Overpowered Delusional Dumbass Repeatedly Beats Himself Up And Gaslights The World Into Thanking Him For It. (Patreon)

A/N: Yo, so this is a lil thing I cooked up at a friend's request. I've read plenty of power manipulator, and other op worm fics, but I feel like they're all either awful or way too short. On account of the opness and everything.

The idea with this fic is that it will be an un-nerfed power manipulator, but with an mc will take their time instead of rofl stomping everything. Should be fun :)

So yeah, 10k word opening chapter for a wormfic. I'll probably actually write more of this between chaps for Ten shadows, cuz it's kinda fun. Ten shadows is still my focus rn tho

Also, the first bit is inspired by a fic called Summoner on Ao3, check it out it's dope, especially a certain hype af fight scene.

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January 3rd, 2011

Brockton Bay

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Ten Charges, with another coming in every day at midnight. Each charge can be used to create a power with a rating of around 4, meaning that it would only take around six Charges to create a whole new power and boost it all the way up to a rating of 9.

To put that into perspective, Leviathan, the Endbringer, is rated at Brute 9, and literally no one has been able to seriously harm him.

In other words, with just the starting ten Charges, I could make myself virtually unkillable and still have enough to spare to turn myself into the most effective grab-bag in the world. Or just grab another rating 7 power.

The Hero known as Assault is a Shaker 7 and his power is straight up tactile Kinetic Manipulation. Much strong.

The only limitation seems to be that I can't make any Tinker powers, but that's fine, I can probably just mimic a Tinker easily enough.

So, one must ask one's self. What does one do when they have nigh unlimited power at their fingertips, enough to effectively become a god in maybe a week. Less really, if I just dump all ten Charges into like, Telekinesis.

A rating 13 Telekinetic sounds like it may as well just be a god. The fucking Simurgh isn't rated that high and she can tear cities apart.

So what is the answer? What should one do?

Naturally, the answer is rather obvious.

I should take over the world. Duh.

However! I don't want to just brute force everyone into compliance. Not only does that sound like it would be a massive pain and not work very well, but I just personally find the idea rather gauche.

Plus, I despise the idea of anyone's personal autonomy being taken from them, so I'm simply not going to be doing any Mastering. It would ruin the fun anyway.

I never expected to find myself in this rather unique position, but now that I am here, I'm certainly not going to let my story be so boring. There are more fun roads to power. Not to mention, I rather like the idea of the world being willingly given to me, rather than taking it by force.

I am only human in the end. I'd rather be adored than feared. Not that I'd hate being feared either. Luckily for me, I can be both.

Yes, that is my plan. I will play both sides. I will be the big bad and I will cause a commotion, then I will also be the big good and save the day and everyone will work with me to defeat me. What could possibly go wrong?

I just need to wait some time to build up a few Charges, because I'm going to need more than ten to do this how I want to do it. Then I only need to figure out exactly how I want to go about it. 

I have some ideas. They make me laugh.

I am going to give so many Thinkers and important people headaches. It'll be a blast.

And maybe, just maybe, I can sneakily make this shitty world a better place without anyone realising it. 

I've always felt uncomfortable being praised for actual altruism. I'd rather only be praised for things when I have ulterior motives. I do not know why I am this way.

I'm hungry.

The random thought has me looking around from where I sit on a random bench on the cloudy Boardwalk. It's about the only nice part of Brockton Bay, since it's the local tourist trap.

Though, I mostly chose to sit and think here because I wanted to look at the PHQ. I'm pretty sure that's not the actual name, but it's what the internet calls the local Protectorate Headquarters.

It's a retrofitted oil rig sitting just out in the bay and it's covered in a forcefield that makes everything inside seem super saturated, like a magical Disney princess castle or something. It's a nice view.

Doesn't help my hunger though, and I just realised that I don't have any money on me.

This is so sad.

Without thinking too much, I lean back into my bench and focus on the empty universe singing in my soul.

That was a pretty dramatic way to describe it, right? I'm practicing my lines. I need to get used to saying cool, dramatic things instead of saying lol out loud. Super serious Heroes and Villains don't say lol. Probably. I bet Mouse Protector would be down.

What was I thinking about?

Right, the universe in my soul. Well, right now it's just one burning star and ten flares waiting to be moulded into their own stars. It's how I see my power, the 'Charges'.

The only fully formed star is called Blank. It basically just makes me immune to precogs, which is insanely useful in this world. Blank alone makes Ziz go from holy fuck run away to I can calmly keep my distance.

My tummy does the rumbly, and I turn my attention back to my unspent Charges. A metaphorical hand takes hold of one and my mind is filled with a weird feeling of possibility.

It's almost impossible to really describe it. It's like... Have you ever been in a situation where you have so many options available to you that you're unable to pick anything? I'm pretty sure there's a name for it, something paralysis.

It's kind of like that but infinitely more. Like I could do truly anything at all.

It's a little overwhelming.

However, this is not a Master Ball in Pokémon. I know with preternatural certainty that I will gain a new charge every day, so I feel no need to hesitate.

With that thought driving me, I grab the little ball of potential and twist it, mould it, and with only a minor effort of will, my desire becomes a reality. A second power slots into place in my soul, and I immediately feel the effects.

Every muscle in my body tenses all at once and then releases, feeling stronger than ever in every way. More sturdy, more flexible, more everything. The feeling is almost overwhelming, it makes me want to stand up and throw this bench out into the ocean, just because I could.

But I don't do that, obviously. 

Most importantly, I smile as I feel my pangs of hunger fade away into the ether.

Praise be the power of Crystalline Physiology. I got the idea from the Endbringers, but it's only rated in at Brute 4 right now, so it's not nearly that strong yet. I don't even have a 'core', though I'm not sure if I'll even want one in the future. Feels a bit too Voldemort-y.

As it is, the power has basically just turned all of my internals into hyper dense crystals that are only pretending to be human organs and muscle.

It hasn't even been a day and I'm already halfway to giving up my humanity. That's pretty cool.

Was it wasteful to use a charge to create a Brute power just because I couldn't be bothered to wait for food? Perhaps, but not really. I was going to make a Brute power anyway. I don't have any concrete plans at the moment, but I'm sure there will be an opportunity to fuck with someone by having the same physiology as an Endbringer.

Is it wasteful to design a Brute 'tree' solely for the sake of potentially fucking with someone in a hypothetical future that might not even come to be? 

