and greeted people as they came in. There were a lot of bruised eyes and tired expressions, although it was clear that most of the first responders were at least trying to have a good time.

When it came time for me to grab the water jug, I ducked into the woman's restroom for a moment. Exchanging another 50 points I bought a small bottle of an anti-toxin potion that the system said would work on asbestos and other chemicals the first responders might have been exposed to.

After pouring a few drops in the water jug, I hid the bottle and started making my rounds. By now the first plates of food were out, and people were starting to dig in.

I watched as people began to relax. As lines eased and eyes lost their pinch.

Maybe it was the bamboo. Maybe it was the healing potion. Maybe it was the frankly fantastic food, the company, the chance to finally relax. Maybe it was something that had no name.

But I felt as though I could see wall come down. Feel people start to heal.

This was why I was going to fight. To protect scenes like this. To protect people like this.

"Jackie!" Uncle yelled. "Can you help pass out napkins outside?"

"Sure Uncle!"

…

That night, I made the last purchase I was planning on for a while. [Beginner Insight Technique] was a strange ability; instead of being a standard observable power, it was a collection of… instincts? Almost? It effectively gave me the observational skills of a beginner agent or police officer. The ability to notice when I was being followed, or when a person was concealing a weapon, or when something just wasn't right. It was 100 points. I had thought about getting it when I had gotten the telekinesis but decided to save my points. Considering that a smoke bomb was like 50 pts, I figured that it wasn't the best ability, and I'd need every point I had if Hydra did kidnap me.

But now I felt safer. I'd gotten to the point where I was probably a minor talent and could do the telekinetic equivalent of a groin punch, so I wasn't helpless anymore.

And it was a useful skill for making sure I would continue to stay away from anyone that might kidnap a child superhuman.

I made the purchase, and, as I fell asleep, I dreamt of all the things I could do to make a brighter future.

…

June 1st, 2005

I stretched my hands as I glanced over my notes. It was a few months until it happened, but in this case, I felt that was for the best to get my second set of letters out now.

'Late Aug,' read the top part of my notes. 'Hurricane Katrina hits New Orleans'

"Well, let's get started," I said to myself as I telekinetically lifted a pen.

…

AN: A bit of an explanation about the [Growth Telekinesis I]: Remember how most hosts don't gain enough points to afford it until they start the Main Mission? Well, the first thing they get as a part of the main mission is something that brings them up to peak human fitness, basic combat skills, and [Beginner Insight Technique]. They are then required to defeat 10 people in combat within a week or else they die (which people needed to be defeated depends on which main mission chosen, the hero side or the villain side). From then on hosts are drawn into the scene and as such are repeatedly thrust into danger, amassing points and powers as they do so. As such, considering how long it takes for growth tk to become useful and how much it costs? For those on the lower end of the superhero spectrum where minor telekinesis is actually useful its too expensive compared to other more useful options (minor super strength is also 1000 points), whereas on the upper end, where 1000 points is chump change, minor telekinesis is useless.

Does that mean growth tk itself is a dummy skill? No. Growth TK's "intended" purpose (insofar as such a thing can have an intended purpose) is if a low-to-mid level host ever gets captured and imprisoned in such a way that they can't use physical abilities/magic, growth tk can act as their ticket out. Character that is imprisoned and is forced to learn a new power that they use to break out? Very popular, great story arc.

The system did not count on someone like Jackie.

 

[Mariadreaming9]

Chapter 8

June 4th, 2005

I sighed as I finally finished my first letter. I had really wanted to use a printer, but last year PC World had run an article saying printers added a traceable code to every sheet printed. So I had to write everything by hand- or well, telekinesis.

I'd worked hard to make sure that my TK writing was very distinct from my normal handwriting. As such, I used my grandma's birthday and Christmas cards as a template. Maybe it was because she was from an older generation, or maybe it was just something about being Italian, but her handwriting was very fancy. So not only would someone hopefully think it was an older person writing, but it also made a great precision exercise.

Bonus point? No need to worry about accidentally leaving a hair or fingerprint behind if you were writing by making a pencil move from 5 feet away.

