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Death is but a Momentary Relief [Worm Crossover]

Discussion in 'Creative Writing' started by ellf, Jun 29, 2019.

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  1. ellf

    ellf Making the rounds.

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    A word of warning. This bit of fanfiction will contain harsh language that is in no way the view of the author in how it is executed. Any homophobic, racist, or antisemitic language coming from a particular character are purely because that is the way the character is in the source material. I do not contend that the character is right to act this way, nor do I intend to portray them as right.

    Additionally, in this fanfiction, all characters and events, even those based on real people, are entirely fictional. Celebrity cameos will be unvoiced, but if they were, they would be entirely imitated... poorly. The following fanfiction contains coarse language, and due to its content, it should not be read by anyone...

    Enjoy!
     
    wargonzola likes this.
  2. Threadmarks: Chapter One: Not Yet Dead
    ellf

    ellf Making the rounds.

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    I died again today. Not that anyone will remember it, but I do. I remember every single goddamn time. I just don’t stay dead. Next morning, like clockwork, I’m waking up in my bed and ready to face the day. It wasn’t always like this. I didn’t always just… die and come back.

    The first time was in my mom’s car. There was a car crash. Neither of us made it. Except I woke up the next morning in time to go to my mother’s funeral. Fucking hilarious, right?

    I’ve been stabbed, shot, electrocuted, eaten by piranha, stomped on by a rage dragon, gotten very very high, and been killed by disease. Death barely fazes me at this point. It’s usually the circumstances surrounding the death that do.

    Today… well, today was no different.

    My name is Taylor Hebert, and I can’t die. Not permanently. I’m not going to let that stop me from fulfilling my dream.

    Today started out pretty much like any other day, at the bus stop. Not a school bus like I’d ride in elementary school, but a public bus stop that was just down the street from my house. The stop itself was in decent shape. The bench stood dent-free, and the overhang was just intact enough that I could duck under it to avoid the falling snow.

    January in Brockton Bay, everyone. I pulled my hood a bit tighter on my black jacket and tugged at my mittens. I carefully adjusted my glasses a bit. I really needed to get contacts, but Dad couldn’t afford them right now. Glasses were fine. I just needed to wait for the others to show up or the bus. Whichever first.

    “Bundled tight enough, dude?” A familiar poof-balled hat on top of a familiar face peeked around the corner of the bus stop. He wore a brown jacket and a red scarf around his neck along with a pair of jeans that clung well to his legs. He was about three inches taller than me, and he had a wide grin on his face. “You have a good New Years, Taylor?”

    “Yeah,” I said. Well, actually it came out more a mumble with my hood as tight as it was, but I knew Stan’d understand me. “Dad actually had some friends over from work. What about you, Stan? You get to spend it with Wendy?”

    Stan gave me a thumbs-up. “We kissed at midnight, and it was sweet, Taylor. There’s even talk about doing more.”

    “Nice,” I said. “But don’t tell me the details. I really don’t want to know the boy perspective there.”

    “But…”

    “No.” I shook my head. “Just no, Stan.”

    Stan shook his head.

    “You can tell Kyle and Eric all about it when I’m not around,” I said. “I’m sure they’ll give their own running commentary.”

    “Running what?” Eric asked as he arrived. He was easily the tallest of us, standing at about halfway to seven feet. He also was like four or five times my weight. He wore his own poof hat and a red jacket that actually fit him. It was unzipped, revealing the Winslow High football jersey underneath. “What, did something sweet happen with Stan? You finally get further with Wendy? You dog, you.”

    “No… nothing like… I mean…” If Stan hadn’t been taken for the past six years, I might have tried hitting on him right now. Thing was, Wendy was a friend, and you don’t do that to your friends. Plus, she was one of the girls that still talked with me, even with whatever was going on with Emma.

    “See, Taylor? I knew he could fucking do it.”

    “They kissed,” I said with a shrug. “Stan’s too much a coward to do more. Wendy’ll probably have to drag him kicking and screaming.”

    “What’s that supposed to mean?” Stan asked.

    I smiled at him. “Means you’re buying lunch today.”

    Eric laughed. “My lunch too, Stan.”

    “Don’t worry Stan, you don’t have to buy my lunch,” said a third voice as he joined us. Kyle wore his green ushanka and orange jacket with green mittens today. “Cartman owes me.”

    “Hey, I do not owe you shit, you Jew,” Eric said. “You can get your own goddamn lunch.”

    “After how many lunches that I bought for you because you ate yours already?” Kyle asked. He looked to me. “Fine. Buy Taylor the lunch, and then I’ll stop talking about it.”

    “I’m good with Stan doing the buying,” I said. “I’m low on cash this week.”

    “Oh, that’s what I wanted to talk to you guys about…” Eric said, leaning forward. He bent his legs slightly so we could meet his eyes easier. Sometimes he showed a tiny hint of consideration. Sometimes. “I think it’s time for Coon and Friends to ride again.”

    “You can’t be serious, fatass,” said Kyle. “After the bullshit you pulled the last time?”

    “Come on, you guys,” said Eric, a little bit of a whine in his voice.

    “The others aren’t actually capes,” I said. “Well, maybe Jimmy is.”

    “Just the four of us,” Eric said. “We can probably make some good money with it. I mean, come on. Uber and Leet do it all the time.”

