I thought Gallant being an empathy was a secret?
Gilded god, Silver savior (Worm X Rifts: Phased World)
- Thread starter CosmoKnight
- Start date
- Crossover Sci-Fi
CosmoKnight
Don't expect quality, but you can probably expect
Gallant being an empath: Yes.
Gallant's blasts influencing emotions: No.
Cybandeath
Lord Darkness, and Representative of Mad Science
- Location
- The United States of America
US only admitted to its existence in June 25th 2013, worm takes place before that.
Yes for decades the US was still denying the existence of a military base that literally everyone has heard of and have made various movies etc mentioning it made over the years.
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Ah.
I'd forgotten, as I was thinking of it having been admitted to during the Clinton Era, with the Presidential Determination.
Chapter 6:
CosmoKnight
Don't expect quality, but you can probably expect
January 18th, 2011 - Samuel O'Hara
I gulped nervously, my hands interlocked at the fingers except for the index which made a point as they covered my nose, looking down at the desk in front of the director, who glared at me with her patent 'Death Glare'. A lot of things were revealed yesterday, and I was in trouble for about maybe three-quarters of them or so, I lost count, but the gist of it is,
I twiddled my thumbs, opening my hands like a book and shrugging, not knowing or trusting myself to say anything that will just piss her off more and dig me in a deeper hole. Eventually, she rubs her forehead and places a folder she was studying down in front of me, I pick it up and read the label on it: 'Protectorate Introduction: Samuel O'Hara'.
"We are planning on inducting you into the Protectorate in February, in the meantime, you will be training in how to better use your powers and Protectorate procedure," Ok, sounds pretty normal and understandable, "furthermore we will be having Glenn Chambers come to help make your costume and your cape identity." I hummed and glanced through the file.
It is basically a summary of my power list and recommendations of what my costume should be. I studied them and felt somewhat underwhelmed, all of the variations of the skintight spandex costumes popular in the golden and silver age of comics on display. Even with my newly enhanced and healthy body I still don't feel comfortable showing off anything. There was one that looked vaguely knight-esque that pulled at me, so I shuffled it in my hand to hold it for later review. After a moment of scanning, I place the folder back on the table, and I reply: "Understood Director."
She narrows her eyes at me and waves me out, I stand and leave, closing the door behind me and sighing, my shoulders slouching. I stretch and walk down the halls, prodding the domino mask I was given absentmindedly, the thing held onto me by strategically applied phantom gum. It feels strange wearing it, a mixture of mildly uncomfortable distancing to the people around me, and a small thrill of excitement.
BECAUSE I'M GONNA BE A SUPERHERO!!!
It takes the will of every fiber of my being not to jump and whoop in childish glee, my face a definition of a dopey grin, my throat twitching in a subvocal giggle. I look at a map that's on the wall, searching for the cafeteria to get some breakfast. The walk was mostly uneventful, except for the minor part where I meandered in my thoughts and found myself in the cafeteria doors, I looked at my watch, now updated to match the current time, and found I missed a handful of minutes.
Hopefully, nothing important happened and I was zonked out imagining some modified costume designs. I enter the cafeteria and head to the food line, flashbacks to high school, and college roll into my mind, my memories of school lunches most likely better than most. I pick up a tray and scoot down the line, picking up the usual fixings before sitting down at a table with no one at it. I begin to dig in, when someone sits across from me, I glance up, and find its Assault. I smile, swallowing the pancake and waving at him.
"How has the place been treating you?" He asks as he digs into his selection of breakfast foods.
"Been nice, got in trouble with the director and I found out when I'm going to make my debut." I smile, and Assault chuckles at me, shaking his head.
"You are probably one of the few people who's actually excited about meeting Glenn." I raise an eyebrow as I sip on some coffee.
"Not really," I admit, "I looked at the costume designs and they're all a bit, revealing for my tastes." Assault snickers, I glare at him. "What did you do?"
He raised his hands defensively, his smirk making his next words obviously lies: "It wasn't me."
"Lies," I say overly dramatic, pointing my fork at him. When he starts to bark laughter uncontrollably I smile and return to eating. Soon I look up to find Battery glowering at the cackling crimson-clad hero. I wave at her, "He swapped out my costume designs." I say in a whiny tone, eliciting another bout of uproarious laughter from Assault, and Battery groaned.
"I am not your mother…" I could hear her softly mumble and I snickered. "Anyway, training starts in a couple… minutes…" I wiped my mouth with a napkin and took the plate to the washing line. I look back at her, ready to go when I blink at the confused and slightly horrified face of the two.
"What?"
