Worn: Fool 0.1

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Fool 0.1

Rushing down the dark streets of Brockton, illuminated by the bursts of light and sound from the five druggies guns, I realized that I may in fact be an idiot. To prove this, I turned straight into an alleyway.

The sound of sneakers and flip flops slapping against the pavement echoed behind me as I almost immediately hit a dead-end. Surrounded by brick buildings and not a single other place to run towards, it was a perfect place to die.

I closed my eyes, and breathed deeply. Five enemies pursuing me from behind. I’d already taken down three before, but I’m nowhere close to capable of dealing with a horde of armed combatants yet. At a guess, I could probably scale the walls and reach the rooftops, but the risk would be getting shot in the back while I did that.

My focus switched to the white and black mask on my face, concealing far more than my face. That could work.

I turned around just as the rest of them finally began catching up, but I was already gripping the edge of my mask and calling out into the night. “Ravage them, Arsene!”

Summoning my Persona hurt far less than the first time, considering I’d ripped off all the skin beneath the mask when it’d happened, but the proverbial rush of energy and confidence was always the same.

As the mask fell away, it dissolved into magical blue flames, pooling at my feet before a demon emerged at my back. Crimson gloves and pants ending in clawed fingers and bladed heels respectively, broken shackles attached to an ankle, an open suit-vest with eighteenth century ruffles, pitch black wings emerging from his back, a black and red mask for a face, all topped with a black top hat for good measure.

All in all, my Persona seemed to be hell’s most stylish demon, and I can definitely live with that.

Demonic laughter bounced around the brick walls surrounding us all, as the Merchants all froze in sheer terror at Arsene’s appearance. After all, even Brocktonites are capable of freaking out when something unprecedented happens right in front of them.

Though a few reacted quicker than the rest, it was largely irrelevant.

"Maeiha!*” I barked out, and with a dramatic flourish of his arms, inky black tendrils lashed out from the darkest shadows of the alleyway, striking all of them at once. Three fell unconscious at the first hit, while two reeled away in fear as they attempted to run away.

Unfortunately for them, I wasn’t standing idly by while Arsene did his thing.

My knife appeared in my hand, and I didn’t hesitate to slam it hilt first into the back of one man’s skull. The other I grabbed and punched straight into the stomach, before giving him what the first man got.

I stopped, letting the world flicker to a calming blue for a moment as my eyes swept over them, before letting it return as I sighed in relief. Unconscious, all of them, based on the placid glow of their forms.

My breathing was heavier than I expected after the fight, but with deft hands worthy of the one bearing Arsene, I removed a phone from one of their pockets.

“Funny, most rookies don’t think to do that.” My eyes snapped to the source- a figure draped in a black cloak, wielding a crossbow and wearing a pure-white mask in the shape of a face. I held off my instinctive desire to use my Third Eye on the woman- based on her voice and the curve of her figure- because I’d never even attempted to use it on a cape for fear of them noticing.

“Shadow Stalker.” I nodded in acknowledgement, absently ensuring Arsene kept his focus on her, feeling his agreement in my mind. “That seems like a shit idea, how else do you make sure they end up locked up? Call them on your own phone?”

My personal gripes with prison and our justice system aside, I’d rather not have a bunch of bastards who now have beef with me out on the streets if I can help it. 

“You’d be surprised.” The Ward chuckled darkly at the thought of a stupid cape getting outed just because they didn’t think to use someone else’s cell phone. Personally I just felt disappointed, but to each their own. “But that’s not what I meant. Most rookies don’t go out and beat the shit out of criminals on their first night out. They usually just end up pussying out and calling it in, or dive in themselves and end up dead.”

Considering the bad decisions I’ve made tonight, the constant chatter of independent capes and their lackluster life spans suddenly mean much more than they did before.

Still, my eyes narrowed on my unmasked face. “Please tell me this isn’t a recruitment drive.” I was under no delusions about fighting a Ward ending up as anything even remotely successful on my end, but I’ll be damned if I sit back and let my freedom be taken from me.

Shadow Stalker snorted derisively. “If it wasn’t clear you didn’t know shit about anything, I’d be offended by that. No, I’m not a fucking narc, and considering you’ve shown more balls in one night than any other cape I’ve seen in my entire fucking career I’d rather let you go on your way.”

