I'm posting this now, because if not now, then never.
This is a Worm story with the aesthetics of Prince of Persia: Sands of Time. The plan is to write a small, quick story. About 500 words per chapter, plus choices. Could be a week between chapters.
Fair warnings:
We open with a trigger event, but skimmed through as fast as possible.
It will get dark. It's Worm.
It's easier to be a villain than a hero.
I could drop this at any time. I suck like that.
While there is a dice mechanic, I plan to use it sparingly, perhaps once a scene, and only when uncertainty or risk is a factor. Narrative trumps mechanics.
This is nerve wracking. Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoy it.
You stumble out of the hospital. Told Dad you were going to the vending machine and left him holding your mum's skeletal hand.
No idea where you're going. That describes your whole life since your mother's diagnosis of spinal cancer. Incurable. Death in less than a year. But Dad believes in miracles. He spent everything the family had on medical tourism, searching for parahuman healing. He uprooted the family to another country, spent your college funds and mum's rainy day savings, left a good job, took out loans...
You don't share his optimism. When the inevitable happens - and it is inevitable - Dad will break. You don't know how you'll hold the two of you together without Mum acting as glue. You have no job, no higher education, and no visa. Every day looks more grim.
It might be better for everyone if it was over sooner, rather than later. But you can't look at your mother in her sick bed and think that.
So you walk.
You find privacy in an alley off the street. Close your eyes and lean against the bare brick wall. Try to think of better times. Of home - England - with friends and a healthy family. Of holidays in Thar Desert, sun and infinite sand. Of bright futures that are long gone. [Destination?]
Footsteps, rapid and approaching. [Agreement.]
You open your eyes in time to see a bulky teenager shoulder check you. You're on the ground, the boy is above you, a huge knife in his hands, stabbing- [Error.]
A warm desert wind swirls. Time stops. [Request: Abort, Retry, Fail?]
The boy is frozen in the air, mid-lunge, in defiance of gravity. His knife catches your attention and keeps it. It's an impractical gilded dagger with a curved blade, slick glass handle, and a spiky crossguard that points inwards. A show piece. You can't imagine anyone doing anything serious with it. Serious LARPing, maybe. It would be funny if it wasn't hanging over you like the sword of Damocles. [Request Timed Out.]
Behind the boy and all around is a raging tornado of sand. You're trapped in the eye of a sandstorm, buildings just meters away disintegrate as the eye slowly contracts. [Continuing Operation.]
Another you steps out of the storm. [Warning: Out of Bounds.]
The other you has a darker tan, a few scars, and a baggy pants costume straight out of Sinbad. But that's you. You know your face. Except the eyes. Other you has eyes so blue they glow. [Warning: Insufficient Energy to Maintain Operation.]
"I'm sorry," the other says, with a dagger in hand, twin to the one the boy still has. [Recalibrating]
It digs into your gut. You can feel it but, frozen in time, you can't even fold over in agony. You are statue still as it worms inside. [Reset Complete]
"I'm so sorry, we need the... the paradox. You will survive this. You already did." [Warning: Aberration Detected.]
Leaving the dagger buried in you, the other pries the original from the frozen boy. [Warnings Disabled.]
"Don't lose the dagger. It's the source of our power." [ I Hunger. ]
The shrinking swirl of sand swallows the boy and the other you moves to follow, hesitates. "Good luck." [ Feed Me. ]
All you see is golden sand as the storm devours you.
Choices:
The Sands of Time have changed you. You have 1 unit of Sand. Pick a perk:
[X] Perk Sort the Grains
- You manipulate your personal timeframe on a cellular level. Poison, hunger, thirst, bleeding and fatigue are slower to affect you. You recover from injury faster, need less sleep, think and react quicker, and you are physically stronger overall.
- Mechanically this makes you a Brute 2. You roll 3d6 in combat (1d6 for normal human, +2d6 for PRT rating).
[X] Perk: Reverse the Glass
- You can reverse time for up to 10 seconds. It then takes 10 seconds to recharge. This will happen automatically to save your life, but won't get you out of an impossible situation. With great effort, and more Sand, time may roll back further.
- Mechanically, every roll is rolled twice and you take the better result.
[X] Perk: Warrior Within
- There are many paths before you. You can take them all. You gain the skills, but not memories, of other lives. The more likely you are to learn it in the future, the more likely you are to know it now.
- You are guaranteed to know first aid, driving, parkour and athletics, basic firearms, and lots of martial arts both armed and unarmed.
- You have a 50% chance to learn profession skills like media management, computers, electronics, costume design, interrogation or whatever the situation may call for. This cannot be rerolled.
- Mechanically, having a relevant skill changes your target number for success from 5 to 4. i.e. Roll 1d6 t4 to succeed in a difficult task without complications.
When the sand storm clears, you'll be back on the street with the knife wielding maniac. Except you're the maniac with a knife now.
What will you do with the boy?
[X] Nothing. He looks more scared than you do. He's just some kid. If you run away, so will he.
[X] Punish. Beat the shit out of him. If not now, then later.
[X] Murder. This was an attempt on your life. You see red. Stab him with his own knockoff knife. If not now, then later.
And then?
[X] Go to the hospital. It's not far and you may need medical attention. Also your parents are there.
[X] Go home. The hospital will ask questions you don't have an answer for. You have a first aid kit, if you need it.
[X] Go to the police or PRT. You are 90% sure this is a PRT-worthy situation.
- "Yes officer, I have the power to go back in time and stab myself. Where do I sign up?"
- "So someone who looks like me, but definitely isn't me, is running around, saving people from stabbings, and then stabbing them. They have a knife exactly like this. Yes, they looked just like me, but they're not me. Honest. Wait, what's with the straight jacket?"
dice that roll a 6 explode. Count it as a success and reroll it.
Even normal people can be heroes, with luck.
Also covers synergy between powers.
[Perk] Reverse the Glass
Prince can reverse time for up to 10 seconds. It then takes 10 seconds to recharge. This will happen automatically to save his life, but won't get him out of an impossible situation. With great effort, and more Sand, time may roll back further.
Mechanically, every roll is rolled twice and uses the better result.
On its own, this power qualifies for a Thinker 2 PRT rating, precognitive and combat subtypes.
Prince has learned that he is very good at giving warnings. He can give a reroll to someone else in lieu of his own.
Sacrificed to defy fate, and then restored through Repair the Glass.
[Perk] Sort the Grains
Prince manipulates time on a cellular level. Poison, hunger, thirst, bleeding, damage, gravity and fatigue are slower to work. Injuries recover faster, he needs less sleep, he thinks and reacts quicker, and he is physically stronger overall.
On its own, this power qualifies for a Brute 2 PRT rating. Equal to an exceptional or well-equipped human.
Prince believes that his body is being slowly replaced by sand.
Reverse the Glass synergy:
Death defying leaps qualify a Mover classification.
You roll 5 dice in combat (2 brute, 2 thinker, 1 normal or synergy) for 5d6t5.
[Trait] Resourceful
Prince's PRT training makes him familiar with cars, guns, and many police or PRT issue gadgets.
Prince rolls an extra 1d6t4 equipment bonus where applicable.
Lost to the Grand Rewind. Now restored.
[Perk] Mask of the Sand Wraith
Prince can clothe himself in the Sands of Time.
Turns Prince into an ancient, monstrous facsimile of Paradox's costume, mask, and weapons.
This is a Breaker power that becomes stronger and faster as long as Prince can run fast enough, and avoid enough damage.
Breaker state recharges slowly and restarts the time limit of Reverse The Glass.
The Sand Wraith does not care about any bonus or penalty
Mechanically, gives a fixed number of successes equal to your number of chosen perks (including this one) with diminishing returns.
- At first each perk gives an auto-success, up to 3.
- Then every 2 perks gives an auto-success up to 6.
- Then every 3 perks gives an auto-success.
- The one exception is Release the Sands.
Currently 4 fixed successes.
The Sand Wraith exists outside time.
Damage taken by the Sand Wraith is not transferred to Prince, barring exotic damage.
The Sand Wraith cannot be forced to lose due to bad luck, destiny or precognition.
The Sand Wraith is resistant to precogs and masters and some other powers.
The Sand Wraith unlocks Screw Destiny actions.
The Sand Wraith does not care about any bonus or penalty
The Sand Wraith has a malleable form.
[Skill] Secrets in the Ruby Dreams.
Prince is skilled in Subterfuge. Keep your head down and eyes open, then just smile and nod.
Bluff, Stealth, Observation and Conspiracy is rolled at target 4 with Thinker dice (or whatever applies).
[Perk] A Living Blade
Replaces the blade of the Dagger of Time with living ivory, or something resembling it.
The blade can grow to full sword length or shrink to near-nothing at will. This makes it easy to hide and easy to fight with.
Mechanically, +1 auto-success to combat.
[Perk] Warrior Within
Combines the skills, but not memories, of your other lives.
This manifests as the druj naso - corpse spirits of Zoroastrian myth possessing him from alien time-lines.
Prince is omnicompetent. He rolls acts like he has skill, though he doesn't have the wisdom that comes with them.
Mechanically Prince rolls everything at a skilled Target of 4, instead of unskilled t5, barring modifiers.
[Perk] Shrug the Mortal Coil
Prince is nigh-immortal as long as he holds the Dagger of Time
Any wound or poison can be denied and shrugged off as sand.
Sand from the dagger replaces any lost flesh.
Continuous or exotic damage can overwhelm the dagger.
Mechanically, +1 Brute dice, and in combat Prince wins a tied roll.
Total PRT rating = 7. Roll 7d6t4.
A strong, skilled hero. Equal to a small cape team with support, expecting casualties.
Quirks:
+1 auto success in lethal combat with dagger.
Reroll all rolls once.
Sand wraith = 5 perks = fixed 4 auto-successes. Has a cool down time.
Roll d6 equal to raw power. 'Target' or 't' is the threshold for success.
On opposed rolls, the most successes win. Normally, the target for success is a 5.
A roll of 6 represents heroic effort or incredible luck. Every 6 is a success and rerolled.
Qualitative improvements make success more likely. Skills move the target down to 4. Difficulties move the target up to 6. These stack. Severe penalties can result in a lose of Power.
Powers can come with Quirks that make them circumstantially more effective. For instance: rerolls.
Powers may or may not apply to a situation, determined by categories.
The PRT rating system is used to gauge raw Power. Each rating is a d6.
Normal human level. Not worth mentioning.
Threat equal to a prepared, exceptional, well-equipped, and/or well trained human.
Superhuman. Equal to a team of trained and equipped normal humans.
A squad of PRT troops with containment foam and mundane support should equal this threat.
'Average' parahuman. Equal to a PRT squad with hero support.
Equal to a small hero team with PRT squad support, expect casualties.
'Strong' parahuman. Equal to a full hero team with PRT support. Potential city wide threat.
Lower Triumvirate teir. A-class threat. Avoid engaging. PRT evacuate and contain damage. Requires special measures.
Lower Endbringer teir. Evacuate all humans. Heroes focus on containment.
Traits:
The Dagger of Time
Prince must be holding this to use his powers.
Organic disintegration. Those who die by the Dagger of Time will turn to Sand.
From Sand comes power.
The Dagger of Time is broken. It is a poor weapon, but still serves as the base of power.
If Prince stabs himself with the dagger, he can return to the time of his trigger event.
Under certain conditions, the powers of the dagger can spread to another parahuman, replacing their power, creating an equivalent to the dagger, and starting a Hellscape Crisis.
The Dahaka is the intelligent agent behind the Dagger of Time.
???
When attacked by a teenage boy, Prince decided to let him go without a fight. Twice.
Prince is more Pacifist, Considerate and Careful.
Prince is less Impulsive.
Prince decided to reveal everything to his father, though he knew it was would be harrowing.
Prince has shown both Courage and Loyalty.
After feeling his own death, Prince decided to use lethal force to defend himself.
As Paradox, Price tries to present an optimistic image of wonder and fantasy.
After dying many times, Prince's personality has changed:
Prince cares less for his own physical safety.
Prince has displayed symptoms of irritability, anxiety, violent behavior, and trouble sleeping.
Prince is disturbed by these changes.
When Behemoth attacked Mexico City in November 2010, Paradox joined the emergency response.
This is highly respected in the community.
Prince has learned the value and power of a warning given just in time.
Prince fought alongside both heroes and villains. He has learned their are degrees to both.
When confronted with an accusation of murder and breaking the unwritten rule, Prince claimed it was justified and showed no regret.
Prince is becoming comfortable with violence.
Paradox may appear self righteous and uncompromising.
While training with the PRT, Prince has learned to use a variety of special equipment, including guns, vehicles and containment foam.
Prince has become more Resourceful, represented by an extra 1d6t4 equipment bonus where applicable.
