2 Arrival (2)

(Author Note: Emotions and such get pretty hefty in this chapter. Panic attacks and such, which is understandable in the MC's position. Don't like a dude showing weakness because it harms your self-inserting? Not my problem, fellas.

Oh and I got a one-star review earlier because, and I quote, "MC is such a weak willed person with no backbone" and I know this chapter is gonna get me more of 'em for similar reasons despite what I said in the synopsis. So please show your support if you like the story so far. I'm not begging for five-star reviews or anything, just supportive comments and maybe a few powerstones lol. Heads-up to those of you who will no doubt make a one-star review because you don't like the character. Don't. If you're only reason for not liking a book is the protagonist, just stop reading the book. Don't tank the rating of the story because of your own personal preferences. I gave you a warning in the synopsis, so if I see any reviews that *only* talk about how shitty the protagonist is, imma delete 'em. Sorry not sorry.)

A genuine goddamn growl emanated from my throat at the continued questioning and I scowled as I replied to the detectives/possible-government-agents in front of me, "Like I've said nine bloody times before, my name is Ethan Blaine, I'm training to be a teacher and I live in London in a crappy apartment on Willow's Road which is within walking distance of the London Shard!"

Which prompted the British representative to the right of the detectives, a tall woman with strong shoulders and sharp features, to hum in response as she wrote down *something* on her notepad. Her brown eyes looked back up at me, "And I'll say again, Mr. Blaine, you don't exist. There are no records of you, anywhere, least of all in the UK. All the people who you've said can verify your claims? They don't exist either. So start telling us the truth. Why are you on Earth?"

It took everything I had to not snap back at her. To reach out and smack her in the face--the disadvantages of being a Saiyan reared their ugly heads with that thought. I stopped and closed my eyes, calming my breathing which had at some point sped up and become somewhat rough.

"I'm telling you the truth, Ms. Poole. I live here. I don't know what's happening with the records but there's gotta be something wrong with them!" I urged, desperate for them to believe me.

Why wasn't I in those records? Why did they look at me weird when I mentioned the Shard? Why did they keep saying my family and friends don't exist?

Pressure started building up in my head, in my chest and my stomach began to cramp.

One of the detectives, an average height man with blond hair and green eyes smirked cockily, "Jeez, you're really trying to sell it, aren't you? Just admit you were sent on reconnaissance for some sort of war or conquest or kidnapping job, or whatever you aliens always come here for!" he slammed his hands down on the metal table suddenly and it took all of me not to sneer condescendingly when the table stayed in tact, only shaking a little from the force. A part of me knew I could fold the table like aluminium foil if I wanted to and it rejoiced in the fact the detective was weaker than me.

It was also infuriated that he'd ever think to question me while being so weak. But I stayed calm. Kept the unreasonable anger inside. It didn't stop the pressure from building, however.

"I don't know what you want me to say," I got out through a suddenly tight throat which made my words sound like a strangled hiss. My scowl deepened as the pressure built higher, "My name is Ethan Blaine. I live on Willow's Road next to the Shard. I'm training to become a teacher--"

The same cocky detective laughed aloud and cut me off, making me turn my gaze back to him and not keep it on the British representative who I really needed to convince. He continued laughing for a few more seconds before settling into a chuckle, "Sorry, forgive me, 'Mr. Blaine'. I just find it hilarious that you come down on a technologically advanced spaceship from some far off part of the universe...and yet you can't even get basic geography right."

His partner, a taller and much better built man with a face only a mother could love, smirked at that as well but I didn't pay any attention to him.

What?

"What?" I asked, utterly confused at the implication.

The man and his partner's smirks grew wider as the cocky one continued, "I mean, everyone knows the Shard is in Germany. And there isn't a Willow's Road in London - right?" he asked turning to the woman on his right.

"There isn't. There are three street names in Britain similar to it but none of them are anywhere near London," she said, brown eyes watching me like a hawk, suspicion and disbelief filling them.

I felt just as helpless as when I'd been in the ship heading for Earth.

Why are they lying? Of course there's a Willow's Road in London. Of course the Shard is in London. I'm Ethan Blaine and...and...

The pressure kept building to a boiling point. My head and chest physically hurt by this point, my stomach twisting itself into knots and making me feel like I was about to throw up everything in my stomach. They kept speaking but I...I just couldn't hear it. Didn't want to hear it. Because what if they were right? What if I *wasn't* Ethan Blaine? What if I was just some alien, like they said, sent to infiltrate and complete some sort of mission?