...Yeah, maybe.

Still, I feel myself grin and I know that the expression won't fade any time soon. It feels really good to be powerful. Like really really good.

I decide to continue to bask in this feeling as I plan out my debut.

I have plans, oh so many plans. I may be an idiot some of the time, but that is just because I am saving up my intelligence points for bursts of genius.

With a growing sense of giddiness, I jump to my feet and plant my fists on my hips.

"Haha! This is going to be fun."

A lady walking with her daughter gives me a strange look as she passes and I duck my head in embarrassment.

"Sorry."

I don't need to use a charge to create the miraculous power of speed walking away from awkward situations.

Still, my enthusiasm isn't dwindled at all! I am going to fuck with so many people, there's no time to waste!

I really can't wait~.

///

January 10th, 2011

Palanquin

Faultline

///

Melanie Fitts, better known as Faultline, taps her pen against her desk in a steady rhythm. Tap tap it goes, the only sound filling her office as she leans back into her chair and thinks.

She is dressed in her 'work' clothes since she is in the office. It's a blend between a dress, martial arts gear and riot gear with a modified welder's mask to protect her face. It was designed more for practicality than anything else, even including a fake ponytail full of barbed wire.

Some would think that life as a Cape would be easier as a Mercenary like her rather than playing the game of Heroes and Villains. Maybe for some this is true, but Melanie places a great deal of pride on her reputation as a competent Merc.

That means she has to be careful about the gigs she takes. Reputation is important in this business, and she doesn't want to fall behind. Thus, she sets aside an hour every day to simply think and ponder.

It's been a while since their last job, and while they aren't exactly running low on funds. What with being the owners of the Palanquin nightclub bringing in a steady stream of income, she doesn't want to get rust.

Plus, she is aware that powers want to be used, and she doesn't want her power to drive her insane because of her own inaction. The only question is what job she should take.

She has plenty available to her. Her reputation is important for a reason, but as with all things, more reward generally carries with it more risk.

Her tapping pen comes to a stop when a knock echoes from her door. It opens before she has the time to say anything and the head of one of Gregor the Snail, one of her Crew, pokes inside.

"Um, Boss? Were we expecting a guest? Because someone is here to see you," his deep, insightful voice doesn't mask his uncertainty, and that immediately puts her on edge.

Her pen is dropped into her pen pot as she turns her full attention to her subordinate.

"We were not. Who is it? What do they want?"

Gregor shakes his head. "I do not know. I don't recognise her, but she definitely isn't new. She seems professional and experienced and one of her arms is a Tinkertech prosthetic. Introduced herself as Baron."

Baron? Feudal-type names have never really been too popular ever since King founded the Slaughterhouse Nine back in '87. Not that he lasted all that long in charge.

Still, a Cape name can tell you a lot about the Cape in question. Baron implies nobility, it implies structure and organisation, authority. It also implies that they are not the top dog, or at least that they are not an arrogant person, as Baron is a rather low ranking title of nobility.

Marquis comes to mind, a very successful Cape here in Brockton Bay. but ultimately, a name isn't enough to go off of. A lot of Capes pick their names ironically as well.

The Tinkertech arm however tells a lot more. Either the woman in question is a Tinker herself, or she simply has access to either a Tinker or enough wealth to buy a prosthetic. Either way, even if she is the one who made it, the fact that it is already done is enough proof that she isn't a fresh Trigger.

"Did our mysterious guest deign to tell you why she is here?"

Unfortunately, Gregor shakes his head. "Only said she wanted to speak with you. I asked what she wanted to speak about but she only said 'business'."

"I see. Your thoughts?" The decision ultimately lays with her, but she knows Gregor to give good advice.

"I do not think she is a danger," he says after a moment of thought. "At least not an immediate one. Hearing her out would seem a wiser course of action than snubbing her. I do not doubt that she has some manner of backing that would be troublesome to anger."

That was about what she was thinking. The fact that this 'Baron' is willing to wait at the door for permission to enter instead of simply bursting in or being aggressive enough for Gregor to mention it is proof enough.

Generally, in 'Cape culture' sneak attacks are fine, but sucker punches are frowned upon.

"Very well. Gather the team and bring her up."

Gregor nods his head and closes the door behind him.

She takes a moment to arrange her desk, because first impressions are important, especially if this is a potential client. By the time her crew starts filtering in, she is done and slaps her mask down over her face as a final preparation.

Well, only two come in. Labrinth should be in the next room over, for safety reasons. Both Labrinth's and their guest's safety.

"Newter." The orange-skinned Case 53 straightens at her tone, even his tail straightens out behind him. "Best behaviour, I know that you struggle with that so just try not to speak."

"C'mon Boss," Newter playfully whines at her. "I can be professional."

Spitfire snorts at that from where she sits on the couch opposite him. She is only a recent addition to the Crew, but she already knows how false those words are.

Spitfire, like Newter, is a teenager, which is the cause of a number of headaches for Faultline. Unlike Newter, she isn't a Case 53, and she is dressed in a full body red and black fireproof suit with a modified gas mask covering her head, leaving not an inch of skin exposed.

It's quite the contrast to Newter who only wears a pair of shorts and nothing else. Not that there's much point in a Case 53 wearing a mask.

"Behave, both of you." She hopes that they will heed her words. She has impressed on them the importance of reputation in their business. It would be annoying if their teenaged lack of impulse control caused a scene.

Just in time, there is a familiar knock on her door and Melanie straightens her posture professionally. She is satisfied to see her two young subordinates do the same, if to a lesser degree, but then she's always been a perfectionist.

The door swings open a moment later and Melanie blinks when a giant Amazonian of a woman swaggers inside as if everything around her was the background to her, and like she also owned that background, and everyone in it, and everyone looking at her or the background.

Melanie feels like Gregor could have done a better job emphasising certain things, such as the fact that this woman looks like the kind of woman who deals with more money than they have ever seen every Tuesday.

She is dressed in an impeccably well tailored white suit with fine golden designs on the edges of her jacket's collar. Said jacket is being worn over her shoulders, leaving her arms free.

Under the white jacket she has a black vest and a pink dress shirt clipped with a white tie and golden buttons. The open jacket leaves a clear view of what looks like a large, Tinkertech pistol holstered on her left side that has a white grip laden with filigree.

