A Worm Gamer Fanfic starring Madison Clements, inspired by Worm CYOA 6.
Madison Clements: Paragamer Extraordinaire (Worm/The Gamer, Worm CYOA 6)
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Stage 1
I awoke with a gasp, my heart pounding heavily against my chest as my surroundings gradually came into focus. Blinking rapidly, I tried to shake off the remnants of sleep that clouded my mind. Where was I? The soft glow of morning light illuminated a foreign scene, the room unfamiliar and almost alien in a way I could not understand.
As I pushed myself into a sitting position, a sudden throbbing ache pulsed its way through my head as if I'd been hit with a sledgehammer, sending waves of pain and nausea through me. I paused, stopping for a moment pressing my hand to my forehead, a futile attempt at easing the pain somewhat. Eventually, the pain subsided to a bearable level allowing me to take in my surroundings properly.
I was clearly in a bedroom, that much was clear upon a quick inspection, yet it wasn't one that I recognized, the room was filled with personal touches – clothes strewn across the chair, books lying on the desk, a personalized PC, posters of celebrities – everything around the room hinted at someone living here, a girl possibly in her teens, but none of it was mine.
I could feel the stirrings of confusion and panic begin to bubble as I tried to recall how I could've ended up here, yet no matter how much I tried to remember the memories remained elusive like threads of mist slipping through my fingers. Fear began to creep in, tendrils of panic clutching at my heart, what was going on? Where was I? Had I been kidnapped? Questions flew unbridled through my head.
My breath quickened as I subconsciously noted that I was having a panic attack. I squeezed my eyes shut, clutching onto the bed sheets like a lifeline as I tried to control my breathing, yet something felt different in that moment, foreign, slowly I opened my eyes my focus instantly zooming on to my hands they looked…different, smaller than I remembered them being. Trembling, I brought them closer to my face, my breath catching as I realized, in muted horror, they weren't my hands. The realization hit me like a physical blow, a punch to my very being– this wasn't my body.
A wave of disorientation and confusion crashed over me as panic and fear wrapped me in its clutches. I clutched at my head trying to steady myself, foreign hands pulling at foreign hair in a desperate attempt to make sense of the situation. My thoughts were a whirlwind of chaos, memories slipping through my grasp like water. I tried to recall my own name, my own identity, but it felt as if I was trying to grasp at straws.
"Cassandra," I whispered the name eventually came unbidden to my lips, yet the sound of my voice remained just as foreign and alien to my ears. "Cassandra," I once again repeated this time aloud, hoping that hearing it would anchor me to some semblance of reality, proof that I existed, yet even my own name felt distant to my ears as if it were a fragile thread threatening to unravel.
I felt as if I was going crazy as if I were on the precipice of madness. I wanted to go back to sleep, climb right back into that bed and hope that the next time I opened my eyes I would be back in my bed, that this whole experience would've just been a bad dream. Yet I knew I couldn't deceive myself no matter how much I wished to, this was no dream, everything was simply too real, the sensations the emotions, they were almost tangible.
I needed answers, answers I wouldn't get sitting on this bed, and so with a deep breath I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, almost stumbling on unsteady legs as if they were unfamiliar with the weight they carried. I took a tentative step forward my bare feet meeting the cool floor. Every sensation, every movement felt both strange and eerily normal.
Each step I took felt like an exploration of this foreign environment, my eyes danced sweeping over the unfamiliar surroundings, yet my fingers grazed over objects that felt oddly familiar as if I had touched them a thousand times before.
My eyes caught sight of a poster on the wall, Depicting an image of a woman in a black costume. She stood tall and commanding, her posture exuding strength and authority, her cape billowing behind her, an icon to be looked up to. Despite her mask it was easy to see her expression was one of determination and resolve. She looked like a hero from some movie, yet I couldn't place where from, still something nagged at the back of my mind as if I should've known her, yet like everything else it was like grasping at straws, so close but so far.
Turning away from the poster I moved my attention to the desk, it was a mess of books pens and an assortment of other trinkets, yet in the mess, there was a photograph that caught my attention. As if drawn by an invisible force I picked it up and was met with the sight of three girls smiling back at me. The image tugged at something deep within me, a connection I couldn't quite place.
At one end, stood a dark-skinned athletic-looking girl with an air of self-assured confidence. Her posture was erect and her gaze focused ahead with a mix of determination and intensity. Rather than a smile the subtle curve of her lips hinted at more of a smirk, an acknowledgement of her strength.
In the middle a beautiful redhead who wouldn't have looked out of place in an amateur models fashion magazine, she seemed to exude a presence of charm and allure, her smile was smug and her eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint, the girl was pretty, and she knew it. One arm was draped casually over the dark-skinned girl's shoulder, conveying a sense of closeness.
However, it was the last of the trio that grabbed the most of my attention, a connection and sense of familiarity I couldn't quite put my hand on. The last girl was rather cute if a bit bland compared to her friends. She stood slightly apart from the other two a coy smile playing at her lips, her posture a touch more reserved and eyes that seemed to carry a similar mischief as the redhead, yet there was a softness in them not present in the other two.
"Maddison..." I murmured unconsciously, my voice catching in my throat. The name held a weight, a sense of belonging that I couldn't comprehend. yet in that same moment the name passed my lips it was as if I had uttered a password to something buried deep.
The floodgates opened as memories flooded in like a great tidal wave, images flashed before me, fragmented yet vivid— laughter shared, secrets whispered, tears shed, school, friends, faces I didn't recognize, events I hadn't experienced – they swirled together in a chaotic dance of unfamiliarity and déjà vu, melding with my own thoughts intertwining endlessly and effortlessly.
The memories swirled around me, an onslaught of emotions and experiences that I shouldn't have known yet were etching themselves into my very being as if they were my own. It was as if I were being thrust into someone else's life, their thoughts, their fears, their dreams becoming an inseparable part of me.
Helplessness and fear gripped me, a visceral reaction to the flood of memories that seemed to be intent on tearing its way through the walls of my mind. I clutched at my temples, my fingers pressing against my forehead as if I could physically hold back the tide of recollections.
I refused to believe that this could be real. It was impossible. I was Cassandra, not Madison, this wasn't my life, this wasn't my body, I couldn't be here, in this room, in this world. Yet the memories were insistent, weaving themselves into the fabric of my thoughts with a persistence that defied reason. Faces I shouldn't recognize, moments I couldn't have lived – they danced before my mind's eye, demanding my acknowledgement.
In a daze of confusion-induced nausea, I stumbled forward, my movements shaky yet strangely fluid and purposeful despite the chaos raging within me. It was as if my body had taken over, guiding me with an eerie familiarity through the room. Objects that had once been foreign to me now felt strangely known, like old friends greeting me in a language I hadn't spoken in years.
And then I saw it – a mirror hanging on the wall. It seemed to call out to me, a silent promise that it would confirm or dispel the truth that I couldn't bring myself to accept.
I approached the mirror with cautious steps, my reflection growing clearer with each passing moment. My heart raced as I stared into the glass, my eyes locking onto the face that stared back at me.
The face looking back at me would've easily been described as pretty or at the very least cute, her petite stature gave off an air of delicate grace, while her vibrant blue eyes shimmered like twin sapphires, reflecting a whirlwind of emotions. Shoulder-length dark brown hair framed her face in a cascade of rich, chocolate hues. Each strand seems to carry a whisper of mystery, falling with a natural elegance that complements her features.
It was Maddison, but it wasn't. Her features were familiar, yet alien. The curve of her lips, the arch of her eyebrows – they held a sense of recognition, yet they were not my own.
Tears welled up in my eyes as the truth settled over me like a heavy shroud. It was undeniable now. The memories, the emotions – they were hers, and now they were mine. I was in her body, in her room, living a life that I had no right to claim as my own. My heart raced, a swirl of emotions overwhelmed me. Fear, confusion, disbelief – they all mingled together in a tumultuous storm. I pressed my hands to my temples as if I could will this nightmare away. But it wasn't a dream. It was real, painfully real.
Who even was I anymore? Madison? Cassandra? Something else entirely? Nothing was clear to me, our personalities intertwined and mingled in a bewildering dance that left me struggling to discern where one ended and the other began. The memories, the emotions – they were all jumbled together, a chaotic mix of Cassandra and Maddison, as if I were two people at once, two souls fighting for dominance within this unfamiliar body.
A strangled sob escaped my lips as I pressed a trembling hand against the glass, the other clutching at my face. The room spun around me, a whirlwind of disbelief and acceptance clashing as I tried to deny the reality in front of me.
The urge to scream, to demand answers, clawed at the back of my throat, yet all I could manage were choked sobs. I felt like a stranger in my own mind, a guest in a body that was simultaneously mine and not. I looked up once again staring at the reflection in front of me, I felt frustration bubble up at the unfairness of it all, frustration soon turned to anger as I watched my face contort into an uncharacteristic snarl. Without thinking, I clenched my fist, my knuckles white with the intensity of my emotions. I raised my hand, ready to lash out and shatter the mirror that seemed to mock me with its reflections.
However, in that split second, my intention to destroy the mirror hung in the air. It was as if time itself had frozen, and I could feel the weight of my anger poised to crash down. But then, a voice, a whisper from the depths of my own consciousness, reached me like a lifeline, a reminder of the consequences that such an action could cause.
I faltered, my fist trembling in mid-air. The urge to lash out warred with the realization that doing so would achieve nothing and would probably cause more problems than it was worth. In the end, rationality won over passion and the mirror remained unscathed, a silent witness to my inner turmoil. With a sharp intake of breath, I slowly lowered my hand, my anger dissipating with a heavy exhale.
As if on cue, weariness washed over me like a tidal wave. It was as though the weight of my emotions had drained me, leaving me feeling adrift and exhausted. My legs gave way beneath me, and I stumbled backwards, the edge of the bed catching me. I sank onto the mattress, its softness a welcomed reprieve from the tempest that raged within.
I gazed up at the ceiling, my heart still racing from the surge of anger that had coursed through me, it was still there yet now it simmered like a gentle ember rather than the tempest from earlier.
In hindsight shattering that mirror would've probably called for attention than I need right now. I wasn't ready to face Madison's Parents? My Parents? Our Parents? But when I did, I would prefer it to be on my terms rather than due to my impulsiveness.
I propped myself up again my gaze falling onto the photograph from earlier, Sophia, Emma, Madison, their names now vivid recollections in my mind. A stark reminder of the life that I had been thrust into, the relationships that I now shared but couldn't fully grasp, didn't want to grasp.
A surge of grief and longing washed over me, as I thought back to the ones I had lost. I closed my eyes, trying to summon the images, the names, the moments that should be etched into my mind. Their memories came in fragments, like shards of glass reflecting the past, sharp, and fleeting. Faces and voices danced at the edges of my consciousness, teasing me with their familiarity, yet like smoke they remained forever out of my hands slipping through my fingers no matter how desperately I reach.
My heart longed for them, yearning for the comfort and familiarity that seemed just out of reach. I pressed my palms against my temples as if physical pressure could coax the memories back to life, I wanted to remember their names, the sound of their laughter, the look of their smiles. There was a heavy ache in my chest that I can't quite place as if I'd lost something precious an integral part of me, I couldn't get back.
And then it hit me—the realization that I've been ripped away from everything I've ever known. The room around me blurs as tears well up in my eyes, a mixture of confusion, loss, and frustration. I clench my fists, my nails digging into my palms nearly drawing blood.
The weight of being torn away from everything I knew settled heavily on my shoulders. The memories of Maddison's life felt both foreign and hauntingly familiar, like slipping into a role that was almost mine but not quite, as if I had rehearsed it an untold number of times yet had never played the part myself, and I somehow knew they would only get clearer over time. Yet even as Maddison's memories flooded my mind, my own past remained elusive, just out of reach. My family, my friends – their faces and names were like faded photographs, forever blurred and distorted. It was as if someone had taken an eraser to the canvas of my mind, making up space for new memories by erasing some of my own, leaving smudged traces of what once was. The people who should have been so familiar were strangers, their voices distant echoes that I couldn't quite place. How could I forget those who were supposed to be a part of me?
With a shaky breath I wipe my tears, my chest tight with emotion, as I tried to process everything. Despite my hang, there was no denying the fact that I was here, in this room, in this body. I was Cassandra, and yet I was also Madison, but still on top of that I was something entirely new – a fusion of identities that left me grappling with my own sense of self.
Despite it all, I couldn't help but feel that was the least of my concerns as there was no escaping the truth that Maddison's memories brought crashing down upon me, the weight of the knowledge that I was now a part of the very world I once read about.
Worm.
Given the supposed allure of living out one's wildest dreams and embarking on adventures within fictitious realities, few worlds were less appealing to me than Worm, with Warhammer standing as one of the few possible exceptions. It was a nightmarish realm teetering on the brink of imminent destruction, and if anything, I would've preferred a less convoluted method of dying.
The villains were terrible, and the so-called 'heroes' scarcely fared any better. If that wasn't already bad enough, my being in Brockton Bay only served to amplify the bleakness of my situation, arguably one of the most dangerous places to live on Earth Bet.
In an instant, my powerlessness had become all too apparent, gnawing at me with the realization that I was unequivocally trapped here. I was all too aware of what awaited me in the future and that wasn't even accounting for what I knew would be going down in the upcoming months. my chances of survival were slim at best, and I suddenly found myself desperately wishing for a way to change that.
As if in response to an unspoken plea, a vivid azure holographic display materialized before me. I blinked, initially dismissing it as a trick of my stressed imagination, but as it persisted, disbelief and hope entwined within me, battling for dominance. My eyes widened, incredulity battling anticipation, as I grappled with the possibility of what was unfolding before me.
As I pushed myself into a sitting position, a sudden throbbing ache pulsed its way through my head as if I'd been hit with a sledgehammer, sending waves of pain and nausea through me. I paused, stopping for a moment pressing my hand to my forehead, a futile attempt at easing the pain somewhat. Eventually, the pain subsided to a bearable level allowing me to take in my surroundings properly.