All my memories--were they even mine? Or just some conjured up illusion to help me fit in?

Sasha, my sister, and her husband Harry and their soon to be child, my nephew? Were they ever real?

The pressure boiled and built. Then the dam burst.

I don't know how long I'd blacked out but by the time I'd regained a semblance of consciousness, I was standing and so were the other three. The two detectives had pulled their guns and were shouting something I couldn't hear. My ears felt clogged up. The only thing I could hear was the roaring and rushing of my blood. I looked at them and realized I was covering my face with my hands, Ki flooding out of my body and covering me in armor like it had before.

My heart felt like it'd be ripped in two as I remembered the last thing I thought before I seemingly blacked out. Sasha. My older sister. Foster sister, sure, but the light of my life. After bouncing from one home to the next, she and our parents were the first to truly try and connect with me.

The thought that she, her child and my foster parents didn't exist...it hurt like nothing I'd ever felt before.

I felt something impact my chest and brought my hands away just enough to look down. Everything was in slow motion as I saw the crumbled bullet falling to the ground. Then another joined it. And another. Why were they shooting me? Why? What had I even done?

Something stopped them and it wasn't even me. One of them looked to the one-way mirror and they all retreated out the door while still firing. Seeing the lack of 'threat' against my person leaving, I went back to looking at my hands. They looked so...different. The same skin tone was the only similarity to the hands I was so used to seeing. These hands were big. Like a pair of bear paws. Long, sturdy-looking fingers attached to rough-looking palms. I overturned them and clenched my fist. The knuckles looked like veritable weapons. Which I was slowly realizing they indeed were.

These...weren't my hands. I looked further down at my body. It wasn't mine. Too much like Arnold Schwarzenegger in his prime. Too unlike my usual pudgy self I'd grown to be okay with.

The door to the room opened again and someone entered. I didn't pay attention to her outfit, too taken aback by her face as she searched mine for something. She seemingly found whatever she was looking for as she gave me a sad smile and walked toward me, no doubt seeing the abject terror and confusion and despair sketched across my face like a macabre painting.

And then she was standing right in front of me. She curiously regarded the Ki raging around my figure but showed none of the fear the other three had. When she looked me in the eyes, I nearly lost my breath. It was a welcome distraction.

Cerulean blue eyes and raven black hair, the former of which contrasted beautifully with the latter and her olive brown skin. Gorgeous, beautiful, breathtaking, bewitching, heavenly--weren't what she was. None of them *could* describe her. I don't think any other word except perfection could do her justice. Not a feature on her face was out of place. Not her high cheekbones or her full lips nor her strong yet feminine jaw. She looked like a princess-turned-heroine straight out of a story book.

Her countenance was so distracting I'd have blushed up a storm any other time. Been a bumbling mess and so distracted I'd have probably have forgotten to breathe or hold myself up with my legs. Yet right now, feeling what I was, her beauty was the perfect thing to break my out of my funk.

Shakily, I spoke, "Hey, can I ask you something?" I whispered with a raw quality to my voice I'd only heard once before. She nodded, patient and calm and understanding. "Am I real?" I asked and she was instantly confused. Any other times and I'd be kicking myself for saying such a silly thing to a woman like her but not now. Now I needed confirmation. Validation. Maybe even both.

Her face morphed into confusion for a second before realization dawned on her face and she gave a gentle smile. She lifted a hand and placed it on my chest, through my Ki which seemed to feel her good intentions, "You feel quite real to me."

It was so simple. Something I shouldn't have needed to hear. But it's simplicity and the sincerity with which it was said was like a balm for my soul.

The pressure remained but the tenseness in my muscles left me and I sagged ever so slight.

She was tall and reasonably muscular for a woman but even then she was still towered over by me. Yet she seemed to have no trouble as she supported me with one arm around my waist while the other picked up my chair and propped it back upright upon which she plopped me down before walking to the other side of the table and sitting down. Things went quiet for a few moments but I was glad for it. I needed to collect myself - so I did my best to do so. Pulling all my mental baggage and rattled mind together, trying to divert the pressure in my body somewhere else so I wouldn't black out again.

"I hear you're in quite the situation, young man," she started with her genteel smile, "I'm here to help you, so can you help me by explaining what happened? Why or at least how you got here?" she asked in an understanding tone, continuing to use the same tone as she added, "I know it's confusing but I promise to help you to the best of my ability."