Her lower face is covered by a sleek metal mask that Melanie suspects functions much better as a gas mask than Spitfire's. The pink of her shirt is matched by her eyes that are pure black voids except for a pair of glowing pink irises.

From her head flows a mane of black hair, lined by the occasional streak of silver, not that her apparent age has done anything to reduce the impact of her appearance. If anything, it just makes her stern expression all the more intimidating, her lightly tanned skin not showing a hint of weariness despite the occasional wrinkle.

Of course, all of this pales in significance to the Tinkertech prosthetic replacing her entire left arm. The prosthetic is made from engraved white plates and glows with an inner light from the pulsating lines of faux muscles that make up the construction.

Her Tinkertech arm hangs free, holding a sleek black briefcase, while her, visibly muscular, flesh arm rests casually in her pocket as the woman strolls into the room like she's the biggest, baddest bitch in town. Melanie can admit that she probably is.

Melanie's office is set up with her desk at the far end of the room with a chair on either side. Closer to the door, there are two couches perpendicular to her desk and a third chair facing her desk, just a few short steps from the door, all set around a small table.

It is that chair that this woman does not hesitate to lower herself into, either not noticing or not caring that doing so leaves her surrounded. Gregor behind her, Spitfire and Newter either side and Melanie herself directly opposite.

It kind of annoys her how this woman can make her simple couch chair look like a throne just by sitting in it.

"Faultline," the woman says as she sets her briefcase on the table. Her voice is rich and powerful, and her eyes do not stray from Melanie's once. "It is nice to finally meet you."

Finally? Melanie files that particular wording away.

"I wish that I could say the same, but I am afraid that I have no idea who I am speaking with." She makes sure to keep her tone diplomatic.

This woman's everything just screams wealth and power. That is a double-edged sword. On one hand, she might be about to land an incredibly well paid contract, but on the other hand, if this woman needs to outsource then she doesn't doubt for a second that the job would be a dangerous one.

She decides not to mention the briefcase for now.

"Ah, of course," the woman snaps her fingers as if just realising this fact. Melanie doesn't buy it, but she isn't going to call her out for it. "My name is Maria Volkovich, but if you would prefer, feel free to call me Baron. I have been wanting to meet with you for some time now."

Melanie feels her heart skip a beat and her body tense as the woman, Maria, introduces herself with her actual name. That is bad. Very very bad. It means that whoever she is, or whoever she works for or with, they are not playing the game.

That means that the potential danger has gone up significantly. Even The Elite play by the rule, or at least pretend to. Giving up her name like that is basically the same as saying that Melanie won't be safe in her civilian identity if they become enemies.

The ominous stalker-y words certainly don't help her nerves. Regardless, Melanie notices her Crew tensing up with her and decides to speak up before any of them can say anything stupid.

"Then, it is nice to meet you, Ms Baron." Using her title is a very deliberate move to set boundaries, something that Maria clearly notices. "I wasn't aware that I had any admirers."

That wording is also deliberate. It is a very light joke, unlikely to cause offence, but how Maria reacts to it could give useful information.

Thankfully, her eyes only crinkle slightly, indicative of a smile. Meaning that Melanie likely won't have to walk on eggshells with her words. Plenty of Capes are unstable, especially the powerful ones, so it's good to be sure.

"Well now you are. I have been following your work rather closely, you are both competent and efficient, a rare thing among Parahumans. I would have liked to have approached you earlier, but my peers do not hold you in the same regard as I do, so I had to test you before getting permission to come here. I am glad that you did not disappoint. Your showing against Chevalier was truly wonderful to witness." 

So she isn't the boss. That's concerning. The insinuation that she was the one who hired them for their most recent job is even more concerning. Melanie is discovering that she is not overly fond of the feeling of being treated like a lab mouse solving puzzles for rewards at the behest of some mysterious organisation.

That said, she can't deny the fluttering of pride that someone like Maria, who is clearly powerful and connected, has effectively been personally scouting her. No one dislikes earning recognition for their work.

"Reputation is important for a Mercenary," she chooses to say instead of mentioning the stalking. "I pride myself on my Crew's competence as independent Mercenaries." Another purposeful choice of wording, subtly letting Maria know that she isn't interested in joining an organisation.

The Cape opposite her seems, at best, amused by her response.

"As you should," Maria comments. "However, it happens that I am not here for matters of a mercenary nature today. Despite my confidence, many of my peer still think poorly of you, so you could consider today's offer something of a trial run for future cooperation."

Melanie feels her pride bristle at the repetition, and she can't help herself but speak up about it.

"If I may ask, what exactly is it that is causing your peers to doubt me? I have only ever failed one gig, I am good at what I do."

Maria shakes her head lightly. "It is no one thing. Some simply believe that you are too weak, while others find your modus operandi of 'anything short of murder' to be childish. Personally, I believe that it is good to have strong principles."

"I see." An organisation that doesn't care about secret identities and finds abstaining from murder to be childish. Definitely dangerous. "Then what exactly is your business with me?"

"That is rather simple," Maria answers, her Tinkertech arm moving to unlatch her briefcase. "This nightclub of yours, the Palanquin. It's rather popular, no? Likely because it is known to be run by Parahumans. Makes it exciting to the regular folk."

Melanie is caught slightly off guard by the sudden non-sequitur and simply nods her head in wary agreement.

"A nightclub as popular as this must generate foot traffic upwards of a thousand people a night, at least on weekends anyway. Perhaps roughly six hundred, seven hundred on weekdays?"

Melanie's face tightens at the accurate estimates. Though perhaps she shouldn't be surprised at this point. 

"With the general profit margins of businesses like yours, you must be making what, fifty to a hundred thousand dollars a night? Even after factoring in your operational costs, you must be making quite the tidy profit. Quite the business you run."

Despite the compliment, Maria's tone brings to mind a parent congratulating a child on making eleven dollars with a lemonade stand. Melanie does her best to not show how uncomfortable she feels about deeply Maria seems to know her business.

Whatever her thoughts on the matter are, she doesn't have any time to say anything before Maria flips open her briefcase and spins it around on the table to face her.

Inside, Melanie notes that the case is split in half. One side is neatly packed full of what she can only assume are blunts, while the other side is also neatly packed, only with small pills instead.

Drugs.

"I understand that you do not have any dealings with the local gangs and thus only deal with a small amount of cocaine and your companion's bodily fluids. I would like to offer a profitable venture that will change this."

