Just Use Money (Worm SI)

[RoyalJello]

To which all answers could probably be solved with money. Played by a selfish Coil-esque bastard.

That story written by that guy that didn't read the original story. I try to do research if I think I'm missing stuff, if it's any consolation .
Wish me luck that I don't butcher it by accidentally incorporating fandom. I will be removing all the egregious errors that I find. They'll probably show up most in bits not covered by fan stories or viewed as less important.​

Thus began my martyring to the munchkin gods. I doubt there'll be min-maxing going on here.​

​

Thanks to DamienDraidecht on deviantART for the source image.
​

Just Use Money, Already​

My alarm was particularly loud today.

I moved over to turn off my phone when my arm collided into something plastic. Ugh. This again.

This alarm sounds kind of weird.

I sat up. The bedside table was wrong, and perched on it was a thick plastic alarm clock. What the hell?

I hit the thing and looked around the room. Shit.

I was in a... random apartment somewhere. It seemed like it was just me living here. There was the double bed I was sleeping on, a table, a minifridge and a little kitchen room that it lead to. Where am I?

I suddenly noticed that I was capable of seeing the rest of the room, which surprised me much more. I looked over to the table on my right and lo and behold, there were glasses. However, they looked nothing like my own. Following the logic, I look down at myself and gawp.

... Yep. Still my body.

Ahaha... Fuck, I had genuinely been expecting to had been someone else. I've been reading too many stories. I guess someone mistook me for the person who has the apartment or I was drunk or something?

I roll out of the bed and make my way to the kitchen when a realisation strikes me.

I'm a teenager again, aren't I?

I find a little bathroom and look at myself in the mirror for long enough to see myself say, "Shit." Then I immediately grin, because who gets a second chance to be a teenager?

Right. This is going to be a glorious day. Just as long as I can figure out where the hell I am.

Man, how am I going to figure out what day it is if I haven't got a mobile phone? Sundial?

.

.

"Fucking, finally," I panted.

After half an hour I finally dredged up my wallet from a heap of clothes that I'd never worn beside the bed. The ID was fake, but it had my new name - Chris Allen - and my school... Winslow High. That sounds somewhat familiar?

Fuck... If this is Worm I am going to chew my own arms off.

I scour the room but there's no other information to back up the statement. I'm going to go on a limb and assume that I'm not being pranked, and that some Random Omniscient Being just decided to dump me here. Why would I even guess that I was a teenager like that?

Oh god. I have a feeling from now on I'm going to go insane thinking that "thinkers" are anticipating exactly what I will do.

Well you aren't ruining my day. Fuck it, if I'm now trapped in - what is pretty much a privacy-invading dystopia if you've 'contracted' superpowers - then fine. I'll do... Whatever I do. At least thank Christ I got up early today. Like I want to gain peoples attention in Winslow. Man, should I even bother attending?

No, it's probably best if I go. But I don't give two shits about Taylor. Actually - before I test anything else - I need to see if I have a power. There is no chance in hell that I am going to be railroaded if I have a choice here.

I closed my eyes and squeezed my concentration. I pushed my brain, imploring a deeper connection.

I opened my eyes and examined my body. Nothing.

I tried again... Pushing harder into my cerebral cortex, imploring some higher connection to the alien mothership. Ironically true.

A flicker.

Fuck yes!

I then promptly fell over. Oww, my brain. I shouldn't have done that standing. Well, for what it was, that was basically a bust. But I'm pretty sure that something is there, so at least I don't think that I'm up shit creek without a paddle.

... Holy shit. I forgotten about the Nazis. This is going to be hell.

No. I refuse, or do not want to play part of a stereotypical game. And that's the part that you get slaughtered for in a world where the worst thing always happens.

Fine, whatever. I'm going to go to Winslow as a light brown, tanned European - but not black - guy. Fuck my life.

.

.

The Chris Allen name was a joke, wasn't it?

So I found the date - it's currently the 1st of January, 2011. In alternate dimension hell. On the plus side, it has no Facebook, and people are still not all using phones. Because duh, social media isn't a thing, thanks to all the technological disasters.

I found the school by asking a couple of people for directions, and made my way inside. To be fair, it's not as shit as it's usually described. But hell, I'd thought a lot in the past that American high schools just didn't sound fun. From media it seems like they're rife with bullying and such. And this one has sociopathic gang members.

Though it's probably because I came in super early. That's one thing that I'm likely going to do every day, simply because I'm probably more likely to avoid gang stuff if I get there early and I leave early. This is just assuming the worst though. Worst comes to worst I can not come back, or look for one of the other schools. What were they - ah, Immaculata High (if I ever found money) and Arcadia, both of which had convenient leaflets on my table.

Shit, actually. This is kind of a do-or-die for whether I want to be registered onto Winslow - they'd probably check on me if I don't come back.

I sat down in one of the chairs outside of the waiting room, and sank my chin in my palm. Well, for one thing, I wouldn't be interfering with canon. On the other hand, I wouldn't have the connections to survive unless I happened to meet Panacea or something. And Brockton Bay is going to shit. I would move somewhere else... But I've read self inserts. These guys get targeted to hell and back. At least I know Brockton Bay - corruption and all. That and all the sob stories of all the superpowered residents, which self inserts such as myself use to ruthless degrees.

Hrm. Well, otherwise I'm just going to be trapped in my room too paranoid to do stuff. I concede, though I'll fill my registration in with as much fake information as possible. Hopefully Winslow - of all fictional horrible schools - won't bother checking to see my home address. I'll keep the name Chris Allen - assuming that the paperwork that I'm registered under so far is that shoddy that the ROB just allowed me to change my name on a dime.

The seagul outside the window made a long, annoying guttural noise. I'm going to go mad thinking these things are intentional, nevermind.

Right. I stood up. Time to head to this office. But I swear, if this is like one of those stupid arbitrary self inserts where painful encounters keep happening, I'm either moving away or committing death-by-Lung before someone like Cauldron can come grab me.

Famous last words.

---

She nodded towards me as I shook her hand, before heading off to sit on her chair.

"Hi, Principal Blackwell." I'm with the PRT. "I'm Chris Allen."

"Hello. Are you familiar with all of the lessons that you have to take?" She asked. I noticed she had a little acne on her cheeks.

"No... If you could show me where I could find a timetable, that would be great."

"Sure. I'll print one off," she replied, moving to her computer.

Dear ROB: Please just turn off all the conflict in the world so I can have fun please?

"Damn, we're out of ink."

Guh.

---

I made my way over to maths class - Math - now that I'm in America.

The teacher was talking to the class over some basic quadratics.

I walked right back away and down the hall.

Fuck! I just realised - Greg Veder. This isn't just any old world - this world you can't just walk in and say, 'uhhh.. uhhh... excuse me', because it will actually kick the shit out of you. I hope I'm not just being overly paranoid, but why would someone like Greg Veder get beat up like that? Hyper boosted bullying, with gang warfare power plays even on the smaller scale. I'd rather wait for the next class.

Fortunately, computer lab had some space before I came in. I made my greetings and took up a seat. I was 90% sure this was the right class - heck, it was even supposed to have Gladys Knott, whenever the lesson started.

Some idle browsing and the lesson had finally come around. I was given one or two glances, but it looks like I hadn't really been recognised as a potential newcomer. As a side, wow - I hadn't even realised how young I am. 15 year olds are still tiny.

Good, but they are going to get more uneasy if I don't introduce myself here. I approached Ms Knott, "Miss. Can I introduce myself to the class?"

She smiled encouragingly, "Yeah, go ahead."

Good. I stood up in front of the projector space. Half of the class deigned to look at me, most of them preoccupied with their computers. Ideal, hopefully.

"Hi everyone. I'm Chris Allen. I'm new, and uhh yeah, I'm now part of your class." I quickly tacked on, "No need to cheer or anything." I stood for a solid couple more seconds before walking back to my seat and sitting down.

Ms Knott clapped, and a couple people gave it token applause. I had a couple looks sent my way as I sat back down, but nothing too ridiculous so far. Gladys took the register.

"Yo, I'm Francis," spoke a guy sat beside me on my left. He looked fairly normal. "Welcome to Winslow."

I shook his hand. "Nice to meet you. You already know my name."

"-Allen, Chris-," called Ms Knott.

"-Here!" I called back out.

I turned back to the guy. I was at a loss for anything more important to say. I'd kind of already done school. "What kind of class is this?"

"Oh, Ms Knott usually sets us programming stuff but most people just tend to browse during the lesson."

"Oh cool. Know any good games websites?"

"-Hebert, Taylor-"

"-Here!" spoke a girl's voice.

I looked up and spotted Taylor on the opposite side. Yeah, she was pretty much the Americanised version of what I was expecting, although a lot smaller.
Smaller-bigger? I'm also younger than I was. Anyway, she didn't look that thin at all. Crazy how much words must've been exaggerated about her.

I didn't want to be caught looking at her for too long, but in what I quickly gathered - dark hair, slightly tense looking posture - too quick movements, and a kind of bookish aesthetic. We were both wearing those early 2000s thin rim plastic-y glasses that nobody likes. Fun.