So I did. I explained everything I could. How I woke up in space, in a ship headed for Earth. How I woke up with a changed body. With a different body. How I discovered I had a tail and some sort of energy inside me.

I confided in her that before all that I'd been out drinking on my lonesome, how my sister was pregnant and how excited I was to be an uncle. Everything just sort of poured out of me.

I just needed someone to talk to. Not someone to interrogate me.

And this woman provided that in full. She did ask questions. Asked me to describe my life in detail, my relationships with family and friends, my work as a teaching assistant at a nearby primary school--but she never demanded an answer. Never gave me an ultimatum. Never denied anything I said with a smirk or a condescending look.

She just listened and asked questions and gave little smiles and laughs when I told her about how James, a child in my class, and how he'd got himself covered in red paint and how when I first saw him I thought he was injured, nearly having a heart attack.

It was cathartic. Relaxing. At the back of my mind I could still feel the questions being run through my subconscious. Wondering about my sister. About my friends. About how was Janice gonna find someone to cover my shifts. But it was in the back of my mind unlike earlier where it was all I could think about.

"Thank you for the delightful answers and telling me about young James, Ethan. He seems like a lovable but rather...let's say energetic child," she chuckled huskily and it tickled my ears just right but then her face turned from lighthearted interest to a more serious look that nearly had me flinch, "But I must ask if you wouldn't mind touching my lasso while I ask you a few more questions. Is that okay?"

She asked and then reached to her side, pulling a golden piece of rope that truly was a lasso. It even glowed ever so slightly and I doubted that was because of the cheap fluorescent tube-like bulbs above our heads.

I'd been so concentrated on her face, on talking and releasing the tension in me that I hadn't even really looked at her body. Or rather *what* she was wearing. But seeing that golden lasso...it made me look. Just to be sure what I was thinking wasn't correct.

But it was.

The style wasn't exactly as I remembered it. Wasn't nearly as revealing. Much more armor-like. But it was similar enough. Something that seemed to be a mix between a plaid skirt and a pteruges with silver five-pointed stars on different points. It was blue. An armor-like corset that firmly fit her athletic but curvy torso and had a metallic golden belt seemingly built into it which reached around her waist and met at the front to form something that looked a lot like a 'W'. The top part of her armor-corset had a metal bird of prey made of gold. The corset was red.

And to top it all off, she had a golden tiara with a red five-pointed star on her head and partially covering her forehead.

How hadn't I noticed that?

"Why...why are you wearing that?" I shakily got out, gesturing to her clothing. I had to be sure, even if I made myself look stupid or suspicious or both.

"This?" she asked confused and looked down at herself, obviously caught off guard by me answering her question with a question of my own. Looking back up at me, she continued to look confused but answered anyway, "It's my armor. I always wear it when I'm on duty. Why do you ask?"

"It just..." I stopped, throat tight and suddenly dry. I couldn't possibly tell her the absolute truth. How would she react if I told her she was a fictional character where I'm from? There's a chance she'd be fine but there's also a chance that the information would cause an emotional outburst. Bad enough that one of us is a wreck right now and as selfish as it sounds...I don't wanna lose the figurative shoulder to cry on. After a few seconds of thinking, I continued on regardless, "It just reminds of something back home."

The truth. But vague enough to avoid having to drop the nuclear payload that is the *whole* truth.

Her eyes lit up, "Oh? The Wonder Woman of your world, I presume?" she asked, interest creeping into her voice and onto her face but dying when I shook my head.

"No, there wasn't one. It reminds me of the armor the Greeks used to wear," I answered, mentally chiding myself for revealing there wasn't a Wonder Woman on my world. Goddammit, Ethan. Idiot. Shit.

"Well, that's disappointing. I can only imagine how dull the League must be on your world," she said somewhat cheekily before catching something on my face and stopping dead. "There wasn't a League on your world. Oh. That's...interesting," she drawled out, suddenly unsure about something before her smile returned, "Anyway, should we get onto to the questions?"

I nodded, glad for the diverted conversation. I knew it was going to come up again, in the future, but that was then. Now was different. Now I was fucking terrified because I was seemingly in the DC universe.

I was glad I was a Saiyan now. I couldn't imagine how screwed I'd be if I was just regular ol' Ethan Blaine.