    “Uber and Leet are villains, Cartman,” Stan said.

    “Funny though,” I said. “Half the time.”

    “Hella funny all the time,” Eric said.

    “He’s doing that again,” I said as I rolled my eyes.

    “Come on, you guys…” Eric drawled out the last two words.

    “Don’t you have football practice?” Kyle asked.

    “We’d go after that, duh,” said Eric.

    “Go where?” I asked.

    “I was going to tell you!” Eric said, but the bus pulled up then. “God damnit.”

    “Guess you’ll have to tell us later, dude.” Stan shrugged.

    “Taylor, want to share a seat?” Kyle asked.

    “Sure,” I said and smiled at him. Not that he really could see it with my hood up. At least the bus would be warm enough to let me put it down.

    “Why don’t you want to sit next to me?” Eric asked.

    “You take up an entire seat on your own,” I said. “Where would I sit?”

    I stepped on the bus rather than wait for his answer. First day back of school for the year, and I hadn’t died yet today. It was starting to look up.
     
    Regimate, Ganurath, Mendeleev and 9 others like this.
  3. Mannfred Von Carstein

    Mannfred Von Carstein Patron Saint of Futanari

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    So, she’s fallen in with the Empire’s youth corps in a last ditch effort to somehow gain human companionship? An unpleasantly realistic situation.
     
  4. ArsMagna1337

    ArsMagna1337 (Verified Passer) (Unverified Omake Machine)

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    I know who those people are... And probably waiting for them to say the magic words.

    I wonder what those people on Cauldron doing? Probably not what I am thinking off...

    What I think they are doing...
    Alexandria: What's with the headless chicken running around on a roulette on the floor?
    Contessa: The path told me to do it.
     
    Roaming_Guardian, Asheram and ellf like this.
  5. ellf

    ellf Making the rounds.

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    Like Kyle Broflovsky is going to be in the Empire.
     
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  6. medon12

    medon12 Making the rounds.

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    In the unlikely event you actually haven't seen it and were being serious here, it's South Park.
     
  7. Mannfred Von Carstein

    Mannfred Von Carstein Patron Saint of Futanari

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    Yeah, I’ve never watched an episode of South Park in my life. The animation is too janky to get past. Perhaps the crossover should be listed in the title or summary?
     
    Edoc likes this.
  8. ellf

    ellf Making the rounds.

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    The crossover is semi-listed in the summary. Also, people who know South Park instantly know who the characters here are.
     
  9. Dalek149

    Dalek149 Getting sticky.

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    Well despite being quite good, you did post it in the right forum for it not to be read by anyone :p

    I can't wait to read more!
     
  10. Asheram

    Asheram Know what you're doing yet?

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    Oh merciful God in heaven... Yeah, I know this setup.
    Well done, ellf. This is going to get interesting.
     
  11. Sub[0]

    Sub[0] Your first time is always over so quickly, isn't it?

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    I've seen undying Taylors, I thought I've seen them all. But I never imagined a Taylor as Kenny scenario... And it is glorious! Can't wait for more
     
  12. Threadmarks: Chapter Two: Lock 'er Up!
    ellf

    ellf Making the rounds.

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    Chapter Two: Lock ‘er Up!

    ********************

    “God, Winslow is such a shithole,” Eric said as we got off the bus. “So many Asians, and you just know. You know that they’re ABB. All of them.”

    “Just like all the white guys are skinheads?” Kyle asked.

    No. Not like that,” Eric said. “Because they’re not.”

    “And I know at least fifteen Asians at the school who aren’t ABB,” I said, pulling my hair out of my lowered hood. “A few of them went to our Elementary school.”

    “Oh yeah,” Stan said. “Weren’t they those yaoi fangirls?”

    Eric snorted, and then he broke out into a full-on belly laugh as we approached the school. “Oh, God, I remember that. Helping out Craig and Tweek to realize their true feelings… Why aren’t they at Winslow?”

    “Clarendon,” I said. “Well, Tweek is there. I think Craig might be. Unless he got into Arcadia.”

    “Do I want to know how you know, Taylor?” Kyle asked.

    I just smiled at my friend and opened the door. Carefully, I stepped aside, just in case. You never knew what could happen with doors. The amount of times I’d been killed by one was… well, it was at least eight. It’s not pleasant.

    “Right,” Stan said as he went inside. “Dude, sometimes that smile is creepy.”

    “Yeah, right,” Eric said. “Like Taylor could look creepy.”

    “Strangely, I agree with Cartman,” Kyle said as he followed Stan inside.

    “Good,” Eric said. “You should agree with me more, Kyle. We can easily make enough money for everything.”

    I stepped inside, following my friends. Winslow High School wasn’t the nicest of high schools in town, but at the least, the groundskeeping team kept it in relatively good shape. Gang tags were washed off lockers usually within a day or so, and there were gangs. The major gangs of Brockton Bay had representation among our student populace.

    Eric wasn’t entirely wrong about the ABB. The Azn Bad Boyz, horrible name, often came to school wearing their gang colors of red and green. Way to fucking ruin Christmas, guys. They needed a visit from… Never mind. I wasn’t sure that sort of thing would even change their mind at all. They liked to hang around the east hall, mostly hanging among each other and harassing the other Asian kids to get in with the gang.

    Not all could resist.