"Dude, you just inhaled an entire breakfast in a couple of seconds." Assault looked like he was having an internal mental debate between vomiting and beginning to laugh again. I stood there in confusion and tried to rerun the last few seconds, all I could remember was her telling me it was time to train and I was finished. Then I noticed something else, I wasn't hungry in the first place, I haven't been since I got here, this was the only real-time that I have had time to eat something, I was on autopilot to eat something because this is when I was supposed to.
"Huh, neat."
___________________________________________________________________________________________________
So, the training was interesting.
What I had expected was basic CQC, some firearms, and maybe a little bit of EMT at least, but I'm not going to rag on Blaster training though, it was fun. It was basically a cylinder room with a handful of cheaply made Dragon drones, and I was tasked to hit them, and not evaporate everything behind them. I did as he asked and we found out some more interesting things about my blaster power, besides the force push around me, I can also shoot them from my eyes, but that seems to be the limit, so dropkicking lasers or off of other points isn't possible.
I'm now laying in a bunk in a room in the corner of the rig.
And I'm bored.
My leg is bouncing, desperately trying and failing to bleed off some excess nervous energy. I haven't felt physically tired since I woke up, mentally tired yes but that seems to fade like normal when I read a book or anything else that doesn't involve human interaction, I can take a nap but I don't really sleep. If I could really compare it to something it's probably akin to Elven meditation for long rests in DND. I sigh and get out of bed, walking down the hallway at first, but then turning to float to be as quiet as possible. Zipping through the air, with my jacket on, my hood up, and traveling through the halls like a ghost. Eventually finding the mask that I snuck in, a paintball mask with tinted lenses. Basic and probably very easily seen through, but hey, I had a couple of dollars on hand, and my card worthless, and the rest of it, it's kinda strange that no one mentioned these problems in these kinds of adventures, probably because economic problems aren't that interesting.
Anyway, moving on, I'm gliding over the Atlantic ocean to Brockton Bay, this time at a controlled pace. So no crashing into a warehouse on Mach 1 this time.
Hopefully.
If a villain punches me into one it's their fault!
Regardless, vigilante time!
I glide silently through the night- Ok, let's try to not summon up Batman, me being a Superman Expy. My dark clothes blend me nicely into the darkened sky, I watch the city below me, even in the darkest of nights at the latest of hours. I guess living in the middle of nowhere skews your perspective. But not being able to sleep- or needing to- does distort my view on things a little. I land quietly onto the roof of a building, the gravel crackling under my feet. Why do roofs have gravel on them? Question for later. I watch over silently, the urge to hunch over the short wall and brood over some mild inconvenience, but no summoning my inner Batman, well, silver age Batman.
I flick back to reality as I hear someone shout, and some kind of reflexive muscle memory sends me hurtling over the rooftops towards it without a second thought. In the back of my mind, I curse at myself for going in guns blazing, remembering that 'action without thought' is just as dangerous as 'thought without action'. I have to force myself to keep grounded and not shoot over like a missile, keeping my vigilante identity as disparate as possible to my upcoming debut, but jumping large gaps with ease is fine. I finally arrive over an alley, my eyes catching a young lady and two gentlemen holding two other women hostage in a dead-end alley, conveniently far enough for me to make my entrance in a classic three-point landing!
"What the fuck?!" the leading lady shouts at my sadly unwelcome arrival.
"Language!" I reply, my mask hiding my goofy grin, "Now, might I ask why you three ruffians wish to do harm to these fair maidens?" They stare at me, the women standing behind me whimpering softly, in fear and confusion at the darkly dressed individual that I am.
"Shadow Stalker?" Dang, scrap that name, ok, what else do I have, know what, screw it?
"Nope, I'm just your friendly neighborhood vigilante!" I dart forward, jumping into the air and kicking the man on her right in his face, then bouncing off the wall and drop-kicking the other guy, flipping back onto my feet and headbutting her. To anyone watching, 'Kestrel' has enhanced agility and coordination, nothing special but impressive nonetheless. I pick them up and slump them against the wall, pulling out a pair of zip-ties and makeshift handcuffing them. Dusting off my hands I turn to the two women, and salute, "Mind calling the constabulary for me, I gotta go!" With that, I leap up the fire escape and disappear over the roof.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________
The rest of the night was pretty similar, some faces changed and numbers shifted, but all in all pretty much the same, never boring, but overall the same thing repeating, and mildly worrying. It is very worrying that there is so much crime but kinda surprising that I haven't really run into any superpowered criminals, which is honestly surprising considering what I've heard about this place. But what's even weirder is that most crimes are usually gang violence, things like robberies and such are always done by parahumans. It's weird, to be honest, at least compared to comic books I've read, but then again, this is the real world.