"So that is your business then?" She feels strangely disappointed, but she also is not blind to how dangerous drug cartels are.

"Not as such, no. This is a trial, remember? The deal I have been allowed to offer is rather simple. You will allow one of our dealers, the respectable sort of course, to ply their trade in your nightclub. In exchange, we will get a sample of Newter's blood and you will receive the full total of our profits for the first week, and half of all profits made in the Palanquin in perpetuity."

She doesn't really want to get involved in drugs. Not only would it damage her reputation, but it could also invite the Merchants to retaliate, and he doesn't want a high Squealer to ram a tank into her club. But before she can voice any doubts, Maria keeps speaking.

"Before you is a pair of new developed, but heavily tested drugs. You could consider them Tinkertech, as they wouldn't be able to exist without the aid of Parahuman powers. Neither are addictive and neither have any manner of negative side effects. As a matter of fact, these smokes, we're thinking of calling them 'Spice', actually leave consumers healthier."

Bio-tinkers are rarely good news, but Melanie is not blind to the amount of profit Tinker made drugs could make, especially if they actually do leave you better rather than worse. It also explains why they want a sample of Newter's blood. Their Tinker probably wants to try and recreate the psychedelic effect of his power.

"Alas, tests are required to see how they will perform in the open market and gauge interest before we can invest more in them. Ideally, we will see a positive reaction and begin to upscale, eventually undercutting the global drug trade. We only need a small, neutral territory to test how the drugs fare, and your Palanquin fits those requirements rather well. No gang interference, technical Cape protection. Useful things."

That seems ambitious, and Melanie isn't certain if she wants to get involved in something so big as undercutting the drug trade. But at the same time, the potential profit is rather large, and money is always a nice motivator.

"Naturally, the rollout period won't be the most profitable until word of mouth spreads, but that's where your reputation comes in. Once the ball gets rolling, projections put potential profits in the Palanquin alone at roughly ten to twenty thousand dollars a night. All you have to do is let our man in and nothing else. Simple, no?"

It's a tempting offer, she can't deny. Do nothing and make thousands. But she isn't certain if she wants to get involved in this organisation at all. Unfortunately, she is also uncertain if she even has the option of refusing at all.

"If I am to be letting you sell Tinkertech drugs in my club, I would at least like to know who's drugs I am promoting. For all that you have said, I still know nothing about you or your goals."

Maria leans back into her seat and taps a mechanical finger on the armrest once. Twice. Thrice.

"I belong to an organisation called Genesis," Maria eventually breaks the tense silence, her words chosen carefully. "The drugs were made by Eta. I am an Agent. Our leader is called Adam. There, now we all know each other very well."

...That is hardly informative at all.

Maria must have seen her thoughts on her face as she speaks up again.

"Adam values secrecy a great deal. 'Need to know' is practically our motto, and you do not need to know. Do you accept?"

There is silence for a minute as Melanie thinks through Maria's words. The potential profit is certainly appealing, especially when it costs so little. It only comes down to the same thing she was pondering before Maria even arrived. Risk over reward.

"You make a tempting offer," she decides on saying, keeping her tone neutral. "May I think on it and get back to you with a decision at a later date?"

She isn't even saying that as a soft refusal, she is genuinely on the fence about it right now. She needs some more time to weigh the risks to the benefits.

Maria lets out a sigh, and Melanie's Crew tenses. Considering how things have played out so far, she doubts that Maria will get violent, but she isn't going to scold them for being cautious.

"I am afraid that is not an option, your decision must be made now. Decisiveness is an important trait too. But how about I sweeten the deal a little? I'm sure your Case 53 friends are curious about how they came to be."

Her eyes unconsciously flicker between Newter and Gregor and their renewed focus is impossible to miss. She narrows her eyes.

"What exactly do you mean by that?"

Maria's eyes seem to glow as she meets her glare head on.

"One of my associates is capable of removing that little mental block that has been placed in your subordinates' minds." Maria's voice has a hint of smugness to it, and Melanie can't deny that is is earned.

It looks like she will be agreeing after all. This isn't something that she can deny her friends.

"Do you know what is behind Case 53s?" She asks.

"Yes," Maria answers immediately. "I will not tell you though, and I would advise your friends not to speak of anything they remember regarding the process. The organisation that you pursue has the most powerful Thinker alive protecting it."

Her eyes flicker to Newter and Gregor again, and she can see the almost painful desire clear in their eyes. She kind of hates Maria for putting her in this position.

But at the same time, she knows that the best way to counter a powerful Thinker is with another powerful Thinker, which she is starting to think is what this 'Adam's' power is. Perhaps this entire conversation was rehearsed and there was never any chance she would say no in the first place.

High level Thinkers are the worst to deal with. She doesn't like feeling like a chess piece.

"Alright," she says after a moment of silence, admitting defeat. "I accept."

"Wonderful," Maria practically purrs at her before rising to her feet, her movements as unconcerned as always. "I don't believe it needs to be said, but we expect not a single word to be spoken of this meeting or me or Genesis. Secrecy is paramount to us. I've put my neck out to give you a chance here, because I believe in your potential. Do not let me down."

And with those ominous parting words, Baron turns on her heel and strolls out of the room. She doesn't wait for her words to be answered or for a goodbye, or even for Gregor to open the door for her.

Melanie lets out a sigh once the door closes and finds her gaze falling to the open briefcase, idly noting that there is an old style flip phone tucked away in it.

"So..." Newter speaks up into the silence that follows Baron's departure. "Is anyone else feeling weirdly scaroused?"

///

January 10th, 2011

Super Secret Underground Genesis Base No.1

Maria Volkovich, aka Baron

///

"Hihihihhehehehuahuahahahahahahahahaha! That was so coooool~! God I'm such a fucking boss ass bad bitch fuck yeah!"

If Faultline could see Maria Volkovich rolling side to side on her bed curled up and giggling like a schoolgirl, she'd probably bluescreen. That's not my problem though, I feel amazing.

"Hahaha did you see her face!?!" I turn from where I'm laying in my brand spanking new underground base to face a clone of myself dressed in a nice and stereotypical black suit. "She totally bought it! Haha I'm so fucking awesome!"

In the body of my clone I nod my head and push up a pair of glasses. "Indeed. It's not really a surprise though, I put a lot of thought into that character, and I've always been a good liar. It's so fun after all."