I was clearly in a bedroom, that much was clear upon a quick inspection, yet it wasn't one that I recognized, the room was filled with personal touches – clothes strewn across the chair, books lying on the desk, a personalized PC, posters of celebrities – everything around the room hinted at someone living here, a girl possibly in her teens, but none of it was mine.
I could feel the stirrings of confusion and panic begin to bubble as I tried to recall how I could've ended up here, yet no matter how much I tried to remember the memories remained elusive like threads of mist slipping through my fingers. Fear began to creep in, tendrils of panic clutching at my heart, what was going on? Where was I? Had I been kidnapped? Questions flew unbridled through my head.
My breath quickened as I subconsciously noted that I was having a panic attack. I squeezed my eyes shut, clutching onto the bed sheets like a lifeline as I tried to control my breathing, yet something felt different in that moment, foreign, slowly I opened my eyes my focus instantly zooming on to my hands they looked…different, smaller than I remembered them being. Trembling, I brought them closer to my face, my breath catching as I realized, in muted horror, they weren't my hands. The realization hit me like a physical blow, a punch to my very being– this wasn't my body.
A wave of disorientation and confusion crashed over me as panic and fear wrapped me in its clutches. I clutched at my head trying to steady myself, foreign hands pulling at foreign hair in a desperate attempt to make sense of the situation. My thoughts were a whirlwind of chaos, memories slipping through my grasp like water. I tried to recall my own name, my own identity, but it felt as if I was trying to grasp at straws.
"Cassandra," I whispered the name eventually came unbidden to my lips, yet the sound of my voice remained just as foreign and alien to my ears. "Cassandra," I once again repeated this time aloud, hoping that hearing it would anchor me to some semblance of reality, proof that I existed, yet even my own name felt distant to my ears as if it were a fragile thread threatening to unravel.
I felt as if I was going crazy as if I were on the precipice of madness. I wanted to go back to sleep, climb right back into that bed and hope that the next time I opened my eyes I would be back in my bed, that this whole experience would've just been a bad dream. Yet I knew I couldn't deceive myself no matter how much I wished to, this was no dream, everything was simply too real, the sensations the emotions, they were almost tangible.
I needed answers, answers I wouldn't get sitting on this bed, and so with a deep breath I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, almost stumbling on unsteady legs as if they were unfamiliar with the weight they carried. I took a tentative step forward my bare feet meeting the cool floor. Every sensation, every movement felt both strange and eerily normal.
Each step I took felt like an exploration of this foreign environment, my eyes danced sweeping over the unfamiliar surroundings, yet my fingers grazed over objects that felt oddly familiar as if I had touched them a thousand times before.
My eyes caught sight of a poster on the wall, Depicting an image of a woman in a black costume. She stood tall and commanding, her posture exuding strength and authority, her cape billowing behind her, an icon to be looked up to. Despite her mask it was easy to see her expression was one of determination and resolve. She looked like a hero from some movie, yet I couldn't place where from, still something nagged at the back of my mind as if I should've known her, yet like everything else it was like grasping at straws, so close but so far.
Turning away from the poster I moved my attention to the desk, it was a mess of books pens and an assortment of other trinkets, yet in the mess, there was a photograph that caught my attention. As if drawn by an invisible force I picked it up and was met with the sight of three girls smiling back at me. The image tugged at something deep within me, a connection I couldn't quite place.
At one end, stood a dark-skinned athletic-looking girl with an air of self-assured confidence. Her posture was erect and her gaze focused ahead with a mix of determination and intensity. Rather than a smile the subtle curve of her lips hinted at more of a smirk, an acknowledgement of her strength.
In the middle a beautiful redhead who wouldn't have looked out of place in an amateur models fashion magazine, she seemed to exude a presence of charm and allure, her smile was smug and her eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint, the girl was pretty, and she knew it. One arm was draped casually over the dark-skinned girl's shoulder, conveying a sense of closeness.
However, it was the last of the trio that grabbed the most of my attention, a connection and sense of familiarity I couldn't quite put my hand on. The last girl was rather cute if a bit bland compared to her friends. She stood slightly apart from the other two a coy smile playing at her lips, her posture a touch more reserved and eyes that seemed to carry a similar mischief as the redhead, yet there was a softness in them not present in the other two.
"Maddison..." I murmured unconsciously, my voice catching in my throat. The name held a weight, a sense of belonging that I couldn't comprehend. yet in that same moment the name passed my lips it was as if I had uttered a password to something buried deep.
The floodgates opened as memories flooded in like a great tidal wave, images flashed before me, fragmented yet vivid— laughter shared, secrets whispered, tears shed, school, friends, faces I didn't recognize, events I hadn't experienced – they swirled together in a chaotic dance of unfamiliarity and déjà vu, melding with my own thoughts intertwining endlessly and effortlessly.
The memories swirled around me, an onslaught of emotions and experiences that I shouldn't have known yet were etching themselves into my very being as if they were my own. It was as if I were being thrust into someone else's life, their thoughts, their fears, their dreams becoming an inseparable part of me.
Helplessness and fear gripped me, a visceral reaction to the flood of memories that seemed to be intent on tearing its way through the walls of my mind. I clutched at my temples, my fingers pressing against my forehead as if I could physically hold back the tide of recollections.
I refused to believe that this could be real. It was impossible. I was Cassandra, not Madison, this wasn't my life, this wasn't my body, I couldn't be here, in this room, in this world. Yet the memories were insistent, weaving themselves into the fabric of my thoughts with a persistence that defied reason. Faces I shouldn't recognize, moments I couldn't have lived – they danced before my mind's eye, demanding my acknowledgement.
In a daze of confusion-induced nausea, I stumbled forward, my movements shaky yet strangely fluid and purposeful despite the chaos raging within me. It was as if my body had taken over, guiding me with an eerie familiarity through the room. Objects that had once been foreign to me now felt strangely known, like old friends greeting me in a language I hadn't spoken in years.
And then I saw it – a mirror hanging on the wall. It seemed to call out to me, a silent promise that it would confirm or dispel the truth that I couldn't bring myself to accept.
I approached the mirror with cautious steps, my reflection growing clearer with each passing moment. My heart raced as I stared into the glass, my eyes locking onto the face that stared back at me.
The face looking back at me would've easily been described as pretty or at the very least cute, her petite stature gave off an air of delicate grace, while her vibrant blue eyes shimmered like twin sapphires, reflecting a whirlwind of emotions. Shoulder-length dark brown hair framed her face in a cascade of rich, chocolate hues. Each strand seems to carry a whisper of mystery, falling with a natural elegance that complements her features.
It was Maddison, but it wasn't. Her features were familiar, yet alien. The curve of her lips, the arch of her eyebrows – they held a sense of recognition, yet they were not my own.
Tears welled up in my eyes as the truth settled over me like a heavy shroud. It was undeniable now. The memories, the emotions – they were hers, and now they were mine. I was in her body, in her room, living a life that I had no right to claim as my own. My heart raced, a swirl of emotions overwhelmed me. Fear, confusion, disbelief – they all mingled together in a tumultuous storm. I pressed my hands to my temples as if I could will this nightmare away. But it wasn't a dream. It was real, painfully real.
Who even was I anymore? Madison? Cassandra? Something else entirely? Nothing was clear to me, our personalities intertwined and mingled in a bewildering dance that left me struggling to discern where one ended and the other began. The memories, the emotions – they were all jumbled together, a chaotic mix of Cassandra and Maddison, as if I were two people at once, two souls fighting for dominance within this unfamiliar body.
A strangled sob escaped my lips as I pressed a trembling hand against the glass, the other clutching at my face. The room spun around me, a whirlwind of disbelief and acceptance clashing as I tried to deny the reality in front of me.
The urge to scream, to demand answers, clawed at the back of my throat, yet all I could manage were choked sobs. I felt like a stranger in my own mind, a guest in a body that was simultaneously mine and not. I looked up once again staring at the reflection in front of me, I felt frustration bubble up at the unfairness of it all, frustration soon turned to anger as I watched my face contort into an uncharacteristic snarl. Without thinking, I clenched my fist, my knuckles white with the intensity of my emotions. I raised my hand, ready to lash out and shatter the mirror that seemed to mock me with its reflections.
However, in that split second, my intention to destroy the mirror hung in the air. It was as if time itself had frozen, and I could feel the weight of my anger poised to crash down. But then, a voice, a whisper from the depths of my own consciousness, reached me like a lifeline, a reminder of the consequences that such an action could cause.
I faltered, my fist trembling in mid-air. The urge to lash out warred with the realization that doing so would achieve nothing and would probably cause more problems than it was worth. In the end, rationality won over passion and the mirror remained unscathed, a silent witness to my inner turmoil. With a sharp intake of breath, I slowly lowered my hand, my anger dissipating with a heavy exhale.
As if on cue, weariness washed over me like a tidal wave. It was as though the weight of my emotions had drained me, leaving me feeling adrift and exhausted. My legs gave way beneath me, and I stumbled backwards, the edge of the bed catching me. I sank onto the mattress, its softness a welcomed reprieve from the tempest that raged within.
I gazed up at the ceiling, my heart still racing from the surge of anger that had coursed through me, it was still there yet now it simmered like a gentle ember rather than the tempest from earlier.
In hindsight shattering that mirror would've probably called for attention than I need right now. I wasn't ready to face Madison's Parents? My Parents? Our Parents? But when I did, I would prefer it to be on my terms rather than due to my impulsiveness.
I propped myself up again my gaze falling onto the photograph from earlier, Sophia, Emma, Madison, their names now vivid recollections in my mind. A stark reminder of the life that I had been thrust into, the relationships that I now shared but couldn't fully grasp, didn't want to grasp.
A surge of grief and longing washed over me, as I thought back to the ones I had lost. I closed my eyes, trying to summon the images, the names, the moments that should be etched into my mind. Their memories came in fragments, like shards of glass reflecting the past, sharp, and fleeting. Faces and voices danced at the edges of my consciousness, teasing me with their familiarity, yet like smoke they remained forever out of my hands slipping through my fingers no matter how desperately I reach.
My heart longed for them, yearning for the comfort and familiarity that seemed just out of reach. I pressed my palms against my temples as if physical pressure could coax the memories back to life, I wanted to remember their names, the sound of their laughter, the look of their smiles. There was a heavy ache in my chest that I can't quite place as if I'd lost something precious an integral part of me, I couldn't get back.
And then it hit me—the realization that I've been ripped away from everything I've ever known. The room around me blurs as tears well up in my eyes, a mixture of confusion, loss, and frustration. I clench my fists, my nails digging into my palms nearly drawing blood.
The weight of being torn away from everything I knew settled heavily on my shoulders. The memories of Maddison's life felt both foreign and hauntingly familiar, like slipping into a role that was almost mine but not quite, as if I had rehearsed it an untold number of times yet had never played the part myself, and I somehow knew they would only get clearer over time. Yet even as Maddison's memories flooded my mind, my own past remained elusive, just out of reach. My family, my friends – their faces and names were like faded photographs, forever blurred and distorted. It was as if someone had taken an eraser to the canvas of my mind, making up space for new memories by erasing some of my own, leaving smudged traces of what once was. The people who should have been so familiar were strangers, their voices distant echoes that I couldn't quite place. How could I forget those who were supposed to be a part of me?
With a shaky breath I wipe my tears, my chest tight with emotion, as I tried to process everything. Despite my hang, there was no denying the fact that I was here, in this room, in this body. I was Cassandra, and yet I was also Madison, but still on top of that I was something entirely new – a fusion of identities that left me grappling with my own sense of self.
Despite it all, I couldn't help but feel that was the least of my concerns as there was no escaping the truth that Maddison's memories brought crashing down upon me, the weight of the knowledge that I was now a part of the very world I once read about.
Worm.
Given the supposed allure of living out one's wildest dreams and embarking on adventures within fictitious realities, few worlds were less appealing to me than Worm, with Warhammer standing as one of the few possible exceptions. It was a nightmarish realm teetering on the brink of imminent destruction, and if anything, I would've preferred a less convoluted method of dying.
The villains were terrible, and the so-called 'heroes' scarcely fared any better. If that wasn't already bad enough, my being in Brockton Bay only served to amplify the bleakness of my situation, arguably one of the most dangerous places to live on Earth Bet.
In an instant, my powerlessness had become all too apparent, gnawing at me with the realization that I was unequivocally trapped here. I was all too aware of what awaited me in the future and that wasn't even accounting for what I knew would be going down in the upcoming months. my chances of survival were slim at best, and I suddenly found myself desperately wishing for a way to change that.
As if in response to an unspoken plea, a vivid azure holographic display materialized before me. I blinked, initially dismissing it as a trick of my stressed imagination, but as it persisted, disbelief and hope entwined within me, battling for dominance. My eyes widened, incredulity battling anticipation, as I grappled with the possibility of what was unfolding before me.
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Stage 2
I blinked, disbelief mingling with anticipation, as I rubbed my eyes to ensure they weren't deceiving me. When the reality before me remained unaltered, a bubbling excitement surged within me. A delighted giggle escaped my lips, carrying with it the thrill of discovery. Chuckles of joy followed suit; an expression of sheer delight adorned my face as I gazed at the holographic screen that lay like a treasure before my eyes. I would have recognized that interface anywhere – the legendary gamer system, renowned for its bestowal of boundless growth. And now, it was all mine.
I couldn't help it as I burst into a fit of laughter, ever since waking up it had been one absurdity after another, yet now it felt like there was a light at the end of the tunnel.
In the midst of my laughter, a voice floated up from downstairs, shattering the momentary bliss. "Madison? Are you alright up there?"
My body tensed, laughter dissipating into the air as I froze at the sound of the voice. It was Mom, I recognized it instantly. Panic surged within me, a rapid beat of uncertainty as I pondered what I could possibly say. I wasn't ready to face her, not yet.
"Umm yeah, my friend umm… yeah she just sent me something funny is all!" I managed to call back, my voice carrying a note of feigned casualness, the lie hanging in the air like a fragile thread.
"Well, that's alright, dear. Just remember not to spend too much time up there. You do have school today," Mom's voice drifted back, a mixture of concern and authority lacing her words.