As I channel my inner Spiderman/Nightwing as I leap across the rooftops, I soon find myself running into what I assume is another Parahuman. Although I could be making a large assumption-
Nope, those dogs are getting really big now, neat.
I land down next to her and wave as the dogs and herself spin around, all of them growling, which is surprising coming from the girl but maybe it's a side effect of her powers, interdasting. I wave at her.
"Hi, what's up?" I keep my hands in a non-threatening position, she approaches me and grunts.
"Who are you?"
"Just your friendly neighborhood vigilante," I turn o the building as I hear barking, shouting, and the shuffling of paper. Gee, subtle, I point at the building behind her. "That your's or are you here to crash the party?" She growls again, but turns to the building, her glare becoming even more vicious.
"They hurt dogs, I'm here to stop them."
"Would you like some help?"
___________________________________________________________________________________________________
January 19th, 2011 - Samuel O'Hara
Well, that was fun.
Bitch, also known as Hellhound, let me help her dismantle the dogfighting ring and she got all the dogs, she said that I could have taken the money but I declined and left it to either be taken by her or the police. We parted ways amicably after she let me pet her dogs, all three of them adorable. I walked past the docks, and saw what locals referred to as 'The Boat Graveyard', and yup, exactly what it says on the tin. Prows of various vessels stuck out from the muck, the hull's mostly rusted to brown flakes that occasionally fall to the ground like metallic leaves, and cause the structure to finally completely disintegrate and collapse with a thundering crash.
Man, people must sleep like the dead around here, my ears are ringing.
Well, I'm here, I can shoot metal boiling beams of, most likely cosmic, energy.
"Time to go to work."
I gulped nervously, my hands interlocked at the fingers except for the index which made a point as they covered my nose, looking down at the desk in front of the director, who glared at me with her patent 'Death Glare'. A lot of things were revealed yesterday, and I was in trouble for about maybe three-quarters of them or so, I lost count, but the gist of it is,
- I have a phone that I forgot I had in my pocket.
- My phone is currently better than any phone currently on the market and is almost on par with some tinker tech.
- I have a wallet that has my ID and stuff.
- I made a PHO account and nearly revealed my own secret identity, only a moderator saved my butt
- Thank you Tin_Mother.
- I was also from the future.
- Slightly, dimensional shenanigans and stuff.
- Also, I found out today's date.
- And my watch.
- Also, I lost a bunch of weight over the past couple of days.
- And gained a bunch of muscle.
- I have a six-pack now.
- And gained a bunch of muscle.
I twiddled my thumbs, opening my hands like a book and shrugging, not knowing or trusting myself to say anything that will just piss her off more and dig me in a deeper hole. Eventually, she rubs her forehead and places a folder she was studying down in front of me, I pick it up and read the label on it: 'Protectorate Introduction: Samuel O'Hara'.
"We are planning on inducting you into the Protectorate in February, in the meantime, you will be training in how to better use your powers and Protectorate procedure," Ok, sounds pretty normal and understandable, "furthermore we will be having Glenn Chambers come to help make your costume and your cape identity." I hummed and glanced through the file.
It is basically a summary of my power list and recommendations of what my costume should be. I studied them and felt somewhat underwhelmed, all of the variations of the skintight spandex costumes popular in the golden and silver age of comics on display. Even with my newly enhanced and healthy body I still don't feel comfortable showing off anything. There was one that looked vaguely knight-esque that pulled at me, so I shuffled it in my hand to hold it for later review. After a moment of scanning, I place the folder back on the table, and I reply: "Understood Director."
She narrows her eyes at me and waves me out, I stand and leave, closing the door behind me and sighing, my shoulders slouching. I stretch and walk down the halls, prodding the domino mask I was given absentmindedly, the thing held onto me by strategically applied phantom gum. It feels strange wearing it, a mixture of mildly uncomfortable distancing to the people around me, and a small thrill of excitement.
BECAUSE I'M GONNA BE A SUPERHERO!!!
It takes the will of every fiber of my being not to jump and whoop in childish glee, my face a definition of a dopey grin, my throat twitching in a subvocal giggle. I look at a map that's on the wall, searching for the cafeteria to get some breakfast. The walk was mostly uneventful, except for the minor part where I meandered in my thoughts and found myself in the cafeteria doors, I looked at my watch, now updated to match the current time, and found I missed a handful of minutes.