As Paradox, Prince carries a small amount of Containment Foam, despite the paperwork. The dispenser is integrated into his costume in the form of a stylized claw. Lost to the sands of time.
After aggressively attacking a police station full of mind control victims, Prince now has a double digit body count.
Prince is now hardened to violence. Hurting others is more acceptable to him. He displays less Empathy
Prince has fallen on time's blade and begun the third iteration of Paradox.
Faced with manipulation, Prince's response was to smile and nod and keep his eyes open.
Prince responds to subterfuge with Discretion and Stealth.
After navigating the manipulations of Brockton Bay's underworld and finding the Secret of the Ruby Dreams, Prince has acquired skills in Subterfuge, making Bluff, Stealth, and Conspiracy easier.
Prince has learned powers influence parahumans through the Corona Pollentia.
Prince has dubbed the intelligence behind his power the Dahaka.
After finding his Dad on a self-destructive drug binge, Prince is wondering if it's his fault.
After being attacked by Armsmaster and Glory Girl, Prince is wondering if he's been projecting self-hate on his Dad.
Perk: Reverse the Glass.
- You reverse time up to 10 seconds.
Do Nothing to the boy.
- Secret Test of Character: You are more Pacifist, Considerate and Careful. Less Impulsive.
- Shard does not approve.
Go to the police or PRT.
Your name is Prince.
The world moves again. At last, you can scream.
There was no fight, no build up of adrenaline to numb the pain. Your response is raw emotion. There's a knife the size of your forearm buried up to the hilt in your belly. Every movement, every roll and wince, nudges the blade a little, pushing it deeper.
You need to get it out. Now!
You grasp the handle and pull. The first tug makes you dizzy. You take a breath as deep as you dare and pull harder. Shaking hands make the wound larger, seeping blood becomes a torrent. You won't survive this. You don't dare stop.
Something gives, but not the blade.
The dagger pushes back into you, then out again. You fly back to your feet, lean against the wall, eyes snap shut.
Footsteps, rapid and approaching, pause.
You open your eyes in time to see a bulky teenager looking at his empty hands. He looks at you, at the big flashy dagger you hold. His dagger. Yours now.
He turns and flees.
You touch your torso. Phantom pain, but no wound, no hole in your shirt, no blood. Your other hand holds the dagger. You tighten your grip and the boy runs backwards towards you. Then away again. Then back again. Then away again.
This would be fun if you could stop shaking.
Reversing time every ten seconds gives you plenty of time to calm down and think. The boy didn't actually stab you. You stabbed you. Didn't you? When time ran backwards, you didn't see the sandstorm again. As if inside the sand is outside of time. It did and did not happen.
You consider the dagger. Whatever it used to be, it's special now. A paradox. It slices, it dices, it turns back time. It might do more. You're not letting it go. Ever. As long as you hold it, its powers are yours.
Finally, you let the boy go. The kid looked to be about sixteen, only a few years younger than you. You don't know why he decided to knife people in the dark, but from the clear terror on his face from the moment you saw him, he didn't do it for fun. Was it some kind of gang thing? He might have friends around the corner, egging him on.
Time to move. Your parents are waiting for you at the hospital. But the Dagger of Time changes everything. You can negotiate with the heroes as an equal. You can bargain for a healer to see your mother. Or... you could cut ties and start over.
You tuck the dagger into the back of your belt, under your shirt. It's cold and sharp and heavy with significance. The map on your phone leads you away from the hospital, towards the PRT.
You tell yourself this is the smart option. You're not running away. You're not.
Dad sends you a text. You missed the doctor. It was bad news. He wants to know where you were. Not where you are, where you were. You feel sick. You keep walking.
The PRT building is in the middle of the long Lord's Street that splits the city into halves. It is huge, a fortress compound made of several multistory buildings with garages and helicopter pads. It takes twenty minutes of fast walking to reach the front entrance. The lobby is cavernous and brightly lit, dotted with signs for tourists, an inviting gift shop nestles on one side. Every window is an inch thick and reinforced with mesh.
There are guards in black armour with blank face plates, names and serial numbers stenciled across the chest in white block capitals. The police in America carry small handguns; the PRT carry huge shotguns. The night time receptionist is an attractive young woman who smiles at you. This must be where all the tax dollars go.
The receptionist is very accommodating. You ask her to write down a number, wait ten seconds, then show it to you. Then you use the dagger to tell her the number before she can. Her composure is impressive, pulling a dagger out your arse only raises an eyebrow.
You're quickly led to an office and given a sticky disposable face mask. A man in a suit sits with you and lays out forms. It would feel like a job interview if not for the armed guard in the corner.
The suit - "Garry Simpson, call me Garry" - rapid fires questions. Are you in immediate danger? No. Are you a danger to yourself or others? No. Any special needs?
You want Panacea to see your mother and a visa to work in America.
"No problem! We will happily negotiate with New Wave on your behalf. A civilian visa will be on the fast track and arrive in three days or less. As a hero you don't even need one! The Protectorate can work anywhere in the world that the PRT has jurisdiction, which includes Canada, Europe and do I detect a British accent? The UK is covered, too. Just sign here."
Something feels off. You say you're keeping the dagger. And the pen.
"Absolutely! Costume and costume accessories are flexible as standard. Pens are free as a courtesy. Have another. Please sign here."
You ask for Alexandria's head on a stick. The suit says "while I can't promise anything in the immediate sense, inquiries can be made to investigate compromises to accommodate ancillary requirements vis-a-vis your contribution provisionally of largesse." You rewind to before you ask. It doesn't fix your headache.
The PRT are clearly desperate for capes.
You sign. What other choice do you have? On paper, this is everything you want. A job, a future, and a healer. Then why does it feel wrong? Why do you feel deja vu?
You will need a cape name for all this paper work. While names can change, they have a tendency to stick. What do you want to be called?
[X] [Name] Paradox. Old you said he needed a paradox. Become one.
[X] [Name] Retry. It's what your power does.
[X] [Name] Stitch. As in "a stitch in time saves nine." You can pretend the dagger is a fancy needle.
[X] [Name] Sohrab. An ancient Persian prince. Relates to your heritage. Sohrab was killed by his father. You are not projecting, not at all.
[X] [Name] Prince of Time. Your whole life, people have confused your real name with a cape name. Embrace it. Be the cheese.
[X] [Name] Thar. You miss the desert.
[X] [Name] Write in. Bonus points if it relates to Persia, or the Sands of Time game.
The next day, you're wearing a generic padded bodysuit, mask on, tapping the dagger against your thigh. You're waiting for your patrol buddies. The plan is to have a walk and talk session around the city, to get to know you, explain the landscape, and talk about the job.
Who are your patrol buddies? Top 2 votes win.
[X] Patrol with Challenger.
- She's an old veteran with the power to ramp up to match opponents. It's Brockton Bay tradition to patrol with her at least once so she can size you up. There's a burger named after her.
[X] Patrol with Velocity.
- He's a well established speedster. There might be some power synergy between your Thinker and his Mover powers.
[X] Patrol with Miss Militia.
- She's the unofficial Protectorate leader. Her power makes weapons. You may end up working under her.
[X] Patrol with Armsmaster.
- He's the official Protectorate leader. Famous across America as one of the best Tinkers. Your new boss.
[X] Patrol with Assault and Battery.
- They have a contract that makes them a package deal. A study of opposites, one jokes, the other doesn't. One redirects kinetic energy, the other generates kinetic energy.
Sooner or later, you need to go home - to the motel - and talk to your father. What will you tell him?
[X] [Dad] Everything. You went outside for some fresh air, got stabbed, now you have powers and this knife, so you went to the PRT like a good cape.
[X] [Dad] Nothing. You went out for some air and lost track of time. You don't trust him not to screw your life up after you've started to rebuild it.
[X] [Dad] Don't go home. You've managed to avoid him this long, why stop now? You'll get a room at the Rig.
Not super happy with it. Ah well, it's a transitional chapter. It's early days. Thank you for reading.
A/N: I cut this because it did very little to advance the plot. A different choice in power or with the boy would have made a very different scene. But this outcome was slightly amusing and I like the contrast between police and PRT. So have a non-cannon omake! This takes place just before going to the PRT.
You were expecting an old, grand building made of stone and gravitas. Instead, the police station is an office block squeezed between a dentist and a thrift store. The dentist looks better funded. Perhaps they get extra business every time the cops kick someone's teeth in.
Behind the front desk is a scratched plastic screen and a middle aged man with purple bags under his eyes. He savours a takeaway coffee before he wordlessly acknowledges you.
You say you're here to report a stabbing. It does not go well.
"Who is the victim?"
"Oh, it was me. I am the victim."
"Where's the injury?"
"Uh, I made it not happen... with my super power. Because I'm a cape. Capes can do that."
He is not impressed. "So there was no stabbing?"
"... Not really? Sort of? See, most people think time is like a river-"
"Can you safely display your alleged 'super power'?"
"Of course." You pull out the Dagger of Time. The cop pulls out a gun. More cops burst through the doors with more guns. They yell "hands against the wall" and "down on the ground!"
Time rewinds.
"Yes," you say, "but I need a tool to use it. I'm slowly reaching for it now... this is not a weapon... don't panic..."
Using only two fingers, you slowly pull out the Dagger of Time. The cop pulls out a gun. More cops burst through the doors with more guns.
Rewind.
"Can you write down a secret number, wait ten seconds and then show it to me?"
"No."
"Then I cannot safely display my super power." Because the cops will shoot you.
As soon as you sign, "Garry Simpson call me Garry" lays out your agenda. Two weeks of classes with the PRT, with the option of taking an extra five months for full PRT trooper training. Some practice patrols, some power testing, some PR meetings, then the big debut and you're officially a hero.
He gives you a basic procedures manual for homework. You take it and smile. You have a future.
It's late. There's nothing to do until morning. Garry offers to arrange a room at the HQ for you - it's tempting - but you refuse. Running from your dad would be an act of cowardice. It's time to go home and have an unpleasant conversation.
'Home' at the moment is a dockside motel. You take the long way around so that you're not pressured by prostitutes. There aren't many, only the really desperate work the night shift at this hour. This close to the bay, everything smells of sea salt, and all the cars show signs of rust. The motel walls need painted.
You compose yourself. You're hesitating at the door, procrastinating. You knock.
Dad opens the door. For an instant you see him as he was a year ago; clean, suited, smiling.
The memory fades. Now he's grey bearded, wearing pajamas, scowling.
"Where have you been?"
"Panacea will see Mum," you quickly say. It's the best way to forestall an argument.
Dad doesn't stop frowning, but he doesn't breathe for a moment either. "Inside. Sit down. Explain."
Inside there are only two beds, a fridge, and a bracket on the wall where someone stole the TV. One of the beds is covered in papers. Bills, loans, credit notes, and forms for bankruptcy and medical visas. Dad sits on them and leans forwards intently. You sit on the other bed. You remember changing the sheets because they were covered in menstrual blood.
You're hesitating again and Dad is waiting.
"At the hospital, I went outside for some air-"
"Why?"
You just said why. No, if you play defence, he'll go on attack. You continue. "While I was out, someone tried to mug me. I got stabbed."
The frown lifts. Dad looks you over, but doesn't say anything. Is he worried for your health, or about an extra medical bill? Perhaps he just doesn't believe you.
Now for the hard part. "But the guy with the knife, wasn't the one who stabbed me. I had a... kind of a vision. There was an older version of me there. He took that knife, and left me with this one."
You place the Dagger of Time on your lap.
"When the vision was over... this dagger has powers, Dad. It made me a Cape."
Dad blinks several times. "Excellent. Let's go to the hospital now."
"What?"
"To heal Mehri with your powers. Ah, I should get changed first." Dad puts a suitcase on the bed.
"What? Dad, no, listen," you say. He always does this, always runs after any hint of a cure all. "I'm not a healer. I can't heal Mum."
It's like you slapped him. "Why not? Are you selfish?"
Words fail you.
"A parahuman is born during a time of great crisis or heroic effort," Dad explains, tensely. "I know you've done nothing to help your mother, so you must have triggered with the ability to solve this crisis. Or was it the heroic effort of running away? Are you selfish like your brother?"
You close your eyes. "Malik was the smart one."
It's the wrong thing to say. Dad flies into a rage, ranting about your older brother, how he abandoned his family, et cetera and so forth. You've heard it several times before.
You rewind and instead say "it doesn't work like that. It's not my power, it's the dagger. It controls time."
"Then go back and fix this!"
"I can't. It only goes back ten seconds."
"Then what use are you?" Dad backhands the suitcase into the wall, denting the plaster.
You remain sitting and try to keep your tone even. "I went to the PRT. They will ask Panacea to heal Mum."