I'd still used a few newspaper cut outs. I wanted to keep a continuity going especially since…

I looked at the "Letter #2" I'd written on each letter underneath the same stylized eye I'd marked my first letters with. Maybe it was dumb- actually, no, scratch that, it WAS dumb. But one of the reasons I think almost nobody listened to my previous letters was because anonymous crazy sounding letters warning of disaster were dime a dozen. But letters from a person that reliably predicted the truth?

Those got listened to.

I had plans to be on the ground come the 2012 Chitauri Invasion. But one way to make sure that fewest number of civilians got hurt? Was to ensure there weren't any civilians there in the first place.

It was certainly going to raise my profile with Hydra. But I wasn't helpless anymore.

"Jackie?" yelled Mom. "Come down! We're double checking what we have to sell at the garage sale tomorrow!"

"Coming!"

I turned off the radio, cutting out Kelly Clarkson's "Since You've Been Gone". It was now habit to turn the radio on whenever I was in my room alone, to cover the sounds of anything that might or might not be going on.

Then I telekinetically lifted the letters and hid them in a box next to a little jar of glass shards. Anyone who tried to get to them or me while I was in the room? Was in for a world of hurt.

Taking a moment to make sure everything was safe and secure, I placed a small piece of paper between my door and the frame, and then headed downstairs.

"There you are!" Mom said as she saw me. "I was about to go up to get you."

"Sorry, had to clean up," I said.

"No worries," Dad said. "It's just a last check anyways."

"No reason not to be careful!" said Mom cheerfully as I sat next to them by the pile of old toys, clothes, and other odds and ends. "Now, we're already done with ours, so let's look through these together."

She meant that she wanted to wallow in nostalgia one last time before we got rid of things, but neither Dad nor I called her out.

"So first up," said Mom as she grabbed a tiny black T-shirt with the words "Queen's Youth Theater Troupe" on it. I'd joined for a play in order to train my acting skills but… well. It was very much a baby's first play kind of environment. And it looked like any serious acting classes were the kinds of places where you were training to go on TV, which… really wasn't in my plans. I mean it would make it harder for me to get disappeared if I became a minor celeb, but like, it would also bring down way too much scrutiny on how I spent my time.

"Oh, I remember this," Mom said. "You did a wonderful job playing Little Red Riding Hood's Grandma. Are you sure you want to get rid of it?" I probably could have gone for Red, but some of the girls really wanted that part and I'd already determined this probably wasn't the best use of my time.

"Yes Mom, I'm sure."

"Well, if you're sure-sure." She reluctantly put it in the sell pile, before grabbing my old purple cup stacking set.

"No mom, we're selling that," I said, before she could even ask. I'd asked for it because I thought it would help in training my reflexes and in my TK speed. Which it did, as far as I could tell, but also… it was boring. And reflexes in a combat environment were probably different from reflexes in a calm setting anyways.

Mom pouted at that as she sorted it. Cup stacking (with my hands at least) was one of the few things I could do at home in the living room, and I think she missed when I'd practice as she made dinner.

Similar scenes repeated with various old odds and ends. Normally I'd be more okay with keeping things, but this time I had a rather ambitious goal: I wanted to purchase a laptop.

Was it 2005 and laptops super expensive? Yes. Was I nine and unable to hold a steady job? Yes.

But laptops, and more importantly an internet connection, represented a way to get the most important thing I could get my hands on right now: information. And the earlier I got on, the easier it would be to find what I wanted, before big search engines and nerds figured out sharing certain things online could be bad.

Also, I missed being online. Say what you will about youth these days, but I'd loved being able to check my pocket and find an enthusiastic community of nerds and experts about any topic you'd care to pick.

"You know," Dad said as we packed away my old Halloween costumes. "These probably would go for a lot more if you included the wigs too. You've got a lot of money to raise young lady."

"I know," I teased back. "But how else I am supposed to be a super awesome spy with no disguises?" And I had plans for those wigs.

Dad laughed. "True, true. And what is Super Spy Jackie doing until dinnertime?"

"Can I see if Tom's available?"

"Sure. Just make sure that you're back by 5."

"Thanks Dad!"

…

Tom was practicing throwing hoops out front like he normally did.

"Oi, Tom!" I yelled. He turned.