I heaved a sigh of relief, feeling the tension release from my shoulders Yet, just as the weight lifted, it crashed down upon me anew as I processed the implications of what Mom had mentioned. School today. I couldn't help but feel an overwhelming reluctance deep within me a sentiment shared by both Cassandra and Madison. The last thing I wanted to do was to step foot into that school, having to face the realities of Winslow, with its fake friends, and demanding social hierarchy was not something I was looking forward to.
I felt an inexplicable urge to verify the date as if by doing so, I could somehow bend reality to my will and escape the looming threat of school. My fingers instinctively reached for my phone, a sense of nostalgia washing over me as I realized how dated the device appeared now. With practiced efficiency, my fingers danced across the screen, guiding me to the calendar app.
January 3rd, 2011.
My heart dropped, as I stared at the date, taunting me with its implications. The Locker. Memories of plans and preparations that had happened earlier that Christmas came to the forefront of my mind, all of which would come to fruition today, in a grand display that would shape the future of Earth-Bet.
Amidst the swirl of thoughts, a sound chimed in the air, pulling my attention back to the holographic screen.
The words materialized before me, stark and undeniable. It was as if reality itself had been encapsulated within this holographic display. I couldn't help but take a deep breath as I read over the quest again, the weight of the quest's importance pressing down on me, this was really happening. Logically, it made sense – I was already too tied into the events of today that no matter what I did I would be involved. Even refraining from attending school today, the sole act that could potentially sidestep involvement, would paradoxically fulfil one of the quest conditions.
A faint smile tugged at my lips as the familiar notification flashed before my eyes, acknowledging the growth of my wisdom. However, the small sense of satisfaction was overshadowed by the overwhelming burden that seemed to settle on my shoulders, all stemming from the weight of a single quest.
Taylor Hebert. The name brought up a mixture of emotions, in all honesty, I had avoided thinking about her as much as I could till now, primarily because I wasn't exactly sure what to think. She was the hero of this story; despite her choices, she was someone who would strive to do good no matter the consequences.
Yet, coexisting with that perspective was the undeniable truth that Taylor was the very same girl I, or at least the Madison within me, had targeted with relentless bullying for close to two years now. Madison's memory gave perspective on things, while I couldn't say I agreed with the active bullying, I could at least understand her reasoning.
I couldn't understand Taylor Hebert. Quite frankly she confused me. Her reasonings for doing what she did, for holding on for as long as she did, left me stumped. The desire to be a hero was something I could understand, and even admire, after all, I was sure that everyone at least once thought of becoming some sort of superhero at least once in their lifetime, even the Villains. Yet the single-minded intensity at which she pursued that goal, was quite frankly unsettling.
Even after gaining powers, she remained steadfast in her non-retaliation stance, driven by the belief that retaliating would lower her to our level, the very thought almost drawing a derisive snort from me. Did that elevate her as a better person? Perhaps, but the concept of willingly enduring mistreatment under the misguided guise of righteousness struck me as infuriating. The idea that someone like that held my future, no, the future of countless earths in her hands, sent shivers down my spine.
Nevertheless, despite my reservations and uncertainties, Taylor Hebert stood as my most viable option for navigating this situation, the only certainty I had in this world. If push came to shove, and my survival really did hang in the balance, she might be the ally I needed. Strange as it was to consider, the girl I had once bullied could now be my lifeline.
Yet, as I mulled over my options, another thought entered my mind like an unbidden guest. Cauldron. The very name almost sending shivers down my spine. Morally reprehensible as they were, everything they did was for the greater good. If I were to set aside my apprehensions and reach out to them, laying down everything I knew of what was coming, there was a chance they might offer help, a faint chance but a chance all the same, and if that didn't work, well there was always PHO.
Yet just as the first stirrings of a plan began to take shape in my mind, I was abruptly stopped by an unsettling presence. It descended upon me like a swarm of red-hot pins and needles, pricking lightly at my skin, sending discomfort throughout my body. An unseen force seemed to grasp at my heart. In that fleeting moment, my heart stopped as a paralyzing fear of imminent death engulfed my very essence.
Yet As quickly as this presence had come it vanished, my legs buckling under my weight causing me to collapse to the floor, my breath ragged as I clutched my chest. My heart pounded erratically, echoing in my ears as I found myself shivering uncontrollably, a lingering aftermath of the encounter.
Gasping for breath, I was consumed by a storm of fear and confusion, my thoughts and emotions swirling in chaotic disarray. Yet one question surged to the forefront, eclipsing all others: What was that? And then just like last time as if answering my question, a screen materialised in front of me.
My heart raced as I absorbed the message on the screen. A geas, a binding restriction placed upon me. Why? The very notion sent shivers down my spine. I would not be doing that again, the very thought of going against the geas was enough to produce an overwhelming fear, a fear that stemmed from the unknown. What would happen if I attempted to defy this restriction? I shook my head banishing such thoughts from my mind, that way only lead destruction.
If there was some good to be brought from this though, it was that, with the revelation of the geas, it had also brought something important to light: traits, or at least something analogous to them, and they apparently held hidden surprises.
"Traits." I intoned lightly, my voice carrying a mix of curiosity and cautiousness to it, wondering what I would find, on cue, a new holographic screen materialized before me.
I swiped the screen away with an angry sigh, it had answered some questions, such as the memory issues, but with those questions came so many more. If there was one silver lining however it was the Blank Perk, it almost, almost, made up for the rest of the bullshit. Anti-thinker abilities were a blessing in this world.
Still, the number of Flaws, and how they were hidden were worrying. Honestly, I just hoped they weren't too deliberating when they eventually revealed themselves. What's more the addition of a 'traits' function had blindsided me, everything up till now had pointed at the standard gamer system, yet apparently mine was different.
That was worrying, after all, if there was one difference that meant that there could be any number of other differences. Hell, ever since waking up here I'd experienced near-crippling panic a couple of times already and not once, did I get a notification of gamer's mind doing anything to fix it, did I even have that skill?
This time around I couldn't even be happy about the stat increase, suddenly finding as if I was out of my depth, I found myself wishing for anything that could help me, a tutorial or even an instruction manual would have been better than stumbling around in the dark like I had been till now.
I blinked, at the words that appeared before me, a new widow appearing soon after.
"Menu."
I took a moment to look over the options the menu provided. There were more than I thought there would be, including the 'titles' tab there were a few others that weren't a part of the original system.
The quest wanted me to explore so explore I would. Starting off I tapped the 'status' tab as a familiar window appeared before me. Not much had changed from the first time I had seen it, the only difference being the increase in WIS, which had gone from 5 to 7.
Not seeing anything that grabbed at my attention I closed the tab before moving on to the next, 'abilities'.
With these powers alone I was, already a versatile parahuman, and yet this was just the beginning. I would only get stronger from here, the very thought was empowering, as if I could topple the world, Of course I was still a long way off from being able to do that, but it was the feeling that mattered.
Still, I couldn't help but think about how my abilities seemed to gear towards, more of a rogue build, I knew it didn't really mean much right now since I was sure I could grow in whatever direction I desired but the thought remained, especially the phase skill which reminded me of a certain Stalker's own abilities, was there a connection?
I grinned; I was on a roll already. With the ability section finished, I went on to the skill tab next, I was already buzzing with anticipation and high hopes, my abilities had even already given me a glimpse into what I'd expect to find.
'Skills.'
Happy with the list of skills I moved on to 'traits', much like status there had been no change from earlier, allowing me to move on swiftly move on to the next, this time to the 'titles' tab.
'titles'
How ominous, I couldn't help but feel that after looking at the description of the title, question marks were never good, and two in one? That only spelt trouble, it was quickly becoming clear that there were higher powers at play here. It did however confirm that I was indeed in fact Parahuman, though why my powers would come in the form of a game system, reminiscent of a manhwa was anyone's guess.
Closing the 'titles' tab, I proceeded to the last two options. First, I delved into my inventory, finding it surprisingly populated. There were two items waiting for me: first, an unfamiliar yet appreciated laptop; the second, a mysterious black tablet resembling a gaming system, yet not one that I knew of. My curiosity piqued, I observed it for a moment, rotating it in my hands, when suddenly, a message appeared.
"Huh, neat" I muttered, glad to have acquired the skill. Focusing on the tablet again, I wasted no time in trying out the skill. With a quick utterance of 'observe,' a new panel materialized before me.
With my inventory checked, it was time to move on to the last objective: the 'journal'.
A quest log was undoubtedly useful, especially for when the time came for managing long-term objectives that couldn't be completed immediately. Satisfied, I closed the tab, and just as I did, I heard a jingle as another window materialized.
I hummed appreciative of the added experience, another 50 and I would level up. The quest was simple, and in hindsight, I probably would've eventually figured it all out by myself anyway, yet I was appreciative of the ability to generate my own quest. Checking my Journal again I saw that 'Tutorial' had been moved to completed quest.
As the window announcing the quest completion disappeared, I considered whether there was anything else I needed to do before preparing for school. School, the word almost felt foreign to thought, up till now it had been a roller coaster of emotions from the moment I had woken up, the prospect of going to school after all this felt incredibly weird. Glancing around my room, I had to admit with a sigh that there wasn't much else to do.
I nodded to myself, realizing it was time to stop stalling and face the inevitable. Walking over to my closet, I sifted through the hangers of clothes. Briefly, the thought of changing my wardrobe crossed my mind, but I dismissed it almost immediately. Altering my clothing choices could attract attention, and while I didn't mind my current style, I wished I had more mature outfits that reflected my evolving identity. Cute was nice, but I desired for a more sophisticated and beautiful appearance; after all, I wasn't a child anymore. With a determined sigh, I settled on a comfortable yet attractive outfit, that caught my eye.
As I took a final look in the mirror, I couldn't help but feel satisfied with my choice. The combination of the denim mini skirt, the cozy white knit sweater, and the tights seemed to strike the perfect balance between cuteness and a touch of maturity. I slipped on a pair of white sneakers, adding a casual flair, and completed the look with a delicate charm bracelet.
With a smile at my reflection, I felt ready to face the day. As I left my room and descended the stairs, I made a conscious effort to passively observe everything around me. While the information provided by the system wasn't extensive, it still felt like an opportunity to gain experience and potentially uncover more about the items around me, even if I knew most of it from my own memories.
As I descended the staircase, the inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee and breakfast filled the air, making my stomach rumble with hunger. The gentle hum of a familiar voice reached my ears, simultaneously comforting and nerve-wracking. My heart began to race with trepidation as questions stormed my head, would she notice that something was different? I knew logically that nothing should go wrong; after all, despite everything, I was still Madison, just a bit more. But as I stepped into that room, I couldn't help the nerves that came over me.
"Good morning, Sweetheart," she greeted with a warm smile. "Excited for the first day back to school?"
And just as quickly as my doubts flooded in, they were washed away. The anxiety still lingered, but it was overshadowed by a profound sense of relief. Everything felt right as if nothing had changed, and I wouldn't have had it any other way.
I responded with a warm smile, my initial worries dissipating like morning fog. "Morning, Mom," I said, my voice filled with genuine affection. "I guess it'll be nice to see the others again. It's definitely going to be an interesting day, at least." As I said that my mind travelled back to the first quest, something I'd need to decide on soon.
"Well, that's good to hear dear, rather it be interesting than boring." She said as she placed plates of food on the table.
We chatted as I had my breakfast, discussing the holiday break and our plans for the upcoming weekend. The memories and conversation flowed naturally between us. I couldn't help but smile as my mother recounted a funny story from our last family vacation, a story that had us both in stitches. It was moments like these that made me feel like nothing had really changed, despite the strange experiences of the morning. It was reassuring and helped remind me that despite everything, I was still the same Madison she knew and loved.
"Ah, Maddison could you help me clean up before going to school? I have to go wake up your father before he's late for work, you know how your father can get" she said in exasperation as she shook her head.
"Of course, Mom," I giggled, setting down my empty plate. I knew exactly what she meant. My father had a tendency to sleep through alarms, and it often fell to me to clean up after breakfast while my mother woke him up for work.
As I watched her leave the room, a warm feeling spread through my chest. It grounded me and eased the worries I had earlier. Our relationship was something I cherished, and having someone who supported me unconditionally was truly comforting.
As I began washing the dishes, my eyes landed on a sharp chef's knife, gleaming under the kitchen light. A thought crept into my mind, a nagging need for some form of protection in case things went horribly wrong. The idea of having a weapon, even if just for peace of mind, felt reassuring. Plus, this was Brockton Bay, and it was better to be safe than sorry.
I reasoned with myself, knowing I could easily hide it in my inventory. Besides, my mom had an array of kitchen knives, and she probably wouldn't notice if one went missing amidst all her cooking tools. I hesitated for a moment before relenting, with a quick glance around the place to make sure, Mom wasn't still around, I carefully reached out and grabbed the chef's knife. It felt surprisingly heavy in my hand, and I couldn't help but shiver at the idea of wielding it as a weapon. Yet, it was a necessary precaution, or at least that's what I told myself. With a quick effort of will, the knife vanished in my hands now firmly secured and hidden in my inventory.
With the task complete, I dried my hands and made my way to my room to grab my backpack, its familiar weight a comforting reminder of the routine I'd soon be getting back into. As I slung it over my shoulder and headed back downstairs, I couldn't help but let my thoughts drift to how today's events would unfold. The world felt both unchanged and entirely different, yet I knew just like myself, things would begin to rapidly start changing soon, and I'd be lying if I thought I was even remotely ready. Taking a deep breath, I left the comfort of my home, beginning my first day as the Paragamer.
I couldn't help it as I burst into a fit of laughter, ever since waking up it had been one absurdity after another, yet now it felt like there was a light at the end of the tunnel.
In the midst of my laughter, a voice floated up from downstairs, shattering the momentary bliss. "Madison? Are you alright up there?"
My body tensed, laughter dissipating into the air as I froze at the sound of the voice. It was Mom, I recognized it instantly. Panic surged within me, a rapid beat of uncertainty as I pondered what I could possibly say. I wasn't ready to face her, not yet.