"When?"
"They said within a week."
"She could be dead by then!" Dad's hands become fists. There's a long moment where he might punch something. Then he folds his arms and sits down. Someone is banging on the other side of the wall, which you both ignore. "The cancer has spread. It's in her lungs. It's in her brain. She could leave us at any time."
This is what you missed at the hospital. This is what he was dealing with, on his own. Because you weren't there.
"Then you come here, with a power, and it's only good for running from your mistakes." Ouch. "Give me the knife."
"Uh, no." Giving the Dagger of Time away is inconceivable.
"Give me the knife and I'll go back and fix it!"
"No."
"Give! Me That! Knife!"
He lunges towards you. It's the last thing you expect. For all his raging, he has never once laid a hand on you.
You pull the dagger away as he grabs for it. His fingers catch the blade. They fly off, no resistance, streaming golden grains behind them. The finger tips don't touch the floor before they turn to sand. [ Yes! ]
Dad holds his wrist to stem the bleeding, but there is no blood. Just sand. The stubs of his fingers disintegrate down to the last knuckle as you both watch. The sands spiral in mid air, then jump into the Dagger of Time and vanish.
The frozen moment has nothing to do with your powers.
"My son," Dad says, anger forgotten. "I think we should keep this to ourselves. The heroes would not look kindly on a dangerous power. It may hurt you mother's appointment with Panacea."
You can undo this... but should you? You have one second to decide. You can reverse the glass, give your father his fingers back, along with his rage. Or you can use the first aid kit and get Dad to an emergency room. He'll know better next time. He'll know to listen to reason. He'll learn form his mistake, unless you make him run backwards from it.
One second to decide.
The next day, you're wearing a black and white bodysuit with a domino mask under a full face visor, tapping the dagger against your thigh. It's baby's first patrol.
You stand in the lobby of the PRT. A group of tourists comes, some snap your picture.
You have mixed feelings about that. On the one hand, all that time in the gym is finally paying off. On the other, this body suit was clearly made for someone with less gym experience. It's padded to suggest muscles you already have and the combined effect is over exaggerated. Fortunately, no one can see your face. Unfortunately, it's your prettiest feature.
The tour group is shooed away by the guide and you're left with nothing to distract you from darker thoughts. You didn't sleep much last night. You dreamt of a man who's tongue was a snake. It hissed in your ear "[ Feed me. ]"
"Hey." A man's voice startles you. "Sorry," he says. A red mask covers his eyes and ears, extends down to trace along his jaw. A soul patch pokes over the chin guard. "Didn't mean to sneak up on you in this bright red suit. I'm Velocity, nice to meet you."
"I'm Paradox," you say. As names go, it's no worse than Prince.
You shake hands. Afterwards Velocity rubs his fingers together. "Is this sand?"
"I was near the beach earlier, sand gets everywhere" you say. You are a lying liar who lies. "So, I was wondering, why are we meeting here instead at the Rig?"
"The Rig? Oh yeah, the oil rig, we just call it PHQ. To be honest, it's more of a symbol than a facility. Just holding cells, labs and power testing equipment. For day to day use, most of the Protectorate hang a spare costume here at the PRT HQ. It's more central, easier to get to and dispatch from. Have you been inside PHQ yet?"
"Not yet, my power testing is later."
"Thinker, right? That's good. Our only Thinkers are a Ward and Challenger. Actually, Challenger was supposed to be showing you the ropes, today. It's tradition for her to terrify the new guy."
"Where is she?" you ask, but you're distracted by another hero entering the lobby.
He's big, blue, bearded, and his every footstep thumps the floor in mechanical procession. He holds a halberd, touching it to ground every second step he takes towards you.
"Challenger is benched," he declares.
You look at Velocity, then back to Armsmaster. "Why is that? And how did you hear our conversation from across the room and behind a door?"
"Microphone picked up a familiar voice pattern." Armsmaster touches the side of his helmet. It's similar in style to Velocity's but thicker, more solid. "Challenger is still recovering from injuries taken during Lung's debut last year. She's expected to retire soon, which will make me the senior hero in the city. Let's start with the equipment run down."
You're caught a bit wrong footed at his brisk manner. And you're not sure why seniority is important. Still, he is your boss, you suppose he has a 'boss' personality.
Armsmaster points to parts of your generic PRT costume as he describes them. "Kevlar vest, ceramic plates, helmet, boots can be combat or tactical. Everything else is between you and PR. You will always have a radio, usually built into the helmet. If your radio is missing or fails, get a new one from HQ ASAP. Bad communication kills.
"As a Thinker, it is unlikely that you will be given a weapon. I see you already have one, but no where to keep it. Velocity, get a scabbard. Quickly."
Velocity was walking away, but at that last word he turns and says "sir, you know I can't use my power and open doors at the same time."
Armsmaster grunts and Velocity keeps walking. Once he's a certain distance away, Armsmaster bangs his halberd on the ground. A shimmering circle surrounds the two of you.
"I wanted to speak to you in private," he says, in the lobby of a public building full of tourists. "Because I'm told that you may find the subject to be... sensitive. Have you ever heard of the magic feather principle?"
"Like Dumbo?" you ask.
"Yes, exactly. Dumbo's magic feather is how we refer to powers that have a psychological, but physically unnecessary requirement. It is similar to the Manton effect, but more rare. The only other known parahuman with this condition in Brockton Bay is Rune, part of Empire 88. She has to draw or write on objects before her power can take affect."
"Okay?"
"I'm saying you need to lose the knife. It's a liability. It makes you look like a fighter when you can't fight. It can expose your civilian identity. Do you need it to use your power?"
You nod.
"Then it's a weakness. Anyone can take it away and make you powerless. Lose it."
"I'm not losing the knife. Ever."
Armsmaster's lips press together. You can't see his eyes, but the way he hold himself makes you think he's looking above you. "I... sympathize. My power wants... well... this." He wiggles his halberd without it losing contact with the floor. "This is the 29th version of my weapon. It's a super computer, a nanite forge, a grappling hook, a short range teleporter, a shotgun... it's a lot of things. But it has always boiled down to... to a knife on a stick. The first version was an electric knife on a stick. That's all my power wants to be.
"But since then I've built this armor. I've built most of PHQ. I work with Dragon. I have gone beyond what my power wants. And... I think you can too. Son."
He places a gauntleted hand on your shoulder. You feel increasingly awkward the longer it stays there.
"Too much?" he asks.
"A bit, yeah."
"Okay. I'll stop." He retracts the hand. "Seriously. Practice until you don't need the knife. It will kill you."
"I'll think about it."
"Good." He lifts his halberd off the floor, dismissing the circle. Velocity is waiting on the other side, hands behind his back. "How'd you get back so fast?"
"Used my power, sir. After the doors were open." Velocity hands you a scabbard with a belt loop. He shows you how to adjust it to fit your knife and buckle it so the dagger can't fall out or be stolen. You thank him.
Armsmaster leads the patrol out of the building, on to the city streets. You and Velocity catch up to him.
Every so often your group stops to point out an interesting feature. "The symbol hidden in the graffiti means a small arms drop off was near by. But this symbol is out of date. E88 use new iconography which we haven't figured out yet. So this is either an old stash, or kids imitating the grown ups. Look how faded the paint is. If you see something like this, but fresh, radio console and they'll check the logs."
Sometimes they give you advice. "The purpose of a patrol is to be seen. Be flashy. Sign autographs. Talk to people. Look for trouble. The innocent will feel safer; the guilty will know this is your turf."
Sometimes you just chat. "It should be pronounced like Long. But there are so many cultures represented in the ABB that common words have drifted and borrowed from English. It's really fascinating."
Velocity has a thing for languages, it seems. He's impressed by some of your stories of distant lands. Armsmaster is more focused on his work. When he speaks, it's about the job, and he doesn't expect a response.
But your mind keeps turning over what Armsmaster said earlier. Can you really separate your power from the dagger?
Will you die on time's blade and turn to sand?
As is inevitable when you go looking for trouble, you find it. What do you find on patrol?
[X] [Patrol] A sniper shot you in the head. Damn campers.
[X] [Patrol] A gang of teenage villains are making a daring daylight robbery.
[X] [Patrol] Krieg and his boys are throwing a street party.
You cut your father's fingers off. He claims your power is only good for running from your mistakes. This from a man who runs towards mistakes. Mistakes are how we learn. Do you undo his mistake, restore his fingers, but undo the lesson as well? Or keep the lesson, get him to ER, and earn his respect?
You have one second to decide:
[X] [Mistake] Reverse the glass. Dad keeps his fingers, you walk away, your relationship forever ruined.
[X] [Mistake] Hold fast. Dad loses fingers, but he needs this wake up call. The wounds between you can heal.
You have learned something new about the Dagger of Time. The PRT would call you a Striker with an organic disintegration power. Dad thinks (would think) that such a lethal power would hurt your chances of getting Panacea's help. You don't know. It will certainly change how people see you. Do you tell them?
[X] [Striker] Tell the PRT, and the Protectorate, and by extension everyone; you have a Striker power.
[X] [Striker] Hide your power. It makes you look like a fighter, when you're not.
Finally, an Out of Character choice. How do you like your action?
[X] [Action] Heavy on the tactics. Multiple small, fast updates with more dice rolling and choices.
[X] [Action] Light on tactics. One or two larger updates, more narrative, less dice rolls. Less choices, but each matters more.
[X] [Action] Write in.
Another one I'm not perfectly happy about. But "happy" is an ideal to pursue, not something we get to keep. As they say in Worm, I'll deal.
I thought of just posting the father scene, but I want this plot to get moving. So this is a bit rushed.
In this chapter I'm writing more then twice as much as I set out to. Next chapter will be shorter, only one scene to write. And it might have action! At last! I may even roll dice! It's very exciting. For me, anyway.
"This is Tweety Bird. Target is in sight, line of fire is clear."
You're seeing more of the city than you ever have before. The morning is fresh with gentle ocean smells wafting from the bay. Your patrol proceeds sedately around the sleepy residential area, near the tall highrises that Velocity calls The Towers. "Take the shot."
Your visor cracks and everything goes black.
Time rewinds on its own. The crack shrinks to nothing. Velocity's speech plays in reverse. You step backwards. "This is Tweety Bird. Target is in sight, line of fire is clear."
You stop. Look around, confused. "What? Why are there three of you?"
"What's wrong?" Velocity asks. "We don't read you, Commander. Target is in sight. Do we open fire?"
"Something just hit me," you say. "What is the target's status?"
Velocity cocks his head. "Something like what?" "Target is standing still. We have a clear shot and we are requesting permission to engage."
"I don't know." The street is quiet. Sleepy people going through their morning routine. You can only think of one thing that might cause your power to activate on its own, and it fills you with dread. "Aim for the leg."
Your knee explodes. You fall into Velocity. He catches you under your arms and drags you into a coffee shop. You struggle against him, all three limbs flailing, kicking blood. Velocity is pulling you to safety, but he's also pulling your arms away from the dagger.
Finally you catch the hilt. You fall in reverse. Meat and bone fly together and form your knee.
Velocity cocks his head. "Something like what?" "Four of you... Target status?"
You charge into the coffee shop and bump into a barista holding a tray of hot coffee. She turns to curse at you, but changes her mind when she see you tugging the Dagger of Time in its sheath. Fucking buckles are in the way. The door chime sounds eerily out of place. "Target is spooked. Target has taken cover in a civilian building. Tweety Bird has lost line of sight. "
Armsmaster stomps towards you. "Paradox, what the hell?" "Let's confirm a theory. Team Roadrunner, engage with shock and awe. "
"They're fucking shooting at me!" You unbuckle the dagger, at last, and hold with a two handed death grip. Patrons are standing up or backing away from you. "Team Roadrunner engaging. "
The heroes waste precious time looking at each other. "Precognition," Armsmaster realises. "Code Zero Three. Get the civilians out the back, I'll cover the door."
He's too late. Before Armsmaster can move, a black van smashes through the glass shop front and into his back. Armsmaster goes flying. Velocity is a blur. The van comes into kissing distance and you use your power.
Velocity cocks his head. "Something like what?" "Five times, how in... has the target been spooked?"
You dive into the coffee shop, dodge a barista, and unbuckle the dagger. What were the magic words again? "Code Zero Three. Sniper on the street, and a van through the door." "Yes, Commander, target is spooked. Target has taken cover in a civilian building. We have lost line of sight. "
Code Zero Three is in the PRT handbook: Danger incoming. It's the code used when hostile are spotted waiting in ambush, or a team is being pursued unknowingly. Or when a friendly Thinker knows something the team doesn't. "Let's confirm a theory... ah, no, it seems we already have. How intriguing."