"Jackie!" he yelled back. Then he turned towards the house.

"Hey Dad, Jackie's here!"

"Hi Scott!" I yelled. "Is Tom free to play?"

Scott poked his head out the door, his mustache as magnificent as ever.

"Ah Jackie. Ready for the neighborhood garage sale tomorrow?"

"Yep! I'm going to sell lemonade as well."

"Good idea, and good luck. You two have fun!"

"Thanks!"

With that, Scott went back inside. I turned towards Tom. "Wanna take turns?" I gestured towards the hoop over his driveway.

"Sure!" and with that he handed me the ball.

After we had both done a few tosses, Tom asked, "Learn anything new about spies?"

"Yep!" Just like I had "obsessed" over ninja at five, now I was "obsessed" with spies. It helped that at nine years old people were much less unlikely to censor everything than they would have if I were five. And with my reputation for being smart my parents were less concerned with me grabbing books out of the teen section of the library as long as they were nonfiction.

"So apparently there was like a pretty major spy ring reveal in 1995, the year we were born." I threw the ball at the hoop and hit the rim. Darn.

"According to my sources, there were Russian spies in Ohio," I said as I chased the ball. "And they were like, so deep cover they actually had kids!" Hello Natasha. And with this, I was fairly certain that the Black Widow movie was canon for this universe.

"Really?"

"Yep!" I handed the ball to Tom. "Anyways, they infiltrated this lab that was studying- get this- mind control." I wiggled my fingers at Tom, who looked impressed. I was honestly pretty surprised that Hydra actually left the whole "mind control" part in the story. Maybe they wanted to keep paranoia up around Russia, increase geopolitical tensions?

"So be careful~" I sang at Tom. "Or else the mind control spies will getcha!" I jumped at him and he shrieked and jumped back.

I laughed. "Hahaha, oh my god your face!"

"Jaaackieee," he whined at me. My "insight" senses went off and I jumped back just in time to avoid his lunge at me.

"Get back here and let me tickle you!" he yelled as he chased me around the driveway and front garden. He was fast, years of playing basketball near religiously showed their value. But I had been right there next to him for those years.

Eventually we collapsed laughing on the grass.

"You're such a jerk," said Tom with a grin as he reached out to shove me.

I stuck my tongue out at him and he giggled.

After we got our breath back, we got up to go back to playing basketball.

"Hey Tom, you got any plans for the garage sale tomorrow?"

"Nope!" He said. "We've got a few things to sell, but Mom's worried about Jon, so she doesn't want to stress him out too much."

Jon, Tom's little brother, was born premature a few months after 9/11. Tom's family wasn't sure if it was 9/11 or something that would have happened regardless, but Jon had persistent health issues. Three years old and tiny, he was his mother's darling and she worried about him constantly.

"Really? That sucks," I said. Honestly Tom's mom was headed right over the edge of over protectiveness, and I thought Jon'd grow up to be either the most rebellious boy I'd know or scared of his own shadow.

Tom shrugged. He'd gotten used to his family's activities revolving around Jon.

Well, mostly used to it, as I saw him throw the ball way too hard. It bounced high off of the rim of the backstop and head towards the four way stop.

Tom, unthinking, ran to get it. "Tom!" I yelled.

As he reached the corner I heard rather than saw a car going way too fast. "TOM!"

Without thinking I used TK to grab Tom and pull him back, just in time to see a car peel by him.

"Jerk!" I yelled as I ran up to Tom. "Are you okay?" I asked him.

Tom blinked up at me. "I- yeah. Yeah," he said, as he turned his head to look back at where the car had been.

"Don't run off like that! You know it's dangerous!" I said, but Tom wasn't listening.

"Tom?"

He looked at me. "Jackie, something grabbed me."

I froze. I hadn't been thinking when I used TK on him.

Tom's eyes narrowed at me. Shit. He knew all my tells.

"Jackie?" he asked.

…
AN: Duh duh duuuhhh. Welcome to the next arc, where we finally get some more traditional superhero action. It's going to be a bit longer, but I haven't finished writing it yet. Hope you guys enjoy!

 

[Mariadreaming9]

Chapter 9

"Hey Scott, we're gonna talk spies in Tom's room, okay?" I yelled into Tom's dad's office.