Anyway - 'Hee bert'. At least now I know. I guess 'A bear' is the French way of saying it.

Francis looked at me and I turned back away from Taylor. "Randomly thought I'd heard something."

..

---

Taylor. Give me a damn way to communicate with you.

I glared at the paper in front of me. Taylor was on my left side, and we had one person desks so it would still raise suspicion - and more bullying - if I associated with her. Fucking sigh. You're serious? One person desks?

I don't particularly want to involve myself, but if it were me, I'd like to at least be informed of the shit to stay atop of. The problem is A. she hasn't triggered, B. she's isolationist and C. I have no plausible reason to start a conversation with her. One person desks.

Turns out that today was an optional school day, but many students were made to come due to poor grades anyway.

I quickly solved the Physics problem - protip: copy the workbook - and rested my head on my folded arms. Nobody particularly cared because it was a holiday technically anyway.

I focused on the source of my power. I felt it in the general area of where I thought my frontal cortex is.

I wanted to trace the connection I had to the power. But after feeling it start to give way, I decided to go with it.

A floating surface in an small computer lab. Visible from 360 degrees. A fragment of an eye with pupil, floating in the air. Out of the view of a student idly browsing.

I quickly shut my power back off and jerked myself to sitting position. That was really impulsive. Actually, screw it - why not.

The pupil reforms into the anterior chamber and sclera. Dust was colliding with the eye fragment. It was solid. The eye ever so slowly attempts to make shape.
The eye sways to the side. A student notices.

"AH!" shouted a teenager. I immediately shut my power off and twitched.

I tried to sneakily glance around. Nobody noticed, and Sophia wasn't in my class, thankfully. I would be a hair bit more paranoid if she was. As it stands it's some stupid kid thinking they saw a reflective blue thing in the air, which disappeared before anyone saw it. Good luck to that guy.

I relax into my seat. That was actually a decent prank. I had a bit of a headache, but it wasn't as ridiculous as this morning.

And I can make projections? That's an odd choice of power.

What if I had gotten master powers?

Eh... I would've coped. I would've found the best way to keep going. The school may have actually worked out for a short time. I look over to Taylor, who is blissfully ignorant of her surroundings, tunnel visioned on her work. Whatever, I'll know when she triggers. For now there's not a lot I can do.

Simple plan - when she has insects, write something that her insects can see. Easy. Knowing how paranoid she is, she'd probably be tracking me - unless she doesn't think that I'm suspicious. Though odds are she'll have enough bugs that she'd have tagged everyone at school.

I put my chin in both of my palms. What I would do to end this lesson early...

'Fuck Contessa, fuck Contessa, fuck Contessa.' - Nothing.

Well, maybe I could pull the wool over Taylor's eyes. I mean, a projection doesn't require any physical cue. I doubt that I have any reason to though. I'm not going to ally myself with Taylor per se, but it might not be bad. Actually - no. It will most certainly be bad being linked with her. Alexandria killing me to get to her probably, haha. The best I can do is inform her and be a neutral party.

I am not a hero... Though I really need to experiment with my powers to figure out what I'm going to be doing. I decide to diligently make some careless mistakes in my work.

Taylor would probably notice that. Fuck thinkers.

Maybe I should amuse myself by haunting the computer lab.

 

[RoyalJello]

A/N: I delayed the locker by a day so that I could lazily copy Wrecked by Magite, and get to have the protagonist mucking around in class instead.

So - there was a sudden optional educational half-day before school officially began! That would make sense, since most people would be recovering from their New Years festivities. I'll pretend Sophia manually had to move the contents of the locker by hand and clean it the night before, scowling the whole time haha.

(Yeah, it's a cliche start, though I kind of wouldn't want to get dropped into Worm any other way to be honest.)

 

[Altered]

Well... It is interesting and I'll definitely will be watching. So far it's good and I'm kind of glad we didn't begin with the locker scene, plus your explanation of Sophia having to move the stuff by hand amuses me greatly.

A/N: I delayed the locker by a day so that I could lazily copy Wrecked by Magite, and get to have the protagonist mucking around in class instead.

So - there was a sudden optional educational half-day before school officially began! That would make sense, since most people would be recovering from their New Years festivities. I'll pretend Sophia manually had to move the contents of the locker by hand and clean it the night before, scowling the whole time haha.

(Yeah, it's a cliche start, though I kind of wouldn't want to get dropped into Worm any other way to be honest.)

Click to shrink...

Are you going to edit this out of the story post to make it acceptable to have posted afterwards?

 

[RoyalJello]

Are you going to edit this out of the story post to make it acceptable to have posted afterwards?

Click to shrink...

I realised it was a bit messy to leave it in the main post, so I quickly edited it out and put it separate.

 

[Altered]

I realised it was a bit messy to leave it in the main post, so I quickly edited it out and put it separate.

Click to shrink...

Ah... Just noticed that.

 

[RoyalJello]

Just Use Money
Chapter 2​

I wonder if Earth Aleph has an ebook for Worm? Nah, that would be too convenient. I was walking home, and fortunately I noticed that my apartment was actually on the main road leading to Winslow. Good, because I really didn't want to catch the bus while I was here.

I briefly considered trying to send a projection to my apartment to see if anything was there, but ended up deciding against it. I'd probably fall over, and it's much easier to just practice it when I'm home.

I arrived, latched the key in and dumped everything on the table before going to check the fridge. No Contessa. Or Simurgh.

I could actually get used to this.

Also, the TV was working. From what it looked like, I guessed it was mostly re-runs of TV shows from Earth Aleph - they had pretty decent budget effects work. There were also a few ordinary talk shows usually set somewhere warmer, like California. Not like I'm a native US resident. Brockton Bay was surprisingly warm though.

Once I'd finished my impromptu TV dinner I'd decided it was high time to learn what my powers can do.

I closed my eyes and drifted into the space I still assumed was my frontal lobe.

A cat jumps as the eye dissolves into place. An old woman shuffles as she stares at herself in her mirror, unawares to the eye. A nose bridge forms. The woman stares at her dress.-

That wasn't as bad for my head, but I'm not having much success aiming it. If I'm not careful I might out myself.

I moved towards the furthest side of my apartment and tried again with a bit more oomph.

Eye emerges. Corner of a bed. Nose bridge and philtrum forms. Spectacles form as other eye takes shape. Dust connects with projection lens. Room is empty.

Oww. This is taking forever. What am I missing?

I decide to idle around watching Earth Aleph cartoons - unless they were from a time when Japan was above the sea level, then I grab some milk and head for bed. I eye the Hero pajamas carefully.

...

I glance at the clock. 4am.

I wonder what I would need to do to send a projection to Winslow? Might as well give it a shot.

Nothing.

I don't think that it's working... It might have a specific range. Maybe. If so, that would probably be a good thing. Otherwise I might fry my brain.

I can't sleep though. It's at this point that I kind of wanted a phone and access to fan fiction. Cape fiction is a thing here right?

It's kind of creepy writing it for real people, but heck, it might give me some ideas for what I can do with my powers. Note to self: write cape fiction about Glory Girl and Panacea with authors note, 'What? It's just pairings'.

If I'm not going to sleep, I might as well decide on what I plan to do. In all honestly, there's probably nothing more that I want besides being Security without a hero complex. I don't care about Scion.

What can I do with my powers? Well... It's looking like theft. And that by necessity fails, unless Cauldron deems it as okay. I still think that I'm missing something about it. My range isn't looking good enough to being used for scouting. There's a purpose for it being physical, but it's too small to be something like the Siberian.

What does sound the best is something civilian. Not even kidding. I'm not sure about using my powers properly, but it seems like half of the issues in Worm could be solved with basic military training and common sense. Shoot out their legs or something.

I just want to convince some capes to work with the police honestly. The main problem of Worm is that all of the legal power is in the hands of the PRT. Having other authorities breaks that. If Taylor simply said 'I'm a cape for hire' and worked with the police - even explaining Shadow Stalker behind closed doors - then that might work. But then she wouldn't work with the Undersiders. I'll tell her and let her decide.

I'm going to need a gun. I don't want to play by the unwritten rules, so the best thing I can do so far is avoid capes the best I can. Oooh, maybe I could use my projection to guide my shots. I need to test if I can feel pain through them though.

---

As I get out of bed I step on something.

My fucking glasses.

I quickly make sure that I'm wearing them.

Shit! My glasses were part of the projection.

... Well. Now, my immediate reaction is to jump in celebration at what I'm guessing is something from nothing. But if there's anything that Worm has taught me, it's that some things are arbitrary.

Still, "Woo." I say, cautiously, before glancing around at my apartment. I practically run for the furthest point in my apartment, then double back to find something to test it on.

A hat would obviously work I think. What would be a challenge? I settle on grabbing my keys from the table, and shuffle into the corner.

I put my concentration to showing my hand by the bed.

Arm hairs emerge before skin of forearm takes shape. Bed below, wall mirror reflects shape of arm. Skinny wrist gives way to metal ring. Key form emerges onto ring.-

-Oww, my brain. Maybe I could get better at aiming it so I can generate objects better. I nurse my head and make my way back over to take a look.