    The other major gang presence were the skinheads, the Empire Eighty-Eight. They tended to hang out together too, but they were a bit more confrontational with minorities. Racist little pricks. I mean, they never really bothered me much, but that was probably because I was the “right” type of person.

    “God, Winslow is a shithole,” Kyle said, glancing at the skinheads gathered at one end of the main hall.

    “What did I just say outside?” Eric asked. “Too many gang members shitting up the joint.”

    “It’s just a symptom of the greater problem,” I said with a shrug. “Let’s get to class.”

    “What, no locker time?” Eric asked.

    “Don’t need it for computers,” I said. “And Stan’s buying lunch today. I’ll go drop stuff off after Mrs. Knott’s class.”

    “Makes sense,” Kyle said. “Plus, it lets you avoid certain—”

    “Taylor!” I froze at the voice and turned my head slightly. A familiar redheaded girl, flanked by what I could only call lackies, walked up to me with a deceptive smile on her face. Emma Barnes used to hang out with the boys and I… well, until Eric decided that all gingers were soulless and evil. Still, Emma and I had been pretty close friends for a while.

    We weren’t anymore, but we had been. Something went down with her; I never found out what, but she changed. She became practically a different person.

    “Emma,” I said, mostly because if I didn’t acknowledge her, I knew that things would get messy. “What do you want?”

    “Nothing, really,” Emma said. “Just wanting to wish you a welcome back. Looks like your fashion sense hasn’t improved any over the Winter Holiday.”

    “Like someone like her could afford good fashion anyway,” said the shorter white girl to her right. Madison Clements. She was the kind of girl that you could just say was “cute” and not much else, but she knew how to work it. She had that cute innocent act down pat. “She’d probably use any extra money to get strung out anyway.”

    I rolled my eyes.

    “She does have a history, right Emma?” asked the other brunette with her on her left. Lola Ritter was someone who’d always been among the popular kids, and she’d known me since grade school. I was never friends with her, but Emma and I had hung out with her a couple times. “Remember that time with the cats?”

    “Oh, fuck you,” I said.

    “Yeah, leave her alone,” said Kyle. “She didn’t do anything to you.”

    “Oh, Kyle,” Emma said, and then she looked further around me.

    “Ginger bitch,” Eric said in greeting. “Please, go on. Talk more shit. I’m sure the principal would love to hear what you have to say. He held out a smartphone with a grin on his face.

    “You wouldn’t dare, fat-ass,” said Emma.

    “Try me, you soulless daywalking whore,” Eric said, holding his phone out more. He moved his phone even higher, as a hand reached out for it. “Oh Hell no. That was attempted assault, and I caught it on camera, Hess. You’ll get kicked off the track team for sure.”

    “Fuck you, Cartman,” said Sophia Hess, one of Emma’s newer friends. She was an acerbic athletic black girl who… Well, as far as she knew, she just liked to push me around when my friends weren’t there to back me up. She doesn’t remember the fact that she’s killed me three times this school year alone. Probably for the best, but holy crap, she had anger issues.

    Hell, I thought I did sometimes, but getting killed a few dozen times oddly helps with that.

    “Delete the video, Cartman,” Sophia said, her eyes narrowing.

    “How about, no?” Eric asked. “Maybe I should just keep it for safekeeping…”

    “All right, hold up,” Stan said, stepping between the two of them. “Sophia, Emma, how about you just walk away? It’s the first day of the new year. We don’t need to deal with the principal.”

    Emma sniffed. “Only if Cartman deletes the video.”

    “Not on your life, you ginger-haired freak,” said Eric.

    “Eric?” I asked. I really just wanted to get to class. “It’s not worth it.”

    Eric looked at me and then back at the girls. He let out a sigh and tapped on his phone. “Fine. It’s gone.”

    “Can we all just go to class now?” I asked. There was a reason I preferred to hang around the guys than the girls of this school. It was far less complicated.

    Emma looked at me oddly. “Yeah. Keep your boyfriend under control. We all remember what happened with Heidi Turner when she didn’t.”

    “Eric’s just a friend,” I said.

    “Right,” Emma said and walked away. As her friends joined her, she casually turned her head back toward me. “Oh, Taylor, I smelled something funny near your locker. You didn’t leave anything in there over the holidays, did you?”

    I blinked. “I don’t think so…”

    “You should go check it out!” Emma called, and I really couldn’t help but wonder what the heck was going on. Emma was never concerned about me these days. Something had to be up.

    “I’ll go check it out and get to class afterward,” I said. “Cover for me with Mrs. Knott, Kyle.”

    “Okay, dude,” Kyle said and gave me a thumbs-up. We split up in the hallway so the boys could get to their morning classes, and I could get my locker. Hopefully whatever it was, it wasn’t too bad. I really didn’t want to have to ask the janitorial staff for help cleaning it up.

    My locker was on the second floor of Winslow, one of the reasons it was such a pain in the ass to deal with. There weren’t many active classrooms on this floor; Winslow was a school too big for the number of teachers it actually had. There were maybe a few senior classes that were here, but mostly it was just the lockers. Of which, mine was down the east wing, two lockers from the end. They were typical height High School lockers, taller than me, albeit not by much, and they were a little wider than normal, but that worked well enough.