"Sure, sure, just keep the door open. You know the rules," Scott said. He didn't even turn around, used to this by now. I gave him a thumbs up he probably didn't see then Tom and I headed up the stairs to his room.

"Show me, show me, show me," he chanted as I checked to make sure no one had spontaneously manifested to see what I was about to do.

I rolled my eyes at him before telekinetically picking up one of the soft foam basketballs Tom had and levitating it to spin over his head.

"Cooool," said Tom as he stared at it.

I snorted and let it drop onto his face.

"Wha- Hey! Jackiiieee. Mean."

I stuck my tongue out at him and dodged out of the way of his toss towards my face. "Constant Vigilance," I chirped at him.

He rolled his eyes at me. "But, like seriously, how?"

"Uhhh." For a moment I considered not telling him. It was dangerous, knowing the things I knew, for both of us, and I didn't want him getting hurt.

But at the same time, Tom was my best friend, the one that made growing up a second time bearable. He didn't care when I was weird and didn't quite fit in. I would have been okay without him, but he made it so much less lonely. And he was loyal. Trying to lie to him… it didn't feel right.

"So, this is gonna sound weird as hell," I started.

"Weirder than having superpowers?"

"Yes, so shut up."

"Fine, fine."

"Okay, so as far as I can tell, from birth I've been followed by this thing I call the system."

Tom frowned at me. "What do you mean, a system? Like, a weather system?"

"Ugh, that's- how do I explain this?" It's not like Tom, a 10-year-old in 2005, would know anything about the kinds of media that systems and system-like beings existed.

[Host, if I may?]

"If you may what?"

"Jackie, if I may what what?"

"It's talking to me, shush!"

"It can talk?"

"Yes, now shh!"

[You can spend 25 points to include [Tom Sawford] as a [Companion].]

"And what does that mean exactly?" I asked, ignoring Tom's attempts to figure out what the heck I was looking at and talking to.

[This would allow [Tom Sawford] to see and talk to this system while within your vicinity. It would also open up a [Companion Quest], which, if completed, would allow for points to be spent directly on [Tom Sawford]].

"I, that's- huh." There were so many things I wanted to ask about, but Tom was looking more and more frantic, and it wasn't fair to him to keep having this conversation right in front of him with no way for him to join in. There was just one thing I needed to check first.

"Will this hurt Tom in any way shape or form, directly or indirectly, now or in the future?"

"Jackie?" Tom sounded alarmed now.

[Purchasing [Companionship] for [Tom Sawford] should not harm him directly or indirectly. However it is impossible to anything to be completely harmless. Even getting a glass of water induces risk.]

"Fine. Make the purchase. But understand, if anything happens to him because of you I will find a way to make you regret it." I had 178 points. I had been planning on getting Freya charms for my parents, but it was slow going, and this was more immediately important. I could eat it.

[Understood. Exchanging 25 points to make [Tom Sawford] Host [Jackie Lam]'s [Companion].]

"Jackie, wha- WHY IS THERE A BLUE BOX FLOATING IN THE AIR!?"

There was a thump from downstairs.

"You kids alright?" came Scott's voice from below.

"Yeah!" I yelled back. "I just scared Tom!"

"Okay! Just be careful!"

I waited a moment to see if he'd come up to check on us, before turning back to Tom.

"Right, meet the System," I said as I waved a hand towards the glowing blue box.

"Hi?" said Tom uncertainly.

[It is a pleasure to meet you, [Tom Sawford].]

"It knows my name," said Tom.

"Yep," I said unhelpfully. "Now, System, what is this about companionship?"

[[Companions] are people for whom a host trusts enough to pay for them to interact with their system, and, should a quest be completed, allows for points to be spent directly on them, instead of requiring an intermediator.]

"Okay, and in practical terms, what does that mean?" I said as I ignored Tom slowly reading through the script. Reading was not his strong point.

[The most common usage is purchasing powers directly for a [Companion] instead of needing to purchase a superserum or potion.]

"And it costs 25 points per person?"

[No. Cost depends on value of person and how close they are to host.]

"I see-" "I could get superpowers!?" Tom interrupted me.