Training kicks in. Armsmaster guards the door while Velocity gets the attention of the crowd. "Please walk towards the fire exit at the back of the store, thank you." "Team Roadrunner, prepare to engage on my mark."
Long seconds pass. Your pounding heart makes your hands shake.
Armsmaster stands at the door, halberd braced to meet a charging vehicle. "Paradox, give me an ETA."
"I don't know. It should have happened by now. Look for a black van." "Mark."
A van swerves out of traffic, coughing black exhaust as it accelerates towards you, high beams glaring.
"I see it." Swinging his halberd up, Armsmaster throws a box that clamps to the top of the vehicle. When he swings down, the van is lifted off its wheels. It rolls sideways, hits asphalt. Momentum keeps it skidding closer. Armsmaster stops it with his boot. "Nothing? Roadrunner, deploy grenades. "
"You are under arrest," the hero bellows. "Come out with your hands up. If you require medical attention, it will be provided. If you resist, I guarantee you will all require medical attention."
The passenger door - now at the top of the wreck - swings open. But instead of a person, a round object the size of a fist falls out. At first you don't recognise the grenade.
A flash of light. You reverse the hourglass. The grenade goes into the door, Armsmaster kicks the van away. It slides, turns upright and reverses, sucking in black exhaust as it joins normal traffic.
Armsmaster stands at the door, halberd braced to meet a charging vehicle. "Paradox, give me an ETA." "Perfect. Well done, Roadrunner and Tweety Bird. Abort mission.. This has been a huge success."
You rack your brains. "Every time I say something will happen, something else happens. I predict him, then he predicts me. We're being attacked by a Thinker."
Velocity blurs to your side. "There's no Thinker villains in Brockton Bay. Is it Accord?"
"I don't know! Fuck, I just died three times in the last minute!"
Armsmaster calls over his shoulder, keeping his eyes on the road. "Keep it together, Paradox. Out of all of us, you are the best equipped for a Thinker fight. So what do we do, new guy? Can you give us a target or do we head home?"
Sit rep:
The enemy thinker is imposing disadvantage on all rolls (meaning you roll twice, take worst result).
Prince's power can cancel the enemy thinker, but only if he is present and engaging with that roll (meaning if you split the party, Prince can only help the person he is with).
Armsmaster is a Tinker 7 with broad utility. He is worth multiple squads of well equipped PRT agents, or three "average" parahumans.
Velocity is a Breaker/Mover 5 with limited offense but excellent mobility and harrying power. He is equal to a single PRT squad, or equal to any "average" parahuman.
You, Prince, are a Thinker 2 with no combat training or experience. This makes you an even match for a single well equipped, well trained, and/or exceptional person who has no powers. This rating belies your resistance to injury or death, provided you can do something about it within ten seconds.
You are facing an unknown number of unknown opponents split into two groups.
You know one group has a van and grenades.
You know the other group has a rifle, likely one meant for use at long range.
So what do we do, new guy?
[X] [Tactics] Send the team after the van.
[X] [Tactics] Send the team after the sniper.
[X] [Tactics] Split the party. You and Velocity go after the sniper. Armsmaster goes after the van alone.
[X] [Tactics] Split the party. You and Armsmaster go after the van. Velocity goes after the sniper alone.
[X] [Tactics] Go home. It's not worth the risk.
[X] [Tactics] Write in.
So you have this Striker power. You're not hiding it, but it is lethal. Do you use it?
[X] [Lethal] Yes, if you get in a fight, use the dagger to stab people.
[X] [Lethal] No, buckle the dagger down. If you get in a fight, you'll rely on fists and hope.
AN: The events of this chapter may be hard to follow, so here is an outsider's perspective.
Paradox is seeing more of the city than he ever has before. The morning is fresh with gentle ocean smells wafting from the bay. The patrol proceeds sedately around the sleepy residential area, near the tall highrises that Velocity calls The Towers.
Paradox stops. Looks around, confused.
"What's wrong?" Velocity asks.
"Something just hit me," the new guy says.
Velocity cocks his head. "Something like what?"
Paradox dives into the coffee shop, dodges a barista, and unbuckles his dagger. "Code Zero Three. Sniper on the street, and a van through the door."
Training kicks in. Armsmaster guards the door while Velocity gets the attention of the crowd. "Please walk towards the fire exit at the back of the store, thank you."
Long seconds pass. Paradox is shaking like a leaf.
Armsmaster stands at the door, halberd braced to meet a charging vehicle. Which has yet to come. "Paradox, give me an ETA."
Paradox speaks more to himself than anyone, growing more distressed by the word. "Every time I say something will happen, something else happens. I predict him, then he predicts me. We're being attacked by a Thinker."
Velocity blurs to his side. "There's no Thinker villains in Brockton Bay. Is it Accord?"
"I don't know! Fuck, I just died four times in the last minute!"
Armsmaster calls over his shoulder, keeping his eyes on the road. "Keep it together, Paradox. Out of all of us, you are the best equipped for a Thinker fight. So what do we do, new guy? Can you give us a target or do we head home?"
Thank you for reading.
Edits: fixed a grammar mistake and changed "medical services" to "medical attention".
"The sniper," you say. "They'll take the first shot. Or they did, last time."
"Show me," Armsmaster barks. Does he want you to get shot again?
The door chimes as you open it. Gingerly, you stick your head out, then your whole body, dagger ready to reverse time.
No shot comes. Nothing explodes. "I was standing right here. Shot in the head, then in the leg."
Sighing, Armsmaster taps his helmet and moves a dial on his halberd. "Combat modeling gives three possible ballistic trajectories. Assuming you walked into the shot, there's one good candidate. Velocity, go up there, third floor, and knock on some doors. We'll catch up."
Velocity vanishes in a red afterimage. Armsmaster starts walking without warning. You jog behind him and try not to look as if you're keeping him between you and the sniper's position.
"New guy, I've got some more advice for you." Armsmaster speaks quietly, without stopping or looking at you. "This public freak out makes us look bad. It especially makes me look bad, because you don't have a public image yet. If we don't find this sniper of yours, it will look very, very bad. My report will reflect this."
"You don't believe me? It happened. I died.."
"So you say. If we find something, they may resist. You don't have any offensive power or training, so stay in the back."
"I do have a Striker power," you say. "It's pretty strong."
At the apartment tower door, Armsmaster waves his hand near a keypad and the door unlocks. "Stay in the back."
Upstairs you find Velocity face to face with his mortal enemy: a closed door.
"The other apartments check out," Velocity says. "Super intendant claims this apartment is supposed to be unoccupied, but I can hear someone inside. They've locked the door and don't respond to knocks."
"Let me try." Armsmaster punches the door. It flies open, trailing splinters. "Huh, door was ajar the whole time."
In the apartment, two men are throwing a duffle bag out an open window. Velocity catches it and returns as soon as the bag leaves their hands. He holds it open. Inside is a long barreled rifle.
"That's something." Armsmaster turns to the men. "You're coming in for questioning. You gonna resist?"
Facing the armored form of Brockton Bay's greatest hero, they wisely surrender.
The meeting room has two white plastic walls stained in pen marks of all colors. Freestanding spare whiteboards are squeezed in a corner. They all look well used, some still in use, corners boxed off and headed "DO NOT ERASE."
It reminds you of a classroom, except your high school smelled less like coffee and more like weed. You take a seat at a desk next to Velocity. Most of the heroes file in, some wearing half their costume for the sake of comfort or expediency. You yourself ditched the clunky helmet in a locker and wear a domino mask. Assault and Battery come in together. Challenger hops on a table, sitting cross legged. She doesn't wear a mask, but she has a strap that goes over her ear, eye and chin.
Armsmaster starts the meeting with minimal preamble. "This is everybody. Miss Militia and Dauntless are on patrol." Was that a note of smug you hear?
"Earlier today, there was an incident with our newest member." Nine eyes pin on you. "For those who don't know, this is Paradox, our new precognitive Thinker. While on a prelim patrol, he dove for cover in a local business and reported a Code Zero for a 'sniper' and a 'black van'. The business was evacuated, but no apparent danger emerged."
Does he have to say it like that, with little finger twitch quotation marks? He makes it sound like you freaked out over nothing.
"Following the clues, we didn't find a 'black van.' We did find a rifle and two men in an apartment overlooking our patrol area. We've taken them in for questioning, but we can't keep them longer than 24 hours."
"Why not?" You ask. "They shot me."
"Because they didn't shoot anybody. The gun was loaded but unused, no witnesses saw it happen, you're unhurt and we only have your word to go on. A precog's opinion is grounds for reasonable suspicion, but we can't arrest someone for something they haven't done."
"If only we didn't have laws in this country, then we'd have justice," Assault quips. Battery kicks him lightly.
Ignoring the interruption, Armsmaster continues. "We did get something out of this mess." He writes two names on the board and pins two photos. "Ferdinand and Smith. Both have done time. Both are known mercenaries. They had a radio with them, which I used to decrypt transmissions detected and saved by my halberd."
"The creeper strikes again," Challenger notes. She grins at Armsmaster's glare.
"This is what I got." Armsmaster plays a recording.
"This is Tweety Bird. Target is in sight, line of fire is clear."
"Five times, how in... has the target been spooked?"
"Yes, Commander, target is spooked. Target has taken cover in a civilian building. We have lost line of sight. "
"Let us perform an experiment... ah, no, it seems we already have. How intriguing."
"Team Roadrunner, prepare to engage on my mark."
"Perfect. Well done, Roadrunner and Tweety Bird. Abort mission. This has been a huge success."
Armsmaster writes Tweety Bird, Roadrunner and Commander on the wall. Under Roadrunner is a question mark. Tweety Bird gets a line connecting to Ferdinand and Smith, the snipers. Commander is underlined twice.
"This is the best evidence we have that an engagement was planned, but aborted. Our working theory is Thinker interference." Armsmaster writes Thinker under Commander. "What does this tell us?"
"Obviously, the true mastermind is Mickey Mouse." Assault gets kicked again.
Velocity leans forwards. "First off, good job, new guy. My first thought when Thinker masterminds were mentioned was Accord from Boston. But this doesn't fit his MO. Accord would have a far more elaborate plan, with multiple contingencies. Also, he has a strictly defined limit on his territory. If he was going to expand, he'd send us a politely worded letter first."
"And Accord sounds completely different," Assault adds. "He wouldn't be personally involved anyway. Likes to keep his hands clean. Though our Commander is definitely a mastermind wannabe. He does the sophisticated fake accent and politeness thing."
"Accord" goes on the board, along with the word "unlikely."
Battery raises a hand. "Speaking of word choice, some of the terms he used were military."
"Not conclusive, he could have picked that up from working with mercenaries." Armsmaster adds military to the board anyway, with a question mark.
"Mercs mean money," Challenger contributes. Money goes on the board. "Paradox is too quiet. Thinker, think for us."
You think back. It's a memory you're still processing, and you toy with the hilt of the dagger. "I died three, maybe four times. One shot to the head. That was first. I went back ten seconds and then I was shot in the leg. I would have bled out. Velocity, word of advice? If I get hurt, don't pull my hands away from this dagger. The third time was the van. It came through the window. Forth time, Armsmaster stopped the van, but it dropped a grenade instead."
"You were being personally targeted then?" Battery sounds concerned.
Armsmaster underlines the word Thinker. "Hence our theory."
"You didn't mention Paradox saw himself die."
"Regardless, our only confirmed Thinker mastermind is unlikely. We need to look at unconfirmed Thinkers." Armsmaster writes Tattletale, Coil, Detente.
"Detente been gone since the Games," Challenger says. "Tattletale's a new kid. No money. No military. No manly voice."
Tattletale and Detente are crossed off. So is Accord.
Coil is the only name left. Armsmaster draws arrows from Coil to Money, Military, Thinker and Commander.
"Our file on Coil is a single sheet full of question marks. This is the best lead so far on the slippery bastard. We don't know if he's a villain or even a cape." Armsmaster snorts. "I doubt he's a Tinker, but his people have lasers."
"Five times..." Battery wonders aloud. "Four attempts on Paradox's life, and the fifth attempt aborted?"
Assault laughs. "A good old fashioned think-off. Two guys stare at each other and then one guy gives up."
"He said the mission was a success."
"Thinkers get territorial." Challenger shifts position, so one leg dangles off the desk. "Probing strikes. Think-offs. Messages inside messages. All three at once. Coil pissed a line in the sand. He knows we know he knows we have a Thinker. He probed Paradox up the ass and left the goons behind to show he's untouchable. I want to know how he knows. Paradox ain't public yet."
Uncomfortable silence follows the statement. Lots of shifting eyes.
Armsmaster doesn't touch the white board. "I need more before I start a witch hunt."