    When I got near mine, immediately I gagged. I could smell a miasma of ick just on the end of the hallway. I didn’t know how Emma knew it was—fuck, was she really that much of a bitch? Just smelling it, there was no way to tell which locker it came from, but Emma said specifically that it was mine. Pulling my hood up and tightening it helped a bit with the smell, but it didn’t help really enough.

    I got to my locker, and I put in the combination. When I opened it, immediately I let loose the contents of my stomach on the ground. God. Someone had stuffed my locker with just a whole mess of ick. Used feminine hygiene products that smelled like they’d been sitting there for far too fucking long. I threw up again.

    As I was hunched over from throwing up, someone shoved me from behind, pushing me into the pile of ick in my locker. I stepped on something and slipped as the locker door slammed shut behind me. Before I could even stabilize myself, I felt the coat hook on the door dig right through the back of my skull.

    Guess I was missing school today, after all. At least I wasn’t going to have to smell this disgusting shit anymore.

    ****************************************

    “Dude, where’s Taylor?” Stan asked Kyle after his morning class. He and Cartman shared World Studies with her for second period.

    “I don’t know. She never made it to Mrs. Knott’s class,” Kyle said.

    “You don’t think…”

    “The ginger bitch did something to her locker?” Cartman asked. He looked down at his friends. “I don’t care that she’s a girl, guys. I’m going to hit her next time she talks shit like that.”

    “Cartman, you know that’s a bad idea,” Stan said. “You could seriously hurt her. I mean dude, you’re a fucking linebacker. She’s a model.”

    “That, and Hess might come after you,” said Kyle. “Remember what Taylor said about her.”

    “Yeah, yeah,” Cartman said. “Still, she would have to go after The Wall to do it. Let’s go see what’s going on with Taylor’s locker that’s taking her so long.”

    “Next class starts soon though,” Kyle said.

    “Screw that,” Cartman said as he started for the stairs. “Mr. G can lick my balls.”

    “Yeah,” Stan said.

    “Taylor is more important,” Kyle said after a few seconds, following the other two.

    It didn’t take long for the trio to make it up to Taylor’s locker. Immediately, they started gagging at the smell, but the pool of blood at the base of the locker had them worried.

    “Oh, God, who has the combination?” Stan asked.

    “Don’t look at me, dude. Taylor didn’t give it to me.” Kyle shook his head, but he removed one of his mittens. Sparks jumped between his fingers. “I’ll get it open though.”

    “No, you won’t,” Cartman said, and he slipped some claw-tipped rings onto his right hand. He then thrust the claws into the top of the locker and grabbed down to pull. The metal bent back, and with another tug, the locker door was all the way open.

    Taylor’s hooded body hung limply on the door’s coathook, blood dripping down. Flies were landing on her open, unblinking eyes, and some rats had already started to nibble.

    “Oh my God, they killed Taylor!” Stan cried.

    “Those bastards!” Kyle said.

    Then the bell rang.

    Cartman snapped some photos of the inside and of Taylor’s dead body. “This and the video earlier are enough to pin it on Hess. Let’s go ahead and call the cops.”

    “You didn’t delete it?” Kyle asked.

    “Hell no.” Cartman shook his head. “I knew those bitches were up to something. And now Taylor’s dead.”

    “Right,” Stan said. “Justice can be done… and we can deal with class.”

    “Good for us,” Kyle said sarcastically.
     
  13. Threadmarks: Chapter Three: TMI
    ellf

    ellf Making the rounds.

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    Chapter Three

    ************************

    I have never been able to sit by and watch as the cesspool of crime in my city festers. I have lived in Brockton Bay all my life. When I was younger, I decided to take it upon myself to keep this city safe. The Protectorate, New Wave, other Independents... they are unable to do this alone. There are few things that only I can do. Nobody at school knows about my current double life. To them, I am just another sophomore. But tonight, I am Mysterion.

    I narrowed my eyes from my perch on top of the lamp post near the docks. ABB territory. It wasn't super likely that anything worth reporting would happen here this evening, but it was on my patrol route.

    I leaped to the next post, swinging around the lamp and then using my grapnel to turn. My toys were more sophisticated now, of course. I would stand against the darkness in this city. When an innocent cried out in pain, I would be there to soothe it. When the need for justice was felt, it was me who would stand for it. When all hope was lost, I would be that sy—wait, what the Hell?

    Was that... Stan's dad?

    Randy Marsh staggered up to a group of Asian teens smoking something that smelled a lot like weed, and I could practically hear him from here.

    "So, you guys like... have enough of that to share, right?" Mr. Marsh asked.

    "Fuck off, gwailo!" one of them said. "Go away, or Lung might get you!"

    "Oh, that's how it's gonna be, is it?"Mr. Marsh asked. "You wanna go? You wanna go right here? I'll throw down."

    I slapped my face, my hand bouncing off the lenses in my mask. God damnit Mr. Marsh. Drunk and belligerent was the best way to describe his current state. Was I seriously going to have to save Stan's dad from his own stupidity?

    Two switchblades came out and answered my question. Fuck.

    “Oh, you think that makes you big men, do you? I bet you do. Come on, bro. Let’s go.” Mr. Marsh took a sip of whatever bottle he was holding in his right hand. Probably liquor.

    “I’ll take you, gwailo!” One of the Chinese boys stood up. “Come on, old man! Let’s go.”