I turned to see he had reached that part.

"Yeah, that's how I got telekinesis," I told him.

"I want telekinesis!" Tom said.

"Unfortunately I don't have enough points for the right now, sorry. And apparently we would need to do a companion quest thingy first."

"Points?"

"Yeah. It's like money but for the system. I get it by completing quests or doing certain things."

"Oh… wait, you used points so I could see this, right?" He waved a hand at the floating blue boxes.

"Yep."

Tom smiled, a softer smile than he normally had. "Thanks Jackie."

"No problem. Now, I was asking the system more about this whole companionship thing."

"Ah, wait, let me catch up!"

I paused to let him catch up to where I was and considered my next questions. Once he gave me the thumbs up, I asked, "You said that the price to make someone a companion depends on their value and how close I am to them? Can you give an example to explain that better?

[Of course. If you were to try to make, for example, [Tony Stark] a [Companion], that would cost approximately 50,000 points, as you have no connection to [Tony Stark], and having [Tony Stark], a genius billionaire, as a companion is equivalent to having a superpower. Meanwhile, [Tom Sawford], who has been your childhood best friend for multiple years and has no special skills or abilities, is 25 points.]

"So I can't just purchase Nick Fury as a companion and use that to pass all my information on."

[Correct.]

"Hey!" Tom said as he got to the end. "I'm great at basketball!"

"Yes, you are," I said. "But Tom, the thing is, we don't live in a world that revolves around sports. We live in a superhero world, and being great at basketball doesn't really help when you've been cornered by like, criminals."

"It means I could run away!"

"Yes, which is one of the reasons I play basketball."

He pouted at me. "Fine. What's the companionship quest? I want those superpowers."

"Good question. System?"

[A [Companionship Quest] depends on the companion. By focusing on a [Companion] and making them more important to the story being told, you can then spend points on them.]

"So someone has to actually spend time on someone instead of recruiting a bunch of nobodies and turning them into a super army. But what does Tom's quest need to be?"

[Correct. And [Tom Sawford]'s [Companionship Quest] depends on you and Tom. Once a significant amount of time has been spent on Tom and he is considered an important part of the story, the [Companionship Quest] is considered complete.]

"What is "a significant amount of time"? Like, a certain number of hours?"

[That depends on you and [Tom Sawford].]

"What a useless answer."

"Uh, Jackie?"

I looked over at Tom. "Yeah?"

"What's this "story" the System is talking about?"

"Right, that's- ugh." I crossed the room to sit next to Tom on the bed. "So, remember how I called this world a superhero world?"

"Yeah, 'cause you have superpowers."

"No, it's more than that. You know Captain America?"

"Yeah. Wait, can you get Captain America's powers?"

"Yes, but that's not the point. The point is, well, he's still alive."

Tom gasped. "No way," he said.

"Yeah, he's just frozen. He'll be found in, I don't know, five or six years? But he's not the only superhuman- or well, superhuman-like person- that's gonna show up. You remember back in March, about that one scientist they claimed stole military secrets and went on the run, Bruce Banner?" And wasn't that a fun thing to discover on a random Sunday evening.

"Yeah?"

"Well, he actually injected himself with an unstable supersoldier serum that used gamma radiation. So now when he gets angry, he turns into a super strong green giant. That's why the military wants him."

"No way, that's so cool."

"Well, not cool for him. But yeah. And well… here's where things get weird again. From about as long as I've known the system, I've also had, I don't know what to call them, visions? Memories? Of possible futures. And according the main future I've seen, well…"

"Well what?"

"Well, on the good side, Tony Starks will probably build a suit of robot armor and become a superhero called Iron Man."

"That's so cool! But wait, is there a bad side?"

"Yeah." I laid back on the bed and rubbed my face. "Its… Okay look. You've seen superhero movies before right? Or TV shows?" I knew the Teen Titans 2003 series existed at least.

"Yeah, they're awesome! Is that sort of thing going to happen here?"

"Tom." I looked at him. "You know how the villains always this plan have to destroy the city or whatever?"

He nodded.

"Have you ever considered what happens to the people living in those cities? When the villain attacks?"

Tom scrunched his nose up in thought. "Bad things?" he asked.