"Umm yeah, my friend umm… yeah she just sent me something funny is all!" I managed to call back, my voice carrying a note of feigned casualness, the lie hanging in the air like a fragile thread.
"Well, that's alright, dear. Just remember not to spend too much time up there. You do have school today," Mom's voice drifted back, a mixture of concern and authority lacing her words.
I heaved a sigh of relief, feeling the tension release from my shoulders Yet, just as the weight lifted, it crashed down upon me anew as I processed the implications of what Mom had mentioned. School today. I couldn't help but feel an overwhelming reluctance deep within me a sentiment shared by both Cassandra and Madison. The last thing I wanted to do was to step foot into that school, having to face the realities of Winslow, with its fake friends, and demanding social hierarchy was not something I was looking forward to.
I felt an inexplicable urge to verify the date as if by doing so, I could somehow bend reality to my will and escape the looming threat of school. My fingers instinctively reached for my phone, a sense of nostalgia washing over me as I realized how dated the device appeared now. With practiced efficiency, my fingers danced across the screen, guiding me to the calendar app.
January 3rd, 2011.
My heart dropped, as I stared at the date, taunting me with its implications. The Locker. Memories of plans and preparations that had happened earlier that Christmas came to the forefront of my mind, all of which would come to fruition today, in a grand display that would shape the future of Earth-Bet.
Amidst the swirl of thoughts, a sound chimed in the air, pulling my attention back to the holographic screen.
The words materialized before me, stark and undeniable. It was as if reality itself had been encapsulated within this holographic display. I couldn't help but take a deep breath as I read over the quest again, the weight of the quest's importance pressing down on me, this was really happening. Logically, it made sense – I was already too tied into the events of today that no matter what I did I would be involved. Even refraining from attending school today, the sole act that could potentially sidestep involvement, would paradoxically fulfil one of the quest conditions.
A faint smile tugged at my lips as the familiar notification flashed before my eyes, acknowledging the growth of my wisdom. However, the small sense of satisfaction was overshadowed by the overwhelming burden that seemed to settle on my shoulders, all stemming from the weight of a single quest.
Taylor Hebert. The name brought up a mixture of emotions, in all honesty, I had avoided thinking about her as much as I could till now, primarily because I wasn't exactly sure what to think. She was the hero of this story; despite her choices, she was someone who would strive to do good no matter the consequences.
Yet, coexisting with that perspective was the undeniable truth that Taylor was the very same girl I, or at least the Madison within me, had targeted with relentless bullying for close to two years now. Madison's memory gave perspective on things, while I couldn't say I agreed with the active bullying, I could at least understand her reasoning.
I couldn't understand Taylor Hebert. Quite frankly she confused me. Her reasonings for doing what she did, for holding on for as long as she did, left me stumped. The desire to be a hero was something I could understand, and even admire, after all, I was sure that everyone at least once thought of becoming some sort of superhero at least once in their lifetime, even the Villains. Yet the single-minded intensity at which she pursued that goal, was quite frankly unsettling.
Even after gaining powers, she remained steadfast in her non-retaliation stance, driven by the belief that retaliating would lower her to our level, the very thought almost drawing a derisive snort from me. Did that elevate her as a better person? Perhaps, but the concept of willingly enduring mistreatment under the misguided guise of righteousness struck me as infuriating. The idea that someone like that held my future, no, the future of countless earths in her hands, sent shivers down my spine.
Nevertheless, despite my reservations and uncertainties, Taylor Hebert stood as my most viable option for navigating this situation, the only certainty I had in this world. If push came to shove, and my survival really did hang in the balance, she might be the ally I needed. Strange as it was to consider, the girl I had once bullied could now be my lifeline.
Yet, as I mulled over my options, another thought entered my mind like an unbidden guest. Cauldron. The very name almost sending shivers down my spine. Morally reprehensible as they were, everything they did was for the greater good. If I were to set aside my apprehensions and reach out to them, laying down everything I knew of what was coming, there was a chance they might offer help, a faint chance but a chance all the same, and if that didn't work, well there was always PHO.
Yet just as the first stirrings of a plan began to take shape in my mind, I was abruptly stopped by an unsettling presence. It descended upon me like a swarm of red-hot pins and needles, pricking lightly at my skin, sending discomfort throughout my body. An unseen force seemed to grasp at my heart. In that fleeting moment, my heart stopped as a paralyzing fear of imminent death engulfed my very essence.
Yet As quickly as this presence had come it vanished, my legs buckling under my weight causing me to collapse to the floor, my breath ragged as I clutched my chest. My heart pounded erratically, echoing in my ears as I found myself shivering uncontrollably, a lingering aftermath of the encounter.
Gasping for breath, I was consumed by a storm of fear and confusion, my thoughts and emotions swirling in chaotic disarray. Yet one question surged to the forefront, eclipsing all others: What was that? And then just like last time as if answering my question, a screen materialised in front of me.
My heart raced as I absorbed the message on the screen. A geas, a binding restriction placed upon me. Why? The very notion sent shivers down my spine. I would not be doing that again, the very thought of going against the geas was enough to produce an overwhelming fear, a fear that stemmed from the unknown. What would happen if I attempted to defy this restriction? I shook my head banishing such thoughts from my mind, that way only lead destruction.
If there was some good to be brought from this though, it was that, with the revelation of the geas, it had also brought something important to light: traits, or at least something analogous to them, and they apparently held hidden surprises.
A small smile tugged at the corner of my lips, The system's notification bringing about a sense of accomplishment. It was quickly becoming apparent that these increases in stats would be a source of happiness, each increase a small victory.
"Traits." I intoned lightly, my voice carrying a mix of curiosity and cautiousness to it, wondering what I would find, on cue, a new holographic screen materialized before me.
I stared at the newest screen in front of me, my mouth instantly forming into a frown. Why did I have so many flaws? What's more most of them were hidden, and if that wasn't bad enough there was another geas, an unconscious one this time, I was basically being mastered.
I swiped the screen away with an angry sigh, it had answered some questions, such as the memory issues, but with those questions came so many more. If there was one silver lining however it was the Blank Perk, it almost, almost, made up for the rest of the bullshit. Anti-thinker abilities were a blessing in this world.
Still, the number of Flaws, and how they were hidden were worrying. Honestly, I just hoped they weren't too deliberating when they eventually revealed themselves. What's more the addition of a 'traits' function had blindsided me, everything up till now had pointed at the standard gamer system, yet apparently mine was different.
That was worrying, after all, if there was one difference that meant that there could be any number of other differences. Hell, ever since waking up here I'd experienced near-crippling panic a couple of times already and not once, did I get a notification of gamer's mind doing anything to fix it, did I even have that skill?
This time around I couldn't even be happy about the stat increase, suddenly finding as if I was out of my depth, I found myself wishing for anything that could help me, a tutorial or even an instruction manual would have been better than stumbling around in the dark like I had been till now.
I blinked, at the words that appeared before me, a new widow appearing soon after.
…That was unexpected. Another new feature then, apparently, I could generate my own quest, neat. Clicking accept, the window disappeared into motes of blue light.
"Menu."
I took a moment to look over the options the menu provided. There were more than I thought there would be, including the 'titles' tab there were a few others that weren't a part of the original system.
The quest wanted me to explore so explore I would. Starting off I tapped the 'status' tab as a familiar window appeared before me. Not much had changed from the first time I had seen it, the only difference being the increase in WIS, which had gone from 5 to 7.
Not seeing anything that grabbed at my attention I closed the tab before moving on to the next, 'abilities'.
My mind buzzed as I looked over the tab's contents, I hadn't known what to expect as I opened the tab. Perhaps the standard Gamers Body and Inventory with the exception of Gamer's Mind, maybe even an observe ability, yet this was so much more.
With these powers alone I was, already a versatile parahuman, and yet this was just the beginning. I would only get stronger from here, the very thought was empowering, as if I could topple the world, Of course I was still a long way off from being able to do that, but it was the feeling that mattered.
Still, I couldn't help but think about how my abilities seemed to gear towards, more of a rogue build, I knew it didn't really mean much right now since I was sure I could grow in whatever direction I desired but the thought remained, especially the phase skill which reminded me of a certain Stalker's own abilities, was there a connection?
I grinned; I was on a roll already. With the ability section finished, I went on to the skill tab next, I was already buzzing with anticipation and high hopes, my abilities had even already given me a glimpse into what I'd expect to find.
'Skills.'
My excitement bubbled as I reviewed the extensive list of skills, the diverse array of resistances and immunities before me was astonishing. Each granted me near unparalleled protection against a variety of threats. Hell with heat resistance I was pretty sure I could take on Lung by myself, provided he didn't grow too large that was, I of course had no desire to do so at the moment, but I was glad to know I could.
Happy with the list of skills I moved on to 'traits', much like status there had been no change from earlier, allowing me to move on swiftly move on to the next, this time to the 'titles' tab.
'titles'
How ominous, I couldn't help but feel that after looking at the description of the title, question marks were never good, and two in one? That only spelt trouble, it was quickly becoming clear that there were higher powers at play here. It did however confirm that I was indeed in fact Parahuman, though why my powers would come in the form of a game system, reminiscent of a manhwa was anyone's guess.
Closing the 'titles' tab, I proceeded to the last two options. First, I delved into my inventory, finding it surprisingly populated. There were two items waiting for me: first, an unfamiliar yet appreciated laptop; the second, a mysterious black tablet resembling a gaming system, yet not one that I knew of. My curiosity piqued, I observed it for a moment, rotating it in my hands, when suddenly, a message appeared.
"Huh, neat" I muttered, glad to have acquired the skill. Focusing on the tablet again, I wasted no time in trying out the skill. With a quick utterance of 'observe,' a new panel materialized before me.
The description didn't reveal much, which wasn't surprising considering the skill was only at level 1. However, it had at least confirmed its nature as a gaming device and the name "Emulator" gave me a hint of its function. The irony of a gamer having a gaming device in their own inventory brought a smile to my face. With a simple thought, I stored both items back into the imaginary space, making a mental note to explore both of them more closely later.
With my inventory checked, it was time to move on to the last objective: the 'journal'.
A quest log was undoubtedly useful, especially for when the time came for managing long-term objectives that couldn't be completed immediately. Satisfied, I closed the tab, and just as I did, I heard a jingle as another window materialized.
I hummed appreciative of the added experience, another 50 and I would level up. The quest was simple, and in hindsight, I probably would've eventually figured it all out by myself anyway, yet I was appreciative of the ability to generate my own quest. Checking my Journal again I saw that 'Tutorial' had been moved to completed quest.
As the window announcing the quest completion disappeared, I considered whether there was anything else I needed to do before preparing for school. School, the word almost felt foreign to thought, up till now it had been a roller coaster of emotions from the moment I had woken up, the prospect of going to school after all this felt incredibly weird. Glancing around my room, I had to admit with a sigh that there wasn't much else to do.
I nodded to myself, realizing it was time to stop stalling and face the inevitable. Walking over to my closet, I sifted through the hangers of clothes. Briefly, the thought of changing my wardrobe crossed my mind, but I dismissed it almost immediately. Altering my clothing choices could attract attention, and while I didn't mind my current style, I wished I had more mature outfits that reflected my evolving identity. Cute was nice, but I desired for a more sophisticated and beautiful appearance; after all, I wasn't a child anymore. With a determined sigh, I settled on a comfortable yet attractive outfit, that caught my eye.
As I took a final look in the mirror, I couldn't help but feel satisfied with my choice. The combination of the denim mini skirt, the cozy white knit sweater, and the tights seemed to strike the perfect balance between cuteness and a touch of maturity. I slipped on a pair of white sneakers, adding a casual flair, and completed the look with a delicate charm bracelet.
With a smile at my reflection, I felt ready to face the day. As I left my room and descended the stairs, I made a conscious effort to passively observe everything around me. While the information provided by the system wasn't extensive, it still felt like an opportunity to gain experience and potentially uncover more about the items around me, even if I knew most of it from my own memories.
As I descended the staircase, the inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee and breakfast filled the air, making my stomach rumble with hunger. The gentle hum of a familiar voice reached my ears, simultaneously comforting and nerve-wracking. My heart began to race with trepidation as questions stormed my head, would she notice that something was different? I knew logically that nothing should go wrong; after all, despite everything, I was still Madison, just a bit more. But as I stepped into that room, I couldn't help the nerves that came over me.
"Good morning, Sweetheart," she greeted with a warm smile. "Excited for the first day back to school?"
And just as quickly as my doubts flooded in, they were washed away. The anxiety still lingered, but it was overshadowed by a profound sense of relief. Everything felt right as if nothing had changed, and I wouldn't have had it any other way.
I responded with a warm smile, my initial worries dissipating like morning fog. "Morning, Mom," I said, my voice filled with genuine affection. "I guess it'll be nice to see the others again. It's definitely going to be an interesting day, at least." As I said that my mind travelled back to the first quest, something I'd need to decide on soon.
"Well, that's good to hear dear, rather it be interesting than boring." She said as she placed plates of food on the table.
We chatted as I had my breakfast, discussing the holiday break and our plans for the upcoming weekend. The memories and conversation flowed naturally between us. I couldn't help but smile as my mother recounted a funny story from our last family vacation, a story that had us both in stitches. It was moments like these that made me feel like nothing had really changed, despite the strange experiences of the morning. It was reassuring and helped remind me that despite everything, I was still the same Madison she knew and loved.
"Ah, Maddison could you help me clean up before going to school? I have to go wake up your father before he's late for work, you know how your father can get" she said in exasperation as she shook her head.
"Of course, Mom," I giggled, setting down my empty plate. I knew exactly what she meant. My father had a tendency to sleep through alarms, and it often fell to me to clean up after breakfast while my mother woke him up for work.
As I watched her leave the room, a warm feeling spread through my chest. It grounded me and eased the worries I had earlier. Our relationship was something I cherished, and having someone who supported me unconditionally was truly comforting.