"Woo!" I exclaim. FUCK YEAH. There's a key resting on the duvet blanket. Right - comforter.

My old woman neighbour bangs the wall next door.

"Sorry." I pause and grin before trying again, "Woo."

You know what? Fuck Winslow. We're testing out how to get the most out of this immediately. I pick up a dollar and reactivate my power.

A bed. Empty room. A palm emerges from the air. Dust touches the palm. A dollar, composed of cotton, silk and linen, appears. Fi-

-I break it, then put down the dollar. That was a lot less of my body than last time. I start again.

A bedroom table and alarm clock. A reflective blue palm appears from the surrounding air. The palm immediately swerves. The palm touches the table and disconnects.

No pain. That was certainly better than my last idea of 'throw rocks at it in the middle of the stairway'. I smiled and let my excitement really take me over.

I move to the bedroom and examine the dollar. Exact copy - fantastic. Ultimately, I'd rather not be someones' informant or be a vigilante if I don't have to. I think with this power, I might be able to live for myself. I grin with greed. Money.

Must resist the urge to act like Montgomery Burns. I hastily get dressed - goodbye Hero pajamas - and make my way out of the apartment. As long as I don't have to do those roles, I'm happy. Actually, I probably wouldn't be at Winslow either, unless it's necessary as a cover... Shit. I'll have to think about it. For now I wonder if I even have a bank account, and how much I should store in it.

Would they have 'tinkertech' to figure out carbon copies? There are also a lot of banks out there.

By the time I'm down the street I'm planning spreading out the money, getting bigger bills and trying to replicate stacks. The glasses seemed to work, and I could probably unscrew them. Kind of makes me wonder if I should do it for diamonds, gold and other valuable materials. I haven't really got a fence or anything, and I assume that it's a lot more dangerous handling actual valuable materials.

Cash though? I don't think so. I could start living comfortably. Maybe even hire a private tutor. Though I'd need to make it look feasible for how I got the money, and not alert the Number Man or Cauldron. Bit of a fat chance.

I could get started by looking for a fence. But who would I trust? Hrm.

I yawned and made my way to class. There were probably a lot of people that probably weren't here yesterday.

I stopped as I heard banging in the hall. What could possibly..?

It took me all of a few seconds to realise what is going on when the smell hit me.

Shit! It's fucking Taylor.

...

Damn.

I move slowly closer before glancing around. The hallways are empty. She'd stopped banging. I paused.

Well... This is a conundrum.

Taylor started again, frantically beating down her locker door from the inside. "Help-please! Someone!"

I rested my chin on my palm intentionally calmly and slowly. There is no point panicking.

I need to think through the noise and smell. I have money now. I can do whatever I want. I think. As long as I play it well.

Do I want to live Taylors life, taking her duties? Do I want her to owe me? No... No.

Do I live my own life, or do I live for Taylor?

She hit the metal, "Help me!"

Well, this is what it's like. Being a self insert and not living to 'right wrongs'. This is necessary. I'm not just going to conveniently pop up in her life as her saviour or to grab the glory.

I suppose in a way I'm glad that this happened - that I wasn't made to save her or skip the painful decision. This is what heroes would look like in this universe. Conflict powers. No winning solution here.

I withheld a snort and walked away quietly.

A black girl approached from an empty classroom, "Pathetic, isn't she?"

"Hm? Oh, her?" Sophia... Fantastic. It looked like she was waiting.

"Yeah, Hebert," she sneered. "You like her?"

"Nope."

"Huh. Good. She's actually pretty slutty. I thought she deserved to be shamed for it." Indirectly asking people for approval...

I nodded, "Yeah-to be honest, it just smelled pretty awful. I was wondering what that was."

She grinned, "Mm. It does smell bad." She outstretched her hand, "I'm Sophia Hess."

I shrugged and shook it. Oddly forward. "Chris. What's up? Haven't you got class?"

"I've got track," she replied nonchalantly.

"'Jealous. I should probably head off to mine," I said, not immediately making a move to the class. It's high school again - I can wait.

"How did an English guy get into Winslow?" She asked.

I relaxed. "Well I highly doubt I'm that rare." I paused, "You make it sound like I'm some mystical being or something."

"Nope. Well maybe... Just weird."

I grinned. "Well, duh. 'Course I'm weird. Anyway, yeah, you sock it to this Taylor or whatever. I've heard a lot about this Gladly guy."

There was a space of silence where her eyes roamed the hallway. "... Yeah, he's a loser. He'd be fine if you were late."

I tilted my head. "Oh really? Huh. Alright then. I might just grab some breakfast."

I paused like I was genuinely considering it. "Nah, actually. I might as well head off."

She dismissed me, "Kay. Bye."

I nodded and spent a second thinking up something witty. "Respect for a fellow non-white person. We gotta stick together."

She snorted. I glanced back to her as I walked to class. Just standing where she is.

Well that was something. I wonder if my adulthood is just more naturally confident than all the teens around me. Sigh. Fuck sakes. Well, it's going to be embarrassing when people realise that I'm just a giant nerd. I mean, I'm wearing baby glasses.

On second thought, contacts aren't even available, are they? Shit. I'm going to need to pay Panacea. Yet another random person that I'll have to go out of my way to do something for.

Maybe I could get her to work for me.

 

[RoyalJello]

Just Use Money
Chapter 3​

Throughout the day I kept a proverbial eye on Taylor. It was mostly pointless, but I wanted to feel like I was doing something.

I walked by a few times, and once when Sophia - who constantly 'happened to be' in the area - had accidentally slipped. I laughed while Madison lifted her back up, with some assistance from Emma, but had to get moving before I became a target for the trio.

I'd also made a new friend with an asian guy in Mr Gladly's class that I wasn't sure belonged to the ABB or not. Fun times. Also with all the neo-nazis that were in school compared to yesterday, I'd decided that yes, a gun would be handy. The E88 weren't that bad, but would I go out in this city at night? Hahaha no.

And so it's been a day and a half of school and I was mostly just feeling homesick for my old one. No popularity contests and more normies. The girls in class also focused on Mr G and the popular girls, and I had a palpable sense that they wouldn't talk to me unless it was for flirting. Gender gap meet Winslow.

Hrm... I wonder if that'll make talking to Taylor harder.

By the time I was back at my locker, Francis from the lab - Baker was apparently his last name - was there. He'd also brought Mike, one of his friends. Insert Mike Allen joke.

"Hey Chris. You wanna go to Fugly Bobs?" Huh. It must genuinely be a thing.

"-You seen the locker thing?" I interjected.

He paused, "Yeah, it's fucked up."

"How come nobody is doing anything about it?"

"Sophia and the twins basically run the school."

Mike hummed and did a so-so gesture.

I tilted my head. "... They don't look alike."

"They're hot though."

"Yeah." I agreed. When they were older though. Was there a policy for reversed age?

"Also. We're going to go bowling after Fugly Bobs."

Mike put in his input, "Or the arcade. Audio Runner is really fun."

"Eh... Nah to that. I'll come Fugly Bobs though."

Mike shrugged, "Cool."

I grabbed my stuff from my locker.

Yeah... I think I'll avoid using it in the future honestly. No air ducts.

"Come on. Let's get going," Mike spoke up, walking off and adjusting his bag.

I caught up to them. "Have you guys got games consoles?"

"Nope. I got Manslaughter on PC though."

We walked towards the front entrance of the school, where the janitor was rushing around frantically. Finally.

"LAN?" I asked.

"What's LAN?" "-Who plays LAN?"

---

For those that don't know, Worm is basically a story of popular kids bullying less popular ones. The popular kids are corrupt police. The protagonist stays unpopular throughout, and as a result nobody acknowledges her heroic deeds.

And Worm is a DYSTOPIA.

Now how to avoid thinkers...

Tattletale. The last thing I want is to walk around where she can spot me and tell Coil about a 'mysterious projection user' - resulting in me getting disappeared.

I'm also kinda doubtful of inferring my identity online. This is because Dragon - the AI - can just decide to tell the PRT. And they themselves might try to engineer a coincidence where I work 'with' them. At the very least, they'll track me down and wait for an opportune time. Honestly, it's kind of 'thinker' hell.

Gallant can't do shit, and for all intents and purposes Contessa is dead. And the Simurgh is also dead.

Spies and informants in schools, banks and everywhere else? Fuck if I know.

I chewed on my bacon rasher.

"I kind of want to go to Arcadia," I mused.

"Well duh. Arcadia is actually good," Francis responded.

"What? You don't think Winslow is good?" I quipped.

Mike chipped in, "It has some good stuff. Mrs Mary is a good teacher. Same as Mr. Quinlan."

I'd been to high school.

"Ehh.. I kind of doubt it."

"Hey France." Mike said, swallowing his piece of burger. "What do you think of Clarendon High?"

"Nothing, why?"

"Nah, it just seemed like a place with good looking girls."

I piped up, "You guys hear about the Faraday Cage around Arcadia?"