Hopefully, nothing important happened and I was zonked out imagining some modified costume designs. I enter the cafeteria and head to the food line, flashbacks to high school, and college roll into my mind, my memories of school lunches most likely better than most. I pick up a tray and scoot down the line, picking up the usual fixings before sitting down at a table with no one at it. I begin to dig in, when someone sits across from me, I glance up, and find its Assault. I smile, swallowing the pancake and waving at him.
"How has the place been treating you?" He asks as he digs into his selection of breakfast foods.
"Been nice, got in trouble with the director and I found out when I'm going to make my debut." I smile, and Assault chuckles at me, shaking his head.
"You are probably one of the few people who's actually excited about meeting Glenn." I raise an eyebrow as I sip on some coffee.
"Not really," I admit, "I looked at the costume designs and they're all a bit, revealing for my tastes." Assault snickers, I glare at him. "What did you do?"
He raised his hands defensively, his smirk making his next words obviously lies: "It wasn't me."
"Lies," I say overly dramatic, pointing my fork at him. When he starts to bark laughter uncontrollably I smile and return to eating. Soon I look up to find Battery glowering at the cackling crimson-clad hero. I wave at her, "He swapped out my costume designs." I say in a whiny tone, eliciting another bout of uproarious laughter from Assault, and Battery groaned.
"I am not your mother…" I could hear her softly mumble and I snickered. "Anyway, training starts in a couple… minutes…" I wiped my mouth with a napkin and took the plate to the washing line. I look back at her, ready to go when I blink at the confused and slightly horrified face of the two.
"What?"
"Dude, you just inhaled an entire breakfast in a couple of seconds." Assault looked like he was having an internal mental debate between vomiting and beginning to laugh again. I stood there in confusion and tried to rerun the last few seconds, all I could remember was her telling me it was time to train and I was finished. Then I noticed something else, I wasn't hungry in the first place, I haven't been since I got here, this was the only real-time that I have had time to eat something, I was on autopilot to eat something because this is when I was supposed to.
"Huh, neat."
___________________________________________________________________________________________________
So, the training was interesting.
What I had expected was basic CQC, some firearms, and maybe a little bit of EMT at least, but I'm not going to rag on Blaster training though, it was fun. It was basically a cylinder room with a handful of cheaply made Dragon drones, and I was tasked to hit them, and not evaporate everything behind them. I did as he asked and we found out some more interesting things about my blaster power, besides the force push around me, I can also shoot them from my eyes, but that seems to be the limit, so dropkicking lasers or off of other points isn't possible.
I'm now laying in a bunk in a room in the corner of the rig.
And I'm bored.
My leg is bouncing, desperately trying and failing to bleed off some excess nervous energy. I haven't felt physically tired since I woke up, mentally tired yes but that seems to fade like normal when I read a book or anything else that doesn't involve human interaction, I can take a nap but I don't really sleep. If I could really compare it to something it's probably akin to Elven meditation for long rests in DND. I sigh and get out of bed, walking down the hallway at first, but then turning to float to be as quiet as possible. Zipping through the air, with my jacket on, my hood up, and traveling through the halls like a ghost. Eventually finding the mask that I snuck in, a paintball mask with tinted lenses. Basic and probably very easily seen through, but hey, I had a couple of dollars on hand, and my card worthless, and the rest of it, it's kinda strange that no one mentioned these problems in these kinds of adventures, probably because economic problems aren't that interesting.
Anyway, moving on, I'm gliding over the Atlantic ocean to Brockton Bay, this time at a controlled pace. So no crashing into a warehouse on Mach 1 this time.
Hopefully.
If a villain punches me into one it's their fault!
Regardless, vigilante time!
I glide silently through the night- Ok, let's try to not summon up Batman, me being a Superman Expy. My dark clothes blend me nicely into the darkened sky, I watch the city below me, even in the darkest of nights at the latest of hours. I guess living in the middle of nowhere skews your perspective. But not being able to sleep- or needing to- does distort my view on things a little. I land quietly onto the roof of a building, the gravel crackling under my feet. Why do roofs have gravel on them? Question for later. I watch over silently, the urge to hunch over the short wall and brood over some mild inconvenience, but no summoning my inner Batman, well, silver age Batman.
I flick back to reality as I hear someone shout, and some kind of reflexive muscle memory sends me hurtling over the rooftops towards it without a second thought. In the back of my mind, I curse at myself for going in guns blazing, remembering that 'action without thought' is just as dangerous as 'thought without action'. I have to force myself to keep grounded and not shoot over like a missile, keeping my vigilante identity as disparate as possible to my upcoming debut, but jumping large gaps with ease is fine. I finally arrive over an alley, my eyes catching a young lady and two gentlemen holding two other women hostage in a dead-end alley, conveniently far enough for me to make my entrance in a classic three-point landing!
