As you can probably tell by me posting this, I finally got around to reading Worm. This idea has nestled its way into my head during December fully and utterly.

  Also, Nazi's will be Nazi's. Aka, terrible people. Who say terrible things. Things that nobody should approve of.

  Also, relevant Royal Road crosspost information here.

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  Honk! Honk!

  “Watch where you're going, bitch!”

  “Fuck you, taint licker!” The cab sped off, whether the driver heard my voice or cared for the insult was a mystery. The words were mine. The voice?

  Wasn't.

  I stepped back from the curb, head spinning. What? How? Where? My mind was in a fog. Why was I outside? How did I get here? Why did my voice sound different?

  Shaking my head to try and clear out some of the clouds inside, I looked around. It was a street, cars going by, buildings looming overhead. Had I wandered downtown by mistake? Had I sleepwalked out of my apartment and nobody disturbed or woke me up for miles on foot?

  No, the buildings were too tall. Looking for the street revealed that they just kept going. Too many cars, too many people. And most importantly of all?

  I didn’t sleepwalk. Ever. Nor were the clothes I was wearing anything I slept in. Jeans and a hoodie was fine enough for cold weather wear. But sleeping? No thank you!

  My fingers were digging through my pockets. Keys. I wouldn't have left my apartment without my keys. Maybe not entirely useful but it was.

  Phone! That was possibly better than keys! At least, keys could be replaced and all that. With a phone, I could at least figure out where I was! Quickly drawing on the keypad, unlocking the device and bringing up maps, I got a single response.

  No signal.

  There were no bars. No g internet. No location or even VPN.

  How? I was in the middle of a damn bustling city? How the fuck did I not have a single scrap of data connection? This wasn't like 1950?

  No, cars looked modern. Modern enough, as was everyone's clothes. I wasn't a fashion person, but everything looked, for the most part, what I was used to.

  What the hell was going on? This wasn't the city I was from, but the nip in the air made it clear it was still winter. Did someone just kidnap me and pull me to another city?

  That didn't make any sense either! Why would I be left outside if someone had? Leaving my phone still in my pocket, hell, randomly changing my voice for what? Shits and giggles? If this was a kidnapping this was one of the strangest kidnappings I ever heard of.

  I slip the phone into my pocket. It may have been useless when it came to checking the internet, but I still had important stuff on it. Right now, I just needed to find out where the hell I was.

  If this was someone's version of a prank, I wasn't happy. Whoever did this to me was going to get beaten with a rock!

  Beginning to walk, I let myself get carried in a random direction. Why not ask someone? I mean, come on! Interact with people? Yeah, how would you react if some random stranger just walked up to you and asked what city they were in? You'd probably think they were crazy, or on drugs.

  I was only one of those things, thank you very much! A lance of pain throbbed through my head, a low hiss leaving my mouth. Police? Yeah, they'd probably have other more important shit to worry about. If they didn't just blow me off for the same reasons.

  I'd find my way back home on my own. I couldn't have gotten that far.

  Right?

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  “Ocean.”

  Alright, it's safe to say that I was certainly no longer in Kansas anymore! Lured in by the smell of salt in the air, which did something to calm my raging headache, I could see it. Glistening out towards the horizon, far larger than anything lake ever could be.

  Not that I lived anywhere close to any of those either, mind you. Don't think most lakes tended to have oil rigs, either.

  Alright, the police were on the table at this point. Probably should have been on the table in first place, but no, I'm stubborn. Was I even in the same country anymore? Oh yes, everyone was largely speaking English, but cold countries where that was the dominant language was what? Three out of the four?

  Another lance of pain shot through my head. Fuck. It might not be getting worse, but it certainly was getting more frequent. Someone was pissing on my plate right now. Getting it all over my hypothetical dinner.

  Time to find a police station. Cell phone still wasn't working and I didn't have any money on hand. That wasn't going to be too hard of a task. There had to be more than a few around here somewhere.

  Another light hiss leaves my throat as another stab of pain curls inside my brain.

  Fuck you, whatever this bullshit is!

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  Was I being followed? I was wandering around at this point. But the fact I hadn't seen a single police car or station was wild. Was it just bad luck? Or were there simply fewer of those around?

  Looking down an alleyway revealed far too many gang signs and trash for this to be a city with fewer cops. Even the city I live in wasn't this bad.

  Wasn't saying much at the end of the day.

  But for the question, was I being followed? Maybe? I was going with the flow of people where I could, so that could have been the case. But my head was pounding, the number of people was more than enough to grind on my nerves. Made worse by the increasingly frequent lances of pain that went through my skull.