"You're totally right, Therapist me."

Maria Volkovich was very carefully designed both to fit the role the of this character and, more short term, to make things smoother with Faultline.

I'm not particularly attached to my physical gender, so I don't really care what form I take, but I am a dude, so my identities would be male by default. So 'Baron' would have been a man, but I figured that I'd make a better impression on a woman like Faultline if my character was a strong woman instead, so I went with that.

Just in general, I've never really had a particularly strong sense of identity. I am me, but I do not really care form 'me' takes, as long as I'm not boring. That's admittedly part of why I'm so fond of this plan. 

My cloning power functions as a hivemind. I can see through all of my eyes and since each clone has its own brain, I have enough trains of thought to keep running them all simultaneously.

With this, I don't have to pick and choose what character I want to play, I can just be all of them. It's amazing. 

"Cloning is such a dope power. I can be the boss bitch Maria Volkovich, I could be a cutesy airhead, I could be a playboy narcissist, an aloof asshole, a guy who seems to take everything lightly but actually is super deep and caring even though you only notice it when something horribly goes wrong and he's the first person to show up at your door and make sure you're okay."

I can do all of the tropes!

It's not even like I would really be acting. Each character I am going to play is going to be as real as I can be. My emotions are adaptable. I've always wanted to feel real, but I've never been able to solidify a personality. Now, I will be able to split all the bits of me into whole selves. Well, that's the idea anyway.

"It's crazy that people worry about their clones turning evil and trying to depose them or something," Therapist me says.

"I know right? Your as awesome and amazing as me, why would I ever not want to hang out with me of all people?"

"You don't have to tell me. Though, people would probably consider me crazy for talking to myself like this. I mean, I guess, but like people talk to themselves all the time, I can just do it better, doesn't make me crazy."

"Wait, I should have said that in this body, the therapist body is supposed to be the one listening to the Baron talk about how I'm feeling."

"...Whatever." I sigh. In both bodies. "I need an idea for what to do about Adam. Probably should have thought about who the 'boss' is gonna be beforehand. Good thing I'm good at thinking on my feet or that could have been embarrassing. Also need to make a face for my Plant Manipulation power. Also need to make a nondescript face to play drug dealer, and I need to get started on my first Hero character."

"Man, I need more Charges. As my operations expand I'm going to need more and more clones, so I'll probably have to end up putting maybe every one in four Charges in that indefinitely. And I want my first Hero character to be strong. Stronger than my first proper Villain character, they can come after though."

So maybe a week before I can go out as a Hero, then three or four days before I can establish my first Villain.

"God I'm so fucking amazing," I mutter, just so I can hear it being said, because it's so true.

The best part? I'm not even cheating with Thinker powers. "I probably won't ever make any mental enhancement type thinker powers."

I'll do it if it's necessary, but this is a matter of pride. I have plans, good, long term plans, and I am proud that they are my plans, created by my mind. If I have a bunch of Thinker powers, then I'd be cheating. Obviously the plans would work, because they'd have been made by Thinker brains. But I want it to be my brain, cuz I'm awesome already.

Stage One of the Super Amazing Perfect Plan of Total World Domination is to basically gaslight everyone into thinking that I've totally been around for ages and am definitely in no way at all brand new to this shit.

Hence why I made a Matter Creation power to make an insanely nice suit. Then I made a Transhumanism power that turns organic material into advanced technological replacements. It's basically a 'turn into a cyborg' Striker power.

I made that because Tinkertech, at least smooth, polished, refined Tinkertech is basically a status symbol. Having Baron walking around with a cool, refined looking Tinkertech arm lends credit to the idea that she is from an established and well funded organisation. Rather than the truth that she didn't exist until about five hours before that meeting.

Most of that time was spent practicing the boss bitch walk in the mirror.

The emphasis that was placed on secrecy is actually kind of a red herring, because I'm smart like that and was already basically a pro at fucking with people long before getting the power to do whatever the fuck I want.

There was one time I managed to convince my mother that our house was haunted by a poltergeist, and that wasn't even on purpose, it was just a side effect of me passively fucking with her.

The idea is that the whole secrecy thing will convince Faultline that I'm the real deal because she won't find anything about my existence, or Genesis, since I made the name up on the spot.

More importantly, when some information inevitably leaks, I can just blame Faultline and she will think that she's in deep shit for potentially unveiling a crazy powerful, super secret shadow organisation. From there, she'd probably be willing to do anything to make it up to me, which means I'll be able to draw her deeper into my web. 

From there, I can use Faultline to further spread the lie that 'Genesis' has already been a widely spread organisation all this time, only recently being forced into the light.

I thought about calling us Shadow Garden but this world isn't so far in the past that I could get away with being so childish.

I have other plans in mind for how I can pretend that Genesis has been around for longer than it is. One such plan is to just blatantly lie. Well, most of them involve blatant lies. This one in particular is to just say that some of the people in the Birdcage were Agents of Genesis all this time.

I mean, what are they gonna do, deny it? They're in the Birdcage. Similarly, I can just say that some dead people totally worked for 'Adam'. Like Professor Haywire, the dude that opened the hole that connects Earth Bet to Earth Aleph.

Interdimensional business is pretty high end important stuff. Totally the kind of thing 'Genesis' would be involved in for sure.

So, to summarise.

Genesis is the main thing, it's going to take over the criminal underworld, and then pretend that it has always been there and in control. My Villain characters will just all be plants used to steer things how I want them, they will be the main meddlers, Genesis will be in control.

My Hero characters will also be meddlers, but to a lesser degree. Their role will be to aid in the removal of other Villains that won't serve my purposes, and, more importantly, my Hero characters will eventually form the main opposing bloc to Genesis.

For one, it will mean that I will know about any and all plans to act against Genesis. More importantly, it will leave the world split into two halves. One half will serve Genesis, and the other will be too indebted to my Hero organisation, whatever it may be, to do anything but follow my lead.

The eventual end goal being convincing everyone to go along with a détente between the two organisations, leaving the world at peace and me on top.

"Hehehe, this is so much fun already~."

Well, for now I just need to design 'Generic Genesis Minion #1' to go deal drugs, and probably make more drugs with Plant Manipulation. Then all I really have to do is wait.. Let's go with four days. Four days, four Charges.