I blinked oddly at the respect I could audibly hear in Shadow Stalker’s voice, even as she called every cape in this town a dickless coward in the same breath. I tried to recall anything I knew about her that would tell me why, but I’d only been here a week.

“Alright, I’ll bite. Why?” I asked plainly, and she looked me up and down appraisingly before speaking.

“Because, since you obviously didn’t know, I was an indie too before I was cornered by the PRT.” There was a barely restrained snarl in her voice as she spoke of her past, and it became immediately clear that she hated the PRT, if it wasn’t before now. “They take people like us, who take the fight to the scum filling the Bay, and force us to take PR training, work the Console, and practice fucking brand-recognition.

“People like us don’t do shit like that. We belong out here on the streets, beating people like them into submission. Hell I’m one of the fucking good guys and you haven’t loosened the grip on your knife for a second.” The obvious mistrust I was showing her was praised wholeheartedly in the midst of her rant, and I completely understood where she was coming from.

While I do think there’s definitely a point to all of that, reassuring the public and all that, we have an army of parahuman neo-nazis in the city ready to make Pearl Harbor look like a fireworks show. 

I nodded slowly at her words, and I could almost feel her ego puffing up at the sight of someone agreeing with her so readily. “Exactly. So, from one hero to another, I’ll pretend I didn’t see you if you pretend you never met me.”

Hm? Why would she not want me to-?

In response to my overwhelming curiosity, my Third Eye activated, and I noted several things about her. Namely that her bolts were straight-up regular crossbow bolts. No tranq, no tinkertech, just straight impalement.

Suddenly I wondered how long she’d been watching me, and whether she’d’ve treated me differently if I wasn’t fighting gangsters.

I was suddenly very aware that all black with traces of red weren’t exactly the most reassuring color scheme in the bay.

“I can work with that.” I nodded, before going back to the phone and activating Third Eye. Turning on the device and hitting the plainly visible passcode, I thanked God my powers came with a Thinker rating.

Waving Arsene over, the giant demon took the phone out of my hands and reported it to the authorities. I turned back to Shadow Stalker, only to notice she had left already, though unfortunately I wouldn’t be able to track her with my power.

After all, she lacked both an Aura and a Shadow.

My my, what a twisted bond you have forged. Maybe one day, you will untangle the knot. Until then, you are burdened by the Reversed Strength Arcana.

The single most annoying part of living a double life, is when something extremely important happens in one, but you are forced to do something completely unrelated to it to maintain your cover.

That’s what classes in Arcadia are to me- unavoidable distractions to my plans for the future.

I did everything in my power not to tap my foot against the ground, to maintain my composure so I don’t get hit with rumors of being a crack addict. Again.

Still, how can I pay attention to fucking Algebreic equations when there’s a fucking Palace nearby?!

My powers are weird. Sometimes, after sleeping like the dead, I learn more about how my powers work. And just last night, while I was trying to understand what it meant for a person to not have a Shadow, I woke up with an explanation embedded in my brain.

Flickering on my Third Eye, hoping the Thinker headache would keep me from jumping off the walls, I scanned the shapeless blobs that stood over every other person in the room. Behind me was Arsene, as always.

The dark ink creatures that everyone has are Shadows. Metaphysical manifestations of a person’s distorted desires, which my power allows me to perceive and beat the shit out of, though the last part is a work in progress.

See, a Shadow gains strength based on how much a person indulges in the twisted desires they represent. For example, a man who wants to kick his dog for whatever reason has a weaker Shadow than one who does it whenever the mood pleases him. Also, the more twisted the desire, the more strength it gains when indulged into it.

The issue I’ve been having, is that most people in Brockton Bay are apparently competitive Shadow-dopers because every Shadow I’ve seen is literally bursting with strength. A crimson aura burns off them like a bonfire, warning me that I was nowhere near ready to deal with that.

Most people, even fucking toddlers, have Shadows like that. I’d made the mistake of trying that against said toddler, and got my ass kicked by a bird the size of an NBA player.

Panicked about the fractured arm- apparently using Arsene as a meatshield doesn’t work, considering all damage done to him is done to me instead- until I woke up the next day and found it gone.

Considering I’d rather not break bones to test how it works, I’ll save figuring that out for another time.

Off topic- there’s a Palace! Aside from being a metaphysical bastion representing the depths of depravity the Owner has fallen into, it also serves as a perfect hunting ground, considering weak Shadows gather there naturally.