  But coming fresh off being, again, wherever the hell this is? Clearly not of my own free will? Maybe I was being paranoid. But if the world was out to get you? Was it really paranoia? And someone had to have done something. You don't end up in an entirely different city just by going to sleep!

  If I was being followed, there was a way to shake them. Shake the stalkers, find a police station, and someone to get me a damn aspirin.

  Because my head freaking hurt!

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  Head. Fuck.

  My vision was swimming. Why was it hurting? What the fuck was in my system right now? I couldn't see them, but someone was talking in the distance. I don't think it was because of my vision. They were saying, something. About a donation? To the local hospital? Something about, Behemoth?

  What's a Behemoth, anyway? Was this a hospital? Fuck, I might need a hospital right now. Why didn't I think about that in the first place? Good place to find some form of legal authorities. Probably had plenty of aspirin to go around.

  I felt something solid underneath me. Ground? Grass? Both?

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  Then, my eyes snapped too. Not to the world around me, but something strange. It was large, larger than anything I had ever seen before. It danced in a void full of stars, twisting with two equally massive bodies, as if their interaction held the secrets of the universe.

  But within the twisting mass, there was something more. A small crystal, suspended inside like a prisoner. Or a lab subject. A caged animal to experiment on. It was.

  It was.

  I blinked, eyes coming too. What? What was that? There was, something? A crystal? Each attempt to grab at the fleeting memory only made it slip though my fingers all the faster. Like grains of sand.

  Blinking the last bit of fog out of my eyes, I looked around. My fingers came up to rub my temple, as if it would somehow soothe my brain. But it was. The pressure in my head was, if nothing else, no longer getting worse. Was that an anxiety attack?

  My fingers were quaking against my skin, arms shaking. There had to be something more. I'd never had an attack like that before, much less like.

  My mind turned and struggled. I was missing something. But try as I might, I couldn't recall a single piece of information. I was maybe kidnapped. Extremely stressed. If that wasn't a recipe for my anxiety flaring up, nothing else would be.

  Pushing myself up, using the wall as a support. The brick and mortar was painted white, but at the same time? The place didn't look like a hospital, either. As for the man? It sounded like he had stopped talking.

  Knowing my luck, this was some private building. Not much help was going to be found there, kidnapping or not. This was so fucking stupid. How hard was it to even find a police car or something!

  I scowled, ignoring the lingering pain as I began to move. Whoever did this to me, I swear, was going to have my fist so far up their ass, they were going to have my knuckles coming out of their throat!

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  How hard was it to find a damn cop in this city! Seriously, I couldn't see hide or hair of them! Nothing! There is no way they just didn't exist!

  After spending the rest of the day running around, unable to find anything of use, here I was. In an alley. Because I had no money for a hotel, and I sure as hell didn't know where the homeless shelter was either!

  If there was a saving grace, it was that my clothes were warm.

  That's it. Between my fuming and that fact I was out on the street?

  I wasn't getting any sleep tonight. In the slightest. Fear was there. I'd never been on the street before. Not like this. Never like this. But fear was quick to turn over into anger. A far more pointable emotion. As of now, I had nobody to blame. But someone was responsible for this. Someone or something. Either way, I wanted to hurt it.

  A noise at the front of the alley snapped me from my thoughts. It didn't take long to rise to my feet. Not helped by the source, three people, two men and a woman, were taking their sweet time. Even without the knives, I knew trouble when I saw it.

  My hand slid over a nearby trashcan lid, fingers gripping around the handle. It was an old, dingy thing. The type you see in old shows.

  It could have been the light, but all three looked pretty pale, fair skinned, like me. One was bald, with the beginnings of a beer belly, the other man sporting a hat that covered his head. He was younger and looked more muscular, but a cruel glint was in his eyes. The woman had blonde hair, done up in a ponytail, hanging towards the back.

  They look they were giving me at best meant one thing.

  That they thought I was an easy target.

  “Well, look at the little Irish freak. Run out of drugs little bird?” the first man spoke, already setting my teeth to a grind. He wasn't wrong about me being Irish, but I didn’t have any of the stereotypical features. My mom was the closest, but I was Irish mostly on my dad's side.

  “She's got her hair short, too. Got to wonder if she's a dike. Didn't know the Merchants took those,” the lady sneered, glaring at me. Really? Did the sweatshirt make me look that feminine?

  Didn't change that I lifted the trash lid, holding it partially in front of myself like a shield.

  “What? Do you actually think you can fight us?” The fitter of the men barked out a laugh.

  “Yes,” my voice still didn't sound right to my ears. But I kept it as neutral as I could. At ease, even. Fear and anger were boiling inside in a mix.

  Fear because they were armed and I wasn't. Fear that I was outnumbered. Anger because these fuckers wanted to threaten me now, of all days! Anger because in the end?