As I began washing the dishes, my eyes landed on a sharp chef's knife, gleaming under the kitchen light. A thought crept into my mind, a nagging need for some form of protection in case things went horribly wrong. The idea of having a weapon, even if just for peace of mind, felt reassuring. Plus, this was Brockton Bay, and it was better to be safe than sorry.
I reasoned with myself, knowing I could easily hide it in my inventory. Besides, my mom had an array of kitchen knives, and she probably wouldn't notice if one went missing amidst all her cooking tools. I hesitated for a moment before relenting, with a quick glance around the place to make sure, Mom wasn't still around, I carefully reached out and grabbed the chef's knife. It felt surprisingly heavy in my hand, and I couldn't help but shiver at the idea of wielding it as a weapon. Yet, it was a necessary precaution, or at least that's what I told myself. With a quick effort of will, the knife vanished in my hands now firmly secured and hidden in my inventory.
With the task complete, I dried my hands and made my way to my room to grab my backpack, its familiar weight a comforting reminder of the routine I'd soon be getting back into. As I slung it over my shoulder and headed back downstairs, I couldn't help but let my thoughts drift to how today's events would unfold. The world felt both unchanged and entirely different, yet I knew just like myself, things would begin to rapidly start changing soon, and I'd be lying if I thought I was even remotely ready. Taking a deep breath, I left the comfort of my home, beginning my first day as the Paragamer.
Status
Madison Cassandra Clements
Title: Paragamer
Level 1
XP: 0/100
HP: 100/100
MP: Locked
STR: 5
DEX: 5
CON: 5
INT: 5
WIS: 9
CHA: 5
AP: 0
Madison Cassandra Clements
Title: Paragamer
Level 1
XP: 0/100
HP: 100/100
MP: Locked
STR: 5
DEX: 5
CON: 5
INT: 5
WIS: 9
CHA: 5
AP: 0
Last edited:
- Location
- Auckland, NZ
remnants
amateur
rogue
delete repetition
TFTC
Stage 3
Stepping out of my house, a crisp chill embraced me, a gentle reminder that life continued despite the unexpected turn it had taken. The sun hung low in the dawn sky, casting a soft, golden glow across the tranquil streets. With each step I took, my breath escaped in frosty clouds, creating misty puffs that dissipated into the cold air. It was a typical winter morning in Brockton Bay.
The journey to school was a daily ritual I was already well accustomed to. Some days, I opted for the convenience of the bus, while on others, like today, I chose to walk. Walking wasn't the swiftest mode of transportation, nor the most convenient, but today I needed the solitude, some time alone to collect my thoughts before facing the inevitable chaos at Winslow.
The walk wasn't all that long, a mere half-hour or so, but at the very least it would provide me with enough time to gather my thoughts. That I'd be able to escape the usual chaos that came with taking the morning bus, was simply a bonus.
Top of Form
The streets were lined with neatly trimmed lawns and houses adorned with festive holiday decorations that hadn't yet been taken down. I passed by the Parr residence and exchanged a friendly wave with Mrs. Parr as she tended to her flowers on the porch.
However, my steps faltered as I did a quick double take to look at the woman that I had known for a few years now, a woman that by all accounts should not have been here, yet there she was tending to her plants just as I had seen her a second ago.
I gaped at her, my walk momentarily coming to a pause as I stared at the woman in disbelief. She looked the picture of a perfect housewife, in a world where I hadn't known this woman, I doubted I would've batted an eye if I saw her walking down the street.
Maybe I would've been a bit jealous of her, her figure was after all amazing considering her age, but that would have been it. Yet her name and a quick search through my memories made it abundantly clear who I was looking at: Mrs. Incredible.
Still, I decided to use <Observe> just to be certain.
I frowned at the meagre information that the skill gave me. having <Observe> at a low-level sucked. Just then another notification popped up.
I couldn't help but stare in awe as I looked at her status sheet again. She was powerful, more powerful than all the other randoms I used <Observe> on so far. Level 53 was high and more than 50 levels higher than mine, suddenly I felt like I'd have to get a lot stronger if I were to meet the standard, after all, if Mrs. Incredible was this high level I couldn't help but wonder what level the even stronger capes were. However, the question mark at the end was concerning.
Still, I couldn't help but ponder her presence here. I should have found it strange, should have questioned how she could possibly exist in this world. But even without <Observe> my memories painted a clear picture, one that did no favours for my own.
Both Mr. and Mrs. Incredible had been Independent Heroes in the Bay for years now. They had apparently moved here after an Endbringer attacked their previous city. Not too long after showing up in Brockton Bay, the Parrs had moved in down the road from us, and the rest was history.
Honestly, I had trouble coming to terms with it all. One of the heroes I had admired for years was here, right in front of me, masquerading as an ordinary neighbour, and I had been clueless about it. I remembered joking about how those silly little face masks they wore couldn't possibly do much to hide their identities. Yet here I was, completely hoodwinked.
Hell, I even had memories of their daughter, Violet. We had gone to middle school together, although she ended up going to Arcadia while I went to Winslow. I couldn't help but wonder how she was. We weren't ever all that close, and she was a complete wallflower, but we were neighbours, and neither of us had been all that popular with the other kids, so we had stuck together.
Still, it'd be nice to catch up with her and I was curious as to whether she had her powers yet, <Observe> said her mom had her suspicions and I wasn't one to doubt the system. Plus, if she had maybe I could pull her onto my side, after all why join her family team when she could join me?
Shaking off my astonishment, I forced myself to resume my walk to school, though it felt as if I were gliding on air. Mrs. Parr, or rather Mrs. Incredible, continued her gardening as if nothing unusual had happened. Yet, I couldn't help but sneak another glance back at her, my thoughts still a whirlwind.
The encounter with Mrs. Incredible had thrown me off balance once more, and I couldn't help but feel as though I'd been cursed. My thoughts drifted to the old Chinese saying, 'May you live in interesting times.' However, it was quickly becoming apparent that 'interesting' in this context meant chaotic and if how my day had been going so far was any indication, I had no desire to see what came at the end.
Still, I continued my journey, now more alert than before, ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble. As I continued my walk, the school building gradually loomed closer, its presence filling me with a sense of dread. Mrs Incredible's unexpected appearance earlier had momentarily distracted me from the issue that had been plaguing my thoughts – Taylor and the locker.
Guilt twisted in my stomach. Cowardly as it might seem, I remained undecided on what to do with her. The right thing, the moral thing, would be to help her, to prevent her from ever entering that locker, and in the process, cut ties with both Emma and Sophia. But was that a smart decision, or even a good one? I didn't necessarily think so.
It would be nice if I could simply waltz into school and change everything, but that was a fantasy. Helping Taylor would be social suicide, casting me in the role of a victim, and it would obliterate everything I had worked for, everything I had built.
In the end, I'd be trapped in Winslow, with Taylor as my only potential companion. And even that was a doubtful prospect unless exceptional circumstances came to pass. Too much bad blood flowed between us, and while I was aware she didn't harbour as much enmity toward me as she did toward Sophia and Emma, it didn't mean she'd be eager to become my new best friend. Not to mention her strong-willed personality.
Beneath the layers of angst and gloom, Taylor possessed a forceful personality, one that pursued what she saw as right with unwavering determination. While this also extended to protecting her friends, it was the type of personality that could easily draw others into her orbit. The Undersiders were a testament to that. She had initially infiltrated them as a spy but somehow ended up as their leader. How that had happened, I was still unsure, but I had no desire to be a mere follower in someone else's story, thank you very much.
On the other hand, the locker was an atrocity, and that I knew without a shadow of a doubt. The mere thought of it made my skin crawl. I was no stranger to bullying; I had experienced it in middle school and was even a participant in it now. However, the locker was a different level of cruelty, something I wouldn't wish upon my worst enemies. Maybe it was my fear of bugs talking, but that didn't change how malicious the act was.
Yet, there was also the undeniable fact that Taylor would come out of it with powers. So, was it really so bad? I'm sure that after a year and a half of bullying, she would've wanted some sort of reward for staying strong.
I sighed, acknowledging my indecisiveness, a trait that plagued both Madison and Cassandra. Overthinking it now would do me no good, so I decided to do what I always did: play it by ear and adapt. If I could help her trigger and assist her without committing social suicide, then I'd do so. If not, at least I would have tried.
One thing was for certain, though: I needed to address the Sophia and Emma situation. To put it plainly, they were a risk, a ticking time bomb, and it was only a matter of time until they got caught. I couldn't afford to be around when that happened.
Briefly, my thoughts turned to the idea of leaving Winslow entirely and somehow transferring to Arcadia. Maybe if I attended a different school altogether, I wouldn't be implicated in their actions. I let my mind wander into that enticing daydream for a moment before shaking it away. While it was a pleasant thought and possibly a valid idea, I had more pressing matters to deal with at the moment.
My thoughts remained a storm of uncertainty as I arrived at Winslow gates. The school seemed to loom larger than ever today almost imposingly, like a foreboding monolith casting a long shadow over me. Yet I knew the feeling of intimidation was purely a figment of my own imagination, my thoughts, and my fears being projected onto this decrepit institution.
The usual crowd of students had started to gather, forming pockets of chatter and laughter. My eyes scanned the faces, searching for familiar ones. Emma and Sophia were easy to spot among the sea of students; wherever they were, the atmosphere always seemed to be the liveliest. They stood near the entrance of the school, chatting animatedly with their group of hangers-on. Emma's infectious laughter echoed through the morning air, momentarily dispelling the tension that had enveloped me.
Despite everything that had happened and would happen, I could admit that it was nice seeing them again after our time apart. Sure, the two of them were to put it plainly bitches, but they were friends of a sort. Even if they weren't the best influences to have around, they had their moments.
I took a deep breath, steeling myself as I approached the group with a mixture of reluctance and determination, a fake smile etched across my face. I just had to act normal. I didn't know what to expect from today. The events from earlier this morning had already thrown me for a loop, making me acutely aware that I couldn't predict what was coming next. All I could do was deal with each challenge as it came.
With each step toward the gathering, I picked up snippets of their conversation. Emma had the others captivated as she recounted her winter break adventure. Her animated storytelling drew everyone in, and I couldn't help but acknowledge her talent for spinning a narrative. Sophia lounged beside her, her expression a mixture of casual indifference and mild amusement. It was evident that she'd likely heard the story countless times before, but she humoured Emma with her company nonetheless.
"Hey, guys," I greeted them, waving with feigned cheerfulness. The group turned to acknowledge my presence, their expressions varying from amusement to acknowledgement, jealousy, and distaste. I shrugged off the mixed reactions as I settled into a seat on the other side of Emma.
"Madison!" Julia exclaimed; her smile even more insincere than mine. "How come you weren't on the bus? We missed you." I knew she was lying; this was just another attempt to put me on the spot.
I'd always known that not everyone in the group was too keen on me. Emma and Sophia were two of the most popular girls in our school, and despite the fact that I was frequently seen hanging around them, I didn't possess the same allure.
I wasn't an upcoming model like Emma, nor a track star like Sophia. It made me seem painfully average in comparison to the other two, and that was enough of a reason for the other girls to vie for my place in our little social hierarchy. They were like vultures, looking for an opportunity to strike and replace me.
I smiled sweetly at Julia, locking eyes with her without flinching. "Oh, Julia," I replied with a casual tone, "I just felt like changing things up today. A leisurely stroll, some fresh air, a little exercise, you know, a chance to enjoy the scenic route." My words carried a subtle edge, the implications were there. It was my way of asserting my position in the group and letting her know I wouldn't be pushed around.
In our little group, these subtle verbal spats weren't uncommon. They served as a way for everyone to assert dominance without resorting to outright hostility, a petty game where one tried to outshine the others while simultaneously pushing them down. Sophia and Emma typically stayed out of them; their positions in the group were already secure. Besides, Emma excelled in verbal battles, as Taylor could attest, and Sophia was simply too intimidating.
Madison had never been the best at these exchanges, which was another reason why the other girls were all too eager to take her place, seeing her as a weak link. Now though thanks to Cassandra, I could, at the very least, hold my own.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Sophia's gaze narrowing slightly as she regarded me, her expression more curious than suspicious. I turned to her and forced a smile, though my heart pounded in my chest. I couldn't help but curse inwardly. It had only been a small change, yet it was disconcerting how quickly she had picked up on my altered demeanour.
"Hey, Sophia," I said, my voice as steady as I could manage. "How was your winter break?"
Sophia's piercing gaze lingered on me for a moment longer before she shrugged nonchalantly. "Same old, same old," she replied, her tone casual. "Training, mostly."
I nodded, relieved that she didn't push further. Sophia's perceptiveness was well-known, especially given her training with the Wards. And I was almost certain she had been taught to pick up on signs of Master/Stranger situations. And I felt that my case could easily fall into that category.
I took the chance to use <Observe> on her, eager to find anything spicy or that I didn't know already.
As the group's conversation continued, shifting from Emma's extravagant holiday escapades to the latest fashion trends and rumours about various students, I decided to take the opportunity and activate my <Observe> skill on each member of the group. discreetly scanning them while still attempting to keep up with the conversation.
As I subtly scanned them, my newfound ability provided me with a mix of mundane and occasionally intriguing details. Most of it, however, was boring flavour text I could've found out myself or gleaned from school gossip.
As the conversation carried on, our attention was suddenly drawn to the school gates. Taylor Hebert, the subject of our discussion, had arrived, as if summoned by our mention. Her face bore the cautious hope of someone who didn't look as beaten down as she did before the holidays.
Emma leaned in with a sly grin, whispering to the group, "Well, ladies, it looks like our moment has arrived. Are we ready?"
Emma's voice rang out with an excited tone that didn't match the grim subject matter. The group's responses were a mix of eager agreement and casual indifference as we began to make our way inside the school building. Following the flow, I moved alongside them, my heart pounding in my chest.Bottom of Form
We reached the lockers, and the pungent smell hit me immediately. Sophia and Emma had clearly put in a lot of work to infest Taylor's locker with all manner of vile things, and the results were already evident in the foul odour that permeated the area. I tried to blend in, my anxiety growing with each passing moment. We were awaiting Taylor's arrival, and I couldn't shake the stirrings of guilt beginning to gnaw at me.