"Fuck it, I don't." Challenger jumps off the desk and snatches a marker. She writes "INSIDE INFO" on the wall in big, bright red. "Coil's got our number. This is how he hides. He knows where we'll be, how we work, where we look, where we don't. Means he's either the best Thinker ever, which means we're fucked, or he's one of us."
Armsmaster is working his jaw, visibly chewing on the idea. "We can increase security. Unique passwords for everyone, two factor authorization. None of this leaves the room. I'll ask the director for a security audit."
The meeting winds down after that. Small details are worked out, lines of inquiry mentioned. Charges will be pressed on the snipers for henching and intent to harm, but there's not much hope it will stick.
Armsmaster is going to have someone from Watchdog - the PRT's anti-Thinker branch - attend your power testing. Officially they'll be there to check your anti-thinker ability. Privately, they'll audit the security and check for leaks.
Challenger is the first to leave. As she passes, she slaps you on the shoulder, hard enough to bruise. Seeing this, Battery beelines for you and smacks you on the same spot. So does Assault, grinning and giggling.
Velocity smiles in sympathy. "It's tradition."
Then he lightly punches your poor, abused shoulder.
Apparently, the price of acceptance is pain.
That night you pick up your father from the hospital and go back the the motel.
He's unusually quiet, trying not to play with the bandages covering his stubby hand. He doesn't push you away, or welcome you with open arms. He's just resigned. Old.
The most he says of the incident is "I said some things I'm not proud of. I have been foolish."
It's the closest to an apology you'll ever get from the proud man.
As you settle in to sleep, a message appears on your new, PRT issue, super-secure mobile phone.
a message said:
Panacea cannot help your mother.
I can.
I can pay for all her medical needs. I can provide surgery for her tumors. I can provide a true cure.
All I ask is that you use your power at my request. You need take no other action, nor restrict any use of your powers. Simply use your power when I tell you.
At the completion of our contract, your mother will be cured entirely.
Coil's got your number. How do you reply?
[X] [Message] Accept. He might be right about Panacea. It costs you nothing and avoids a fight.
[X] [Message] Reject. Outright rejection might have consequences. Other options might have worse consequences.
[X] [Message] Ask your boss, Armsmaster wants to set a trap.
[X] [Message] Ask your dad. He thinks you should set a trap, or a meeting, without the PRT involved.
[X] [Message] Run. Coil has your number. He knows your family. He knows you. Throw the phone away and run. Just run.
- Alone? With your father? Your mother is on a life support machine, take her anyway?
- Where to? Boston? New York? Texas? Anchorage?
- Who can you call for help?
[X] [Message] Write in. Perhaps you have a counter offer? Maybe you see a message inside the message?
A whole new problem looms over you. Your debut is coming soon. The PR department is sharpening its shears, drawing designs, prepping the needles.
Fate has doomed you to some variation of Sinbad ala Arabian Nights, but you have some control over how you present yourself. What image will you project for fans and merchandising?
What kind of hero are you?
[X] [Image] Heartthrob. You'll wink at the fans and show a lot of skin and teeth. Pastel and friendly colors. Market your good looks.
[X] [Image] Dark. You are forbidden from smiling, but may smirk. Dark or high contrast shades, like black and white. Work on your smoldering stare.
[X] [Image] Fantasy. Bright colors and sparkles. You'll remind people that the unknown can be full of wonders. The optimistic option.
[X] [Image] Good guy. Professional hero standard. Bright primary colors, sharp lines, maybe a logo. The simple, practical image.
[X] [Image] Mystery. Hooded and covered with inscrutable symbols. Spooky shades of purple and black. Speak softly and confuse people for fun.
[X] [Image] Write in. Maybe a combination? Maybe something different?
I really wanted a high octane scene full of blood and carnage. But it's a Thinker fight. Information is your weapon and actual fighting was stupid, especially in the face of a Tinker 7. The only chance of violence was if the heroes rolled badly, or if Prince was a bloodthirsty lunatic. Sigh. Maybe later.
So instead Coil's showed his hand, the heroes are looking for him, and Prince is firmly in his sniper sights.
In Worm, once of my favorite scenes was the Wards interlude where Skitter gets named. This is a homage to that. I hope it's not too slow.
Paradox rolls 2d6t5 = (4 +4) = 0 successes ... GM uses Fudge to change Lethal Force bonus from x2 to +2 => 2 successes and someone get's badly hurt or dies. Fudge penalty: no more Armsmaster.
Swirling mist. Light middle eastern music plays softly in the background.
"Most people think time is like a river, that flows swift and sure in one direction. But I have seen the face of time, and I can tell you, they are wrong."
The mist clears. Pan up, traveling over red cloth trousers, up and over a blue belt holding a golden dagger.
"Time is an ocean in a storm. You may wonder who I am and why I say this."
Up over bare, muscled arms that catch the light and sparkle.
"If you see me patrol the city of Brockton Bay, I may tell you."
The camera zooms on your eyes, just visible between mixed red and blue cloth strips that form a mask and turban.
"Don't worry. I'll make time for you."
The word "PARADOX" appears above your eyes. "Nov 15th 2010" appear underneath.
You wink and the screen cuts to the Protectorate ENE logo.
Karin from PR asks what you think. You shuffle in your chair, acutely aware of the glitter you shed everywhere.
You ask if it was maybe, just a little bit, well, exploitative?
"Nah, kids love it," says Karin from PR . "Our fantasy and junior focus groups show high approval ratings and we can target an untapped minority. I tell you, those people are starved for some representation. There's even a comic book in the works. What do you think about 'Paradox: Before The Sandstorm.'"
She spreads her arms as she says it, as if the title could appear between her hands.
Sandstorms make you think of gore and pain. You say you have some ideas.
"Of course, and I'd love to hear them, but I'm sure you've got important hero stuff to do," Karin from PR says as she leads you to the door. "We'll get out of your hair so don't have to worry about a thing. Bye bye now and don't forget to smile!"
The door closes behind you. Then it opens again to free the long cloth strips trailing from your turban. You wrap them around your neck in a loose scarf.
Free at last, you head for PHQ.
Armsmaster does a double take when he sees you. "PR meeting?"
You nod. He moves to pat your shoulder in sympathy, sees the glitter, and cringes back. "Why did you want to see me?"
You show him the message from Coil.
"Have you told anyone else?"
"No."
"Good. Very good. We can use this. I want you to set up a meeting. Say you can't agree to anything unless you meet him in person."
"What? You're not going to trace the message or something?"
Armsmaster shrugs. "I could try, but these phones are secure by design. It would take time, days at least, and probably lead to a dead end. I have a better idea. We lure Coil into the open and grab him."
"You're going to use me as bait?"
"Yes. We take a risk now and catch Coil today. Or we drag this out, play on his terms, and give him time to act on his threat to your family. I'll give you a tracking beacon in case there's trouble."
Well, when he puts it like that...
"One more thing. Don't tell the others. Coil has sources inside the PRT. This capture will be just me... and you."
a message said:
You wouldn't be attempting something juvenile, would you?
The phone burns a hole in your pocket for the rest of the day.
The PRT is a buzz of anxiety. The Thinker from Watchdog is coming and schedules are rearranged to provide an escort. People are taken off patrol, dummy transports are arranged, backup teams are armed and readied.
Everything has to be done in strictest secrecy. Every order needs to be decrypted with a personal key and the reply re-encrypted. Every conversation is preceded by passwords. Every movement is monitored. Its frustrating, confusing, and exhausting for everyone.
You're on escort duty. Which means you're in the back of a squad car driven by a silent PRT officer. The front window shows the back of an armored van, supposedly holding the Watchdog Thinker.
You don't know if this is the real Thinker or not, but the odds are good. A lot is riding on your power to provide Thinker interference until the professional can get set up. Or maybe that's too obvious. Maybe they sent you to a dummy transport as a bluff. Or maybe it's a double bluff?
You don't know. It was a long, dull drive to join the escort outside the city. It's late and your head hurts. You wonder if you can get away with napping until you get to PHQ.
A cloud of black smoke envelopes the car.
The PRT radio goes silent. The driver flicks the switch a few times, but it's dead. Not even static on the line.
Teeth crunch through the metal roof and pull the driver into the dark. His screams stop as soon as he's out of sight. The car is sent tumbling, with you inside. The windows spray you with shattered glass.
The smog drowns you, renders you blind and deaf. Even your skin feels numb. You don't know which way is up.
Something pulls you out and into a circle of light.
You stand under a streetlamp. The circle of light stops at a sharp, shear black wall of rolling smoke. You catch snatches of movement at the edge. Huge claws, horns and fangs.
You see the snake first. Stark white against the black, it catches the light and glows. A silhouette of a person is just visible where it coils around him.
"You wanted to see me, pet?"
You try to grab the dagger, but your arm jerks away.
"Tsk, tsk, I haven't told you to use your power yet. You will learn."
"What do you want from me?"
"I thought I had made that plainly obvious, pet. I want you to use your power. When I say. How I say. You may do so, now."
You draw the dagger. Your arm cooperates this time, but you hesitate.
"No? Dear boy, you don't seem to understand. Let me show you."
Coil draws a pistol.
"One," he says. "Two. Three."
You turn and run for the smoke. Your legs kick out and you stumble into something solid, fleshy and big.
It growls at you. You backpedal into the circle of light. All you saw of the creature was a jagged maw that could swallow you whole.
"Ten," Coil says. He takes aim and shoots you in the face.
You use your power reflexively. Run towards the teeth, stumble away from the dark. Coil speaks in reverse, steady as a metronome.
"One," Coil says. "Ah, do you understand now? I control you. I own you. Your power is mine to command. Use it again. One. Two..."
"Why are you doing this? What did I do to you?"
"Something wonderful. Ten."
You duck. The shot bounces off the helmet hidden under your turban. Kevlar helmet, vest and boots, standard issue, PR be damned. The shot rattles you, but doesn't kill.
Coil shoots you again. He gets you this time.
"One," he says. "Good boy."
"What do you mean wonderful?"
"Hmm?"
He doesn't know. He can't predict what you've done in time you rewound.
It's a tiny advantage. You reverse time.
"One," he says. "A little eager, aren't you? I don't believe I gave you permission." He raises the gun. "No, that punishment won't stick. How about, each time you use your power without my permission, one of your family looses a limb? Yes. We can begin with Uman, your father. After all, you mutilated him first."
You charge and collapse long before you can touch Coil.
"How amusing. Use your power again in ten seconds. One, Two, Three..."
He knows when you reverse time and he's exploiting your ten second limit. And somehow he can cause muscle spasms. But does he know about your other power?
You run towards the creature hiding in the smoke, stumble into it. It growls at you. You see the teeth and lash out with the dagger. It yelps, bleeding Sand.
"So you do have-"
Ten seconds are up. You reverse time.
"One. I think your learning."
You turn and walk away.
"That's not going to work," Coil says. "There are monsters in the dark."
"I know." You ready the dagger to slash.
"Drop it," Coil commands.
You do, against your will. Before it hits the ground, you catch the dagger and reverse time.
"One. You just don't learn, do you? Can you not realize that your petty resistance is futile?"
"You're not Coil," you say.
The silhouette tilts his head. "I think he's on to us, boss man." This voice is very different. Younger, accented, bored.
"Shut up, Regent." The voice comes from a speaker phone hidden in the costume. "No, I am not with you. I do not need to be. My reach is long. My grasp unbreakable. You will use your power on my command. One. Two..."
You reverse time.
"One. You just don't learn, do you? Can you not-"
"What do you get out of this, Regent?" You ask, ignoring Coil.
The figure shrugs. "Money? It's kind of funny, too, I guess."
You step closer. "He threatened my family."
"Yeah, he does that."
"You will be silent!" Coil roars through the speakers. "You will negotiate with me, not my subordinate! You will use your power in one. Two..."
You could reach Regent in two strides. It's not close enough. You reverse time.
"One. You just don't learn -"
"Regent, does Coil have your family?" You step closer.
Regent laughs and you take another step. "I wish. No, I'm in this for the money."
Got to keep him distracted. "And shits and giggles, right?"
"Yeah." His stance is wary. He's on to you. You need one more step, one more distraction.
"You will be silent!" Coil roars.
You move. Your leg collapses, but you expect it, and turn the fall into in a clumsy forward dive.
The gun comes up and shoots you in the eye. Time reverses.
The gun comes up and deflects off your helmet. Your dagger comes down. A shoulder twitch fouls the swing, but you're close enough that Regent skips back into the safety of black smog. His line of sight is broken. You scramble after him.
In the darkness, something bites your arm, breaks flesh, shatters bone. Time rewinds.
In the darkness, you lash out. You don't see or feel the impact, but a spray of golden Sand appears and is sucked into the Dagger of Time. Funny how you can see the Sand but nothing else.