"Of course." "Duh," they replied.

"Well how would they even afford that?"

"No clue." I could almost fill in a 'Glory Girl is hot though' with these guys. "But must be hard for them to let superheroes out of there."

"If superheroes attend Arcadia," added Mike.

Me and Francis both glanced at him, "Most likely." "Eh."

Francis picked up the thread, "I kind of want to meet a cape."

I finished my chips - fries. "Yeah, but they all suck."

He gave me a look and laughed, "Oh I forget. You and capes."

"I'm telling you - alien pieces fractured up and infected peoples brains. Super evolved aliens right - they'd need dimensional powers and shit."

Mike laughed and gave the rest of his burger a glance.

"And conflict powers." I ate some chips. "Nah, just kidding - but they definitely have to have a decent budget to buy their outfits."

"No kidding. I bet New Wave paid for the Faraday Cage."

"Do you reckon the government funds them for being heroes?"

Mike replied, "I doubt it. They probably get enough money from press and merchandise."

The waitress came by. "More coffee boys?"

"Yes please," I yawned. "Any of you guys want to be my fence?"

Francis laughed while Mike didn't. Didn't know what a fence was I guess.

It kinda seems like I have no strats against Tattletale apart from making sure the money is legit all in one go. I'm 90% sure that duplicated money is fine, but I need to check if I want an official front business or to use it in general. Are there more banks than the Central Bank? Hm.

"Well. I've genuinely been thinking that if I had all the money in the world, what I would do."

"I'd get a mansion. Might be outside of Brockton Bay."

"Casino," replied Mike.

I gave him a incredulous look. "Nevermind. Plausibly then. You'd get racketeered," I dragged the word out, "like hell by the ABB."

"Why a fence?"

"Pretend like Brockton Bay is filled with a bunch of cape thieves." I smirked.

Mike started, "I'd kill off the thieves. Or open my own bank."

"Oh yeah, you were saying that New Wave might not get funded. Yeah, I'd buy New Wave. Photon Mom."

I chimed in, "Nah, fuck New Wave. Brandish is a shit lawyer."

"Oooh. I'd buy tinkertech. That shit would be cool."

Oh man, that is genius. I could try replicating tinkertech. "Nice. Yeah, become like Batman."

"I was watching that earlier."

"I'd hire an army of Batman. Bat men."

I laughed. "That's not a bad idea though. Get some civilians, equip them all. Nah, I'd just buy tons of nukes."

"You want the bill?" The waitress asked, walking back over.

"Yes please." "Thanks."

"Also, can you exchange these notes for a $10 one?"

"Sure."

"Thanks."

"... Glory Girl is hot though."

---

Alright. Enough screwing around. Time to wrack up some piles of cash.

I really wish that I could just hop online and search for 'how do people authenticate money?'

Oh that's right. The library. Duh.

It's also time to figure out how to get a gun, but money first. Being a non-US resident, finding out how to get a gun will no doubt be absurdly humorous to me.

I make my way to the library, studiously ignore the staff and find a book after an hour.

I haven't got a library card, but I make notes basically listing all of the aspects of authentication on a page torn out of my World Issues schoolbook. In short, it's the bill's material texture and thinness, print quality - and mistakes, serial numbers and finally watermarking. This includes UV watermarking which apparently only is there to show the value of the bill. The ink also changes colour, but that's not an issue. Lots of printing-related things.

After writing notes, I find somewhere relatively quiet and compare my duped dollar against my normal one. No difference.

So basically - I have no issues whatsoever. The only issue I have is serial numbers, and the book points out that the authorities look for large quantities of counterfit bills with the same serial number. The implication I got from that was that serial number just denotes batches of money instead of specific bills. It took a second to figure out a solution, but it's no problem for me. I can just duplicate other bills of the same value or swap some duped money for new ones. Anything like that.

That was surprisingly easy. Maybe I won't need to go to the bank and risk being caught. And this world is 'unplugged'. I have no doubt in my mind that nobody here will actually notice if I hand a shop money with the same serial number. The only thing I was worried about was tinkertech in banks - but reading that removed a lot of my worries. And for all I know they haven't actually got any.

Or I could just go to private banks in other countries.

I make my way home.

So, plans for my civilian life. Because fuck trying to live out a cape life. I'm interested in hiring out Faultline's group with the money that I'll get. But I'll need some sort of safety if my projections get known and they want me to work for them. It's not likely really, but what I got from the franchise was that rogues are in danger if they're not public. Might as well be safe.

I walk into the space beside the door and start duping my $10 bill.

A hand emerges. A bedroom corner. Into shape a dollar bill emerges made out of cotton, silk and linen. Ink forms on the surface. The hand grows nail-

I cancelled the projection. Hum. Right, so - even if it were just me as a civilian businessman dealing with Faultline's group - capes have a superiority complex over people without powers. Civilian deaths wherever I saw them portrayed with the franchise always seemed inconsequential - trivial compared to clearly important capes.

I grab the duped note and start copying the multiple bills a few times until I have $160 worth of the same $10 bill. Neato. I'm also getting better at generating less hand each time.

Time to go to the corner shop and exchange this for something else.

.

"Hey." I leaned toward the Irish man behind the counter. "Can I get one of the cigars and a bottle of Irish Cream whiskey?"

"Sorry. I can't serve minors," he replied with a blank tone.

I replied lower, "And for $30?"

He didn't reply and turned around for the Irish Cream. I also pointed at the cigar I wanted to buy. "That one."

"Thanks. Have a good day- oh actually." The whole reason I was here in the first place. Nearly forgot. "Can you exchange these four $10 notes for two $20s?" I didn't bother making up a reason.

"... Sure," he replied. Damn right you're sure, I'm handing you $30. "Your parents know you're buying these?"

"Yeah. We're going to celebrate."

Oh the joys of being 15 again. I looked like an adult then, and half the shops think I'm 18 now. Didn't work here though.

I get the two crisp $20 bills in exchange. Thank god they were crisp - I am not going to put out a ton of bills with repeating stains and tears in the exact same place. I'm not totally dumb.

.

Once I get back, I open the fridge. Hm. I wonder if I should just pay Leet from Uber and Leet to make a perfect money-printing machine...

On second thought, nah. They'd probably keep it for themselves. I haven't really got any weapons or practice for if Uber says, 'Wow, great idea! Now go away, I have a gun.' And it'd require time first getting him into making lethal weapons so his power doesn't sabotage it. Is Sword Art Online a weapon?

Fuck, if pay-to-win games existed I'd just go to Greg. I could just hand him a ton of money and let him buy stuff and then sell his in-game purchases for some legitimate money. Then I could just pay him for that.

Man, I have zero financial knowledge. I start preparing a quick cold dinner with some meats and browse for something interesting on the TV to listen to. 'Maybe I should plan how to kidnap Dinah Alcott,' I thought with humour.

All I want to do is to make sure that my money passes through as many hands as possible, so that it's very hard for the Number Man to find me.

I suppose the first course of action would be to either launder the money through cape-assisted identity fraud or become an 'angel' investor or something. But not for something community-based. Yes, I'm aware that Kaiser runs Medhall, and Coil creates Endbringer shelters. Cry me a river.

I could just fund the dockworkers service in return for being anonymous.

Wait. Why don't I just travel to Boston and ask Accord to launder it for me? I can pay him in return, and it's far away enough that they don't search through what the dockworkers are doing. In the meantime I could spend money on well preserved dollars and notes or whatever.

I jumped onto the sofa - couch - and started eating the food. I lowered the volume on the cooking show I left on. I think I can work with that!

I'm still assuming that the serial numbers are for batches.

I can duplicate whatever money I can get in person, then I can risk buying cheap good condition notes (read: modern ones) with that online. I could ask someone else to do it.

Then from there I can dupe them until I have a lot of good condition notes that I've never personally touched - notes that have a variety of serial numbers. I could even ask somebody to mess them up or store them somewhere so that they aren't 100% molecular copies.

The only flaws I see in the plan is the danger of buying the stuff myself online (basically giving out a ton of the exact same note early on depending on how I do it), and if Accord just decides to hold me hostage or takes my money and does nothing with it. I could promise him that he could use it as funding for his plan. That one about world peace and a Utopia.

I don't even need Accord! I only need him if I want to make big legitimate purchases and want to fool thinkers - wait, Dragon too - and the Number Man so that they don't see where my money comes from.

I celebrate and pour out some of the Irish cream whiskey. Hmm... Gonna need to buy new glasses to drink from.

Finally! A working method. Awesome. And I can find other fences for smaller amounts of cash.

And on the utopia note, I'd prefer to see Dragon free. Though I am genuinely out of my league with taking down the Dragonslayers myself. And I don't really get any returns on that other than more safety. I prefer not to treat removal from captivity as a favour, so go figure.

I pick up the land line and open up the address book to find Francis Baker's home phone.

"Hi. Am I speaking to Francis?"

"Yeah, it's him."

"Yo! Come the fuck over this weekend with Mike. I'm gonna celebrate something."

Should I bring the ABB guy? Nah.