The only issue will be finding the damn thing, but-

“Akira!” I jolted in my seat, gray eyes flashing up towards the balding, middle-aged teacher up front. “Either pay attention, or get out of my class.”

“Well, if you insist.” I stated gleefully, grabbing my bag and walking to-

“Sit back down, or it’s detention for a month!” I hissed and sat back down, wishing I could be anywhere but here at that very moment. Get my fucking hopes up, why don’t you?

Sitting alone in lunch, feeling half the school taking constant glances in my direction as the school’s newest zoo animal, I could almost rationalize just transforming and getting the fuck out of here.

I mean, there’s like two classes left in the day, and aside from diploma requirements I don’t need any of them. P.E. is just an exercise in seeing in how well I can hide my (currently weakened) superhuman physique, Music is a joke considering I had planned to be a musician before-

And then there’s the ‘vocation’ part of the school, which ensures I spend as much time in Music as possible considering it’s my future career. If I can even have a career with a criminal record before I’d even graduated, while pursuing a degree in one of the worst cities in America.

Still, the worst part was definitely the fact I was left alone to my thoughts, as anticipation and panic raced through my veins.

Because I had only a vague idea on how to find a Palace, and the only way to confirm it was to stalk a government-sponsored hero across the city and possibly discover her civilian identity.

Leg jumping beneath the table, food left mostly untouched, I recalled every bit of mysterious knowledge I had about Palaces to try and avoid getting fucking Birdcaged.

Palaces are places where a particularly powerful Shadow- the Ruler- resides, manifesting a secondary space that is twisted by the same desires that color the Owner’s perspective. The desires are so warped and twisted that secondary, lesser Shadows form within it that are completely subservient to the Ruler.

Within the Palace is a Treasure- the distorted desires that were once part of the Ruler, separated to serve as the heart of the place. Remove the Treasure from the Palace, the whole thing ceases to exist.

Finally, Palaces are only formed in the place where the Owner feels they are at their most powerful or hold the greatest influence. Therefore, it must be a place where they believe they are completely unchallenged- where they act as an unchallenged Ruler.

I groaned under my breath at that, before focusing on that last bit of useful information. Shadow Stalker… didn’t seem the type to let herself be caught off-guard, even if she was a tad bit arrogant. She’d never even considered stepping too close to me when we met in that alley, and now that I consider it she never fully turned her back on Arsene either- only positioned herself to look like that.

And she only revealed herself when the fighting was said and done- not an insult, they were fully armed, but someone that had enough of their head up their own ass to form a Palace would act completely unashamed.

The fact she would so freely complain about the constant gripes she has with the PRT means that she wouldn’t think she had any authority there, so the headquarters were right out.

… So the only places I can think of, that don’t involve stalking a Stalker, would be a school. Cause, y’know, she’s a Ward.

Something deep in my bones told me that I would know if I were near a Palace, and I’ve been constantly flickering my Third Eye since I transferred here so it’s not in Arcadia.

So, it’d either be Winslow or Brockton University. Or she was really tall for her age, but considering the infantilization of Vista I doubt they’d let a middle schooler know what fuck meant, let alone give them a crossbow.

I hissed out a sigh of relief, a smile forming on my face despite myself as I found myself a lead. After half a month of sitting with my fingers up my ass, I finally have a sense of direction!

… Now, how am I going to convince Sojiro to let me go out when I get back?

A/N: I need help.

This fic, if it continues how I ‘plan’ for it to, will be an exploration/divergence of a trend I’ve discovered in my writing.

I can make characters with ideologies that change over time, but I’ve never made one who has to build one from the ground up.

Akira’s motives are paper-thin lectures about being nice, but considering the commonalities between his backstory and Joker (From Persona 5)? That’s practically a blank slate, nevermind the fact it’s infinitely better than most people in Worm.

So, other than the fact he’ll never give up his freedom to anyone, he’s a young ‘n fresh cape ready to experience the horrors of grimdark street-level superheroing. 

*Due to Arsene having basically no moveset, considering he stops getting new abilities at Level 7 in Persona 5 and Royal, as well as the fact that the skill inheritance system trivializes learn-sets, I will be playing fast and loose with abilities available to Akira.

Thank you for reading, Peace.

PS: Sorry about info-dump, Akira at this point has nothing to his name and can only communicate via monologue.