"Yeah. Like, 9/11 bad things."

"Oh." And with that Tom got it. "Oh, that's bad."

"Yeah. It's bad."

"What's going to happen?"

"So many things. But the first big one? Alien invasion, in 2012."

"Aliens are real?!" Tom goggled at me.

"Yes. For better or for worse, aliens are real. And most people will meet the bad aliens before the good aliens."

"Oh. Wait, you said there was gonna be an invasion?" Tom straightened up. "We have to tell someone!"

"No!"

Tom rocked back, surprised.

"No, we can't," I repeated, sitting up. "Okay, look Tom. The Alien Invasion isn't the only thing that's gonna happen. It… well..."

I sighed. "You know the supervillains the superheroes fight against? Can you imagine what would happen if they were part of the government?"

"There are supervillains? In the Government?"

"I don't think that they think of themselves as supervillains, but yes."

"But… why would the government let supervillains in? They're the good guys."

I sighed. "Because bad guys don't always look like bad guys. The worst bad guys? They have the good guys convinced they're one of them."

I took a look at Tom's clock. "Ugh, it's getting late."

"Wait, what? Already?"

"Yeah…" I turned to look at Tom. "Okay. Okay. Tom? I need you to promise me something."

"Huh? Yeah, sure, what?"

"I need you to promise me you won't tell anyone, especially your parents, anything. Not about my powers, not about the system, and especially not about the future."

"Okay, but why?"

"Because while I know who the big bad guy in the government, he has a lot of henchmen, and I don't know who they are. I'm worried that they might let something slip where a henchman could hear them, and since they have an evil masterplan, I'm worried they might hurt your parents and you if they think you know about it. So you can't tell anyone anything. Got it?"

"Yeah. But you gotta promise me something back."

I frowned at him. "What?"

Tom stared at me seriously. "You let me help," he said. "Look, I know I'm not as smart as you. But you're my best friend and this is important. Let me help."

I hesitated, but then I closed my eyes and sighed. Honestly, there wasn't really any other outcome that could have happened once I told Tom. He was the kinda kid that threw themselves into whatever they did and stuck by their friends no matter what.

I opened my eyes. "Okay. Okay. You promise to not tell anyone, and I'll let you help."

"Pinky promise?"

"You're such a dork." I smiled at him. "Fine, pinky promise."

We shook pinkies.

"Okay, now I really do need to get going. I don't want my parents yelling at me." I got up from the bed, but hesitated.

"Tom?"

"Yeah?"

"Tomorrow, after your parents end your garage sale, come find me. Bring a change of clothes, including flip flops and a hat. If your parents ask why, we're playing a spy game and it's for disguises."

"Okay, but what's it really for?"

I looked back at Tom.

"We're doing spy stuff, and it's for disguises. It's just that it's not a game."

…

AN: To everyone who guessed that she'd reveal things, congrats, you were correct. Although I would note that Tom isn't a random nobody, he's Jackie's best friend.

Honestly, something that I've always personally hated about SI fics is how most of the time everyone but the SI and a few of the authors favorite characters have any agency or characterization. Sometimes it feels as though everyone else are just props to show whatever the author feels is important about the SI, and it sucks. That, plus it feels like most times in SI-OC fics the character cast is just the protags and the SI. If the SI is a minor, parents "have a business trip" in the beginning and disappear from the story. And the SI just never bothers to try and befriend anyone but the heroes. It makes sense because this is a wish fulfillment genre. But it just feels too unrealistic for me.

Also, I have a bit of a thing about loyalty. One of the reasons I stopped reading the inspo fic, Heroes of Marvel, is because the SI just dropped his childhood friend like a bag of hot potatoes once he started being a superhero. And like, eff that. My character is not and will not be an emotional vacuum that somehow doesn't form attachments to anyone who isn't like, an established character in Marvel. We gonna have OCs here baby.

 

[Mariadreaming9]

Chapter 10

The garage sale started fairly early in the morning. Well, it started at 9, but since we had to get out before then to start setting up, and since people would start wandering early to get the best deals, it really started at 8.

I had my lemonade stand up and running for the first wave of customers, church goers returning from Sunday mass. I was hoping that spending time getting preached at to "love thy neighbor" would make them more inclined to support their neighbors financially.