"Yeah yeah, chill. It's like 10pm. Also get a mobile."

"Cool. Catch you tomorrow." I hang up.

...

Now to make a cape identity. Or a civilian one.

But first I need to get my priorities straight.

Money is a huge enabler here, but it's ultimately so that I can do whatever I want. Taylor has her stuff covered, but I should let her know just so that her life isn't any more miserable. But then again - she became more powerful whenever shit happened to her or was trapped, so who knows.

So I want freedom - basically I want to not be messed with when I go out, and also be able to be approachable and be seen normally.

Giving away my projections is way too big. It's incredibly cool though, but if I did that - guise or not - I'd be kidnapped once they realise I can something from nothing.

So...? False precog or something? I dunno.

I'll just be the 'Connector' - a civilian, and pretend that the money comes from a mysterious cape called 'Big Bad' or something. Haha.

I cut the cigar and set a dollar on fire using the stove, before using it to light my cigar. Oh, life is good. I'll be an investor also and ensure some good will.

I wonder what kind of outfit I should ask Parian to make. Probably something like Coil's bodysuit, except less intimidating. Hahahaha. Muhahahahaha.

Muhahahahahahaha.

I coughed.

Yeah... Never smoked a cigar before.

... Why didn't I just clone diamonds again?

Cloning my glasses gave me more pain than the money, didn't it?

---

Omake:

Someone shifted behind me. I jumped.

"Hello. I'm Contessa," spoke the woman. She wore a black fedora.

"FUCK YOUUUUUUUUUuuuuuu" I yelled, trailing off without moving.

"Are you quite done now?" Contessa replied.

I took a deep breath in. "You could've just done that before I worked out the money thing."

She shuffled in place, unaware as for how to respond.

"Also your path is causing all your actions!"

Her head tilted to one side. "... This is because of the 'money thing'?" She replied with an Italian accent.

 

[RoyalJello]

A/N: Ended up deleting 500 words because it was mostly 'blah blah blah Worm was totally right, Mr Gladly sucks' and such.


Don't worry, I'll find somewhere to use them

 

[Larekko12]

So the missaprehensions and dumb ideas are on purpose right?

Especially this whole wanting freedom thing while talking about dealing with murderously dangerous people for money. And not seeming to check his finances or anything

 

[RoyalJello]

So the missaprehensions and dumb ideas are on purpose right?

Especially this whole wanting freedom thing while talking about dealing with murderously dangerous people for money. And not seeming to check his finances or anything

Click to shrink...

Pretty much, a lot of the time. His paranoia ramps up anywho.

 

[oliverwashere]

If Tattletale buys something and ends up receiving a fake bill as change, how much would she be able to intuit about its history and creator's spending habits?

 

[NakedFury]

This is a crack fic right? A humour tag would be nice.

If Tattletale buys something and ends up receiving a fake bill as change, how much would she be able to intuit about its history and creator's spending habits?

Click to shrink...

Nothing. She cant Divine stuff and unless she sees the idiot MC using the money or making it she wont know because he might as well be another victim of the cloned cash.

Of course considering the low intelligence of this guy he might just babble all his plans in her precense making her power useless

 

[RoyalJello]

If Tattletale buys something and ends up receiving a fake bill as change, how much would she be able to intuit about its history and creator's spending habits?

Click to shrink...

For a bill on its own, nothing. For 2 bills that are copies, it's apparent.
Fortunately, there are very few instances where a shop will hand you 2 $10 bills as opposed to, for instance, a $20 bill, or a $10, $5 and change, for example.

As for Tattletale making crazy bullshit deductions on notes which have been copied but have been altered over time (as in 'not visibly the same'), it might be slightly harder (require more focus) to notice similar traits such as cuts or identical scuffs.
Fortunately, there are hardly a lot of instances where you'd examine money on a day-to-day basis. Then again, Tattletale's learned to focus on everything.
If Coil handed Tattletale a suitcase with the bills, it'd require line of sight on 2 identical bills - or on one that she'd also seen before.
Equally, she might notice that the cash flow required for a large amount of money she is seeing doesn't make sense, thanks to her passive Sherlock skills.
At some point, she'll definitely find it out.

Nothing. She cant Divine stuff and unless she sees the idiot MC using the money or making it she wont know because he might as well be another victim of the cloned cash.

Of course considering the low intelligence of this guy he might just babble all his plans in her precense making her power useless

Click to shrink...

Honestly, judging by the amount of follows this story had gotten, compared to the lack of comments besides the ones bickering about the protagonist (fair), I assumed that this was more of a guilty pleasure story.

Posting it on forums with known readers of Worm though... That'll be interesting, at the very least.

 

[RoyalJello]

Just Use Money
Chapter 4 - Hospital​

Worm was totally right. Mr Gladly sucks.

Wait, what was I saying?

Yeah, Mr Gladly.

Mr G was everything as described, really. I really wanted to think that he wasn't a scumbag, and just ordinary guy in a hostile classroom. I could see why people would hate him for not stopping bullying, especially those not being helped. And so far, I wasn't being bullied and so I was ignorant of it - sad truth of the matter. Though seeing how he spends the lesson encouraging the popular kids, I could imagine that he actively creates more bullying by enabling it.

Fucking Winslow.

"But why would they require our assistance?" asked Emma in shock.

"Various reasons, more to the point of keeping them from getting too caught up in cape life to defend the regular citizen," Mr G elaborated.

"Do you mean like Endbringers?"

"Yes. More like dealing with irregular things such as villains."

I put back in my earphones

WE DON'T GET FOOLED AGAINNNNN

BA BUMMMMMMM BA BA BA BUMMMMMMM

Seriously fuck this lesson.

Knowing my luck Emma gets the Administrator superpower because she felt so much contempt for Taylor.

Glancing around the class, I could identify the nazis. They were usually talking amongst themselves. Most had eyed me a few times, but they've done nothing crazy so far. I ignored them. I have a feeling why.

I looked down at my phone.

Oh thank god, no texts from Sophia.

Sophia talks to me in the hallway. If they don't know her cape personality, then it's because she sets down the status quo. I have no delusions that she is capable of liking someone, but I guess I'm not weak? I don't really want to know what goes on in her fucked up teenagers hindbrain.

Shit. I could actually pretend to be PRT to get Sophia out of here. But then that'd probably do nothing about the gang members anyway. It might even give them more room to maneuver. At some point I'm going to start staring at her and being really needy, so that she'd think I was a loser.

But then I'd be picked on. It's definitely easier to leave.

I looked at the girls in the room, but judging by the way most focused on Mr G and the popular girls, there probably weren't any that would talk to me outside of flirting. Gender gap meet Winslow.

The ABB guy who sat on the seat behind me was a surprisingly cool, normal asian person who I'd met earlier, considering the ABB's presence. Originally, I couldn't tell if he associated with the gang. Though every so often he'd be talking with the hostile, huddled-together and tattooed group. It's easier to presume that everybody is a bad guy in this city.

Honestly, Taylor is a fucking idiot. Why she wouldn't go above and beyond to paint her costume bright pink and the least threatening in a city like this perplexes me. So that it's impossible to think 'this is a bad guy'. The decision speaks more like the damage caused by the shard was doing that.

And now I feel bad about leaving her. Well... Necessary evils I guess.

Taylor's still in a coma, but it's been coming up to a week now. I'm not entirely certain what day she's going to wake up on - if she does - so I've been checking up on her every once in a while.

I take my headphones out. It's coming up to the end of the lesson and Mr Gladly's giving out homework. Then I can come home to my stacks of money.

Which reminds me... I still haven't figured out how I'm going to get my cape identity to work with moving my civilian one into Arcadia, or some school that isn't as bad. If I'm going to be Connector, I guess I'll have to do lots of favours and investing. That way it'll make sense for me to help 'a kid in need'.

Hahaha, I could just hand myself large chunks of money in a kind of 'help an orphan kid in need' fashion...

Oh yeah. Shit. I need to get a body double and voice masking and shit. Man, these things never end eh?

The bell for the end of class, and school, rang. It's neat that we have no tutor class in this school. I can just waltz right back out.

I pack my shit up and head out of class. Well, with enough money I should be able to buy good tinkertech for the voice changer. I'm not sure about having a body double though.

Okay, that fence is looking awfully necessary right now. And first thing on the agenda is hiring other people to buy mint condition money for me to duplicate-

"Hey Chris," spoke a girl's voice.

That name will be the death of me. I turn around to see dark brunette girl who wore twin blue clips on either side. Madison.

"Hey. What's up?"

"Nothing much... I was wondering if you wanted to come to my 15th?"

I slouched. "What? No hesitation? Here I thought I was a boytoy."

She rolled her eyes. "If you wanna come, come."

"Sure." Not really. "When is it? Or whereabouts?"

God, spare me the antics of 14 year old girls.

"My house on saturday. We'll have cake," she mused in a semi-enthusiastic manner.

"Cool. I'll see if I can come by."

"You better. Can't have Sophia's boyfriend missing out."

That was my cue to roll my eyes. "No. Ha ha, very funny."