    “Oh, you wanna go?” Mr. Marsh asked as he started circling the boy. “You wanna go? I’ll throw down right here.”

    “Come on, old guy,” said the punk. He stepped closer into Mr. Marsh’s personal space, knife flickering in the dim light from the street lamps. His friends also stood up, starting to surround Stan’s dad.

    I needed to act fast. My grapnel attached to the lamp nearby, and I swung down, landing behind Stan’s dad with a thump.

    “Oh yeah, I can take them!” Mr. Marsh started swinging his fists with his eyes closed.

    The first punk closed in. I slipped up to him, grabbed his arm in a lock and cracked it. I headbutted his chin, and he dropped.

    “Cape!” The second one cried and I smirked. They started attacking me, rather than Mr. Marsh.

    A dodged punch here, a kick there. I weaved through attacks, using my cape to wrap their arms and swing them into each other. God, I needed this after my last death.

    These guys were actually very slow. Given the weed they’d been smoking—I threw a guy with a lit joint into his friend—I would have thought they wouldn’t fight at all.

    “Leave,” I ordered in my cape voice, and they scurried away. I turned to Stan’s dad. “They’re gone.”

    He stopped swinging and turned to me. “What? Where’d they all go?”

    “Gone.” I stared him down. “And you should go home, not be picking fights with random people for weed.”

    It was shit weed anyway. Stan’s dad really needed better taste, and judging from how that bottle smelled, his taste in liquor was lacking too.

    “Oh, I’m sorry… I thought this was America!” Mr. Marsh stared me down. “I’m sorry, I thought this was America! Because in America, we have freedom. Isn’t this America?”

    “Get home, Mister Marsh. You’re drunk,” I said and I used my grapnel to get onto a lamp post, swinging around it so I could perch on top. Using my grapnel again, I alighted myself on a balcony, and then I jumped from balcony to balcony until I hit the fire escape. After climbing it to the roof, I looked down.

    Mr. Marsh was staggering, but I could still hear his rants about America and uppity capes. Stan better be appreciative of this. He looked down at the ground, presumably for the weed the ABB guys had been smoking, and on seeing that it wasn’t there, he grumbled and staggered off.

    I could be going and hunting down Nazis tonight. I had a lead on some Empire initiation thing going on in the next few nights, but no, I had to make sure Stan’s dad didn’t do something extremely stupid and hurt himself.

    Mr. Marsh made it out of the alley and continued his walk. “Gotta do something about… Fascists…”

    My friend’s dad needed me more than my city at the moment. I’d have to let the other heroes do their thing. I wouldn’t even be able to snag a glance at Aegis or Glory Girl tonight.

    I flipped onto the next roof, still following Stan’s dad. I looked ahead on his path. There. He couldn’t seriously be headed for that liquor store, could he?

    A grapnel up ahead of him let me see the inside of the liquor store. Asian-run, as most things were in this part of town. Except the best Chinese restaurant in town. It was run by an insane white man who only thought he was Chinese. Still, he did pay pretty well when I had that job.

    Inside the liquor store was a problem. A man in a black bodysuit with a belt and bandoleer of knives and grenades on it stood at the counter. He wore a demonic mask with a leering, fanged, ear-to-ear grin. It was clearly Japanese in style, crimson with two green stripes on either side. Fuck. It was Oni Lee, and Mr. Marsh was headed straight in for him.

    One option would be to knock Stan’s dad out. I’d have to use the stun gun I had, but it’d probably be effective on the man. Another would be to—fuck, I was deliberating too long. He’d already gone inside.

    I used my grapnel to land on the overhang. I’d swing in and save Mr. Marsh again if I needed to.

    “I’m sorry, I just wanted to spend my American dollars on more American booze because this is America, not some other shitty country that got eaten by an Endbringer,” said Stan’s dad.

    I slapped my face again. God, he was drunk.

    “You are too drunk to make this purchase, white man.” I had not heard Oni Lee speak often, but I had heard him before. It surprised me that he would even care how drunk someone was. “This place is under ABB protection. Leave.”

    “Oh, fuck you, you rice-eating demon-masked cape!” I heard the tapping of flesh on something. “It’s capes like you that give this city a bad name! It’s capes like you that make people afraid! But I’m not afraid of you! So, come on. Let’s go, bro! You’re not going to stop me from my booze, bro. This is America!”

    “This is Lung’s territory,” growled Oni Lee.

    I swung in through the open front door, landing lightly. Mr. Marsh was circling Oni Lee. The cape in question was fingering one of his knives. I knew he knew how to use it.

    “Oni Lee,” I said, in my cape voice. “Let the man go.”

    “Oh, you,” said Stan’s dad. “Mysterion… what the hell are you doing here? They won’t let me buy my booze.”

    “You’ve had enough, Mister Marsh,” I said. “You should have gone home.”

    “He is being insulting,” said Oni Lee. “The insult against Lung will not be borne.”

    “He’s drunk and disorderly,” I said. “Let him go in peace.”

    Mr. Marsh started humming a few strains of that one Bad Canary song about a fight, as if he were revving himself up.

    Oni Lee tilted his mask at Stan’s dad. I could almost see the gears turning under that mask. “Fine. But he leaves now.”

    “I’ll make him,” I said. I hoped Stan would forgive me for doing this, but I doubted his dad would remember any of this in the morning. “Mr. Marsh, I saw your wife with another man!”