I got a decent amount of customers, but nothing to write home about. Meanwhile, a few of my old things had sold, netting me a nice $20 dollars.

Shortly after my family had a break for lunch, Tom showed up, backpack in tow.

"Jackie?" He asked uncertainly.

"Oh, Tom!" said Dad. "Your family already done?"

"Yeah. Mom doesn't want to stress Jon out too much. Can Jackie play?"

"Ah, right. You're playing super spies?"

"Yep!" I chirped at him. "I told you yesterday, remember?"

"Yes, yes. Don't let me hold you two up."

"Thanks Dad! C'mon Tom, lets get changed into our disguises."

I grabbed Tom and pulled him towards the stairs.

"Leave the door open!" Dad yelled after us.

"Sure Dad!"

Once we were in my bedroom I turned to Tom. "Okay, what'd you bring?"

He turned his backpack upside down and dumped all the clothes he brought onto the ground. He had flip flops, a ball cap, a basketball jersey-

"Tooooom," I said. "Did you really bring a jersey WITH YOUR NAME ON IT for a disguise?"

"Ah. Oops?"

"Toooooooooom."

"Jackiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiie."

I rolled my eyes at him. "Okay, we can't use that. Otherwise, good job."

"Yes! So, what are we doing?"

"Remember how you wanted to tell people about the alien invasion coming?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, we're sort of doing something similar." I reached for the box with the letters and brought it out. "See, it's not a bad thing to warn people- so long as we do it anonymously."

"Anon-neem-"

"Without people knowing who we are, Tom."

"Ooooh. So we're warning people about the alien invasion?"

"Not quite. It's a bit early for that. But the alien invasion isn't the only thing that's coming." I looked at Tom. "At the end of the summer? A hurricane is gonna hit the South. A really, really bad one. It's gonna completely flood New Orleans and cause a ton of damage."

"The Mardi Gras city?"

"The Mardi Gras city. We're sending letters warning the government, news stations, and medical facilities there of what's going to happen. And we have to do it without people figuring out who we are."

"Which is why we're going in disguise?"

"Yep! Now, lets lay out our outfits."

I'd spent some time last night figuring out what I could use now that Tom would be joining me. "Okay, so there are two very important things to think about when it comes to disguises. First, you want to make yourself look as different as possible to how you normally look. Nobody should recognize you, and if anyone gives a description you want it to be as inaccurate as possible. Second, you want to fit in. If you go out there looking like a clown? Everyone is going to remember you and what you did. You don't want that."

Tom was leaning forward, hanging off of my every word. I fought the urge to preen. I always did like an appreciative audience.

"I'm planning on three trips, so three outfits that we can easily change into things subtly different on the way. Do you see the big map of the neighborhood on my wall?" I'd made it out from print outs from the newly launched Google Maps, and colored in from my own knowledge. I was hoping that Google Earth would come out soon though.

"Yeah?"

"I've marked three different places hidden from any security and traffic cameras." Of which there were a lot. I have no idea if my original Queens had this many in 2005 but my current Queens? Oh boy. I blamed SHIELD/HYDRA. "We're going to change outfits from one way to another there."

"Outside?" Tom sounded scandalized.

I paused. "Okay, I think I need to show you what I'm talking about. Give me a minute to change. Oh, and don't touch the letters, we need to keep our fingerprints off of them."

Tom moved away from the box of letters I had watched him inching towards as I grabbed my clothes.

After I changed in the bathroom, I walked back into wearing an oversized white t-shirt tucked into my "Kim Possible" cargo pants, and a tracksuit jacket. My hair was up in a messy bun.

Tom was looking at my map. He'd helped me make it, but I think now he got how useful it really was now that he knew why I made it. He turned around as I walked in.

I grabbed my stopwatch and tossed it to him as I grabbed one of my backpacks I used for sports stuff. "Time me," I said as I made sure the backpack was on.

"Okay?"