I'll turn that into a rating 7 power and then I can debut my first ever Hero character. The idea is that they will be strong, but not overwhelmingly so. I might up that power to an 8. I'm eventually going to need to start making more Brute powers too so all my clone's can be durable. Or I could just put a bunch of Charges into Shapeshift until it can turn all my bodies into a Brute 7 at least.

So much to do, so much to think about.

Using my Matter Creation power, I summon a notepad and pen and sit up. Therapist me disappears to other matters while I dedicate this train of thought to a single goal.

Designing a Hero character that can perfectly bounce off of the various Parahuman personalities in the Bay and end up where I want it.

God I'm so smart.

///

January 14th, 2011

Over the skies of Brockton Bay

Glory Girl

///

Bored. Bored bored bored.

Vicky is bored.

So what does a bored teenager with superpowers do in the middle of the night? Naturally, she put on her costume and went out for a fly, because she can do that, so why the hell wouldn't she? Flying is awesome.

She truly pities those ground bound mortals below. Obviously she's exaggerating, but still, it is pretty sad that so few people get to experience this.

It's so freeing to be able to just go. Anywhere.

The super strength and invulnerability is a nice bonus too. Punching Nazis is always a satisfying feeling. Except for when she accidentally punches a bit too hard, then it's kind of terror inducing. She doesn't want to be a murderer. That would be a kind of depressing fall from grace.

Luckily her sister is the bestest sister in the whole world and can make any mistakes she makes go away. Even if she was too late it wouldn't matter.

Wow that was dark.

Shaking her head, Glory Girl shoots into the sky, spiralling around a skyscraper before breaking off just below the clouds.

Flying is great, it really is...

She's still bored though.

The deeply familiar sound of gunshots reach her ears from a distance, and she metaphorically perks up immediately. A grin grows on her face as she turns and shoots off in the direction of the sound.

"Finally!"

She knew it would happen eventually. This is Brockton Bay after all. Literally not a day goes by without being able to hear at least one gunshot somewhere in the distance. At this point, every Brocktonite has developed the finely honed ability to pinpoint where a distant gunshot came from. Usually so they can go the other way, but usually they aren't invulnerable.

Not that she's Alexandria or anything, she does know the weakness of her invulnerability, but still. Action!

And then she arrives and there is no action. 

Still, not all is lost. The fight might already be over, but what's left will still solve her boredom problems just fine.

Down below, she takes in the scene. There are three men, who from a cursory glance are probably Nazis, who are all lined up on the curb, lying still on their backs. 

Behind them, the pavement is covered in tiny shards of glace that is evidently from the shattered display glace of what looks like a small boutique.

Most interestingly however, is what sits in-between the probably Nazis and the not quite robbed store.

Sitting cross-legged on top of a large, hovering soap bubble, is a blonde woman wearing a blue outfit that starts dark at her feet and lightens as it rises. By her chest, the material is a soft sky blue and decorated by a number darker blue of bubbles, rising and spreading like they're being blown out of around her bellybutton.

She does have a dull golden belt to break up the monochrome a little bit and make her outfit not look like a one-piece. Her mask doesn't cover the lower half of her face and is a deep, navy blue decorated on its edges with lighter bubbles.

"Hey there," Glory Girl introduces herself as she floats down to the middle of the street, keeping high enough that her head is just above blue girl's. "You're a new face. You a Hero?"

"Glory Girl!" The mystery girl exclaims, swaying slightly on her crossed legs while holding her ankles. "Yo! Crazy bumping into you here. I'm a Hero, don't worry, these guys are Nazis"

Totally called it.

"You got a name, New Girl?" Her eyes flicker to the disturbingly still Nazis and then back to the new girl. "And are you sure these guys are okay? You know you can't kill them right? Even if they are Nazis."

New Girl grins at her. "They're fine, my power put them in time out," she says before hopping up to stand on her bubble, where she proceeds to stick her chest out and plant her fists on her hips.

"As for your other question, I am the fearsome time controlling Heroine who will save the day! My name! Is! Bubbles!!" The newly named 'Bubbles' then bursts into laughter, and Vicky finds herself joining her, if not quite as intensely.

"Really? Bubbles?" Vicky's sceptical tone has Bubbles start snickering again. "Are you for real right now?"

Bubbles nods her head and locks Vicky with a severe look. "I am being super for real right now." And then she snickers again, and Vicky can't help but join her.

Bubbles has that kind of infectious joy about her that just naturally makes you smile.

"Well then, Bubbles," she snickers. Vicky elects to ignore that. "What's the sitch? You called a pickup for these guys yet?"

Bubbles shrugs and drops back down onto her bubble chair with crossed legs. Her hands return to her ankles. Vicky wonders if that's something to do with her power or not.

"Caught these dumbasses trashing the place, one of 'em said some rather derogatory things about the store, so my assumption is that the owner didn't pay Empire protection money or something." Bubbles shrugs again. "I don't know, I'm not a Thinker. I was about to call 911 when you showed up. Actually, am I supposed to call 911? Is there like, a dedicated line for this kinda thing?"

Vicky gives a friendly chuckle as she floats closer to Bubbles. "You really are new huh? With your costume looking so well done I thought you were just from out of town." For a second Bubbles seems to stutter, but Vicky blinks and misses it. "And yeah, there's a PRT hotline they give to capes for calling in pickups. There's another hotline for backup too, I'll give you the numbers."

"Aha, yeah, it's actually my first night out," Bubbles admits while they both pull out their phones so Vicky can show her the PRT numbers. "I just like to be prepared. I am completely broke now though, this cost like, all my savings..."

Vicky laughs playfully at Bubbles' exaggerated bemoaning, causing the girl's forlorn expression to twist into a grin as she snickers too. Bubbles takes a moment to call the PRT hotline and explain the situation and location before turning back to her.

"Haha, for real though, I'm totally broke. Are we allowed to 'confiscate' cash from the criminals we stop? It's not like I've got bills to pay, but I want my pumpkin spice damnit!"

Vicky gasps in delight and flies in front of Bubbles, holding her by the shoulders. "You drink pumpkin spice! That's my favourite drink, I love it but my sis says it's worse than sawdust. She drinks coffee black though, so what does she know."

"What a coincidence, also, bleh, black coffee?" The abject disgust in Bubbles' voice at the thought of black coffee would have been enough by itself for Vicky to consider her an ally. "Might as well just eat the beans raw. Gross."

