The boardwalk was one of the most lucrative destinations in Brockton Bay, for the city...
Degeneration (Worm, OC/Cross)
- Thread starter DemiRapscallion
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Riddle
DemiRapscallion
Apathetically Excited
- Location
- California
The boardwalk was one of the most lucrative destinations in Brockton Bay, for the city. Coincidentally, it was their sole tourist area that consistently brought in money. Thusly, it was an area that was seemingly never spared a public presence.
Spare the few hours between 3am and 5:30am.
In a space between space, a dimension as affected by thought as paper is by ink and glue, Aleson hurdled, having been struck with enough force to send her on the fast track away from her team's meteorite ride.
The street was lit by the streetlights, but without the stores themselves, the light seemed paltry, pale in comparison to the shadows cast across clean concrete and into the depths of glass storefronts. The gibbous moon had never seemed so small. A combination of the sharp, cold December air and the ludicrous hour of night combined for a normally filled space to be dead empty.
She was suffering too much velocity to bleed it off in time to teleport back successfully, without pancaking on the side of their ride. Not to mention how distracting it was to feel her broken shoulder plate grind against itself, with all the agony that entailed. Her only hope was a desperate bid to make use of the infinitely malleable void surrounding her. She couldn't expect her teammates to go back for her, the mission was at stake!
Too much was at risk to stop for one person, afterall. She couldn't count on their help.
Not more than a few feet from the front of a popular jewelry store, a few multicolored sparks began flying from a single point in space, bouncing off concrete ad passing through glass without resistance.
Too bad she was fucking awful at making this place do what she wanted.
That single point ripped open into an ever morphing singularity, expanding out, every impossible shape shifting and shunting back together. Wherever one of its boundaries brushed against a surface, an aspect of the material changed, warped, or was outright replaced.
Glass fractured under the weight when a large swath was replaced by marble. Brick was changed into wood flooring, and a fire hydrant exploded out into a geyser of water when the metallic portions were changed into an amalgamation of welded together garden gnomes, sending chunks of ceramic flying.
Distantly, there was a crunch of splintering glass, and a car alarm started up.
And out of this absolute insult to reality and everything it stood for, Aleson came flying out head over heels, her soul curdling scream cutting in just long enough to be audible before she smacked forehead first off something hard, sending her bouncing and skidding across the street, coming to an eventual stop.
Black, half phased armor had flickered to life during that traumatic time, the plates over her head and torso shutting off when she came to a stop. Surely saving her any more organ damage.
Now, given that said armor only ever deemed itself fit enough to protect her head and torso, it didn't feel like a lot in the short term.
In the last moments of consciousness, before the trauma of a sudden stop from extreme velocity and an exasperated wound claimed her mind, she could have sworn she heard the sound of buzzing boots stomping closer.
.-+-.
Dauntless didn't enjoy patrols.
Oh, he did without complaint them, sure. He liked pulling at the power he'd built up in his boots, the visceral thrill involved with flying still not yet waned; enjoyed, in an idle way, waving down at the occasional star gazer he passed over.
They all had to see the city's "Big Rising Star", after all. There was nothing for it, and the blunt statistical data kept any complaint he might've had in his throat.
No, he decidedly didn't enjoy patrols. Yet regardless of that fact, it did help reduce crime if he was seen flying about, it increased his oh so important popularity, and it…
It was a reason not to be home. Maybe that attitude was one of the reasons things were going so downhill, but it made him feel better to regard it as a symptom and not the cause.
The Hero's attention was snapped up when his helmet's enhanced sight picked up something on the Boardwalk, dozens of feet below him. He wouldn't have begun drifting down to check it out if it didn't look like a self contained rave, and he got close enough for the mind bending event before him to strain his eyes before it spat out something fast enough that his only instinct was to raise his shield. Dauntless grunted at the drain the impact inflicted, the barrier nearly broken after that hit.
The spatial anomaly chose that time to zip up into nonexistence, however, and his most pressing concern was the cape with the broken shoulder.
His eyes drifted over the newly unconscious woman, even as his hand went to his transmitter.
She was tall, at least 6 feet, slender with just enough curve to be eye catching. Her short hair was a platinum blonde, and what he could see of her makeup smudged face put her as pretty, and unmasked to boot, which was concerning, given how obvious of a parahuman she was.
A black bodysuit covered her from neck to toe, complete with a utility belt and calf high combat boots, and gloves left her fingers free. The linen strips wrapped tight around her shoulders and chest, covered in dully glowing green rune script went without comment.