  Just another damn group of bullies. And elementary had given me a far greater grasp of their type than I should. Speak firmly. Don't back down. Show your spine.

  And don't make a threat you don't intend to keep.

  So it wasn't why I was too surprised when they stopped, looking between themselves. Bullies. Not used to when people even considered fighting back.

  “Do you know who we are, you dumb bitch!” The woman shouted. Before I could get out a no, I don't care, she continued. “We're the Empire 88! Everyone fears us!”

  Empire 88? Was that some type of gang? Had to be. But why a?

  One man is bald. Another man with short hair at best. Skinheads. No tattoos, but it was cold enough to have little exposed skin. Eight is the eighth letter of the alphabet. Empire HH.

  Nazis. Nazi gang members. What type of shithole city has a Nazi gang?

  “So you're quislings, then?” My feet shifted beneath me, a guarded stance. There was a fine line between telling a bully to get bent, and starting to pick a fight. But my anger?

  Bubbling over. Every part of me vibrated, tense. Dreading what they could do to me, but at the same time, wanting to make them hurt. I hated Nazi's.

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” The younger man glared at me. Quisling was a French word. Used to describe Nazi collaborators during the Reich's occupation of France. I kinda like that word.

  In part because I doubt any Nazi's in the States had a clue to what it meant.

  “Does it matter? This druggy trash was dead the moment she stepped into Empire territory!” The fatter man shouted, lunging at me with the knife in his hand. Metal clanged against metal as I brought up the lid as a shield.

  I didn't know the metal the lid was made out of. Something like tin or poor grade steel. Too thin and weak to stop a good steel knife particularly well. But it was what I had on hand.

  But it held, the pressure increasing as I was pushed backwards. Then came the crack, the sound of metal breaking, a shout of surprise. With a push, I stepped forward, into the staggering man. Thrusting my arm forward, I slammed the lid into his face.

  Metal met flesh. I could hear a crunch. Something broke, most likely his nose. I let my moment carry me forward, throwing a low kick into the side of his knee. That was enough to send him tumbling to the ground, the hilt of the broken knife clattering to the ground. He was down. I didn't know for how long, but he was.

  Confidence hit my system seconds after the adrenaline had to. The younger one came in, my grip on the shield changing to block the knife arm, throwing it aside. His fist smashed into the side of my head, jaw rattling from the impact. I reached out with intention, but was unable to see my target. My fingers sunk into the inside of his elbow, holding it in place for a few moments.

  The movement was akin to a punch, sending the rim of the lid into the man's chest. Once. Twice. Three times. Each blow caused the man to let out a grunt of pain. Even as I was surprised the lid hadn't deformed from the blows. The fourth blow caught him on the jaw as he sagged to the ground.

  “You bitch!” The lady was coming in from my right, coming out of a blind spot. The lid was in my left hand, too far out of position even as I tried to bring it around. My right arm came up, partially by instinct, but an attempt to shield the more important parks of my body.

  The light in her eyes was feral as she brought the knife down towards me. I tried not to close my eyes, to brace for the impact. A knife to the arm was dangerous, but the pain was. If I blacked out here? I would be at their mercy. The last place anyone wanted to be.

  As the knife descended, it felt as if time had slowed down. Like I was about to watch my stabbing through a recording. There was a feeling. A feeling of cold that went up over my left arm, and over my shoulders. Like a writhing snake, but cold to the touch. Almost as if.

  It was metal.

  The knife came down.

  Clang!

  The ring of metal on metal echoed throughout the alley. Both me and the woman's eyes were wide with shock, and for the first time, there seemed to be fear in her eyes.

  My hand was coated in what looked like a metal gauntlet. It shined like the metal lid, moreso, even. Fitting to my hand like a glove made of metal, I stared at it in wonder. What? What was this? Since when could I?

  “You're a Cape!” The woman's shout snapped me out of my thoughts, backing away out of fear. Cape? That had to be slang for something. What?

  Well, what didn't matter. Not exactly. What mattered is that whatever a Cape was?

  She feared it.

  With a step, I moved closer to the woman swinging her knife randomly, trying to ward me off. I caught the blade with my right hand, preparing to pull it from her hands. Something clicked after a moment.

  It was like I could feel the metal. Like the metal part of what I had on my hand. So when the woman once again pulled on the knife.

  All she got was the hilt. A bladeless hilt. I grinned, holding up my hand to show her how the blade melted and fused with the gauntlet. It was fascinating, flowing like a liquid, yet it still felt firm.

  That was enough for her to turn around and try to run.

  Not like I was going to let her. As she turned, I reached out with my hands, metal beginning to flow. It was mine to mold. Mine to shape. I pushed it, a half circle forming in the palm of my hand. As my fingers closed around her wrist, the rest of the metal flowed, surrounding it.

