OnAHiatus

PROLOGUE

Gojo Satoru didn’t feel the pain anymore.

No heartbreak.

No regret.

No body.

Just… the slow, eerie sensation of something unraveling. Like a thread tugged loose from the fabric of his soul and cast adrift into the void.

Then—

He existed again.

He gasped like a drowning man breaching the surface, lungs pulling in air that didn’t feel meant for him. It tasted wrong. Heavy. Metallic. His first sensation was heat—no, pressure. Both? A dense yet ...

CHAPTER FOUR: HOSTAGE

The facility shook violently as Noelle’s monstrous form tore through steel walls somewhere behind him. Harry stumbled as another explosion r

The facility shook violently as Noelle’s monstrous form tore through steel walls somewhere behind him. Harry stumbled as another explosion rocked the corridor, catching himself against the wall. The Patronus had bought him seconds of escape—nothing more—but the wet, guttural screams of consumed mercenaries behind him told him she wasn’t f...

CONTESSA DOESN’T UNDERSTAND SKY DIVING

The plane rattled as it climbed, the wind howling just beyond its thin metal walls. A red light above the open hatch pulsed steadily. A countdown.

Contessa sat near the open door, wearing a regulation jumpsuit, snug goggles, and a parachute she’d personally triple-checked. She stared out at the endless blue sky like it was daring her.

Behind her, Maggie adjusted her own gear with an ease born of significantly less anxiety. “Okay,” she called over the engine noise, grinning. ...

CONTESSA DOESN’T UNDERSTAND ROOM SERVICE

The morning sun filtered through gauzy curtains, casting golden stripes across the hotel bed. Maggie lay tangled in the sheets, hair a mess, eyes half-lidded with sleep. She stretched, yawned, and blinked at the figure silhouetted near the window.

Contessa was already dressed. Not in tactical gear or some ridiculous costume—thankfully—but a crisp blouse and slacks, posture straight as ever, staring out over the city like she owned it.

Maggie groaned into her pillow. “How lon...

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE: THE WEIGHT OF A NAME

The Manor was too quiet.

Not in the sterile, suffocating way hospitals were. Not like the locker, where every second of silence had been weaponized. No—this was a different kind of quiet. The kind that seeped into the walls, settling into the wood and stone, into the bones of the building itself. The kind that made her feel like she was walking through a memory that didn’t belong to her.

Taylor moved through the halls like a ghost, footsteps soft on polished floors that had se...

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO - REBECCA II

Rebecca stood atop the shattered roof of what had once been a corporate tower, its skeletal frame jutting into the evening air like the ribs of some long-dead titan. The wind tugged at her cape, dusting her skin with fine grit. Below and behind her, the skyline of New Delhi lay broken and bruised, buildings bowed or toppled, their shadows stretched long in the reach of twilight. 

Another battle survived. Another city scarred. But life was returning, grid by grid. 

The ai...

CONTESSA DOESN’T UNDERSTAND ROMANTIC DATES

The restaurant was all dark wood and soft jazz, the kind of place where conversations happened in low voices and desserts came in tall glasses with delicate shavings of gold on top. A small candle flickered between them.

Contessa sat perfectly upright, hands folded in her lap like she was awaiting a tactical briefing.

Maggie, across the table in a deep red dress, smiled. “You look great.”

Contessa looked down at her clothes—a black cocktail dress, tailored masterfully,...

CONTESSA DOESN’T UNDERSTAND ROLEPLAY

Warm shadows stretched along the walls of the hotel suite, and the curtains were drawn shut against the city outside. Maggie sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed, her hair still damp from the shower, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

Contessa stood a few feet away, arms folded, looking like she wasn’t sure if she was meant to interrogate the room or catalog it.

“So,” Maggie began, drawing out the word, “I was thinking we could try something different tonight.”

CONTESSA DOESN’T UNDERSTAND BOARD GAMES

The hotel lounge was quiet, lit by the dim glow of hanging lanterns and the flickering orange of a fireplace. A few guests were scattered around, lost in books or nursing drinks. In the middle of the room, a table lay cluttered with colorful cards, wooden tokens, and a neatly folded rulebook.

Maggie tapped the board. “Okay. You’re red. I’m blue. First one to complete five quests wins.”

Contessa stood over the table, studying the map, the small plastic figures, the rows of ...

CONTESSA DOESN’T UNDERSTAND STARGAZING

The beach had emptied out after sunset. The bonfires had burned low, the music faded to a soft jingle in the distance, and most vacationers had retreated to their hotels or tents. The sky stretched out above, vast and clear, scattered with stars.

Maggie lay flat on a towel in the cool sand, arms behind her head, eyes fixed on the sky. “You ever stargaze before?”