"I know right?" Vicky nods emphatically, practically breathing the words out. "I get the feeling we're gonna be best of friends Bubbles. Do you really have to go by Bubbles?"

"Yes." Bubbles nods severely. "It is imperative."

She manages to hold her severe expression for maybe four seconds before starting to snicker.

Vicky sighs fondly. "I guess it at least fits your power," she gestures to the bubble that Bubbles is sitting on. "What even is your power anyway?" She speaks up again before Bubbles can, "Beyond making bubbles."

Bubbles' mouth snaps closed and she pouts for a moment before her grin returns. One of her hands comes free from her ankle and twists in the air like what magicians do, revealing a small soap bubble in her hand.

"I can create bubbles to time control. I can make anything inside of a bubble move faster or slower. I can also control the opacity of my bubbles, but don't go spreading that, it'll be less effective if people suspect it."

To demonstrate, the bubble in her palm thins out until it turns completely translucent. Then it slowly starts returning to form until it once more resembles a soap bubble.

"That's what I'm doing to these guys." Vicky follows Bubbles' gesture to the three Nazis and watches as three person sized bubbles reveal themselves around them. "Think of it like a Grey Boy bubble but waaay less horrific and I can pop them and also it's just kind of not really the same thing. I've just slowed their time down to basically nothing. Technically I'm extending their lifespan, so they should really be grateful."

"Yeah," Vicky cringes. "Maybe don't reference a member of the Slaughterhouse Nine to describe your powers. On a less depressing note though, does that mean you can make yourself immortal?"

Bubbles wiggles her hand side to side, dismissing the bubble it once held. "I mean, technically yeah. But you'd still be experiencing the time slowed down, so it's not like you'd really be able to live any extra amount of time. It's more like time travel really, or being cryogenically frozen. Can't really make you live longer but I can let you see a future your lifespan shouldn't allow. I might just clock out at some point and wake myself up in like a century. See if we're fucking aliens yet."

Vicky snorts. "If we ever meet aliens I'm sure it wouldn't take long."

Bubbles nods sagely. "Indeed. Some people will really fuck anything. Have you ever looked at Case 53 porn? That shit is craaazy."

Vicky flushes and refuses to meet Bubbles' eyes, which of course only causes the girl to laugh. 

It was only one time! She heard someone talking about it in school and got curious, that's it! The second time doesn't count, she just knows that single point data doesn't provide concise information and thus had to double check to make sure what she saw wasn't an outlier!

"Shut up!"

"Ahaha, I didn't say anything!"

"Why are you laughing! You clearly looked too!"

"Yeah but I'm not embarrassed~ about it." Vicky glares at Bubbles for her singsong tone, but there's no heat behind it.

"So what, are you one of the people that would be having sex with aliens first chance? Maybe that's the real reason you wanna see the future, huh?"

"Haha, nah, I just think it's kinda interesting but mostly funny," Bubbles admits with exactly zero shame. "I can't even masturbate to normal porn cuz the acting always makes me laugh too much."

"Okay I think we've successfully entered the realm of TMI," Vicky deadpans, feeling vaguely... Well just that this isn't the kind of thing strangers should be talking about. Not unless their boys, she guesses, but she isn't a boy.

Bubbles shrugs. "You started it."

"No I-" Vicky cuts herself off as she mentally runs back through the conversation. "Did I? No, I didn't, you brought it up!"

Bubbles snickers. "You're so cute when you get flustered y'know that? Like when a cat pretends it doesn't want to be hugged but doesn't even try to run away."

Thankfully for Vicky, the PRT happen to turn the corner at that moment.

"Oh shut up," she playfully shoves Bubbles' shoulder, making sure to control her strength properly since Bubbles probably isn't a Brute. "Are you gonna join the Wards?" Vicky gives Bubbles a thoughtful once over. "Or the Protectorate? How old are you anyway?"

"It's rude to ask a lady her age," Bubbles says, though she doesn't seem all that concerned about it. More like it's just something she's in the habit of saying. "I'm seventeen by the way. I don't really wanna join the Wards, but I'm kinda undecided about it to be honest. I'll be eighteen soon anyway, so is there really a point in being a Ward for like two months? I don't know. Deciding my future is a lot to consider."

"Yeah, I guess I can understand. Kinda. I mean, for me my path was pretty much always there y'know? Kinda part and parcel of being in a cape family. Imagine the scandal if I joined the Wards?"

Bubbles laughs with her, though Vicky's laugh might be just a smidgen bitter. She'd probably be more bitter about it, but she does enjoy being a part of New Wave, to it would feel petty to complain. Especially when so many people have it so much worse.

Neither of them continue the conversation as the PRT van and Miss Militia on a motorcycle pull up to the curb.

"You're lucky it's not Armsmaster," Vicky whispers to Bubbles as Militia approaches. "He's not a bad person or anything. Probably. But he's kind of an ass. Not great at first impressions."

Bubbles nods with a smile, and then Miss Militia is within talking distance.

"Glory Girl," she nods in Vicky's direction. "And you must be the one who called this in? A new Hero? I am Miss Militia, it's nice to meet you."

Vicky wonders, as she always does, if Miss Militia practices her eye smile thing in the mirror. Because her smiles really do still somehow manage to light up her face despite being hidden by her scarf.

"Do you practice that eye smile thing you do in the mirror?" Bubbles asks a moment later, apparently not sharing Vicky's hesitance to ask awkward questions like that.

Militia just chuckles, because she's actually pretty cool. "I did at first, yes. It was a part of my PR training."

"Cool. Well, it's nice to meet you Milly. I've already exhausted my dramatic introduction slot for the day, so my name's Bubbles. A pleasure."

Miss Militia sighs with a fond sort of exasperation at the nickname, as if it is a part of some old joke or something. But she still shakes Bubbles' casually offered hand.

"Could you explain how you are restraining these three?" Miss Militia asks, gesturing to the bubbles visibly surrounding the Nazis.

"Time slow bubbles. I can dismiss it whenever, but as far as these guys are concerned, right now is about fifteen minutes ago and our 'fight' just started, so they'll prolly be hectic."

"That's fine." Miss Militia steps over to the PRT troopers and says something quietly to them, gesturing at the Nazis. A moment later, all the troopers move into a formation and Miss Militia nods at Bubbles.

Bubbles shrugs and snaps her fingers, causing each bubble to fade away. 