A small crowd had begun to gather, whether drawn by the smell or the anticipation of Emma's little spectacle, it didn't really matter. We now had an audience, all waiting to see what would unfold.
As Taylor walked into the school, her back slightly hunched and her eyes shifting, it was clear she was suspicious of something. Her gaze darted around, taking in the strange behaviour of the students around her it was clear she'd caught onto the foul smell.
I could either step up now and stop this all from happening, or I could take the more passive role and let things play out as they should.
I watched in a strange mix of anticipation and anxiety as Taylor continued her approach to her locker. I couldn't fathom why she was doing this. Did she genuinely not realize that the source of the terrible smell was her own locker? Or was she walking into this with some inkling of what might be waiting for her?
She hesitated for a moment, her hand on the locker door, before she finally swung it open. The sight that greeted her was a horrifying tableau of filth and decay. The locker had been transformed into a nightmarish scene, a grotesque collage of rotting food, insects, and other unidentifiable substances.
The putrid smell hit us like a wave, and I had to cover my nose and mouth in an effort not to gag. Taylor recoiled, her face a mask of shock and disgust as the crowd erupted into laughter, cruel and mocking, as they revelled in their handiwork.
I realized that if there was ever a time to make a choice, that moment was now. Yet my body remained idle, frozen in place. I didn't join in the cheers or jeers, but I continued to watch the scene in front of me with rapt attention, daring not to turn my eyes away.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice urged me to do the right thing, to help her. But as I stood there, still, and silent, I realized that I had already made my choice. As I watched Sophia move up behind Taylor and push her into the filth-infested locker, I knew that I would have to live with it.
As the locker door slammed shut and Taylor's desperate cries echoed through the hallway, I couldn't tear my eyes away from the horrifying scene unfolding before me. The laughter of the onlookers continued to fill the air, but it had lost its earlier amusement, replaced by a chilling cruelty.
But amidst the chaos, I heard a jingle, a sound that was both unexpected and strangely out of place. I had forgotten about it in the chaos in the heat of the moment, but I didn't need to look to know what it meant—the completion of my quest. A window opened in front of me, displaying its contents like a twisted reward.
Still, they were the results of my choices, choices that I would have to live with. The fact that it had become easier to do so with the ability to basically turn off my emotions whenever I wanted was something I wouldn't dwell on.
However, I did notice that "Clean Mind" seemed to be a downgraded version, or at the very least, a derivative of "Gamer's Mind." I couldn't help but wonder if that meant I could acquire the other skill in the future, or if I even wanted to.
If I understood things correctly, quest rewards were sometimes tied to my actions during the quest. Depending on how I acted or went about completing a quest, my rewards would change. By that logic, had I gone the route of helping Taylor, my rewards for the quest would've been different and probably more people-friendly. By that same logic, if I was looking to get an ability like "Gamer's Mind," I'd probably have to do something in line with the ability, and if what I'd done today was any indication, it wouldn't be pretty.
Shaking those thoughts aside, I redirected my focus from the system to my surroundings. The laughter had died down, but Taylor's desperate pleas still echoed through the hallway. No one, not a single student or teacher, moved to help her. Emma and Sophia had taken the opportunity to mock her, and the other girls soon joined in.
Standing there, feeling increasingly guilty, I decided to activate "Clean Mind." I hoped to escape the dark emotions that gnawed at me. The effects were instant; it was like night and day, my emotions were still there but they were muted lingering in the background and my mind felt remarkably clearer.
With the guilt and empathy temporarily set aside, it became easier to rationalize my actions. Whether they were morally right or wrong was no longer my primary concern. What had happened was necessary both for Taylor and myself.
In the grand scheme of things, saving Taylor from the locker was the equivalent of dooming countless Earths. Without Taylor, there would be no Khepri, and without Khepri, Scion would have proceeded to eliminate humanity across countless Earths. Could humanity survive Golden Morning without Khepri? It was possible, but highly unlikely. I had no tangible evidence to support the notion that the world would be saved without her.
While there were a few organizations and parahumans out there who I felt could be integral to Golden Morning, of which I included myself, I had no tangible evidence that they would be able to successfully do so. They were simply chances, not a guarantee.
And while Taylor herself was a chance, she was a higher chance. If I planned to survive, I would always take the route that gave me the highest probability of survival.
Yet, I also recognized the need for contingency plans. If the worst-case scenario played out and Taylor failed, I'd require an alternative or, at the very least, a way to escape this cluster of Earths.
Above all, I realized that I had acted or rather hadn't acted out of fear. The idea of a world without Skitter, Weaver, or Khepri terrified me. I couldn't predict how such a world would turn out, and the uncertainty frightened me. While I acknowledged that my actions might have far-reaching consequences down the line, I wasn't willing to abandon my advantage in this world so easily.
I sighed deeply, allowing the effects of <Clean Mind> to dissipate. As the artificial calm gave way to my usual sea of emotions, a disorienting wave washed over me. The guilt still lingered, but something had shifted within me. It wasn't as all-consuming as before. I could accept the choices I'd made, no matter how morally ambiguous they were.
Taylor's desperate pleas for help continued in the background, though they lacked the earlier frantic edge. Her tone had taken on a note of resignation as if she'd realized the futility of seeking assistance in this crowd. But how long would she remain trapped? I couldn't be sure.
The crowd around me had begun to disperse, the cruel spectacle of the locker now over. Students were dispersing, heading to their respective classes for the start of the school day.
Following suit, I made my way to my first class of the day: World Issues. It was a small blessing, considering I wasn't in the mood to kick off my day with a particularly intense subject like English or math. And while Mr Gladly might be an absolute failure of an adult, I could safely say he was my favourite teacher in this school, mostly because of how laid-back he tended to be.
I walked into Mr. Gladly's classroom, the typical buzz of teenage chatter enveloping the air. Mr. Gladly, or Mr. G as he preferred to be called, was already at his desk, engaged in an amicable conversation with a pair of students. It was quite unusual for a teacher to be this friendly with his students, but Mr G was relatively young, probably fresh out of college, and his attempts to befriend us were quite transparent. Nevertheless, most of us didn't mind, as he turned a blind eye to many things and allowed us some leeway in his class.
Despite his easy-going nature, it was an open secret that many students took advantage of Mr. G's leniency and secretly mocked him behind his back. But even with this knowledge, he remained the student body's favourite teacher, largely due to how often he let things slide.
I took my seat, glancing around at my classmates. The conversations were a mix of discussions about the situation with Taylor earlier and updates on what everyone did during winter break. I engaged in small talk with Julia, who sat next to me, as we waited for the class to begin.
The bell rang, signalling the start of the class. Mr. G began with the attendance, and it didn't take long before he called out Taylor's name. Unsurprisingly, the room remained eerily silent, with no one stepping forward to confirm her presence.
Mr. G maintained his characteristic cheerfulness, marking Taylor as absent without much fuss, as he always did. It was no secret that he was aware of Taylor's situation, but he never took any action to address it.
As the class continued, Mr. G launched into the day's topic, which seemed to be a recurring theme in every lesson: parahumans. You would think that we'd eventually get to another subject, considering this was supposed to be a "World Issues" class and not "Parahuman Studies," but it made sense when considering that, in today's society, parahumans were more often than not the source of most 'world issues.'
"Today, class, we're going to delve into a specific aspect of parahuman dynamics: the impact of parahuman vigilantes on crime rates in our city. Do independents actually contribute to a safer society, or do they inadvertently escalate conflicts?"
As Mr. G posed the question, the classroom buzzed with anticipation. Even I found myself listening in with rapt attention, it was a refreshing change from the usual topics that felt so distant and irrelevant to my life, like how 'x' organization or 'x' person had changed the world. Sure, they made for interesting discussions but for the most part, they were pointless.
This time, however, things were different; this was directly relevant to me. I was a cape now, and while it might still be useful to know about the capes outside the bay, they weren't my primary concern. Understanding and learning about the capes in my own city, however, would play to my advantage and prove far more useful than another discussion on Vikare and his impact on the world.
A girl sitting to the side of the class, Chloe I remembered her name was I had copied homework off her a few times, was the first to raise her hand. "Mr. G," she began thoughtfully, "I think it's a matter of perspective. Some independents might genuinely believe they can make a difference without the bureaucracy of the Protectorate, while others seek fame.
Mr G nodded appreciatively at Chloe's input. "That's an astute observation, Chloe. Perspective plays a significant role in how we view heroes. It's important to remember that public opinion can vary widely."
Next, a boy whose name I couldn't quite recall raised his hand. "But there are risks, right? I mean, most independent heroes don't last long. Is it really worth it?"
Gladly paused for a moment, considering the question before responding. "You bring up a valid point," he said, addressing the boy named Jake. "The risks are substantial, and many independent heroes tend to have short careers, either meeting their end at the hands of powerful villains or being forcefully recruited. However, some individuals believe that their abilities come with a responsibility to protect others, and for them, it's a calling, while others may simply overestimate their abilities."
Then came Greg, who was eagerly raising his hand and almost bouncing in his seat. Unable to contain himself any longer, he blurted out his question. "Hey, Mr. G!" Greg exclaimed, drawing the attention of the whole class, "Do you think the big hero teams like the Protectorate are secretly working with the villains? I mean, you hear all these rumours, and it's like, why would they let the bad guys roam around if they could stop 'em, right?"
A few students chuckled at Greg's enthusiasm, while others exchanged worried glances. To be fair, he wasn't too far off the mark; the Protectorate's policies and actions had always been a topic of debate among people, plus I knew that they worked with Villains on occasions and that wasn't even mentioning Cauldron.
Mr. Gladly sighed good-naturedly. "While that's an interesting theory, Greg, let's try to keep our discussion focused on the topic at hand."
The classroom discussion raged on, with students sharing their thoughts on the motives, risks, and impacts of independent heroes. Most of the talk revolved around the capes in the bay, and I found myself jotting down the names of these capes. While I had rudimentary knowledge about some of them from Madison's memories, I realized there were gaps in my understanding.
Mr. Gladly skilfully guided the conversation, his enthusiasm and dedication to the subject clear. It was contagious, and it became evident that he genuinely cared or at the very least enjoyed what he was teaching.
Still, school was school, and as per usual I eventually found my thoughts drifting away from the lesson. I was going to be an Independent. It wasn't something I needed to think too deeply about; the answer was clear, and the class talks had done little to sway my opinion.
The Protectorate could preach all they wanted about the risks of being an independent, but my answer would remain unchanged, in addition to that there simply weren't any existing groups in Brockton Bay that I felt would be a good fit for me.
The Undersiders and Faultline's Crew were slightly better options, but they came with their own set of problems. The Undersiders had ties to Coil, and if all went according to plan, Taylor would soon be a part of them. I had no desire to interfere with that. As for Faultline and her crew, I knew little about them beyond the fact that they were mercenaries, their involvement with Case 53s and their investigations into Cauldron.
So, it seemed that unless there were other, more suitable groups in the Bay that I was unaware of, my best option was to act as an independent. Honestly, that suited me just fine. I would be my own boss and be able to pursue my own goals. And if I happened to recruit other capes along the way, all the better.
Still, if I was going to make my mark on this world without falling under the thumb of the gangs, I needed more power. What I had now was acceptable, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't the type to hunger for more. The desire for more strength was there, and I wouldn't turn down an opportunity for more if it presented itself. It was precisely this desire that brought me back to my recent level-up, or more precisely, the two stat points I had gained during it.
I pulled up my status screen, my gaze fixed on the unused points, unsure of where to invest them, or if I should even do so at this moment. my biggest problem here was whether or not there existed an upper limit to what I could achieve through sheer experience and effort alone. If there was no cap, then would it become progressively more challenging to enhance my stats as they rose? Logically, that seemed likely. If I had once struggled to lift a certain weight, gaining a point in strength for my effort, and then returned to lift that same weight effortlessly after increasing my strength stat, I was doubtful that I'd earn another point so easily.
So, then the dilemma shifted to one of weighing benefits. As far as I knew, there wasn't a level cap, and I would keep levelling up and gaining stat points for as long as I lived, and if I had it my way that would be for an extremely long time. However, I also understood that as I reached higher levels, gaining enough experience to level up would become progressively more challenging. It wouldn't be as easy as it had been today, which meant I would acquire stat points at a slower rate.
It boiled down to a choice between short-term and long-term gains. The temptation of immediately investing my points was undeniable. Doing so with each level up would grant me immediate strength and capability, ready to take on whatever challenges the world presents in the near future.
The alternative option would require a significant exercise in patience, something I admittedly wasn't the best at. It meant holding back from immediately spending my points and, instead, concentrating on growing my stats naturally. Although this choice meant I'd be starting off relatively weak, it would also result in an exponential leap in strength in the future.
I sighed mulling the decision over in my mind, my indecisive and eager nature made the choice far from easy. It wasn't something I could just rush into or half-heartedly as I knew it would significantly affect me going forward.
Then, as if to provide an answer to my musings, I heard a jingle, breaking through my contemplation as a window materialized in front of me.
I didn't have to think much before deciding to accept the quest, the rewards were simply too alluring, and it provided a quick answer to my earlier indecision. I would beat this quest and then wait until level 10 before deciding how I'd allocate my points. It was easy to see that something was waiting for me at that point, and I was eager to see what.
I closed the quest window, feeling a surge of determination. My goal was clear: I needed to raise all my stats to 30 before reaching level 10. It wouldn't be easy, probably one of the hardest things I'd have to do due to my penchant for skipping out on exercise, but it was a challenge worth pursuing.
As Gladly continued his lesson, I couldn't help but listen in with a renewed sense of vigour and focus. I needed to become stronger, and this quest was the perfect opportunity to do so. The class discussion on capes suddenly felt more relevant than ever; they weren't the distant figures I'd used to think of them as but potential enemies and allies.
The bell signalling the end of the class rang, and as I gathered my things, another jingle rang as a notification once again appeared before my eyes.
Purpose burned within me as I left the classroom, eager to get into my next class. I silently vowed that when I was through with this world, it wouldn't be Earth-Bet anymore; it would become Earth-Madison. A world shaped by my will and power.