    “What?” Stan’s dad stood up straight and looked around. “I need to get home. Sharon? Shaaron!”

    He ran out of the liquor store and in the vague general direction of his house, leaving me alone with Oni Lee, his backup and the owners.

    “Thank you,” I said, looking at Oni Lee. The shop owners echoed my thanks to the cape. “If we have further business, let us complete it outside.”

    “Your head is not on my list today, Mysterion,” said Oni Lee. Funny because it had been before. I did not like fighting the teleporting cloner. I’d sooner fight Lung than Oni Lee.

    “You are a criminal, Oni Lee,” I said. “But today is not the day we fight.”

    I pulled out a string of firecrackers and with a minor use of energy manipulation, I lit it and threw it to the ground. As they went off, I ran out of the liquor store and used my grapnel to get back on the roof.

    I could have continued my patrol, but it was a school night. I was trying harder at school, and I needed to be fresh for the next morning. The city still festers, but I managed to save a relatively innocent life this evening.

    It could have been a lot worse.

    It took a bit of rooftop running and swinging before I managed to make it home. It was easy enough to enter the house through my bedroom window. It was nice and private, and I was certain that I could enter unnoticed.

    Once inside, I took off the Mysterion costume, becoming, once again, normal teenage girl, Taylor Hebert. I’d already completed my homework, and I was almost ready to just collapse on the bed, but there were some sounds that bore investigating.

    Still wearing my mask, though the rest of the outfit was removed, I crept out of my bedroom toward the source of the noise. A giggle here, and a repeated squeaking sound there… Was that coming from the living room?

    I made my way down the stairs, and I… really, really wish I hadn’t seen what I saw. My father was completely naked in the living room, but that wasn’t all. Next to him was Cartman’s mother in a similar state of dress. I say next to, but I mean more or less on top of.

    My dad and Cartman’s mom… I hope Dad at least used protection. Who knew what a whore like Mrs. Cartman had in her history?

    Oh. Oh God. They were having sex. This was too much. I knew where my dad kept things. I walked over to the gun cabinet and popped the lock. This was not going to be pleasant, but living in a world where that happened…

    I shot myself. Dead. It was better than dealing with that.

    ******************************

    Standing outside the home of Taylor and Daniel Hebert was a young man who knew far too much. A grin came to his face as he saw Mysterion swing into Taylor’s window. “Yes, yes Mysterion. I’m sure you will join me soon enough. After all, there’s something happening that you can’t change.”

    He looked in through the living room window, and after gagging a bit at the initial sight, he laughed wildly and evilly. “Soon! Soon, Mysterion. Now you see the truth! Now you see what’s happening behind closed doors… What will you do, hero? What will you do knowing that your dad is fucking Cartman’s mom?”

    Mysterion turned away and walked over to the gun cabinet in the dining room. Yeah, he knew who this person was, but this seemed a bit out of character. Good.

    “Yes… do it, Mysterion. Turn. Turn to my side and become the villain I know you can be.” The young man laughed.

    His laughter continued until Mysterion put her mouth over the barrel of the gun. “What? No!”

    Mysterion clearly fired the gun, and brain matter and skull matter ejected from her skull.

    “Oh… fiddlesticks.”
     
    Katman, Ganurath, Ergy and 7 others like this.
  14. Threadmarks: Chapter Four: Oh, Jeeze
    ellf

    ellf Making the rounds.

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    Chapter Four

    ******************

    School these days, for the most part, sucks. Not because I’m bad at it. Far from it. I would have one of the highest grades in each of my classes, but it turns out that death isn’t an excuse for missing homework. At least if you don’t stay dead, that is.

    Another reason that it sucks are the petty attempts at bullying some of the other kids try. Usually, they do it when they only share a class with me, not any of my friends, goaded on by Emma. I’m still not sure why she has a problem with me these days. Eric, sure. He has that issue with redheads, but me? Go figure. Of course, since she has the issue, most of her friends do too.

    Some are just not exactly wise about how they do it.

    “Seriously, Madison?” I glared at the shorter girl from where I stood. Madison was one of Emma’s clique; she joined that group here in Winslow. She was one of those short, cute girls who thought they could get away with anything. About half the time, she was right. With our normal World Studies teacher, she would get away with this easily. But Gladly wasn’t here right now.

    “What's that, Taylor? You sound all muffled.” Honestly, her voice tended to piss me off a little. That slight tone of innocence just bugged me.

    “My hood isn't even fucking up,” I said and flicked her off. I pointed at my seat and dipped almost into my cape voice but not quite. “Clean that glue off my chair.”

    “I don't know what you're talking about.”

    “Bullshit,” I said. “I literally saw you. Clean it up before Gladly gets in here and I might not be mad.”

    “Ooh… what are you going to do to me, Taylor?” Madison asked in a fake-scared voice. “Fuck you, bitch. Sit in it or clean it yourself.”

    “Hey!” Eric stepped up behind me. “I don’t think you heard her, short stack.”

    “Oh, shut the fuck up, fat boy!” One of Madison’s friends, Julia, stepped up next to her. “This doesn’t involve you.”

    “You either, but look who just stepped up… yes,” Eric said. He placed a hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “How about the two of you clean up this mess or…”

    “Oh, screw you, Cartman,” said Madison. “I don’t have to clean this up.”