Contessa sat nearby, legs drawn up to her chest. “Was so busy there were few opportunities to do so. And the skies...

CHAPTER THREE: THE GAMBIT

Rows of monitors cast a cold glow across Coil’s office, each one a window into a different cell, corridor, or containment unit. On one scree

Rows of monitors cast a cold glow across Coil’s office, each one a window into a different cell, corridor, or containment unit.

On one screen, Harry Potter sat motionless, elbows on knees, head cocked like he was listening to something no one else could hear. The image was still, almost tranquil, if you didn’t know better.

Coil di...

CHAPTER TWO: THE ANOMALY

Thomas Calvert prided himself on control. Every variable accounted for. Every outcome anticipated. That was the promise of his power—complet

Thomas Calvert prided himself on control.

Every variable was accounted for, and every outcome was anticipated. That was the promise of his power: complete and total foresight. A thousand simulations tested in tandem, each path explored before the first step was even taken.

It was what made him Coil.

And it was what made this… ...

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: THE TEST

Despite it occurring in his head, the conflict had been simmering for days, just beneath the surface. But in the sterile light of the PRT testing chamber, it finally boiled over.

Despite it occurring in his head, the conflict had been simmering for days, just beneath the surface. But in the sterile light of the PRT testing chamber, it finally boiled over.

Greg pushed himself up from the mat, his vision swimming for a second before snapping into focus. His ribs screamed where Aegi...

INTERLUDE: A MEASURED HAND

Screens flickered in shades of blue and gray in the PRT’s operations hub, surveillance feeds pulling in fragmented images from across Brockton Bay.

Armsmaster—Colin—stood at the central console, fingers flying across the interface with practiced ease as he parsed data faster than most could read. Bar his helmet, his armor was partially disassembled for quick maintenance, exposing the tight weave of a mesh undersuit and the lines of his muscles.

There was still time before th...

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: A WARNING

The gym lights buzzed overhead, harsh and fluorescent, casting long, flickering shadows across the padded floor. The air still smelled of sweat and exertion, stale and heavy, even though the last of the other trainees had filtered out minutes ago, leaving only Taylor and Brian behind.

Taylor hadn’t moved from where she sat on the mat, towel draped loosely around her neck. She used one end to dab sweat from her brow with slow, half-hearted motions. Her body ached, not from the training...

ANNOUNCMENT

I’m really sorry, guys, but I'm feeling ill. There might be no update today and tomorrow. Sorry once again; I will try and manage myself better

CHAPTER ONE: DEAD MAN WALKING

The Killing Curse should have been the end. The ground rushing up as green light filled his vision, bringing with it the certainty of death. Then…

A gasp, raw and desperate, tore from Harry’s throat as he lurched upright, only to be wrenched back by cold metal. His wrists and ankles were bound.

Panic flared in his chest and he blinked hard, straining to focus, but the world remained a smudged blur of gray walls, harsh lighting, and hard angles. Shapes existed, but det...

CONTESSA DOESN’T UNDERSTAND BEACH GAMES

The frisbee arced through the air, spinning lazily before landing with a soft thwap in Maggie’s outstretched hands. She grinned and tossed it back toward the group playing nearby. The sand was warm beneath her feet, the sun painting everything in a soft golden light.

Contessa stood beside her, silent, watching.

Maggie bumped her gently with an elbow. “Wanna try?”

Contessa eyed the flying disc. “What is the objective?”

“Uh, catch it. Throw it back.”

...

CONTESSA DOESN’T UNDERSTAND SOUVENIRS

The gift shop was cramped, its narrow aisles packed with trinkets, postcards, and novelty items branded with the town’s name. A sluggish stream of tourists drifted through, idly flipping through T-shirts, picking up keychains, and debating whether overpriced snow globes were worth the splurge.

Contessa stood in the middle of it all, unmoving.

Maggie, on the other hand, was already rifling through a display of magnets. “Alright, you’ve never done this before, so here’s the ...

CHAPTER FORTY: FALLING INTO A ROUTINE

Days passed, and Taylor settled into a routine. Or tried to, at least.

Morning lectures. Afternoon study sessions. Evenings spent tucked away in the quiet corners of the library, where the hum of fluorescent lights and the rustle of turning pages filled the silence. She attended class, completed assignments, and kept her expression carefully neutral, always sitting near the back, always close to an exit.

No one asked about the scars on her arms. No one questioned the way her gaze ...

CHAPTER THREE: BROCKTON BAY’S GANGS

PRT Threat Assessment Office

Shikamaru spread three files across his desk.

Empire 88.

Azn Bad Boys.

The Merchants.