I watched as he hit the button, then moved. Jacket and backpack went off in one smooth motion. I grabbed the beanie I'd put inside the backpack then shoved the jacket inside. Beanie went on, completely covering my hair. Then I grabbed my pants, tugging them down where they hung around my thighs, held up by string attached to a belt I was wearing under my shirt. The shirt I pulled up and out of my pants. I pulled a chain necklace out from under the shirt, so it hung down my front. Last, I grabbed the backpack and slung it over one shoulder, affecting a slouched pose.

"Time!" I yelled.

Tom hit the button on the stopwatch. "Uh, 32 seconds?" he asked.

"Yes!" I said. "Getting better. Now you see? Normal girl to boy wannabe gangster in 34 seconds."

"Cooool."

"Thanks. Now let me show you how to tie the pants up and you can try."

It took Tom a few tries to get it looking smooth, but soon he could change back and forth like I did.

"Good job," I said. Tom beamed at me, which faltered when I gave him a malicious grin back. "Now, it's time- for the makeup!"

"Uh, Jackie? Jackie? Please tell me you're joking," he said as I grabbed the children's play makeup set my mom had gotten me for last Christmas.

I rolled my eyes at him. "Don't be a baby, I promise it's nothing like what you think," I said as I rifled through it. "Ahah!" I pulled out the mascara. Tom backed away.

I snorted at him then turned the mirror. Using the mascara I made my brows thicker and spikier. With a few dabs of eyeshadow I did my best to try and change the shape as well.

"Okay, do I look different?" I turned to Tom, who was now looking somewhat awkward.

"Err, yeah."

"Great. Now get over here so I can do the same to you."

"Do I have to?"

"Tom. Your hair is auburn. That's like, super distinctive. The beanie will cover the hair on your head, but that won't cover your eyebrows. So yeah. You have to."

"Fiiiine."

He pouted through the application but didn't fight more than that.

Then we were ready.

…

We walked out the house in the "normalish" looking version of our disguises, through the garage and past my parents who were rearranging the wares, pausing only for me to grab a few small pieces of gravel.

"Put one of these in each of your shoes," I said to Tom as I passed him some.

"…why?" he asked as he peered at the gravel.

"There's tech that will analyze the way people walk to ID them, and we'll be walking past security cameras. It might be paranoia, but I'd like to deny any possible info to our enemies. The gravel will change how you walk enough that any info they get will be junk," I said as I slipped mine into my shoes.

Goddamnit though. I hated walking with gravel in my shoes.

Well, it was for a good cause.

We made it to the shaded path that opened up to the much more crowded street, and executed the change. The gravel made things more difficult than expected. Tom tripped and would've fell if I hadn't grabbed him and pulled him upright.

"Thanks," he whispered to me.

"No problem. Now slouch!" I hissed back.

We slunk through the streets to the mailbox. I was aiming to sort of wander up to it when someone stepped in our path.

I looked up to see a rather big man squinting down at us.

"Now what are you troublemakers doing on a nice day like this?" he asked aggressively.

I was trying to figure out a way to respond that wouldn't get us in trouble when Tom said "Nothing!"

Internally I facepalmed. Worse response possible.

"Then you two can go do nothing somewhere else," the man said.

"But-" "It's fine Mark," I said, cutting Tom off.

"Oh, uh, if you're sure Jack-, Jack," Tom said as I grabbed his arm to tug him somewhere else. I ended up pulling him to a grassy area between two houses, after checking that the man wasn't watching us.

Then I sighed and wiped my face.

"Sorry," said Tom as he kinda shuffled in place.

"No, that was my fault," I said. "I should've realized that if we look like gangsters, people will treat us like gangsters."

"But now we can't send the letters."

"Oh, we can still send the letters, we just can't use that mailbox. There are others. We'll have to come up with a way to make sure that doesn't happen again. Hmm…"

A few minutes later we walked back out. This time, instead of slouching so dramatically we pretended we were just chilling while Tom chattered about the latest basketball game he had watched.

This time, we weren't interrupted, and as Tom blocked the nearest traffic camera's view with his body, I pulled the plastic bag containing the letters out of my backpack, and being careful not to touch the letters with my bare skin poured them in.

Then, we casually walked away.

...

AN: Sorry this took so long. Been having wifi issues

Anyways, here is my resource for the disguise scene:

View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JASUsVY5YJ8&feature=youtu.be