The journey to school was a daily ritual I was already well accustomed to. Some days, I opted for the convenience of the bus, while on others, like today, I chose to walk. Walking wasn't the swiftest mode of transportation, nor the most convenient, but today I needed the solitude, some time alone to collect my thoughts before facing the inevitable chaos at Winslow.
The walk wasn't all that long, a mere half-hour or so, but at the very least it would provide me with enough time to gather my thoughts. That I'd be able to escape the usual chaos that came with taking the morning bus, was simply a bonus.
Top of Form
The streets were lined with neatly trimmed lawns and houses adorned with festive holiday decorations that hadn't yet been taken down. I passed by the Parr residence and exchanged a friendly wave with Mrs. Parr as she tended to her flowers on the porch.
However, my steps faltered as I did a quick double take to look at the woman that I had known for a few years now, a woman that by all accounts should not have been here, yet there she was tending to her plants just as I had seen her a second ago.
I gaped at her, my walk momentarily coming to a pause as I stared at the woman in disbelief. She looked the picture of a perfect housewife, in a world where I hadn't known this woman, I doubted I would've batted an eye if I saw her walking down the street.
Maybe I would've been a bit jealous of her, her figure was after all amazing considering her age, but that would have been it. Yet her name and a quick search through my memories made it abundantly clear who I was looking at: Mrs. Incredible.
Still, I decided to use <Observe> just to be certain.
I frowned at the meagre information that the skill gave me. having <Observe> at a low-level sucked. Just then another notification popped up.
Excitement surged through my veins as I read through the window in front of me, and I'm sure I would've squealed if I hadn't been in public. Mrs. Incredible was one of my favourite heroes as a kid in both lives.
I couldn't help but stare in awe as I looked at her status sheet again. She was powerful, more powerful than all the other randoms I used <Observe> on so far. Level 53 was high and more than 50 levels higher than mine, suddenly I felt like I'd have to get a lot stronger if I were to meet the standard, after all, if Mrs. Incredible was this high level I couldn't help but wonder what level the even stronger capes were. However, the question mark at the end was concerning.
Still, I couldn't help but ponder her presence here. I should have found it strange, should have questioned how she could possibly exist in this world. But even without <Observe> my memories painted a clear picture, one that did no favours for my own.
Both Mr. and Mrs. Incredible had been Independent Heroes in the Bay for years now. They had apparently moved here after an Endbringer attacked their previous city. Not too long after showing up in Brockton Bay, the Parrs had moved in down the road from us, and the rest was history.
Honestly, I had trouble coming to terms with it all. One of the heroes I had admired for years was here, right in front of me, masquerading as an ordinary neighbour, and I had been clueless about it. I remembered joking about how those silly little face masks they wore couldn't possibly do much to hide their identities. Yet here I was, completely hoodwinked.
Hell, I even had memories of their daughter, Violet. We had gone to middle school together, although she ended up going to Arcadia while I went to Winslow. I couldn't help but wonder how she was. We weren't ever all that close, and she was a complete wallflower, but we were neighbours, and neither of us had been all that popular with the other kids, so we had stuck together.
Still, it'd be nice to catch up with her and I was curious as to whether she had her powers yet, <Observe> said her mom had her suspicions and I wasn't one to doubt the system. Plus, if she had maybe I could pull her onto my side, after all why join her family team when she could join me?
Shaking off my astonishment, I forced myself to resume my walk to school, though it felt as if I were gliding on air. Mrs. Parr, or rather Mrs. Incredible, continued her gardening as if nothing unusual had happened. Yet, I couldn't help but sneak another glance back at her, my thoughts still a whirlwind.
The encounter with Mrs. Incredible had thrown me off balance once more, and I couldn't help but feel as though I'd been cursed. My thoughts drifted to the old Chinese saying, 'May you live in interesting times.' However, it was quickly becoming apparent that 'interesting' in this context meant chaotic and if how my day had been going so far was any indication, I had no desire to see what came at the end.
Still, I continued my journey, now more alert than before, ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble. As I continued my walk, the school building gradually loomed closer, its presence filling me with a sense of dread. Mrs Incredible's unexpected appearance earlier had momentarily distracted me from the issue that had been plaguing my thoughts – Taylor and the locker.
Guilt twisted in my stomach. Cowardly as it might seem, I remained undecided on what to do with her. The right thing, the moral thing, would be to help her, to prevent her from ever entering that locker, and in the process, cut ties with both Emma and Sophia. But was that a smart decision, or even a good one? I didn't necessarily think so.
It would be nice if I could simply waltz into school and change everything, but that was a fantasy. Helping Taylor would be social suicide, casting me in the role of a victim, and it would obliterate everything I had worked for, everything I had built.
In the end, I'd be trapped in Winslow, with Taylor as my only potential companion. And even that was a doubtful prospect unless exceptional circumstances came to pass. Too much bad blood flowed between us, and while I was aware she didn't harbour as much enmity toward me as she did toward Sophia and Emma, it didn't mean she'd be eager to become my new best friend. Not to mention her strong-willed personality.
Beneath the layers of angst and gloom, Taylor possessed a forceful personality, one that pursued what she saw as right with unwavering determination. While this also extended to protecting her friends, it was the type of personality that could easily draw others into her orbit. The Undersiders were a testament to that. She had initially infiltrated them as a spy but somehow ended up as their leader. How that had happened, I was still unsure, but I had no desire to be a mere follower in someone else's story, thank you very much.
On the other hand, the locker was an atrocity, and that I knew without a shadow of a doubt. The mere thought of it made my skin crawl. I was no stranger to bullying; I had experienced it in middle school and was even a participant in it now. However, the locker was a different level of cruelty, something I wouldn't wish upon my worst enemies. Maybe it was my fear of bugs talking, but that didn't change how malicious the act was.
Yet, there was also the undeniable fact that Taylor would come out of it with powers. So, was it really so bad? I'm sure that after a year and a half of bullying, she would've wanted some sort of reward for staying strong.
I sighed, acknowledging my indecisiveness, a trait that plagued both Madison and Cassandra. Overthinking it now would do me no good, so I decided to do what I always did: play it by ear and adapt. If I could help her trigger and assist her without committing social suicide, then I'd do so. If not, at least I would have tried.
One thing was for certain, though: I needed to address the Sophia and Emma situation. To put it plainly, they were a risk, a ticking time bomb, and it was only a matter of time until they got caught. I couldn't afford to be around when that happened.
Briefly, my thoughts turned to the idea of leaving Winslow entirely and somehow transferring to Arcadia. Maybe if I attended a different school altogether, I wouldn't be implicated in their actions. I let my mind wander into that enticing daydream for a moment before shaking it away. While it was a pleasant thought and possibly a valid idea, I had more pressing matters to deal with at the moment.
My thoughts remained a storm of uncertainty as I arrived at Winslow gates. The school seemed to loom larger than ever today almost imposingly, like a foreboding monolith casting a long shadow over me. Yet I knew the feeling of intimidation was purely a figment of my own imagination, my thoughts, and my fears being projected onto this decrepit institution.
The usual crowd of students had started to gather, forming pockets of chatter and laughter. My eyes scanned the faces, searching for familiar ones. Emma and Sophia were easy to spot among the sea of students; wherever they were, the atmosphere always seemed to be the liveliest. They stood near the entrance of the school, chatting animatedly with their group of hangers-on. Emma's infectious laughter echoed through the morning air, momentarily dispelling the tension that had enveloped me.
Despite everything that had happened and would happen, I could admit that it was nice seeing them again after our time apart. Sure, the two of them were to put it plainly bitches, but they were friends of a sort. Even if they weren't the best influences to have around, they had their moments.
I took a deep breath, steeling myself as I approached the group with a mixture of reluctance and determination, a fake smile etched across my face. I just had to act normal. I didn't know what to expect from today. The events from earlier this morning had already thrown me for a loop, making me acutely aware that I couldn't predict what was coming next. All I could do was deal with each challenge as it came.
With each step toward the gathering, I picked up snippets of their conversation. Emma had the others captivated as she recounted her winter break adventure. Her animated storytelling drew everyone in, and I couldn't help but acknowledge her talent for spinning a narrative. Sophia lounged beside her, her expression a mixture of casual indifference and mild amusement. It was evident that she'd likely heard the story countless times before, but she humoured Emma with her company nonetheless.
"Hey, guys," I greeted them, waving with feigned cheerfulness. The group turned to acknowledge my presence, their expressions varying from amusement to acknowledgement, jealousy, and distaste. I shrugged off the mixed reactions as I settled into a seat on the other side of Emma.
"Madison!" Julia exclaimed; her smile even more insincere than mine. "How come you weren't on the bus? We missed you." I knew she was lying; this was just another attempt to put me on the spot.
I'd always known that not everyone in the group was too keen on me. Emma and Sophia were two of the most popular girls in our school, and despite the fact that I was frequently seen hanging around them, I didn't possess the same allure.
I wasn't an upcoming model like Emma, nor a track star like Sophia. It made me seem painfully average in comparison to the other two, and that was enough of a reason for the other girls to vie for my place in our little social hierarchy. They were like vultures, looking for an opportunity to strike and replace me.
I smiled sweetly at Julia, locking eyes with her without flinching. "Oh, Julia," I replied with a casual tone, "I just felt like changing things up today. A leisurely stroll, some fresh air, a little exercise, you know, a chance to enjoy the scenic route." My words carried a subtle edge, the implications were there. It was my way of asserting my position in the group and letting her know I wouldn't be pushed around.
I smiled at the notification as it popped up, my grin only widening as I noticed Julia's forced smile falter slightly. A subtle blush crept across her cheeks, an unintended response to my remark.
In our little group, these subtle verbal spats weren't uncommon. They served as a way for everyone to assert dominance without resorting to outright hostility, a petty game where one tried to outshine the others while simultaneously pushing them down. Sophia and Emma typically stayed out of them; their positions in the group were already secure. Besides, Emma excelled in verbal battles, as Taylor could attest, and Sophia was simply too intimidating.
Madison had never been the best at these exchanges, which was another reason why the other girls were all too eager to take her place, seeing her as a weak link. Now though thanks to Cassandra, I could, at the very least, hold my own.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Sophia's gaze narrowing slightly as she regarded me, her expression more curious than suspicious. I turned to her and forced a smile, though my heart pounded in my chest. I couldn't help but curse inwardly. It had only been a small change, yet it was disconcerting how quickly she had picked up on my altered demeanour.
"Hey, Sophia," I said, my voice as steady as I could manage. "How was your winter break?"
Sophia's piercing gaze lingered on me for a moment longer before she shrugged nonchalantly. "Same old, same old," she replied, her tone casual. "Training, mostly."
I nodded, relieved that she didn't push further. Sophia's perceptiveness was well-known, especially given her training with the Wards. And I was almost certain she had been taught to pick up on signs of Master/Stranger situations. And I felt that my case could easily fall into that category.
I took the chance to use <Observe> on her, eager to find anything spicy or that I didn't know already.
Sadly, most of what was on there I already knew, and however concerning the last line maybe it wasn't something I could change, it was however interesting to see what she thought of me.
As the group's conversation continued, shifting from Emma's extravagant holiday escapades to the latest fashion trends and rumours about various students, I decided to take the opportunity and activate my <Observe> skill on each member of the group. discreetly scanning them while still attempting to keep up with the conversation.
As I subtly scanned them, my newfound ability provided me with a mix of mundane and occasionally intriguing details. Most of it, however, was boring flavour text I could've found out myself or gleaned from school gossip.
As the conversation carried on, our attention was suddenly drawn to the school gates. Taylor Hebert, the subject of our discussion, had arrived, as if summoned by our mention. Her face bore the cautious hope of someone who didn't look as beaten down as she did before the holidays.
Emma leaned in with a sly grin, whispering to the group, "Well, ladies, it looks like our moment has arrived. Are we ready?"
Emma's voice rang out with an excited tone that didn't match the grim subject matter. The group's responses were a mix of eager agreement and casual indifference as we began to make our way inside the school building. Following the flow, I moved alongside them, my heart pounding in my chest.Bottom of Form
We reached the lockers, and the pungent smell hit me immediately. Sophia and Emma had clearly put in a lot of work to infest Taylor's locker with all manner of vile things, and the results were already evident in the foul odour that permeated the area. I tried to blend in, my anxiety growing with each passing moment. We were awaiting Taylor's arrival, and I couldn't shake the stirrings of guilt beginning to gnaw at me.
A small crowd had begun to gather, whether drawn by the smell or the anticipation of Emma's little spectacle, it didn't really matter. We now had an audience, all waiting to see what would unfold.
As Taylor walked into the school, her back slightly hunched and her eyes shifting, it was clear she was suspicious of something. Her gaze darted around, taking in the strange behaviour of the students around her it was clear she'd caught onto the foul smell.
The air was thick with tension, and I couldn't help but question the choices I had made so far. It dawned on me all too quickly that there would be no middle ground. I could talk about the future all I wanted, but my concern at the moment was the here and now.
I could either step up now and stop this all from happening, or I could take the more passive role and let things play out as they should.
I watched in a strange mix of anticipation and anxiety as Taylor continued her approach to her locker. I couldn't fathom why she was doing this. Did she genuinely not realize that the source of the terrible smell was her own locker? Or was she walking into this with some inkling of what might be waiting for her?
She hesitated for a moment, her hand on the locker door, before she finally swung it open. The sight that greeted her was a horrifying tableau of filth and decay. The locker had been transformed into a nightmarish scene, a grotesque collage of rotting food, insects, and other unidentifiable substances.
The putrid smell hit us like a wave, and I had to cover my nose and mouth in an effort not to gag. Taylor recoiled, her face a mask of shock and disgust as the crowd erupted into laughter, cruel and mocking, as they revelled in their handiwork.
I realized that if there was ever a time to make a choice, that moment was now. Yet my body remained idle, frozen in place. I didn't join in the cheers or jeers, but I continued to watch the scene in front of me with rapt attention, daring not to turn my eyes away.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice urged me to do the right thing, to help her. But as I stood there, still, and silent, I realized that I had already made my choice. As I watched Sophia move up behind Taylor and push her into the filth-infested locker, I knew that I would have to live with it.