"What the fuck?!" the leading lady shouts at my sadly unwelcome arrival.
"Language!" I reply, my mask hiding my goofy grin, "Now, might I ask why you three ruffians wish to do harm to these fair maidens?" They stare at me, the women standing behind me whimpering softly, in fear and confusion at the darkly dressed individual that I am.
"Shadow Stalker?" Dang, scrap that name, ok, what else do I have, know what, screw it?
"Nope, I'm just your friendly neighborhood vigilante!" I dart forward, jumping into the air and kicking the man on her right in his face, then bouncing off the wall and drop-kicking the other guy, flipping back onto my feet and headbutting her. To anyone watching, 'Kestrel' has enhanced agility and coordination, nothing special but impressive nonetheless. I pick them up and slump them against the wall, pulling out a pair of zip-ties and makeshift handcuffing them. Dusting off my hands I turn to the two women, and salute, "Mind calling the constabulary for me, I gotta go!" With that, I leap up the fire escape and disappear over the roof.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________
The rest of the night was pretty similar, some faces changed and numbers shifted, but all in all pretty much the same, never boring, but overall the same thing repeating, and mildly worrying. It is very worrying that there is so much crime but kinda surprising that I haven't really run into any superpowered criminals, which is honestly surprising considering what I've heard about this place. But what's even weirder is that most crimes are usually gang violence, things like robberies and such are always done by parahumans. It's weird, to be honest, at least compared to comic books I've read, but then again, this is the real world.
As I channel my inner Spiderman/Nightwing as I leap across the rooftops, I soon find myself running into what I assume is another Parahuman. Although I could be making a large assumption-
Nope, those dogs are getting really big now, neat.
I land down next to her and wave as the dogs and herself spin around, all of them growling, which is surprising coming from the girl but maybe it's a side effect of her powers, interdasting. I wave at her.
"Hi, what's up?" I keep my hands in a non-threatening position, she approaches me and grunts.
"Who are you?"
"Just your friendly neighborhood vigilante," I turn o the building as I hear barking, shouting, and the shuffling of paper. Gee, subtle, I point at the building behind her. "That your's or are you here to crash the party?" She growls again, but turns to the building, her glare becoming even more vicious.
"They hurt dogs, I'm here to stop them."
"Would you like some help?"
___________________________________________________________________________________________________
January 19th, 2011 - Samuel O'Hara
Well, that was fun.
Bitch, also known as Hellhound, let me help her dismantle the dogfighting ring and she got all the dogs, she said that I could have taken the money but I declined and left it to either be taken by her or the police. We parted ways amicably after she let me pet her dogs, all three of them adorable. I walked past the docks, and saw what locals referred to as 'The Boat Graveyard', and yup, exactly what it says on the tin. Prows of various vessels stuck out from the muck, the hull's mostly rusted to brown flakes that occasionally fall to the ground like metallic leaves, and cause the structure to finally completely disintegrate and collapse with a thundering crash.
Man, people must sleep like the dead around here, my ears are ringing.
Well, I'm here, I can shoot metal boiling beams of, most likely cosmic, energy.
"Time to go to work."
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- Location
- Standing behind you...
@CosmoKnight you forgot to threadmark your chapter.
CosmoKnight
Don't expect quality, but you can probably expect
Fixed it, thank you for informing me.
LordofTentacles
Surprisingly Sturdy
- Location
- Louisiana
I missed this. Thank you for your work.
- Pronouns
- Masculine
Really enjoyable! Was reading it on FFnet and rather liked it. A true superhero geek in the world of Worm... he is either going to subvert ALL the conventions or become jaded down.
I really am looking forward to the first Endbringer battle. And them doing an MRI and seeing he doesn't have a Corona.
I really am looking forward to the first Endbringer battle. And them doing an MRI and seeing he doesn't have a Corona.
Tisaku
Head Chief Thinkomancer
,
-also, the casaba howitzer wasn't military, it was thought up by the crazies at General Atomics.-
on
Hookwolf
but she
fifth
Royale
since
-Area 51 does exist. It is a salt flat in Nevada owned by the USAF and likely used to test aircraft and weapons.-
-Why is the head of PR for a national agency taking the time to deal with one guy who is not a problem case when he likely has plenty who are?-
.
CosmoKnight
Don't expect quality, but you can probably expect
Did not know that, thank you.
Yes, it does, but this is 9 years ago where that has yet to be addressed to exist, that's next year.
Please note I said that quality will vary, I will try to avoid this in the future, and he did nearly out himself.