Over and over again. You are ripped apart, you reform, and you strike. You make slow, tedious progress, one numb hand extended to feel your way.
You touch cloth and grab hold. There's a brief tug of war that you end with a blind thrust of the dagger. A humanoid figure lights up the dark, outlining a silent scream. Sand pours into the dagger, far more than before. A whole body's worth. [ At last. ]
The cloth falls limp in your hand. Empty.
A few more blind steps and the smoke retreats suddenly.
You see a war zone.
Cars and vans are upended and torn open. The road is cracked. Even the brick and cement buildings have claw marks.
You find out why Armsmaster didn't save you. He's dead. Ripped in two. Tooth marks on his armour.
You put the tracker he gave you on the ground next to him. He died only meters away from you. At any time, you could have reached into the smoke and pulled him out. If you'd known.
The backup teams are just arriving. A bit of math, subtract the rewinds, it's been about three or four minutes since the car was hit.
There's no sign of the Thinker from Watchdog.
You think Coil won this round.
The Coil Campaign Board.
Coil reveals one of his assets: The Undersiders.
Coil grabbed the Thinker from Watchdog.
A hero died. The war escalates.
A villain died. You get nothing from the dead, but this is an asset Coil cannot use.
Miss Militia has been promoted to Leader of Protectorate ENE.
The Undersiders are being hunted. Grue has 1 strike. Hellhound has a Birdcage sentence without trial. Regent is missing. Tattletale is guilty by association.
You have 2 clues.
Where will they lead you? Pick 2:
[X] [Coil] Save a clue for later.
[X] [Coil] Protect your family.
[X] [Coil] Catch informant in the PRT.
[X] [Coil] Seize Coil's business.
[X] [Coil] Talk to a gang Coil manipulates.
[X] [Coil] Find a villain who wants to make a deal.
[X] [Coil] Detect a mole in the Wards.
[X] [Coil] The Undersiders unearthed.
[X] [Coil] Follow a lead on the Watchdog Thinker.
[X] [Coil] A rage of Dragon's.
[X] [Coil] A hero's betrayal.
The Sands of Time have changed you.
Choose a perk:
[X] [Perk] Sort the Grains
- You manipulate your personal time on a cellular level. Poison, hunger, thirst, bleeding, damage, gravity and fatigue are slower to affect you. You recover from injury faster, need less sleep, think and react quicker, and you are physically stronger overall.
- Mechanically this makes you a Brute/Mover 2. You will roll 3 dice in combat.
- Reverse the Glass synergy: You roll 5 dice in combat (2 brute, 2 thinker, 1 normal) for 5d6t5.
[X] [Perk] Warrior Within
- There are many paths before you. You can take them all. You gain the skills, but not memories, of other lives. The more likely you are to learn it in the future, the more likely you are to know it now.
- You are guaranteed to know first aid, driving, parkour and athletics, basic firearms, and lots of martial arts both armed and unarmed. You gain the full PRT trooper training experience, but not the paperwork.
- You randomly roll 1d6t4 to discover new skills, up to once an update. This takes the form of remembering something that you may do. Something needs to jog your memory of what has yet to happen.
- Mechanically, all of your rolls where skill applies will have a target of 4, meaning every dice that rolls 4 or above is a success.
[X] [Perk] Control the Flow
- You grasp the timeline of others. You cannot stop the river, but it becomes a torrent or a trickle at your whim.
- You can change a target's perception or interaction with time, making them speed up or slow down.
- Mechanically, you can impose Disadvantage on your enemies, and Advantage on your allies when speed is essential.
- You gain a Shaker 3 rating, and possibly a Trump sub-rating.
[X] [Perk] Release the Sands.
- Do you have regrets? Empty the hour glass and refill it with fresh Sand.
- Time rewinds back to your trigger event. There are no other advantages, except foreknowledge.
- Where does the old sand go? There may be unforeseen consequences.
Armsmaster rolled very, very badly.
I'm posting this now because I have run out of time this weekend. It's another chapter I'm not happy about. But I'm used to anxiety and self loathing.
Armsmaster deserved a better send off.
The Watsonian justification is that this is a bad power interaction with a young version of the Undersiders, pushed too soon and too fast. Bitch couldn't tell her dogs to stop while they were inside Grue's power. Grue's power messes with radio signals and electronics.
Armsmaster hasn't encountered Grue or any of the Undersiders before and doesn't have a counter. He's also not equipped for a Thinker fight in general, which is why he became frustrated with Paradox in earlier chapters. His plan here was based on hubris and ambition more than reason.
On a plus note: Yay! You got more Sand!
Edit: thank you for reading. Small addition to the wording of Release the Sands. Changed some word choice to British spelling. Grammar mistake.
The EMTs drape a blanket over Armsmaster's body. Both halves.
You blink and Miss Milita is touching your shoulder, bending down so she can see your eyes.
Blink again. You're in the back of a PRT van.
It's been less than a week since you became a hero. Since then you've been shot, stabbed, exploded, crushed, and eaten; some multiple times. Is this what being a hero means?
You wanted to be the kind of hero that inspired hope and optimism. Someone who could say "yeah, life can be hard and scary, but it's wonderful too."
Where's the wonder? Where's the hope?
You draw the dagger and look at your reflection in the blade. You killed someone with this. You keep dying for this.
A thought occurs to you. Something about Sechen ranges, where a parahuman's power changes based on the situation. The basic popular theory is that powers are made to solve problems at the trigger event, so situations that resemble that event can make the power stronger.
You reverse your grip on the dagger so the blade points towards your chest.
There's an easy way to recreate your trigger event. How much time could you rewind if you did? [ Denied. ]
The van sways as it turns. It shouldn't have to. It's a straight line to PHQ.
You tap the divider that separates the front cabin from the back. "Where are we going?"
There's no answer. You tap again and a black plastic film slowly rolls over the windows. It's a security measure to restrict a villain's line of sight. Protects against most Masters and teleporters.
It also means you have no idea where the driver is taking you.
But you can guess.
Your helmet radio gives you an earful of static. The van's ECM is active, an anti-Tinker/Thinker security feature.
Where there is no hope, there is hate. Right now, you hate these over-engineered paddy wagons.
The back door is locked, of course. It's basically a modified police van. The door is steel, the lock deadbolted, seams welded to prevent leverage.
You punch the door anyway, anger fed by desperation.
Time travel won't help here. You've been trapped longer than ten seconds. Your power is useless.
"Come on, work with me."
The Dagger of Time does not deign to respond. You know it's full of Sand, and Sand is basically magic. Why would a door stop it? Why can't it age the steel into flimsy rust, or turn you into a ghost that can walk through?
Maybe Velocity is right and closed doors are every parahuman's secret weakness. If Armsmaster were here, he could punch it open, but he died because of you.
You shake and twist the knife as if you could squeeze the magic out. The blade cuts into your hand. Sand trickles from the blood into the dagger.
"Is this what you want? Gutting me once wasn't enough, you want the rest then? Fine. You can have it."
You hold the handle with your bleeding hand, grip the blade with the other, and pull.
It's nothing as dramatic as when you cut other people. A lot of blood and a little sand. You look at the first cut you made. It's already healed. You cut it open again, not in anger or madness, but to test a theory.
You kneel and put the bloody Dagger of Time on the floor. By the dim light of LEDs, you watch a golden thread seep from your left hand into the blade, and out from the handle into your right hand.
You, the dagger, the Sands... The connection is deeper - and more literal - than you ever thought.
How much of you has been replaced, grain by grain?
Are you still human?
The flow of blood stops, but the Sand keeps flowing. Always.
The door is not rated for Brutes. All Brutes are meant to be tied down, handcuffed, or smothered in containment foam during transport, because the door can only stop a strong human.
You are not human. And you have a lot of frustration to work out.
Bracing yourself in the center aisle, gripping the seats for leverage, you kick the door as hard as you can. Then harder. Harder still. Just. Keep. Kicking.
You don't care if it hurts. It's only sand. Your muscles don't tire. They're sand. Bruises, bleeding, torn tendons, twisted ankles, dislocated hips, broken bones... why care?
You are a desert, and the desert feels nothing.
The door swings open. You broke the deadbolt.
You could jump from a moving vehicle and escape. But you still have anger to burn.
You pull yourself up and onto the roof, crawling so the wind doesn't catch you.
The hilt of your dagger smashes through the driver's side window. He jerks the wheel, but you grip the door frame and throw him out of the cab.
The van hits a fire hydrant and spins, falling on its side. You land in the street a second later, in three point pose, as water geysers behind you. Karin from PR would be proud.
The driver struggles to stand up. PRT armor is heavy and awkward when wet, and the ground is getting very wet. You kneel on his chest and slam his helmet into the ground until he stops struggling.
Standing, you wonder how to get to the PRT building from here. The desert is mighty and could probably push two tons of armored van upright and drive away. Or sling an unconscious trooper in soaking wet armour over a shoulder and run down the dark streets.
But you are tired of being the desert. You want to be Prince for eight or nine hours and then get a healthy breakfast of aspirin. So you radio for a pick up.
When the PRT officers arrive, you annoy them by calling shotgun.
You dream of running in the dark.
You're not fast enough. Your left arm is snagged by a dragon's jaws. Another bites into your right. They lift you up, eye to eye with a third, and you realise they're all the same dragon. A dragon with three heads.
The dragon drools fire from all three mouths as it says "[ You Will Use Your Power. When I Say. How I Say. ]"
The words incinerate you.
You wake up sweating.
The outside has always been your sanctuary.
When you were a child, you learned about Endbringers, and you were terrified.
Every five to three months an Endbringer attack would happen. An emergency broadcast would be sent out all over the world, on every TV screen, every radio channel, every smartphone. A simple message with the monster's name, location, and the famous words "Save Us."
It made you cry inconsolably every time.
Your older brother, Malik, decided to deal with the problem. He saved up to buy a smart phone - something rare and expensive in the 90s - so he would see the broadcast before you could. On the day of an attack, he'd take you outside, far away from any screens or radios. You'd run and jump and imagine yourself all manner of animals until Malik deemed you sufficiently tuckered out. By the time you found out about the attack, you'd be too tired to cry or feel afraid.
As an adult, jumping between rooftops in a superhero costume seems a natural progression.
The dock warehouses and tenements have invitingly flat roofs and narrow gaps. You leap from one to the other, vault over a ledge, grab the bottom rung of a ladder and feel the rusty metal snap under your weight. You fall on hard pavement and break every bone in your body.
Time rewinds. You vault over a ledge and grab the strong second-bottom rung of a ladder and swing onto the fire escape.
Run, jump... die, repeat... run, jump... die, repeat... You're starting to get the hang of this.
You're trying to out run your fear.
Your father wasn't at the motel and won't respond to calls. You suspect Coil. He promised to remove limbs.
Your mother is still in her hospital bed, with an armed guard outside. But you wonder for how long. The PRT seems to be dangling Panacea like a carrot, always promising, but not delivering.
This game with Coil's spies has damaged your trust in the PRT. Coil knew your identity, your powers, he undoubtedly knows where you sleep. Where else would he get this information from, if not from the PRT?
You refuse to believe Coil has the power to pluck knowledge from nothing. What even is his power? Somehow it interacts with yours in a way he can detect, but you can't. Does he travel through time, too? Can he see the Sands? How does your power help him?
You don't know. So you run.
Dashing up the wall of a tenement, you grab the ledge and pull yourself up. You can see most of the city from here. Lights reflect off the waters of the Bay, making a sea of stars. PHQ's forcefield bubble glows like a false dawn, the light bridge extended to taste the city.
The peace is shattered by a roaring jet of flame.
You duck, half expecting the dragon from your dream. Instead you see a figure with a jetpack - a literal, fire spitting, sonic booming jet strapped to a pack - rattling windows as he passes below you.
A cape, flying back and forth in a circular search pattern. Searching for you.
"Snipers are not enough. Now Coil sends capes after me."
The hate is back. You jump, fall to the window ledge, but momentum pushes you off. Rewind. You carefully drop to the narrow ledge and make an awkward sideways leap to the next one, where the glass vanished long ago. Hidden in the shadows, you watch, and wait.
The cape's flight is erratic, relying more on inertia and small adjustments from microjets than on the big jet engine. But when the big jet fires, it's bone shaking loud. Powerful too. The cape flies by throwing himself into the air and catching himself before he hits a wall or the street below.
It must feel like a rollercoaster. Hard, fast, and (almost) out of control.
Even more so when you jump on his back.
He plummets towards the ground and fires the big jet. You swing around to his front before the exhaust can do more than singe your boots, which sends you both spinning. The microjets wiggle furiously to regain control. Your combined weight sends you down.