Madison adjusted her hair, "Have you told her that you don't like her?"

"Ehh... It's not that I don't like her. It's more like I don't like her."

Madison laughed. "... I think I know what you're trying to say. You're just failing miserably." She paused, "You're always in a rush, you know that?"

"Oh really? I suppose I am." I paused for a beat, then smirked at her. "What a shame. You only ever get to see me leave."

I wonder if they'll get the joke.

She blushed. Right. My banter is done for the day, time to go home to things I actually care about. Freedom and money.

And women much older than me. Also, Ms Militia is actually pretty hot. It's a shame we are so far apart in age though.

"Anyway, I do have to go, so I'll talk to you later. No wait- actually. Do you think that Sophia is capable of liking someone?"

She grinned, "Of course. She's not a psycho or anything."

I gave a big grin back at her. She didn't get why. "Anyways, laters."

It's at this point that I am incredibly happy that phones aren't necessary, and that social media doesn't exist. I don't actually have to follow up on this shit.

...

Oh beautiful money.

I look across my apartment at the stacks of $50s and $20s and such, all unevenly grouped so as to maintain the illusion of being unique.

It took about 2 more days until I said 'screw it', and went full on with the money. I did the best I could to be subtle here with constant slow exchanging. I
bought - in cash - a mailing box under a name picked from Boston's yellow pages. I'm currently sitting on about $5k.

I walk over to my lockbox, which I put underneath a floorboard in the room. Nothing that would protect from Shadow Stalker - really, woe is Taylor eh? - but it's not like I've written down anything that I know anyway. I open it up and reveal the 9mm I bought with a few cartridges of ammo.

Ahh, the glorious feeling of home protection. I even bought a silencer. I can't fit it on properly though.

I raised it and pointed it at the wall with the safety on.

After a few days of money making I caved and went on Armsbay. Thank you Armsbay, for all my online gun needs. I couldn't have done it legitimately, which would be an extensive background check into the background that I certainly do not have.

Turns out that I didn't even need to find someone with a license to buy it for me. I went on Armsbay, met a reputed dealer and told them I'd be hooded, and went on my way. Pros of living in a martial law society.

I walked to the opposite side of the apartment with the longest gap for me to aim down.

An eye, head and neck forms at once. Shoulders form, leading into a torso and stomach. Dust collides with the body. Feet and hands form. No gun forms in the hand of the body.

I aimed carefully. It was like shooting with an eye closed when doing it with the projection.

I couldn't really fire in the apartment, but my aim wasn't 'snapping' to it. It hadn't been getting any more accurate. I could navigate to my projection, but I didn't have an innate sense of exactly where it is, even at this small range.

I let the projection go. Yeah, it really feels like I'm squeezing it when I put it at smaller ranges. That being said though, I still can only get it to go as far as the hospital, give or take.

So, because Worm is filled with a bunch of well-intentioned bad people, I'm going to definitely end up killing someone who 'had a wife and kids'. Bonesaw was a innocent child, Marquis was an upstanding citizen, Jack Slash probably never knew what doing good things was like. I'll try to not turn them into fictional bad guy archetypes of what they were.

But ultimately I'm protecting myself.

And if someone was mastered into being a bad guy, it's easier to stop them if I don't know them to begin with. I'm not going to masquerade as the human embodiment of karma, and pretend like all the people I'm going to be shooting are 'all bad'. So it just seems smarter to feign ignorance of backstories and deal with people as the situation calls for it. Hence why I'm still talking to Sophia. I'm not her damn friend though.

It's kind of the point of the franchise it seemed - Coil protects people from Endbringers, even perhaps accidentally. Kaiser with Medhall, what if Sophia was an innocent victim of her passenger, and so on. Killing just seems to be one of two evils, in a world where living is conscription and bullying. Because I'd definitely shoot Number Man, that fucking GUY.

For all I know the only reason he's doing good is because otherwise he'd die, as well as all of his precious numbers.

Ugh. A week of paranoid working out how to avoid thinkers is enough to make anyone go loopy. Living is pain in Brockton Bay. But I am going to capitalise on what I know. I made to clear up the money and put it into alcoves before calling up some friends to come over.

"Hey, Mike speaking."

"Yo, Mike. Wanna come play play10?"

"... Sure. I'm doing nothing right now." He hung up.

I redialed for Francis.

"... Yeah yeah, hold on. Gotta deal with my sister."

I glanced unenthusiastically at the play10 console I hooked up into my decent TV. Shitty named thing.

As for my power... Well, I've come to the conclusion that maybe my power is meant to be for support? Like handing out objects at long distances. It wouldn't really make sense though, because Entities didn't rely on others. I'm not interested in forming a cape squad either honestly. It could've been used with clone magic, I dunno.

It would be very humorous if I bought an outfit from Parian, only for it to fall off when I dismiss my projection. It would basically say 'free objects', but still. Nude projection.

---

"And how could you possibly take down the ABB?" Francis exclaimed while we were playing Wrestle Champ.

"Well, you could start by taking down their gambling dens. Remove their bunkers... Like drug stashes and stuff." Mike replied while we played 2v1. "... ABB is the kind of place where if you tried to kill the leader, another one will take his place."

"Is it because Lung is incompetent?" I asked.

"Pretty much."

I was genuinely considering telling the guys about my cape identity, but I hadn't even gone out yet. I vowed to definitely do it if I get around to having my own hidden base.

"But then Alex would be sad," Francis contributed. Before we cracked up laughing. Alex was the ABB guy we sometimes hanged out with.

"From what I get, ABB really don't give a shit about being covert. At least the E88 put in a token effort to not look like gang members," I added.

I remember avoiding laughing at this in school, as I like my organs. And I'm usually hard pressed to notice this stuff.

"On another note, at least my Panacea and Glory Girl cape fiction is doing well."

Mike groaned. "You pervert."

"Hey. I only wrote it because it would make them uncomfortable." I paused to play the game. "I just took a porn story, then put in their names."

"I liked the back story of her master aura."

"I'm surprised that you read it, frankly."

"It actually reminded me of dumb superpowers. I never got that, like - if you got lightning and it was weak, you can still easily be shot by someone with a gun."

Francis added, "Hahaha. I can imagine it now. Someone awakens a weak lightning bolt and they're like 'oh man, I can do so much with this!' They spend like 2 weeks preparing and then zap a gang banger and get shot."

"Speaking of gang bangers... Wanna play Car Thief?"

"Yeah." "Why not."

We continued playing the game for a while, before swapping over to Car Thief X. Don't ask.

"I'll get beer later," I spoke.

"Do you think you could hold a party here?" Francis asked in curiosity.

"Hell no."

"I kind of want to meet Madison."

I replied. "I'll think about it." Hell no.

"So anyway," I started, "That reminded me of an idea. How do capes even register bank accounts?"

They shrugged. "I dunno."

"Hrm." I didn't really want to look too invested. "It'd be weird if they just walked into a bank with a suitcase of money and said, 'take it. I am Ultorb.'"

"Hah. Nah, the PRT probably does it."

"... That kind of sucks though."

"How come?" Mike asked.

I'm a financial cape. "Just does. Imagine going to the police to have to sort out your bank account."

He shrugged, "Better than a bank. Capes are used to the police."

---

After the guys left, I revised my sketch for my outfit.

So Parians power could work with mine. My projection breaks after getting hit, but her power was telekinesis. If her fabrics don't move backwards after getting hit, then we could maybe make a full body outfit that she can hold together with TK. We could basically invent a joint cape.

That would also have the benefit of being very very funny. I also remember that Parian and Flechette were apparently a lethal combo, so I can assume that it's from sending small projectiles. Wildbow also said that she had a hidden use for her power that could make her fight Behemoth solo, but I don't know. I can only guess it's something like telekinesis of peoples' brains or something like that, in appropriate Worm fashion.

No... She had a manton effect against living things. I dunno then. Needle into brain with telekinesis. Bam. Almost morbid enough.

Whatever, it's time to get this show on the road. I eyed the circle on the map I bought, labelled 'New Wave'.

Time to really test my range.

I'm not entirely sure what I'm looking for here. I just need to either get my projection to find out her number from a phone book or phone, or to ask a member of the team. I honestly wish I had a better plan, but Parian doesn't own a shop.

That was disappointing. I can't really think of a better solution though, so for it I'm pretending to be a guy 'representing' a cape that I met. Maybe I could just meet one member? Like Panacea? Actually, yeah. I'll just look for Panacea. I'm probably going to try and hire her anyway.

Come to think of it, Panacea's starting to become a recurring trend. Let's get this over with.

 

[RoyalJello]

Just Use Money
Chapter 5 - Hospital
​

"Hi. I'm looking for Panacea. Does she come here often?" I asked. Best place to spend my weekend. The hospital.

"What are you looking for her for?"

"Oh. I need to speak with her. I should specify, it's nothing to do with asking her to do medical stuff."

She gave me a look that she was obviously familiar with. "You do realise that we can't just give access to Panacea to anyone who asks."