    “You did it,” I said. “Fix it.”

    “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

    “Hey! Respect her authority,” Eric said, stretching out the last syllable so there was a bit more in there. “Better still, respect mine and clean that shit up!”

    "Shut up you fat fu—"

    Madison was cut off by the door being slammed open. That was a little strange. Gladly never slammed open the door. He was kind of a pushover of a teacher. Nothing like... I did a double take on who was entering.

    "No fucking way," Eric said, and I echoed the sentiment.

    The man was bald, a bit shorter than Eric, and a hell of a lot thinner. He wore a green collared shirt and forest green dress pants over top of black loafers. He had square-frame glasses and he looked... about the same as the last time I saw him, in fourth grade. He really had aged gracefully… well, as gracefully as he could, given his looks.

    “All right, class, sorry I'm late, but that absolute cunt of a secretary wouldn't tell me where this classroom was and made me have to ask your computers teacher,” said the man as he walked up to the board. He looked it over and frowned. He then wrote his name on the board. “To introduce myself, I am Mr. Garrison. I will be taking over as your new World Studies teacher.”

    “Oh neat, it's another Mr. G...” Julia said.

    Garrison turned and looked directly at her. “Excuse me? Did you just say something without raising your hand first?”

    Madison raised her hand. Oh, wonderful.

    “Yes, Miss... Clements, was it?” Garrison looked at a clipboard and then at the girl. I could only imagine what he must have thought when looking at her. Of course, I wasn’t entirely sure that my imagination was entirely accurate. I didn’t like Madison much, after all.

    “Yes. What happened to our old teacher? He let us call him Mr. G.”

    “Oh, jeeze,” Garrison said and looked away from Madison for a second. “Gladly retired early. He won some money in some major contest and didn't want to be around you little fuckers anymore. I got drafted. Let me get two things straight. One. I am here to be your teacher, not your friend. Two. Anyone who calls me 'Mr. G' will lose two points off their grade for each time you do it. Only little pussies trying to seem cool let their students do that.”

    “Weak,” Eric said. “I think you should suck my balls.”

    Mr. Garrison smirked. “Okay. Whip ‘em out. And raise your hand while you’re at it.”

    I snorted and nudged my friend. “Gross, dude. You know he'll do it too.”

    “What?” Eric asked.

    “You heard me, Eric,” Garrison said. “Whip them out.”

    “Gross,” Eric said and laughed.

    I swatted Eric on the side, using only a slight bit of energy manipulation as I did so. He rubbed his shoulder.

    Taylor Hebert,” Garrison said, and immediately the rest of the class jeered.

    “Yes?” I asked, unconcerned. Garrison was always fair to me in the past, even if he wasn’t the greatest teacher.

    “Why did—” He did a literal doubletake when he looked me over. “Your hood is down.”

    “Yes. It’s been down before,” I said. Admittedly, it wasn’t often in his class, but I did do it sometimes.

    “You’re…” Garrison looked where he was. “Please come see me after class.”

    “What for?” I asked. “I didn’t put the glue on my desk.”

    “Glue on your—oh Christ,” Garrison said. “Who did that?”

    Eric raised his hand. “It was Madison Clements, Mr. Garrison.”

    “No, it wasn’t!” Madison said. “Taylor put it on there herself. We all saw her! Didn’t we?”

    “Why the Hell would I do it myself?” I asked. “I’m not going to sit in glue.”

    Garrison just walked over to the desk and started pulling out drawers. Eventually, he pulled out a set of wipes. “Here. I’ll clean it off. Then we can start class and deal with it. I don’t like lying in my classroom, and the truth will come out soon enough.”

    It didn’t take him long to clean off my desk, and he patted it. “There you go, Taylor.”

    I took my seat and Garrison went to the front of the classroom.

    “Now, who can tell me what Gladly was teaching you last?” Garrison asked.

    A few people raised their hands.

    “You,” Garrison said, pointing at one of the boys. Greg, a blond-haired blue-eyed boy that occasionally sat at our table at lunch. At least until we got tired of dealing with him.

    “Mister G was teaching us about the Protectorate,” Greg said.

    “Of course, he was,” Garrison said, and he opened the desk. “Couldn’t leave any of his notes here, could he? Well, fuck it. We’re doing it anyway.”

    Garrison turned to the board. “So, the Protectorate. And the world. Well, this is World Studies, so we have to examine how they affect the world. I’m sure everyone here knows that the Protectorate started with just four members. Who can name them?”

    Half the class had their hands up. I chose to keep mine down for now.

    “Yes, you.” Garrison pointed.

    Julia spoke up, “Alexandria, Legend, Eidolon, and Hero.”

    “Oh, I’m sorry, Miss Sturgis, but you only got three out of four. That’s a seventy-five percent, which is only barely passing.” Garrison looked around the room. “Anyone else?”

    “I got all of them right!” Julia said. “What do you mean I got three out of four?”

    I raised my hand.

    “Yes, Taylor?” Garrison asked.

    “Her full name is Library of Alexandria,” I said.

    “And isn’t that just a pretentious cape name?” Garrison asked as he started writing on the board. In big block vertically-aligned letters, he wrote out the word “PARAHUMAN.” He smirked and turned to us. “Now class, I’m going to explain to you just what a cape actually is.”