The motion to start the call to console was completed, and Dauntless gave a report as best as he could.
.-+-.
Spare the few hours between 3am and 5:30am.
In a space between space, a dimension as affected by thought as paper is by ink and glue, Aleson hurdled, having been struck with enough force to send her on the fast track away from her team's meteorite ride.
The street was lit by the streetlights, but without the stores themselves, the light seemed paltry, pale in comparison to the shadows cast across clean concrete and into the depths of glass storefronts. The gibbous moon had never seemed so small. A combination of the sharp, cold December air and the ludicrous hour of night combined for a normally filled space to be dead empty.
She was suffering too much velocity to bleed it off in time to teleport back successfully, without pancaking on the side of their ride. Not to mention how distracting it was to feel her broken shoulder plate grind against itself, with all the agony that entailed. Her only hope was a desperate bid to make use of the infinitely malleable void surrounding her. She couldn't expect her teammates to go back for her, the mission was at stake!
Too much was at risk to stop for one person, afterall. She couldn't count on their help.
Not more than a few feet from the front of a popular jewelry store, a few multicolored sparks began flying from a single point in space, bouncing off concrete ad passing through glass without resistance.
Too bad she was fucking awful at making this place do what she wanted.
That single point ripped open into an ever morphing singularity, expanding out, every impossible shape shifting and shunting back together. Wherever one of its boundaries brushed against a surface, an aspect of the material changed, warped, or was outright replaced.
Glass fractured under the weight when a large swath was replaced by marble. Brick was changed into wood flooring, and a fire hydrant exploded out into a geyser of water when the metallic portions were changed into an amalgamation of welded together garden gnomes, sending chunks of ceramic flying.
Distantly, there was a crunch of splintering glass, and a car alarm started up.
And out of this absolute insult to reality and everything it stood for, Aleson came flying out head over heels, her soul curdling scream cutting in just long enough to be audible before she smacked forehead first off something hard, sending her bouncing and skidding across the street, coming to an eventual stop.
Black, half phased armor had flickered to life during that traumatic time, the plates over her head and torso shutting off when she came to a stop. Surely saving her any more organ damage.
Now, given that said armor only ever deemed itself fit enough to protect her head and torso, it didn't feel like a lot in the short term.
In the last moments of consciousness, before the trauma of a sudden stop from extreme velocity and an exasperated wound claimed her mind, she could have sworn she heard the sound of buzzing boots stomping closer.
.-+-.
Dauntless didn't enjoy patrols.
Oh, he did without complaint them, sure. He liked pulling at the power he'd built up in his boots, the visceral thrill involved with flying still not yet waned; enjoyed, in an idle way, waving down at the occasional star gazer he passed over.
They all had to see the city's "Big Rising Star", after all. There was nothing for it, and the blunt statistical data kept any complaint he might've had in his throat.
No, he decidedly didn't enjoy patrols. Yet regardless of that fact, it did help reduce crime if he was seen flying about, it increased his oh so important popularity, and it…
It was a reason not to be home. Maybe that attitude was one of the reasons things were going so downhill, but it made him feel better to regard it as a symptom and not the cause.
The Hero's attention was snapped up when his helmet's enhanced sight picked up something on the Boardwalk, dozens of feet below him. He wouldn't have begun drifting down to check it out if it didn't look like a self contained rave, and he got close enough for the mind bending event before him to strain his eyes before it spat out something fast enough that his only instinct was to raise his shield. Dauntless grunted at the drain the impact inflicted, the barrier nearly broken after that hit.
The spatial anomaly chose that time to zip up into nonexistence, however, and his most pressing concern was the cape with the broken shoulder.
His eyes drifted over the newly unconscious woman, even as his hand went to his transmitter.
She was tall, at least 6 feet, slender with just enough curve to be eye catching. Her short hair was a platinum blonde, and what he could see of her makeup smudged face put her as pretty, and unmasked to boot, which was concerning, given how obvious of a parahuman she was.
A black bodysuit covered her from neck to toe, complete with a utility belt and calf high combat boots, and gloves left her fingers free. The linen strips wrapped tight around her shoulders and chest, covered in dully glowing green rune script went without comment.
The motion to start the call to console was completed, and Dauntless gave a report as best as he could.
.-+-.
I'm sorry I keep making new things, but first actual fic! Also, this and a few other things wouldn't leave me alone, so here we are.
This is an OC of mine, but specifically one I used for a Necessary Evil Savage Worlds campaign.
This is an OC of mine, but specifically one I used for a Necessary Evil Savage Worlds campaign.