"Yeah, it's why I didn't bother offering money or anything... Not that I have any. But still, can the hospital help me get in contact with her even at Arcadia? I don't mind Glory Girl being there."

"What do you need her for?"

"It's private. Though it's not that bad. She has something I have. Or well, took it by accident." I dunno, don't ask me to make up excuses on the fly.

The woman behind the counter flipped her hair. "Hrm. It's best that you go to her yourself."

"Is she in?" I asked.

"I can't answer that. I can leave a message for her though."

"That'll have to do."

Like hell. I activated my projection.

A partial eye forms in the corner of a hospital room. It is made from pupil, lens and fovea. A girl speaks in hushed tones with an older male, both with resembling features. She speaks, "Maybe. I'm thinking we could ask th-

Oh, good. Taylor's up. I'll give it a few weeks before I talk to her. In the meantime I might ask Danny if he knows any fences, and maybe inform Danny about her being a parahuman, in case she doesn't trust my advice. I'll put a pin in that though. Amy.

An empty corridor-

A room with a patient, catches the eye-

A hospital room. A woman wearing a full body cloak with a red cross on it. Brown hair and freckles. A man lay in bed resting against the pillow. The woman held a clipboard stating-

Cool. Also, that outfit is really disturbing. It's like a templar from Assassin's Creed, and I imagine that it might get blood over it.

I noticed that over the week I should just use the eye very quickly. That way if people spot it they will think that they're just seeing things. Dark blue is also not bad for that. Albeit reflective.

"... I'll come back to deliver the message," I replied. I walked over to somewhere else for a minute before examining the hospital map and making my way to Panacea.

...

"Fuck getting my way around a hospital. This is a nightmare," I muttered. I was finally at where Amy Dallon was. She was sitting beside a water cooler sipping a coffee and enjoying - if that's a word you can use for Panacea - her break.

This was kind of uncomfortable, as I really, really didn't want to be seen interacting with any capes. I was going to play this civilian through and through.
But tough times call for this, since I didn't want to get people very uncomfortable if I just showed up as a random cape in a few months with no sort of warning.

I waved to get her attention and walked a bit slower toward her, like I was approaching a wounded animal.

"Hi there."

She looked around wearily, "Hello?"

I cleared my throat. "Sorry about that. Right, so nice to meet you," I waved again.

"Hi," she replied breezily.

"My name is Chris and I want to talk about something - actually, can we take this somewhere private?" I quickly added, "This has nothing to do with medical stuff."

She stared at me through her half lidded expression. "I don't understand. Why?"

"Well," I shuffled a bit closer and whispered, "I have superpowers. So can we talk in private."

Her eyes widened, "What? Why would you need me for?"

"Poor grammar. Anyway, no - it's nothing big. I just needed to ask for Parian's number so I can get a costume. Can we take this in private now?"

"Okay. Sorry," she replied and quickly shuffled along.

"Sorry for interrupting your break." I was kind of going to be bending over backwards. It's fortunate that Panacea is a loner, and I didn't see anything when I looked with my projection anyway.

We'd arrived in a small empty hospital room.

"So what is this for again?"

"Well. I weighed up my options and I need a costume, but I can't find Parian's number online. I figured that people trust you with their identity, so I might as well ask you instead."

She seemed pretty underwhelmed, "Oh, well, let me get my phone."

"Oh by the way, I have no way of saying this that isn't dramatic, so I'll tell you. I know a lot about you. I suppose it's kind of linked to my powers?"

She stopped her reaching for her phone. "... Why?"

"The explanation is a little convoluted, but I don't blame you if you feel entitled to an explanation. Nothing personal as for how I know." Hm. Come to think of it I'm only fairly sure that nobody has bugged the hospital rooms.

"Right. I'm don't think you'll blame me if I say that I don't trust you." She's just a stranger, of course she will be reticent to me.

"Well, is it okay if I whisper to you?" I paused, "I'm not a master, but I am pretty paranoid that people bug hospital rooms. It wouldn't really surprise me, since they could just look out for new triggers."

"I'm not really comfortable with that," she replied.

"Fine. Okay." I positioned myself to face her more. "So, for all intents and purposes... I am a precog and I know everything about a lot of capes. It's not really the truth - I actually have a different power, but it'll do. As for capes, I'm also not even slightly interested in them." I paused, "In fact, I want to make my own base - mostly just money and weapons. And some friends and maybe a cape." Powers and how they're used are interesting though.

She gave me a confused look, "I don't really understand what you're trying to say."

I went back over what I said. "Oh. I mean that I know that a lot of bad stuff is going to happen in Brockton Bay. I don't really have a good way to phrase it, so I'm basically just trying making a place where I'm not in danger."

She looked intrigued and leaned forward toward me, "What's causing the danger?"

"Numerous things. Wait - do you want to touch my hand? I know that you can detect lies by looking at brains."

Amy recoiled in what looked like horror as her lips parted and her eyes widened.

"Sorry." I winced and tried again, "It's kind of hard to know exactly what's appropriate when I basically only remember the main things that happen around you." I elaborated, "I'm not going to tell anyone, and I'm doing my best to avoid ever having to."

Amy scowled. "It's... Alright. Or, it's not. But go on."

I raised my hand. "Can you please check me for telling the truth? It'll make this easier."

She hesitated before she clasped on. Good.

She paused and looked at me with shock. "You have no Corona Pollentia!"

I frowned. "... Should I just demonstrate my superpower then? It's not dangerous."

"Yes. Do so."

I made a projection in the corner of the room.

A pair of eyes, head and face forms. A neck and shoulders form into a torso. Dust collides with the projection.

I didn't continue making it. I turned and pointed while Panacea held my hand.

"... Interesting. I'm not seeing any use of your brain," she remarked.

"Well, I can control it. So if you are interested, you can let me know."

"No, no. I can believe you," she said while squinting at the floating shape.

I dispelled the projection.

"Okay, good." I continued, "So I have superpowers. I don't really have a good way to phrase it, but I know the worst things that surround you. Now, horrible stuff happens in the future to you, and I'm going to try and prevent that by telling you what happens. Are you sure you want to hear it?"

She looked at me for a while. "... Sure. As long as it doesn't have anything with Vicky or something."

I took a painful expression. "It kind of does."

She sat in silence.

I sat and waited with her, and then after a few minutes I continued, "I'll be honest. I just want to give you the information and get on with what I'm doing. It's your life."

Amy's freckled face took on a hard, resigned expression, and her posture became more tense through her clothes.

"I'll try not to age you several years in an hour. In short... And most bluntly, your family causes you to flip out and splits you apart from your sister."

Amy Dallon stared at me incredulously. "And you seriously think this is true?"

"I find it more telling that you didn't refute it," I stated bluntly. "Sorry, honestly," I added as a belated apology.

She scowled at me and ground out, "I don't know who you are. Why are you even telling me this?"

I sighed and de-escalated as best I could by taking a long pause. "... Your situation is much worse than you think it is." I paused, "In a couple of months your family will want you to use your power on a relative's brain, and you won't do it because you don't care about them."

"Am I supposed to believe you?" She asked in a deliberately normal tone.

I raised my hand to remind her. "Well, it's the truth. It's unpleasant, but it's better that you hear it and avoid it than otherwise. Unless you'd prefer me to say it in exact terms."

She replied with aggressive bravado. "I would appreciate that."

And at this point I was doubting that she'd begin to believe anything but the truth. I paused, "So. The long story short is that Mark - I think that was your step-father's name - gets hurt in an upcoming event. And it is definitely upcoming."

I was considering going back to the water cooler for a drink at this point, ironically. Leviathan joke.

"He gets fixable brain damage. And in that situation, your family know that you can heal it, but because of years of distance and lack of parenting you decide not to."

Panacea looked angry, but not irrational. "And this happens why?"

"Do you mean the part where it's arbitrarily just outside of your rules, or the part where you decide not to?"

"The deciding not to," she replied apathetically.

"Shame. Powers themselves cause conflict and they probably plan events like that." I continued, "Anyway, it's accumulative stress. I'll elaborate - the event was Leviathan showing up. You spend days healing people, and although your mum and Vicky want you to do it, you don't want to."

"And does he die?"

"I'm honestly not sure, but I think so."

"That's just arbitrary," again, deliberate apathy.

I glanced back down at my hand. Yeah, of course it is. Are you seriously still disbelieving me?

I sighed. "Panacea. I'm telling you truth."

"I know," she replied flippantly. She sighed and returned her voice to normal, "Sorry. I know. It just seems so unrealistic. I've never even been to an Endbringer event."

Huh. Canberra hasn't happened yet, has it?

I looked at her. "That's what happens. I'm not going to continue if you don't believe me."

She took a second to think, "I believe you. I just can't imagine it."

"It's probably because you're so stressed out." Sheeesh. I continued loosely, "A lot of the problems are because of the stress that your family put you under."

Panacea looked at me more intently. "You keep telling me that my family are responsible. But I don't really get how."

Might as well say it. "Vicky's aura still affects you."

Panacea gave me an incredulous look, "Duh."