Almost immediately the three gangsters are jumping to their feet, shouting and moving wildly. However, it only takes a few barked orders and a moment of observation for them to realise the situation around them and give up.

"It's easier if you just break their legs," Vicky whispers to Bubbles, causing her to snicker.

"I'm not a Brute," she whispers back. "I don't think the PRT would like it if I went around with a crowbar just to break legs."

Vicky chuckles but says nothing as Miss Militia walks back to them.

"Thank you for your work today, it's always nice to see more Heroes in the city. May I ask what your plans are going forward?" Miss Militia's intentions couldn't be anymore obvious, but luckily Bubbles doesn't take offence.

Though really, Vicky isn't surprised. She hasn't known her for long, but Vicky gets the feeling that Bubbles isn't the type to get offended or take things too seriously. Maybe she'd even be able to tolerate Shadow Stalker, though she doubts it.

"How about you just tell your boss that you tried really hard to give me the sales pitch and we both get to save our breath? I'll even say you were super convincing and everything."

Miss Militia smiles wryly as if she expected the answer. "Will you at least be willing to come and register as an Independent Hero, if not join the Wards?"

Bubbles shrugs. "I dunno. I'm not really sure where I want to take my future with y'know," she gestures vaguely around them. "All of this. It's not that I despise the idea of being a Ward or anything, I just don't really wanna make any permanent decisions y'know? I ah, don't really uh, like making permanent decisions. Y'know, shit you can't take back."

From the awkward tone of voice and the furtive glances sent to her own bubbles, Vicky gets the feeling that this is something to do with her Trigger Event. It even explains the power somewhat. In her Parahumans class they talked about how people tend to manifest powers that are somewhat related to their Trigger, so it'd make sense.

Miss Militia seems to come to the same assumption, guessing from her soothing tone. "That's fine too. The Wards is kind of like having a part-time job, you can always quit if it really doesn't fit you."

Bubbles shrugs. "I'll think about it."

"Bubbles is an interesting name," Miss Militia says after a moment, which is being generous. The change in conversation is obvious, but no one is going to bring that up.

"She says it's imperative that she be called Bubbles," Vicky helpfully chimes in, getting an enthusiastic nod from the girl in question.

"This world is so depressing," Bubbles says, somewhat surprising them with the seemingly out of pace line. "Everyone is so serious about everything. Y'know, when people describe what it means to be mature, a lot of the time they just start listing symptoms of depression? I don't wanna live a life like that. I wanna laugh and smile and have friends that'll laugh with me."

That is surprisingly thoughtful, and honestly Vicky can't help but admire it, but Bubbles isn't done talking.

"So instead of picking some edgy name that makes me seem like I'm a soldier in some shadow war of death or something, I'd rather just go by Bubbles. Cuz it's impossible to say Bubbles while sounding angry or serious, so no one will be able to drag me into their melodramatic grimdark bullshit. When I arrive people will say 'Look! It's Bubbles!' And then hopefully they'll laugh at how out of place it is for me to be called Bubbles of all things."

Bubbles chuckles lightly. Sombrely. Her gaze turns somewhat distant as she paints a melancholic picture, smiling down at her open palm.

"I guess I just don't want to focus on all the bad shit anymore. I just wanna laugh while I can. Does that make me a coward?"

Vicky honestly doesn't know what to even say to that, but luckily Miss Militia is there to save the day.

"I don't think so. If anything, I find it rather admirable of you."

"For real?" Bubbles asks, and this time Vicky does know what to say.

"Super for real!" Vicky butts in, parroting their earlier introduction. "You're like Mouse Protector!"

Bubble's eyes grow wide as she gasps with delight, while Miss Militia does the opposite and deflates with a sigh.

"Really?! Mouse Protector is like my idol! I just need to figure out some way to start making puns about bubbles and then she will notice me!"

"Please no," Miss Militia mutters, but neither of them pay attention to that, too busy gushing over Mouse Protector.

When Vicky went for a fly out of boredom that night, she expected that she would either just fly around a bit and then go home. Maybe beat up a Nazi or two.

She didn't think she'd return home with another number in her contacts and a new friend on her mind.

But either way, she isn't going to complain.

One thing she is sure of though, is that Bubbles promises to make the future a lot less boring. She just knows they are going to have so much fun together.

For the first time in a while, Vicky actually feels some genuine hope that Brockton Bay might finally slow its downward spiral.

///

Powers of January 14th 2011:

Blank

Immune to precognitive Thinkers.

*Crystalline Physiology - Brute 4

Based off of the Endbringers. At Brute 4 only replaces internals with crystals that aren't nearly as sturdy as an Endbringer.

*Gestalt Duplication - Master 4

Can create 2 clone that work as a hive-mind. Doesn't technically come with a Thinker aspect, but two brains allows for two trains of thought. Powers can be freely moved between clones. Powers cannot be duplicated via clones. 

****Plant Manipulation - Shaker 7

Basically Shaper but limited to plants in exchange for range. Can do basically anything with any plant within a 50 metre radius.

*Shapeshift - Changer 4

Can change own form to anything that is not excessively larger, smaller, denser, lighter, ect. Can be used to enhance a body into a Brute three ratings below this Changer rating.

*Matter Creation - Shaker/Tinker? 4

Can create physical matter from nothing. Can be used to make anything from clothes to a car. At this rating, a car would be too much matter. More complex creations require an understanding of what is being created. Cannot create Tinkertech.

*Earth Manipulation - Shaker 4

Freely Manipulate the earth around you. If it is made of dirt or stone then it's fair game. Concrete and bricks are fine too, metals will be more difficult without upgrades.

*Transhumanism - Striker 4

Convert biological flesh and bone into advanced technological prosthetics. Cannot affect more than a single limb at current level.

*****Technopathy - Shaker/Thinker 8

Creates a mind-to-machine interface that allows for one to control any and all technology within a 100 metre radius.

*Long Range Teleportation - Mover 4

Can teleport anywhere in the world once every hour

*Shaper - Striker 4

Shaper-lite

****Bubble Time - Shaker 7

Create bubbles that can speed up or slow down the time of anyone or anything inside of them at the user's discretion. Additionally, can choose to 'pop' a bubble causing everyone, bar the user, within 5 metres of the popped bubble will freeze in time for one second.

21 used Charges

0 unused Charges.

Let me know what you think!