As the locker door slammed shut and Taylor's desperate cries echoed through the hallway, I couldn't tear my eyes away from the horrifying scene unfolding before me. The laughter of the onlookers continued to fill the air, but it had lost its earlier amusement, replaced by a chilling cruelty.
But amidst the chaos, I heard a jingle, a sound that was both unexpected and strangely out of place. I had forgotten about it in the chaos in the heat of the moment, but I didn't need to look to know what it meant—the completion of my quest. A window opened in front of me, displaying its contents like a twisted reward.
As I received the rewards, a bitter smile played on my lips, it was almost sardonic, as if the system was mocking me for my choices, rewarding sociopathic behaviour, with a skill to become a better sociopath, it was almost laughable.
Still, they were the results of my choices, choices that I would have to live with. The fact that it had become easier to do so with the ability to basically turn off my emotions whenever I wanted was something I wouldn't dwell on.
However, I did notice that "Clean Mind" seemed to be a downgraded version, or at the very least, a derivative of "Gamer's Mind." I couldn't help but wonder if that meant I could acquire the other skill in the future, or if I even wanted to.
If I understood things correctly, quest rewards were sometimes tied to my actions during the quest. Depending on how I acted or went about completing a quest, my rewards would change. By that logic, had I gone the route of helping Taylor, my rewards for the quest would've been different and probably more people-friendly. By that same logic, if I was looking to get an ability like "Gamer's Mind," I'd probably have to do something in line with the ability, and if what I'd done today was any indication, it wouldn't be pretty.
I sighed as the system all but confirmed my suspicions. On one hand, I felt that if I leveraged this enough, I could acquire some powerful abilities. On the other hand, the more destructive abilities would likely be locked behind darker conditions.
Shaking those thoughts aside, I redirected my focus from the system to my surroundings. The laughter had died down, but Taylor's desperate pleas still echoed through the hallway. No one, not a single student or teacher, moved to help her. Emma and Sophia had taken the opportunity to mock her, and the other girls soon joined in.
Standing there, feeling increasingly guilty, I decided to activate "Clean Mind." I hoped to escape the dark emotions that gnawed at me. The effects were instant; it was like night and day, my emotions were still there but they were muted lingering in the background and my mind felt remarkably clearer.
With the guilt and empathy temporarily set aside, it became easier to rationalize my actions. Whether they were morally right or wrong was no longer my primary concern. What had happened was necessary both for Taylor and myself.
In the grand scheme of things, saving Taylor from the locker was the equivalent of dooming countless Earths. Without Taylor, there would be no Khepri, and without Khepri, Scion would have proceeded to eliminate humanity across countless Earths. Could humanity survive Golden Morning without Khepri? It was possible, but highly unlikely. I had no tangible evidence to support the notion that the world would be saved without her.
While there were a few organizations and parahumans out there who I felt could be integral to Golden Morning, of which I included myself, I had no tangible evidence that they would be able to successfully do so. They were simply chances, not a guarantee.
And while Taylor herself was a chance, she was a higher chance. If I planned to survive, I would always take the route that gave me the highest probability of survival.
Yet, I also recognized the need for contingency plans. If the worst-case scenario played out and Taylor failed, I'd require an alternative or, at the very least, a way to escape this cluster of Earths.
Above all, I realized that I had acted or rather hadn't acted out of fear. The idea of a world without Skitter, Weaver, or Khepri terrified me. I couldn't predict how such a world would turn out, and the uncertainty frightened me. While I acknowledged that my actions might have far-reaching consequences down the line, I wasn't willing to abandon my advantage in this world so easily.
I sighed deeply, allowing the effects of <Clean Mind> to dissipate. As the artificial calm gave way to my usual sea of emotions, a disorienting wave washed over me. The guilt still lingered, but something had shifted within me. It wasn't as all-consuming as before. I could accept the choices I'd made, no matter how morally ambiguous they were.
Taylor's desperate pleas for help continued in the background, though they lacked the earlier frantic edge. Her tone had taken on a note of resignation as if she'd realized the futility of seeking assistance in this crowd. But how long would she remain trapped? I couldn't be sure.
The crowd around me had begun to disperse, the cruel spectacle of the locker now over. Students were dispersing, heading to their respective classes for the start of the school day.
Following suit, I made my way to my first class of the day: World Issues. It was a small blessing, considering I wasn't in the mood to kick off my day with a particularly intense subject like English or math. And while Mr Gladly might be an absolute failure of an adult, I could safely say he was my favourite teacher in this school, mostly because of how laid-back he tended to be.
I walked into Mr. Gladly's classroom, the typical buzz of teenage chatter enveloping the air. Mr. Gladly, or Mr. G as he preferred to be called, was already at his desk, engaged in an amicable conversation with a pair of students. It was quite unusual for a teacher to be this friendly with his students, but Mr G was relatively young, probably fresh out of college, and his attempts to befriend us were quite transparent. Nevertheless, most of us didn't mind, as he turned a blind eye to many things and allowed us some leeway in his class.
Despite his easy-going nature, it was an open secret that many students took advantage of Mr. G's leniency and secretly mocked him behind his back. But even with this knowledge, he remained the student body's favourite teacher, largely due to how often he let things slide.
I took my seat, glancing around at my classmates. The conversations were a mix of discussions about the situation with Taylor earlier and updates on what everyone did during winter break. I engaged in small talk with Julia, who sat next to me, as we waited for the class to begin.
The bell rang, signalling the start of the class. Mr. G began with the attendance, and it didn't take long before he called out Taylor's name. Unsurprisingly, the room remained eerily silent, with no one stepping forward to confirm her presence.
Mr. G maintained his characteristic cheerfulness, marking Taylor as absent without much fuss, as he always did. It was no secret that he was aware of Taylor's situation, but he never took any action to address it.
As the class continued, Mr. G launched into the day's topic, which seemed to be a recurring theme in every lesson: parahumans. You would think that we'd eventually get to another subject, considering this was supposed to be a "World Issues" class and not "Parahuman Studies," but it made sense when considering that, in today's society, parahumans were more often than not the source of most 'world issues.'
"Today, class, we're going to delve into a specific aspect of parahuman dynamics: the impact of parahuman vigilantes on crime rates in our city. Do independents actually contribute to a safer society, or do they inadvertently escalate conflicts?"
As Mr. G posed the question, the classroom buzzed with anticipation. Even I found myself listening in with rapt attention, it was a refreshing change from the usual topics that felt so distant and irrelevant to my life, like how 'x' organization or 'x' person had changed the world. Sure, they made for interesting discussions but for the most part, they were pointless.
This time, however, things were different; this was directly relevant to me. I was a cape now, and while it might still be useful to know about the capes outside the bay, they weren't my primary concern. Understanding and learning about the capes in my own city, however, would play to my advantage and prove far more useful than another discussion on Vikare and his impact on the world.
A girl sitting to the side of the class, Chloe I remembered her name was I had copied homework off her a few times, was the first to raise her hand. "Mr. G," she began thoughtfully, "I think it's a matter of perspective. Some independents might genuinely believe they can make a difference without the bureaucracy of the Protectorate, while others seek fame.
Mr G nodded appreciatively at Chloe's input. "That's an astute observation, Chloe. Perspective plays a significant role in how we view heroes. It's important to remember that public opinion can vary widely."
Next, a boy whose name I couldn't quite recall raised his hand. "But there are risks, right? I mean, most independent heroes don't last long. Is it really worth it?"
Gladly paused for a moment, considering the question before responding. "You bring up a valid point," he said, addressing the boy named Jake. "The risks are substantial, and many independent heroes tend to have short careers, either meeting their end at the hands of powerful villains or being forcefully recruited. However, some individuals believe that their abilities come with a responsibility to protect others, and for them, it's a calling, while others may simply overestimate their abilities."
Then came Greg, who was eagerly raising his hand and almost bouncing in his seat. Unable to contain himself any longer, he blurted out his question. "Hey, Mr. G!" Greg exclaimed, drawing the attention of the whole class, "Do you think the big hero teams like the Protectorate are secretly working with the villains? I mean, you hear all these rumours, and it's like, why would they let the bad guys roam around if they could stop 'em, right?"
A few students chuckled at Greg's enthusiasm, while others exchanged worried glances. To be fair, he wasn't too far off the mark; the Protectorate's policies and actions had always been a topic of debate among people, plus I knew that they worked with Villains on occasions and that wasn't even mentioning Cauldron.
Mr. Gladly sighed good-naturedly. "While that's an interesting theory, Greg, let's try to keep our discussion focused on the topic at hand."
The classroom discussion raged on, with students sharing their thoughts on the motives, risks, and impacts of independent heroes. Most of the talk revolved around the capes in the bay, and I found myself jotting down the names of these capes. While I had rudimentary knowledge about some of them from Madison's memories, I realized there were gaps in my understanding.
Mr. Gladly skilfully guided the conversation, his enthusiasm and dedication to the subject clear. It was contagious, and it became evident that he genuinely cared or at the very least enjoyed what he was teaching.
Still, school was school, and as per usual I eventually found my thoughts drifting away from the lesson. I was going to be an Independent. It wasn't something I needed to think too deeply about; the answer was clear, and the class talks had done little to sway my opinion.
The Protectorate could preach all they wanted about the risks of being an independent, but my answer would remain unchanged, in addition to that there simply weren't any existing groups in Brockton Bay that I felt would be a good fit for me.
The Undersiders and Faultline's Crew were slightly better options, but they came with their own set of problems. The Undersiders had ties to Coil, and if all went according to plan, Taylor would soon be a part of them. I had no desire to interfere with that. As for Faultline and her crew, I knew little about them beyond the fact that they were mercenaries, their involvement with Case 53s and their investigations into Cauldron.
So, it seemed that unless there were other, more suitable groups in the Bay that I was unaware of, my best option was to act as an independent. Honestly, that suited me just fine. I would be my own boss and be able to pursue my own goals. And if I happened to recruit other capes along the way, all the better.
Still, if I was going to make my mark on this world without falling under the thumb of the gangs, I needed more power. What I had now was acceptable, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't the type to hunger for more. The desire for more strength was there, and I wouldn't turn down an opportunity for more if it presented itself. It was precisely this desire that brought me back to my recent level-up, or more precisely, the two stat points I had gained during it.
I pulled up my status screen, my gaze fixed on the unused points, unsure of where to invest them, or if I should even do so at this moment. my biggest problem here was whether or not there existed an upper limit to what I could achieve through sheer experience and effort alone. If there was no cap, then would it become progressively more challenging to enhance my stats as they rose? Logically, that seemed likely. If I had once struggled to lift a certain weight, gaining a point in strength for my effort, and then returned to lift that same weight effortlessly after increasing my strength stat, I was doubtful that I'd earn another point so easily.
So, then the dilemma shifted to one of weighing benefits. As far as I knew, there wasn't a level cap, and I would keep levelling up and gaining stat points for as long as I lived, and if I had it my way that would be for an extremely long time. However, I also understood that as I reached higher levels, gaining enough experience to level up would become progressively more challenging. It wouldn't be as easy as it had been today, which meant I would acquire stat points at a slower rate.
It boiled down to a choice between short-term and long-term gains. The temptation of immediately investing my points was undeniable. Doing so with each level up would grant me immediate strength and capability, ready to take on whatever challenges the world presents in the near future.
The alternative option would require a significant exercise in patience, something I admittedly wasn't the best at. It meant holding back from immediately spending my points and, instead, concentrating on growing my stats naturally. Although this choice meant I'd be starting off relatively weak, it would also result in an exponential leap in strength in the future.
I sighed mulling the decision over in my mind, my indecisive and eager nature made the choice far from easy. It wasn't something I could just rush into or half-heartedly as I knew it would significantly affect me going forward.
Then, as if to provide an answer to my musings, I heard a jingle, breaking through my contemplation as a window materialized in front of me.
The quest notification blinked in front of me, momentarily pushing aside my internal debate. The goal was straightforward: increase all my stats to 30 without the use of stat points all before level 10. The task seemed challenging, yet I couldn't deny that the rewards were enticing, 1000xp was huge and I was sure whatever 'Olympian' was it would only bring benefits.
I didn't have to think much before deciding to accept the quest, the rewards were simply too alluring, and it provided a quick answer to my earlier indecision. I would beat this quest and then wait until level 10 before deciding how I'd allocate my points. It was easy to see that something was waiting for me at that point, and I was eager to see what.
I closed the quest window, feeling a surge of determination. My goal was clear: I needed to raise all my stats to 30 before reaching level 10. It wouldn't be easy, probably one of the hardest things I'd have to do due to my penchant for skipping out on exercise, but it was a challenge worth pursuing.
As Gladly continued his lesson, I couldn't help but listen in with a renewed sense of vigour and focus. I needed to become stronger, and this quest was the perfect opportunity to do so. The class discussion on capes suddenly felt more relevant than ever; they weren't the distant figures I'd used to think of them as but potential enemies and allies.
The bell signalling the end of the class rang, and as I gathered my things, another jingle rang as a notification once again appeared before my eyes.
I looked at the notification, a wide grin splitting my face, the implications apparent. I would've laughed maniacally had I not been in a public setting. If I really could increase my stats just by doing well and focusing in class, then from now on, you could call me Madison Clements, A+ Student.
Purpose burned within me as I left the classroom, eager to get into my next class. I silently vowed that when I was through with this world, it wouldn't be Earth-Bet anymore; it would become Earth-Madison. A world shaped by my will and power.
Madison Cassandra Clements
Title: Paragamer
Level 2
XP: 150/300
HP: 100/100
MP: Locked
STR: 5
DEX: 5
CON: 5
INT: 6
WIS: 10
CHA: 6
AP: 2
Title: Paragamer
Level 2
XP: 150/300
HP: 100/100
MP: Locked
STR: 5
DEX: 5
CON: 5
INT: 6
WIS: 10
CHA: 6
AP: 2