  “What?” As she shouted in confusion, I swiped, releasing her wrist, leaving behind a thin trail of metal as I grabbed her other wrist, modeling the medal around it, before pulling. Her arms folded backwards until she could no longer move them.

  Keeping a firm grasp on her, I looked around, finding a nearby streetcar at the mouth of the alley. Ignoring her screams of protest, I created a third loop, making it fit around the pole.

  Handcuffs. A breath rattled its way through my lungs. I had made, handcuffs.

  Blood was roaring through my veins at a mile a minute. I'd just fought three Nazi's. I nearly got stabbed!

  How lucky was I to be alive! I could control metal by touching it!

  I.

  Needed to arrest the other two. That's what this was, right? Some sort of citizen's arrest? I should probably check if they were still alive first.

  The first man was trying to get back up, his beer belly shaking even through his clothes. Using the metal from his broken knife to make another set of cuffs, placing him next to his compatriot. His knee wasn't broken as far as I could tell, as he would be making a lot more noise if I had. But his nose certainly was, leaking blood down toward his mouth.

  As for the second man? He was out of it. I don't think I did enough damage to cause internal bleeding. Like the first man, his nose was bleeding, but that seemed like the worst of it. Maybe a concussion? Most likely the worst of it, outside of wounded pride.

  But that wasn't a wound, and I doubt bootlicks had much real pride to begin with. So number three joined his fellow Nazi's handcuffed to the pole of shame.

  Which raised one final question.

  What was I going to do with them? They were gang members, there could be more skulking about. And with all the noise? No gunshots, but more could still be coming. Sticking around wasn't a great idea. Even with the whole, touch based metal manipulation thing.

  Still processing that, but one problem at a time.

  My phone still wouldn't be working, so I couldn't call the cops to pick them up, either. It wasn't likely that any of them had phones on them. Going out to hunt minorities as part of a gang while keeping their phones on them would be a stupid idea.

  Then again, they were Nazi's. And Nazi's were stupid.

  “Hey! What are you doing you!”

  “Do us both a favor and shut the fuck up,” I ground out, grabbing the phone from the man's pocket with my right hand, still covered in metal. I expected I would need to threaten the man into compliance to even unlock the thing, but it was an old flip phone.

  Lucky me.

  Looking around to make sure I got the street names, pressed in the numbers. 911.

  “Hello? Is this the police? I would like to report an,” what even would I call that? Besides a hate crime? “Attempted mugging. Outside of an alleyway near 51st and Jefferson.”

  “Ma'am stay with me,” a firm voice came from the other end. Jesus, did my voice sound that feminine, too? “Can you describe the attackers and the victim?”

  Yeah, I should have figured that wouldn't be enough. How did I want to play this?

  If I could manipulate metal just by touching it, what are the odds that there were other people running around with powers? Superheroes, if you would. Maybe even supervillains. There had to be. Cape was not a term that could spring up just overnight.

  I didn't have a costume. No mask. That was a potential risk. As much as I damn well needed the police right now, there were actual concerns now. Fuck me. I couldn't stick around. As much as I wanted the police to help me with my own shit, I doubt I could trust them with powers.

  God really was pissing on my plate.

  “Ma'am? Are you still with me?” The voice on the other end said, snapping me out of my thoughts. Ma'am? Again with this ma'am stuff! Well, I suppose if that was the hand I was being held, then it was the hand I would play.

  “I'm sorry, it just happened so fast. I saw three people, a bald older man, a shaved younger man, and a young woman start trying to attack some poor lady with knives,” I did my best to sell the idea that I was freaking out. “She did something to them, tied them to a pole, then ran off down Jefferson!”

  Yeah right, I was going to head down 51st, but that would help throw them off my scent.

  “Something? Do you mean there is parahuman involvement, ma'am?” The person on the other end asked. Parahuman? What the hell was that? Another word for Cape? That almost made it sound like mutants.

  “I, don't know. Like I said, it all happened so fast,” the line went quiet for a moment.

  “Altight ma'am, I've sent it over to the PRT. Agents should be on their way soon. Please, stay where you are.”

  Then the line cut out. PRT? What the hell is that? Something like swat?

  Well, either way, that was the cops alerted. I don't know if this would hold up in court, but I wasn't sticking around. They would point the figure at me for having powers, and that would be that. Better for them to be viewed as crazy. One way or another, they would have time in jail, and their memory of me would have time to fade. I can deal with the police and get this whole kidnapping thing figured out when there was a little less attention on me.

  I let the phone drop out of my right hand, hitting the concrete as I started to run.

  Never looking back.