Shifting your weight - and retrying many times - you make sure the big jet hits the road first with every spin, bleeding momentum in a trail of debris. Then you roll together, over and over, until you can slam the cape on his back and raise your dagger.
"Oh my god please don't kill me," he says. He sounds shockingly young. His mask is pair of swim goggles and a bicycle helmet. Not what you expect from an assassin.
You pull him up by his shirt. A normal t-shirt, you note. "Who sent you?"
"No one I was just flying I didn't know you were here I'm so sorry please don't kill me," he says and keeps going without pause.
"Then why are you here?"
"I was just flying, I swear, I just fly to get my shit together, please..."
An icy cold sensation wells up from your stomach.
You sheath the dagger and radio Console.
Console asks why you're making an unscheduled patrol in the middle of the night. You say it's an enthusiastic walk and ask if they know any parahumans with jetpacks.
Console says there is a new parahuman, a young Tinker dubbed Chariot, who is wanted for questioning.
His crime? Noise pollution.
The kid is still babbling, pleading for his life. Likely because you're pinning him down.
You help him up and say "it's okay, I'm a hero." You don't feel like one. "A squad car is coming to take you home."
"I didn't do nothing man but whatever you say please don't hurt me I didn't do nothing-"
"Yeah," you say. "I know."
You can't bring yourself to say sorry. It's not a big enough word to encapsulate the extent of your fuck up.
You nearly killed a kid. What kind of monster are you becoming?
Are you losing your mind?
"No, of course I'm not. So why do I keep talking to myself?"
It's hard to get to the PRT building today. A media frenzy is outside. The troopers are out in force, marking a line the reporters dare not cross.
It doesn't stop the cameras. You shield your eyes from the flashbulbs as you navigate to the entrance, a move that makes you look defensive and guilty. This must be why most capes wear visors.
Once inside, you're told to go directly to the director's office. You're in trouble.
The meeting is interrupted by a message sent out to the entire world. On every TV channel, on every radio, on every smartphone. A simple message:
Chariot has joined the Wards. The recruiter (Kid Win) discovered a suspicious encrypted email. The PRT are treating Chariot as a mole for Coil and feeding him false information.
Prince's father is missing.
Information about Cat's Paw, the Watchdog Thinker captured by Coil, has been leaked to the media.
Coil continues to elude the PRT.
The PRT has 4 clues. +2 from their own investigations, +2 for your efforts, -2 for Coil's interference.
The director herself has come for you. You're in trouble. The amount of death and property damage surrounding you is unacceptable. The target on your back is not a mitigating factor, it's a liability. The loss of a Watchdog representative is especially embarrassing for the department.
She gives you a choice:
[X] [PRT] Move to a safe house in Boston. Presumably out of Coil's reach. You'll be someone else's problem.
[X] [PRT] Stay in the Bay at PHQ. Effectively house arrest. They'll let you out for Armsmaster's funeral, your debut, and if they need anti-Thinker support. Lose control of the Coil Campaign.
[X] [PRT] Stay in the Bay at PHQ. But sneak out. The Coil Campaign continues. Failure will be punished, but good results will be pardoned.
[X] [PRT] Quit. You don't trust the PRT. They can't keep you safe, they can't keep your family safe, and they're full of politics and corruption. You won't be a villain, but you won't be Protectorate.
[X] [Endbringer] Yes.
[X] [PRT] Stay in the Bay at PHQ. But sneak out. The Coil Campaign continues. Failure will be punished, but good results will be pardoned.
Local roll out 1d6 => 3. About half.
Global roll out 1d6 => 2 . Not great.
The directors office is spartan. A well used coffee maker, two filing cabinets, a large wall screen, one desk with a computer and stacks of paper. The only chair is the one Director Piggot sits in. Behind her is an off-white machine with tubes running in and out. It takes a moment of staring before you recognize it as a dialysis machine.
Director Piggot glances up from her keyboard and goes back to typing. She's a broad woman with a face creased by constant frowns and old scars. She doesn't acknowledge you again until she's finished.
First she studies you, from bottom to top, lingering on the dagger at your hip. Her expression is hard and inscrutable.
You break first. "You wanted to see me, Director?"
She slides a paper towards you. It's a list of numbers, a ledger. Big numbers.
"Paradox, this is our first meeting. Usually I would speak to your team leader, but the local Protectorate is between leaders at the moment. This is how much your last outing cost the department in civil property damage. It does not include the cost of departmental equipment, reputation, or loss of personal."
"Coil-"
"A B-rank villian who was content to play street games until you arrived. Do the two of you have history?"
"Uh, no. Ma'am."
"Really. Coil spontaneously decided to come out of hiding, making several uncharacteristically aggressive actions, including abduction of key Protectorate personal, and, by your own report, assassination. Primarily targeting you. And you have no idea why?"
"No... uh, Armsmaster said Thinkers mess with each other?" You cringe at your own words. You sound like a child.
"Mess. An accurate description of the situation. What do you think of this city?"
The non-sequitur catches you off guard. "The weather is nice?"
"True. You wouldn't know it was Fall. I was going to say this city is a house of cards, but in respect to the season I'll call it a pile of dry leaves. It will crumble at the slightest disturbance. Especially if someone puts their foot in it. Do you understand?"
Her eyes are the color of steel, you note, as she stares you down. "You are a disruptive influence in a delicate situation. I want you gone before I lose any more troops."
Is this about the driver that tried to kidnap you? "I was just defending myself-"
"Chariot gave an account of your idea of self defence. The Youth Guard are very interested in your recruitment methods."
"But your troops work for Coil."
"I am aware. There are no less than three moles in this department. They are being monitored. I can afford spies, Paradox. But did you see the media circus outside? We cannot afford that. We live and die by our public image. My job is to ensure public safety and a threat to our funding is a threat to public safety. Coil's vendetta against you costs us money, lives and reputation. That is the threat, Paradox. Your presence threatens public safety.
"If you were not outside my direct chain of command, I would flog you off to another department. Sadly, we must go through the proper channels. You have a choice, Paradox. Keep your head down until this blows over, or apply for a transfer. Either will get you out of my way."
"Coil has my family."
"I sympathize, but we cannot continue a losing-"
The director is interrupted by something on her monitor. A second later, your phone rings. Through the door you can hear the chimes and buzzes of many phones sounding off like a panicked aviary. The Emergency Broadcast.
The director's expression is unchanged. "Bad timing. Are you going?"
As a child, you ran from the mere idea of Endbringers. A hero can't. You are a hero, aren't you?
"Yes."
"Then go." Director Piggot returns to typing.
As you leave, you think you hear a belated "good luck," but you may have imagined it.
The gathering point is a helipad on the edge of the PRT complex. There's an open gate to the street outside. Troopers fend off reporters, but there aren't many. People like to be with their family during an attack, and Endbringers are a different kind of news.
Capes walk, fly, or simply appear on the platform. Some you recognise, most you don't
You join Challenger, Assault and Battery. They're in full costume, with extra first aid kits.
Challenger has what looks like a tank's gun turret slung on her back, and a five foot bearded axe with a blade that curves to cover most of the length. She's trying to balance it by standing the hilt in the palm of her hand. The ground around her is pitted and scarred from failed attempts.
They nod as you approach. Grim faces.
"Is this everyone?" You ask. "I thought there'd be more."
"No one wants to fight the hero killer," Challenger says. "I'm surprised you showed up, young 'un. Oops."
The axe tilts and falls straight towards you.
You reverse time and smoothly step out of its way.
"I'll be fine," you say.
"Pfft, no you won't." Challenger retrieves her axe and resumes her balancing game. "Take it from an old lady, the Behemoth can chew up anyone, anytime. Run or die, hope Scion turns up, save who you can. That's how it's done."
"You're not old."
She laughs, which makes her drop the axe again. "I've been doing the cape thing for twenty years, kiddo. In hero years, I'm dead. Do you young people even remember a world that didn't have giant monsters chipping at it?"
You don't. Battery says "the first Behemoth sighting was when I was three."
"There's always been monsters," Challenger says, nostalgically. "They were less obvious before, but bigger in a way. Hiding behind logos and money. I prefer Endbringers. Gives me a face to punch."
"Yeah," says Shadow Stalker, behind you.
You jump, then use the awesome power of time travel to stop the teenage girl from sniggering at you. "Who invited the Ward?"
"No one. I'm coming. Got a problem with that?"
"I do." Battery steps towards the girl, but Challenger stops her with a word.
"Let the kid come. She might have something that works."
"Yeah, the Behemoth might be afraid of ghosts," Assault says. His sarcastic tone softens."Go home, Stalker. People will worry."
"Fuck off. What the fuck, is that fucking Purity?"
A woman made of light alights on the platform. "I had to arrange... nevermind. Am I late?"
"Hurry up and wait for pick up," Challenger says with an unfriendly grin. "Where's your Nazi friends?"
"I left that group," Purity replies. Even with her light dimmed, her white mask and bodysuit are hard to look at. "And they're not Nazis, they're extremist political reformers."
The heroes laugh, Purity pouts, even Battery covers her mouth. There's a hint of hysteria behind the humor. A necessary outlet of tension to maintain a temporary truce. Everyone plays along for now. Tomorrow it won't be funny.
A column of rings descends from the sky. Light flashes and a woman with hoops at her ankles, wrists and waist appears. She gestures and the rings rise and expand to the size of the helipad.
"All aboard," she shouts. "Keep your arms and legs inside the circle. Zone is hot! Dispatch in three..."
Challenger stops playing and hefts her axe. "When we get there, run."
The rings fall around you. A flash of light and you are elsewhere.
You don't believe in Hell, but you're told it's a town in Mexico.
A man in thick stone armor stands with one hand supporting a wall made of overlapping stone shields. He yells at your group in a thick Canadian accent. "Movers get the wounded over there, Thinkers get over here, hitters and shielders follow that guy!"
Lightning strikes the shield wall, leaving a glassy hole.
Through it, you can see some of the battle. A violent, explosive display in the ruins of a city on fire. Capes, lit up like fireflies, swatted out the sky by the immense Behemoth. Buildings fall - deceptively slow - on the other side of the city. It must be a mile away, but you feel rumblings in the ground with each solid hit.
The stone cape grows a new shield from his hand and plugs the gap. He turns to you and shouts. "Move!"
You've been starring in shock. You reverse time, so you don't waste a second.
What group do you join?
[X] The Movers. Join Assault, Battery, and Shadow Stalker in moving the wounded. You're not the fastest or strongest, but you are good at dodging.
[X] The Thinkers. Give out ten second warnings for the big attacks and try to figure out the Behemoth's objective. You don't know anyone there.
[jk] Everyone else who can fight the Behemoth. Join Challenger and Purity in dying horribly gloriously.
- You will not get close enough.
Confession: the purpose of this mini-arc is to buy time to flesh out the Coil Campaign.
Another confession: I posted an old version of Sort the Grains. It is stronger than it should be. But that's what people voted for, so I'm not nerfing it.
"In Hero Years, I'm Dead" is a book by Michael A. Stackpole. A decent read, recommended if you like superhero fiction with a bit of thought behind it.
"A Town Called Hell" is a movie from 1971, AKA "A Town Called Bastard". Old spaghetti western set in Mexico around 1900. Big name cast, but a lot of people find it weird.
Keeping your head below the shield wall, you crouch-run towards the stone cape,
"Stonewall," he says, angling a new shield to act as a strut. "Guild. You, hero or indie?"
You duck as the wall rattles and flames peek over the top. Time is a factor, so you adopt Stonewall's caveman speak. "Paradox, Protectorate."
"Turn on your radio, any frequency, tell Dragon what you need."
You get an earful of squeals and static before your helmet radio finds a frequency that isn't jammed.
"This is Dragon. Protectorate communications have been linked. Say 'alert' to broadcast a message to all units. Alerts will be filtered to reduce distraction. This may cause a three to five second delay. If you meet anyone who is not equipped with an armband or radio, please relay any alerts you receive. Say 'Dragon' if you require support or extraction."
"Dragon, my power needs line of sight. Can someone get me high up, quickly?"
"Please hold."
One of the Search and Rescue group peels away and flies swiftly towards you. You recognize her pink high-collared tailcoat from the crowd waiting in Brockton Bay. "I'm Dovetail. Do you need a lift?"
You point to the tallest building you can see, a huge rectangle made of cement pillars and empty window frames, topped with a circular tower. "Can you get me up there?"
"Sure," she hovers over you, sprinkling motes of light that expand and envelope you in a large bubble. "Easiest way to carry you. Hold on to your lunch."
She grabs the bubble and flies before you can ask what she means, and then it becomes nauseatingly clear. Dovetail is fast and agile, her flight a swooping bird like motion. You are bounced around in a glorified soap bubble with every sharp turn stretching it thin.