    He wrote down the rest of a word. “The first definition of parahuman is ‘pretentious;’ the costumes. Just look at the costumes. Even the cool ones are dumb as hell. Only someone who is especially pretentious would do that. The next definition is ‘assholes;’ parahumans will steal your men, girls and boys. Some will even steal the clothes off your back. The next one is ‘raucous’ and that defines all cape fights. They’re just crazy to be near.”

    I tuned out Garrison for the rest of the lesson. It seemed like he was on one of his rants again. I assumed that whoever his latest boyfriend was, the person ended up leaving him for a cape. At least this time, he wasn’t trying to go for a proof that gay people couldn’t raise children. I doubted we’d have homework on his first day, and I was going to be talking with him after class anyway.

    Ultimately, class ended far sooner than Garrison wanted. He had more after lunch, but neither Eric nor I were in it. Kyle and Stan were, though. I didn’t envy them with how he was today.

    The moment the bell rang, I stood up and walked up to the teacher.

    “Let’s let the class finish filing out before we talk, Taylor,” said Mr. Garrison.

    “Okay,” I said, shrugging. “Not sure what you wanted to talk with me about.”

    “You’ll know,” he said with a smile and he addressed the rest of the class. “All right, class, now tomorrow we’ll get more into the material. I want you to read an article on the Protectorate before class and prepare to present some material on it.”

    Vague affirmations happened as the rest of the class filed out. Eric made to hang back, but I waved him onward, and he snorted before walking out. I hoped I could get to the lunch room before Eric decided that I was taking too long and ate my lunch.

    “Okay, Taylor,” said Mr. Garrison. “I wanted to talk with you about a couple things.”

    I adjusted my glasses a bit. “Okay…”

    “The first is… how long have you been a girl?” Mr. Garrison asked.

    I coughed. “What?”

    “You’re a girl.”

    “Yes. I am,” I said. “Born and raised one.”

    “But you were a boy,” said Mr. Garrison.

    “I could have sworn the teachers knew the truth,” I said. “Didn’t the roster say that I was a girl back then?”

    “Oh, who pays attention to those shitty things?” asked Mr. Garrison. “So, you’re seriously a girl.”

    “Yes.”

    “And you hung out with Eric, Kyle and Stan,” he said.

    “Still do, actually. Not as much with Emma these days, though,” I said.

    “Oh. Jeeze.” Garrison shook his head. “Okay… now, what was with the glue on your seat?”

    The teachers at this school rarely paid any attention to this before, which is why Eric had taken it on himself to act as he did. Maybe Garrison would be different. As odd a teacher as he’d been before, he still had some care about his students.

    “Bullying attempts.” I shrugged. “I think the girls of the school don’t like that I hang out with my boys. Wendy’s the only one who doesn’t care, and she’s Stan’s girlfriend.”

    “Attempts?” Garrison asked.

    Well, I couldn’t tell him that they’d killed me multiple times in said bullying attempts. Given I was standing in front of him, there was little way he’d believe me, or worse, he would and I’d be dragged before the PRT.

    “Petty shit, really,” I said. “Ignoring it doesn’t make it go away, but neither does standing up against it.”

    “And nobody’s done anything?” Garrison asked. “Christ, that’s just stupid. Listen Taylor, here’s what you need to do. If someone acts as your enemy, you need to man up, track them down, and fuck them to death.”

    “What?” I asked.

    “You need to fuck them to death!” Garrison said. “It’s the only way to be sure. I haven’t quite figured out how to do that to an Endbringer yet, but I will. And when I do, you can bet your ass I’ll be first to do it.”

    I rubbed my temples. “Mr. Garrison, I’m a girl.”

    “Oh. Right. That probably wouldn’t work that well then. And you’re a minor. Shit. Don’t tell Blackwell that I said this,” Garrison said.

    “Got it,” I said.

    “And when you’re eighteen, then you can go and fuck them all to death. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

    I slapped my forehead and suppressed a gag. “I’m… I’m going to go to lunch now.”

    Assuming I hadn’t lost my appetite.

    “Fine, fine. Don’t forget your article, Taylor,” said Mr. Garrison.

    “Yeah…” I shook my head and walked out of the room. It was time for lunch, and… fuck.

    That was a group of girls blocking my way to the lunch room.

    “Stand clear!” Eric’s voice rang out from behind me. “The Wall is coming through!”

    Eric scooped me up in one arm and held out his other hand. “It’s lunchtime you butt munches, and nobody is going to keep me and my friend from our Cheesy Poofs.”

    He pushed through the crowd. Anyone foolish enough to get in his way was summarily shoved, so most just made their way out of it. Emma actually looked mad as we passed her, but I really couldn’t bring myself to care. I still didn’t know what the Hell her issue was, but eventually, I’d figure it out.

    “Come on, Taylor. Let’s get our lunch, god damnit,” said Eric. “And then when Stan and Kyle show up, we can talk about the plan.”

    “Okay,” I said. “You can put me down now.”

    Eric did so, and we got in line for our lunch. It really was a pity that Winslow didn’t have someone as good as Chef, but then nobody really did anymore. He was always and will always be missed.

    Of course, I wondered what Eric’s plan was, exactly. I was sure it would be fun though.

    It usually was.
     
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