Huh. "I mean that your family, from what I'm aware - considering my power - are only not at each others throats because of Vicky's aura."

She growled at me and disconnect her hand, "And who are you to tell me that? To take the higher ground."

This is exactly why I didn't want to do this. Not worth it. No superpowers are worth trying to have a conversation with people whose idea of happiness is 'not being in pain'.

I put my head in my palm. "Amy. Please calm down. I understand that your family might be all you've got, I'm just trying to help you make some friends in a less unhealthy way."

She was furious, "You come in here, slandering Vicky and telling me that my family doesn't like me. You asshole."

I avoided going to get that cup of water. I sat and rested my chin on my palms. Let her air this out.

"Insulting her like she's intentionally manipulating the family or something. Even telling me that my dad is going to die - or be 'brain damaged'. Nice one."

I didn't interrupt. Once she'd simmered down slightly, Panacea asked, "Do you have anything else to tell me?"

I sat and waited. Well... It kind of was 50-50. Either I hand her all the info and let her choose to sacrifice herself, or not. I don't really owe Amy anything.

"Calm down first." I took an extended pause, "Do you think that I'm tricking your brain readings?"

"Well honestly I doubt that but you couldn't have."

Poor grammar. "Okay. Yeah, I am not doing anything to interact with that. I am telling you the truth as I know it." I sighed, "I'm just a guy. I also know that your powers are lethal. So do I have any reason to lie here?" I caught her eye.

"No," she admitted.

"Then good. Please don't shoot the messenger."

"The message is shit," she replied frankly.

I stated the obvious, "I'll avoid talking about Vicky.-Though I'll see if I can ease your conscience. Firstly - I know that you like her and I don't care. Not my business. I'll fund the wedding if you want though." Don't give me a disease or something.

"Secondly - your personal rules will cause bad stuff to happen. Yes, you can check with my hand if you want. They make sense, and they prevent bad things from happening, but if push goes to shove, I would personally rather see your rules break before you do. Nobody wants to see S-rank Panacea."

"Is that all?" Amy replied tersely.

"Amy. I don't know you, but the knowledge which I do know," I paused, "is that your family have animosity towards you because your real dad, who was a villain, caused them to trigger. They take that out on you by not treating you the same as your sister. The aura makes it worse."

"That... actually makes sense," she replied reluctantly.

"Good. I'm glad I'm getting somewhere. You are an incredibly strong person for dealing with a family that has animosity towards you. Mad respect." What else, "So I'm recommending that you have somewhere else to go if you want to get away from them."

"I'm flattered," she replied flatly.

"The knowledge that I have is that your rules are completely self sacrificing, and your love for Vicky is selfish. True?"

She took a reluctant expression before she conceded. "... Yes."

"Then you need to change those rules or else you're going to explode."

"Oh." oh good, something is absorbing into the dry sponge that is Panacea.

"Oh by the way, I also wrote a cape story for you, about a week ago." And that'll have to do, because I'm sure as shit not going to tell you that Vicky is mastering you any more directly here. The story is basically that. And because it's porn Amy decides that she likes her despite the mind control. Maybe she'll see what she's like in 3rd person? I dunno. I chose to grin ominously when I wrote down and handed her the link.

"Great. Do I even have to ask."

"It was fairly popular."

A brief lapse of silence happened as Amy smoothed out her apparently now-crumpled Templar outfit.

"... Who was my dad?"

"Marquis." Mr blunt over here. Well, we're probably not going to talk again anyway. "Your birth name is Amelia Claire Lavere."

She stared at me as she processed the information.

Once a sufficient period of time had happened I elaborated. "Bone manipulation, then complete biological manipulation."

"I... see." She let go of my hand and moved herself to sit on the hospital cot. Well, at least that'll finally stop any sort of doubts as to Brandish's attitude.

We sat for a minute. "Amy." I asked. "Amy. I've spent the time I was here making sure that you were the person I knew about," I lied. I'm doing this whole thing out of pity, but whatever. "And if you're thinking about you being a bad person, then you're wrong. You are a much greater hero than your family by recognising what is wrong and not doing it." I paused and said much slower, "Some people go too far when they fight, and without others there to clean up the evidence, they are called villains."

"You do not do that. You are the epitome of restraint and I am jealous of your strength of character. Most heroes out here in the bay make concessions..."

I could tell that she was listening, so I took a much longer pause.

"One of the people I want to help got their powers from being tortured by a Ward, and it's still happening. The PRT would jail anyone who breaks the unwritten rules and exposes the Ward, so it's still happening.

"... That's... horrible."

I grinned at her. "They have about the same strength as you do. I'm going to talk to them later."

Once more we sat in silence. I was feeling kind of restless and wanted something to do.

I glanced around the room. "It's kind of stuffy. Do you want to catch some fresh air?"

"... Sure." Amy replied a bit morosely.

A thought occured to me. "Oh yeah, shit. I'll need to make up an excuse." Otherwise it'd be 'Panacea and random civilian boy, here's his identity' on the news.

She knew what I was referring to. "Ok. You're a patient I'm working on."

"Nah... Find somewhere quiet for us to shoot the breeze and I'll be back in a few mins." Oh wait. "But first, hand me your phone so I can actually wear a costume please."

She stared at me before complying. Huh, I was expecting her to sit on her phone and maybe read it off.

"Also, I'm Chris. I'm gonna put my apartment's number under 'CA random'. I haven't got a mobile yet." Hrm... What am I missing. Oh, right. No contacts book.

I scribbled Parian's number on piece of hospital paper.

...

"Great. What a way to spend my break," she remarked dryly as I got back.

"I know right. I didn't want to spend my saturday down at the hospital. In any case, pretend like I was talking about... birthdays or something." Damnit Amy, make some friends.

We sat on a park bench on a forgotten side of the hospital. I came back with 2 cigars and a few boxes of cigarettes and lighters. And here anybody will sell this to a teen if you pay them. There aren't even any electronic cashouts.

Amy groaned and replied, "What's in the bag?"

"I went to buy a couple cigars. They're cheap this season, according to the shop I buy them at. Do you smoke?" She hummed and looked inside the bag.

"No," she replied plainly.

Take it up. I took them out and opened them.

"... So how do you know?" She asked, as I handed a cigarette to her out of the box.

"What do you mean? Oh, right."

She fiddled with it, and I lit our chosen bundles of tobacco. I took a minute to think it over.

"Ah. I have a solution." I rested my other hand on her arm. "The explanation is really convoluted. I'll explain, but at the moment it would just make you question it. The future info is true from everything I gather though."

"And this whole shtick about having a base?" She asked while timidly puffing on the cigarette.

There. An addiction to take your mind off of your other addiction. I'm a genius.

I puffed my cigar. "I have money. I'll maybe consider employing you, but for now you can use my base just to get away... from your toxic family. Well, my apartment. Under disguise."

She played with the cigarette, "... They don't hate me." Well talk about damning with faint praise.

I took in the scenery. I suppose I'll just drop asking her about the base then.

She glanced wearily at me, "... So your power is that blue projection thing?"

"Yup." I glanced around and checked that the area is clear with my eye. "... I can make stuff from nothing."

She processed that for all of a few seconds and then gaped at me.

I took a second to reply. "It's incredibly limited though. Actually, you should be damn proud I'm telling you. I'm telling you because I trust you and because you're powerful enough that nobody can touch you."

"I feel flattered," she replied flatly again.

She retired to smoking her cigarette. "Right then... I won't ask any more," she added.

We each sat in silence on our own to process our own thoughts. I was mentally playing Sudoku to be honest.

I sat up. "Right. Well, I should go before your sister shows up. Pretend that someone at the hospital was smoking or something."

"Do you want to meet her?" Panacea asked.

"Glory Girl? Fuck no. Do I look like I want to be hit with her aura?" I pointedly ignored her reaction.

I took the cigars out of the bag and left the rest with her. "Anyway, I don't want to be known by capes, so I'll be heading off."

If there's anything this interaction has taught me its that I really would rather avoid capes, frankly.

"Good luck with the outfit," she replied distantly.

"You too, Mrs. Plague Doctor," I responded, dryly.

 

[oliverwashere]

"Calm down first." I took an extended pause, "Do you think that I'm tricking your brain readings?"

"Well honestly I doubt that but you couldn't have."

Click to shrink...

It's plausible since as far as Amy knows there are shouldn't be any parahumans that can control their powers without Corona Pollentias. Although it would be a shoddy bit of masterwork to even bother convincing her scans he doesn't have a Corona Pollentia while also spoofing his brain patterns during his lying since it's suspicious.

 

[MadGreenSon]

"... Interesting. I'm not seeing any use of your brain," she remarked.

Click to shrink...

Me neither Amy, and I've been reading the 'fic longer than you've been in it.rofl:

 

[Gremlin Jack]

This is an approach I can see myself taking. Dump the info (as much as is safe) on a few people worth the trouble, then use your power to quietly make money and keep your head down. Although I would probably be a lot more cautious (and selfish) than you're being

 

[LokiTheDarkGod]

I like this capes attitude.

Earn the money, use it to crush enemies if necessary.