Dovetail carries you up the back of the tall building. Lightning catches and sparks on the skeleton frame. Miles away, behind cover, and fighting dozens of parahumans, but still the Behemoth can take potshots at a random flier. If you'd joined the attackers or the Movers you'd be dead already, several times over.
At the top of the tower is an empty swimming pool. Its high, thick walls provide solid cover. Dovetail drops you in and pops the bubble with a fingernail before flying off, responding to another call.
You're not alone up here. There's a young man holding a lens over his head, angled over the wall of the pool. Light gathers and seems to compress inside the lens before it fires a white hot beam.
"I think he felt that one," says an armoured figure crouched over a laptop. He two finger types with gauntlets shaped like jackhammers. "He's lifted a leg. He's gonna stomp. Alert-"
A thunderclap drowns him out and you struggle to keep your footing as the whole building tilts. The young man stumbles and drops his lens, which breaks and vanishes. The armored cape pushes his laptop aside and beats the ground with his piledriver fists. The building lurches the other way and sways back and forth, a little less with each calculated punch.
You curse yourself an idiot and rewind time. As soon as the beam fires, you say "alert: earthquake in six seconds."
"Huh?" The armored cape only now notices you. The deafening thunderclap sounds and he pounds the floor to counteract the building's tilt. It's faster to stabilize this time. The other boy doesn't even fall over. "You can predict earthquakes?"
"No, but you can, and I can repeat any alert you give, ten seconds before you do. I'm Paradox. A precog."
"Kickass," says the Blaster. He lifts the lens and charges another shot. "I'm Raymancer, that's Tecton, Chicago Wards. I do lasers, he does dirt and stuff."
"I'm a tectonic Tinker-Thinker," Tecton explains. "This building has a good seismic detector I can use to predict big movements, like quakes, and keep the building from falling on someone. We thought it would be a good hard point for... shit, aftershocks." He pounds the floor as the building shakes violently.
You rewind and issue an alert about aftershocks. Tecton punches the floor in advance. This building barely vibrates, but you can see others give in to repeated abuse and crumble. You rewind and add that to your alert.
Peeking over the edge, you can see crowds of civilians being led out of the way of buildings before they collapse. Forcefields and controlled winds protect them from dust and debris. Then a bolt of lightning takes your head off. You rewind to just after your warning.
"This can work," you say. "We need to get more people up here."
"Yeah, I'll call it," Tecton says. "Dragon: we're setting up a hard point on top of the Hotel de México. Paradox is here. His precog is like a Thinker-booster. We need any ESPs who can detect attacks."
A cape flies close to the Behemoth and bursts into flames. It doesn't stop her. When she connects, the Behemoth stumbles, the ground underneath shattering like a dinner plate. She flies out of the kill zone and the flames are sucked into an orb held by a green, ghostly figure.
"Not to sound ungrateful, but what are Wards doing here?" you ask.
"I have family," says Raymancer.
"And I didn't want him to come alone," says Tecton. "We left the rest of the team behind. We're all melee types, too risky in this arena."
"I don't know, I wish Gully was here."
"If she was, who'd look after the others?" Tecton replies.
The walls of the pool begin to bleed paint of many colors. It seeps out of invisible pores, twisting into exaggerated cartoon heroes. They have logos instead of faces and are scattered over a sprawling city. Dominating the center is a large and unmistakable silhouette.
One of the heroes peels herself off the wall, but remains cartoonishly proportioned with a head too big for her small body. She still looks like a 2D skeleton wearing a large flowery hat and a shoulder-less gown. "Hola, me llamo Calavera Catrina. Ah, you can call me Catrina. You can improve powers?"
"Sort of," you say. "This mural, is it accurate? Can it show the city in real time?"
"Si, I reveal the heart of Mexico." Catrina steps back into the mural and it repaints itself. Now it shows a side long image of her peeking over the top of the tower. The figures begin to move, jumping in and out of depth, flitting and flowing faster until they match the chaotic speed of reality. The effect spreads to each wall, each showing a different view from the tower. Here the heroes swarm the shadow of the Behemoth. Over there, a river of civilians try to escape.
The silhouette turns from black to red and expands to cover the city. You rewind just as you feel the first pin prick of heat. You issue the alert and this time Eidolon is in position to catch the fireball before it spreads. Only a dry breeze is left to wash over the city.
It's a small thing, just an earlier warning, but it is working.
You are joined by Relámpago - a man with an unmasked human face attached to a robotic body - who can detect energy build up, and Crystalclear, a young man pierced with chunks of opaque glass that reflect the future. With Tecton and Catrina, the four Thinkers cover the Behemoth's every move.
You give alerts constantly, pausing only long enough to refill a portion of your ten second buffer, slicing time into thinner strips.
A small thing, with a big effect. Caterina's mural shows the heroes becoming less chaotic and more coordinated. With a moments warning, the Behemoth's best attacks can be countered or mitigated. The desperate defense is becoming an organised fight.
The Behemoth launches itself into a crowd of civilians and the shockwaves drive a wave of blood two stories high, drowning anyone who can't escape. But you unmake it, and this time the Behemoth hits a wall of stone, the shattered pieces teleporting away before they land. People are still hurt, but a massacre is averted and the heroes are ready when the Behemoth lands.
More capes join you. Not just Thinkers, but any hero looking to regroup. Supplies are teleported in and a medical station forms spontaneously around a Tinker in a lab coat who dispenses pills and potions. Assault, Battery, Stalker and the rest of the Search and Rescue teams bring people here for evac by the bulk Movers. You see Purity down a packet of pills and a bottle of water before taking position next to Raymancer and the other artillery-like capes. Dragon stops filtering your radio, so you can communicate faster.
The Hotel building grows into a fortress around you. It has become the heart of the city's defence with an empty swimming pool as the eyes and brain. In your hand, the Dagger of Time trembles from overuse. [ As before, so again, my hunger grows with each iteration. ]
It's too good to last.
Relámpago cocks his head. "The sound, the song of the ether, it has changed." He pushes buttons on his armband, Dragon's tech. "There is no signal. We have been silenced."
Crystalclear turns in place. "I'm new to my power, but I can't see anyone. Or the building."
In the mural, cartoon Caterina crouches behind the Hotel, clutching her skull. Thinker head pain, she called it. You see the shadow of the Behemoth turning its burning eye towards her.
You rewind as much as you can and issue the alert, but your radio gives nothing but static. Your ten second timer is empty.
You run up the side of the pool, shouting warnings. A flash of light and you see the rings of the Mover who transported you here. You leap from the wall and snatch her before her rings can descend around her.
"Hadhayosh is attacking us directly," you shout in her face. "Move us, now!"
To her credit, she only hesitates for a second before the rings grow to cover the building. But a second is too long. A ragged red river of plasma cuts through stone walls, forcefields, and those capes just shy of invulnerable. It touches the base of the Hotel de México as the rings flash.
The Hotel falls, its feet vanished from under it. Capes, crates and concrete float in freefall before impact. You've traded one danger for another and find the exchange preferable. But now you must survive a building in the midst of collapse.
Between your command of time and your body of sand, you will survive. But how many can you save?
Sit rep:
- Your efforts against the Behemoth were highly effective.
- Most civilians were saved.
- Behemoth has taken damage.
- Surprisingly low amount of deaths, but high injury rate.
- Mexico City has been destroyed, but such was inevitable.
Pick 3 capes. Each will have their survival roll upgraded by 1 as Paradox bends time to save them.
Refer to the Survival Rolls spoiler. Repeated below for your convenience.
Everyone has a 1 in 3 chance of dying to the Herokiller.
So roll a 1d3 for each mentioned cape.
1= dead.
2 = disabled.
3 = functional.
Who do you save? Pick 3:
[X][Save] Stonewall, the Guild Shaker.
[X][Save] Dovetail, the Independent Hero and Mover
[X][Save] Dragon, the Guild Tinker
[X][Save] Raymancer, the Chicago Ward.
[X][Save] Tecton, the Chicago Ward.
[X][Save] Calavera Catrina, the local painted Breaker/Mover/Thinker
[X][Save] Relámpago, the local cyborg Thinker (Tinker?).
[X][Save] Crystalclear, the young local Thinker (Case 53?).
[X][Save] Hoolahoop Mover Woman who's name you don't know
[X][Save] Pill Tinker(?) Woman who's name you don't know
[X][Save] Challenger, the Brockton Bay Hero.
[X][Save] Assault, the Brockton Bay Hero.
[X][Save] Battery, the Brockton Bay Hero.
[X][Save] Purity, the Brockton Bay Villain
[X][Save] Shadow Stalker, the Brockton Bay Ward.
[X][Save] Paradox. Save yourself.
- If you don't save yourself, you will be evacuated after saving anyone else and Paradox's power will not be used in the final Behemoth scene.
What next for the last stand of heroes?
[X] [Next] With a desperate plan, the heroes try to drive off the Behemoth.
- Only those with a Survival Roll of 3 (functional) will take part, plus the Triumverate and a random amount of unnamed survivors. They will make another Survival Roll. Choose wisely.
[X] [Next] The heroes retreat, claiming as near a victory as could be hoped.
- You still don't know what Behemoth's objective was, or if it has failed or succeeded.
- Unless the objective was mindless destruction. [X] [Next] Crystalclear is fated to die. Feed him to the Dagger of Time. Fate cannot be denied.
"This can work," you say. "We need to get more people up here."
"Yeah, I'll call it," Raymancer says. "Dragon: activate the Babel fish. Ahem, Oh, ¿y ahora quien podrá defendernos?"
Your radio repeats in English: (Oh, and now who can defend us?)
"¡Yo, el Chapulin Colorado!" A figure in a tight red bodysuit stands over the pool, fists on his yellow shorts, antenna bobbing dramatically. Shielding his chest is a yellow heart bearing the letters 'CH.'
(I, the Cherry Cricket!)
Thunder booms.
"Wow, the great superhero Cherry Cricket," you say. "But, um, are you a Thinker?"
"Si! Mis antenitas de vinil están detectando la presencia del enemigo," he says as another earthquake shakes the building.
(Yes! My vinyl antennas are detecting the presence of the enemy.)
"That's, um, helpful."
"Que no panda el cúnico." The man lifts a red plastic hammer with a yellow handle. It looks like a squeaky toy from the 70's. "¡Hadhayosh no contaba con mi astucia!"
(Don't let the panda spread. Hadhayosh did not count on my cunning!)
Brandishing the hammer, he runs and leaps into the fray, a mighty battle cry on his lips. "¡siganme los buenos!"
(Follow me, good guys!)
You, Raymancer and Tecton watch the hero fall. It takes some time.
"We're about two hundred miles high," Tecton observes. "Does he have some kind of super jumping ability, or Mover power?"
"He's more agile than a turtle," Raymancer replies. He leans over the side and calls "¿Te lastimaste Chapulín?"
(Are you hurt Cricket?)
"No," came the distant voice from below. "Lo hice intencionalmente, para darle una oportunidad justa a Hadhayosh."
(No, I did it on purpose, to give Hadhayosh a fair chance.)
You look between Tecton and Raymancer and ask "so who wants to jump next?"
Relámpago is from Relámpago, el ser increible (Lightning, the Incredible Being) a Mexican comic circa 1960. Not to be confused with Relampago, the first Mexican American superhero, self published in 1977. Please consider this OC a tribute to both, though the resemblance is tenuous.
La Calavera Catrina (the dapper female skull) is a famous and iconic image from Mexico, with a long history starting around 1910. I imagine she's the first pick for cape names in Worm's Mexico.
El Chapulin Colorado is a popular Mexican superhero parody from 1973. He has a lot of catch phrases. The Omake does not do him justice, but any discussion of Mexican super heroes is incomplete without him. He's a brilliant character, satirical, hilarious and poignant.
Hula Hoop Mover Woman is Stargate, an OC I made because I miss the TV show from 1997 and I'm bored of Strider.
All other characters are cannon to Worm or Ward, though I take liberties in the absence of data.
Hotel de Mexico became the World Trade Center in 1987, which is after Worm's point of divergence. I imagine that in Worm, it was fought over by cartels as a point of pride. This isn't very relevant to this chapter, but if Tecton's ability to stop the building from falling strains belief, imagine that someone reinforced the building and added tinker tech.
The dice really like you in this update.
Thank you for reading. Sorry for the delay. We'll likely return to the Coil Campaign next update, or soon after.
Edit: Grammar: missed a comma and some capitals. Added a note about Hotel de Mexico. Hoolahoop -> Hula hoop
Omake Edit: "Not that I know of," -> "He's more agile than a turtle,"
Very late edit: Crystalclear finally has a line.
![Sandworm [Worm OC- Sands of Time theme]](/data/threadmark-index-icons/l/69/69729.jpg?1691176884){kind=icon}