Each folder was overstuffed with arrest records, territory maps, and incident reports—enough paperwork to bury a lesser man. He lit a cigarette (his third this shift) and exhaled, watching the smoke coil toward the open window.

“This city runs on three things: hate, desperation, and sheer dumb luck.”

The Empire had numbers, discipl...

CHAPTER TWELVE: EYES IN THE DARK

The security footage played for the third time, the grainy image flickering across the monitor. Armsmaster leaned in, his armored fingers steepled beneath his chin. 

The scene was brutal. A mugger lunged—only to be yanked forward by an unseen force.  

Then—  

Red.  

The man came apart like wet paper.  

Miss Militia’s grip tightened around the edge of the table. "Christ."  

"Parahuman involvement c...

CONTESSA DOESN’T UNDERSTAND VACATIONS

The sun dipped low over the horizon, casting the ocean in molten gold. Waves lapped against the shore, steady and unhurried, the brown noise punctuated by the distant laughter of children, the intermittent thud of a volleyball being passed around, and the occasional cry of seagulls circling overhead.

Contessa sat beneath a beach umbrella, watching.

Maggie lay sprawled on a towel beside her, sunglasses perched on her nose. “You know, normal people relax on vacation.”

“I...

CONTESSA DOESN’T UNDERSTAND IN-FLIGHT MEALS

Flight attendants moved down the aisle in the cabin, their carts rattling softly over the carpet. The scent of reheated food wafted from the neatly arranged trays, vaguely savory, but undercut by the artificial tang of packaged condiments.

Maggie stretched in her seat, eyeing the approaching cart with mild suspicion. “Alright, let’s see what fresh disappointment they’re serving today.”

Contessa turned to her. “The meal is predetermined?”

“Yeah, usually a choice...

CHAPTER TWO: THE ART OF DOING NOTHING

PRT Headquarters

Shikamaru had perfected the art of looking busy.

It wasn’t hard. A slightly furrowed brow here, the occasional tap of a pen against his temple there, and—most importantly—never making eye contact with anyone who might assign him more work. He’d spent the last three days coasting through threat assessments with minimal effort, skimming files just enough to fake competence.

“This world might not have chakra, but bureaucracy is universal.”

Un...

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE: THE MASK OF NOMALCY

Taylor sat stiffly in the high-backed leather chair across from Bruce Wayne. The study was dimly lit, the glow of the fireplace casting long shadows across the room. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined the walls, filled with tomes that looked well-worn rather than decorative. A heavy oak desk sat between them, its surface clear except for a neatly stacked pile of papers and a single manila folder.  

Unlike his public persona—the billionaire playboy with effortless charm—Bru...

CONTESSA DOESN’T UNDERSTAND AEROPLANES

The airport was a study in controlled chaos. Announcements crackled over the intercom, suitcases rolled across polished floors, and travellers moved through long lines—some rushing, some waiting, all bound for destinations unseen.

Contessa stood at the terminal gate, watching. The massive aircraft outside the window gleamed under the midday sun, its engines humming with idle power.

Maggie handed her a boarding pass. “Come on, this is us.”

Contessa followed her through ...

CONTESSA DOESN’T UNDERSTAND COFFEE

The coffee shop was small, nestled between larger buildings on a quiet street. The air carried the rich scent of roasted beans and freshly baked pastries, blending with the low murmur of conversation and the occasional hiss of steamed milk.

Contessa sat across from Maggie, fingers curled around a ceramic mug. The coffee inside was dark, its surface rippling as steam curled upward in slow, lazy tendrils. She took a sip.

Maggie, stirring sugar into her own cup, watched her expectant...

CONTESSA DOESN’T UNDERSTAND… THE CARNIVAL RIDE

The carnival was alive with sound: the shrill screech of roller coasters, the rattle of carousel horses, and the occasional laughter of children, high-pitched and carefree. The scent of caramelized sugar and hot buttered popcorn hung thick in the air, competing with the faint, sweet waft of cotton candy drifting from the stall.

Contessa stood just outside the entrance, eyes scanning the scene before her. The carnival lights spun and blinked in brilliant bursts of color, painting the sky...

CHAPTER ONE: REINCARNATION IS SUCH A DRAG

The first thing Shikamaru Nara became aware of was the dull, relentless pounding in his skull.

It wasn’t the sharp sting of a kunai wound, nor the dull ache of chakra exhaustion—this was something entirely more mundane. A hangover? Had he been out drinking with Choji? He couldn’t remember.

Groaning, he rolled onto his side, his hand brushing against something unfamiliar—cold, smooth, and flat. Paper. Stacks of it.

His eyes snapped open.

The room was small, cram...