But I pushed aside the creeping horror and focused on Wonder Woman.

...That felt weird to think. Bloody hell.

"Right. I'll need to ask you a few questions beforehand to set the baseline, okay? Just simple ones," she reassured me and continued, "Can you tell me your name, your age and your favorite color?"

Okay, easy enough. "Okay, uh, my name is Ethan Blaine, I'm twenty-three years old and my favorite color is either red or yellow," or blue like your eyes I nearly said and I felt like smacking myself over the back of the head. Not the fucking time, Ethan. Fucking hell. Time and a place for something, and right now isn't the time to try and pathetically flirt with Wonder Woman!

She nodded and gestured for me to hold the lasso as she held it out for me. Once I did, it's glow got a bit brighter and with another gesture from Wonder Woman, I repeated what I'd said before. Thankfully the lasso didn't make me repeat the last thing I'd left out. Thank God.

"Thank you for being truthful in your earlier answers, Ethan," she smiled as she spoke, "Now, were you telling the truth when you regaled me with your story and how you got here?"

"Yes," I replied without hesitation. Hesitating would just make her suspicious of me, or even more if she already is.

Her relief was audible as she let out a breath she'd seemingly been holding, body relaxing tensed muscles. She'd been ready to turn to 'bad cop' mode if I said 'No'. But I suppressed the genuine fear of being subject to an interrogation from Wonder Woman and listened as she spoke, "Thank Athena," she smiled, "I was beginning to like you, Ethan. It would have ruined my mood to figure out what you lied about after we'd had such a nice conversation."

That's it. Right there. For all her beauty and angelic features, she *was* Wonder Woman. Supposedly, anyway. And if she was indeed Wonder Woman, she's a warrior and a hero before she's a pretty woman. A warrior who's been alive longer than all the generations of my family line I can remember. A warrior who will do what she needs to do to protect Earth.

...Except killing, I guess. Normally, anyway. I have faint memories that she did game-end some people in the comics but it's best to think none of my information is worth anything. Who knows *which* DC Earth I'm on.

"I guess," I shrugged, "But it wouldn't do good for me to lie to you and nor would I really want to. I just want help," I sincerely said, still holding the lasso. "Do people try and lie to you often enough that you genuinely need a seemingly magical lasso that makes people tell the truth?" I curiously asked despite kinda already knowing the truth. You'd think people would just learn to be honest when they knew all it took was for her to take out the lasso...but people in DC aren't exactly known for their logic.

She scoffed in a good natured way, "All the time, unfortunately. Which is why I'm glad I have the lasso. Though it seems you are a tad more honest than people I usually deal with," she grinned before continuing, "May I ask a few more questions?"

My heart constricted but I still nodded my head in acquiescence.

Don't ask about the Justice League or lack thereof in my world. Don't ask about the Justice League--

"Do you have any idea what you are? You already seem quite adept with your tail and that energy truly does come to your beck and call," she simply asked and I had to stop myself from sagging in relief. There was no need to lie, even if I could, or withhold the answer I knew I could give. But I wasn't entirely comfortable with telling her everything. She'd been an absolute saint but I couldn't be too sure she wouldn't use the information against me. I knew Batman definitely would. Contingency plans and all that jazz.

In the end, I nodded, "...Yeah, I have an idea of what I am but I can't be sure. Where I'm from what I am didn't exist. It was a fictional race." I stopped, deciding that was enough to satisfy her question while not overextending myself. I wanted, or needed her help but her knowing what exactly I was wasn't going to solve anything.

Because even if I had my gripes about having this new race forced on me without my consent...even if they could turn me back, did I want to? To go back to plain ol' human Ethan? And in the DC universe, no less?

No. I quickly came to the conclusion of; no, I didn't want that.

Not because I was power hungry or because I'd always wanted to be a Saiyan. Purely because I needed it to survive while I was here.

Wonder Woman raised an eyebrow at that, "A fictional race? That is quite peculiar." She stopped and lifted a hand to her chin, tapping at her lips with a finger as she looked off into space while thinking about something. Her eyes finally came back into focus and she looked back to me, "Are they dangerous?" she asked before quickly adding, "I'm not accusing you of being dangerous, Ethan. I think I have a decent measure of your character and you don't seem to be the type to suddenly hurt people...but I must be sure these new changes of yours aren't detrimental to others or yourself."

I withheld a sigh at that because I knew how I'd have to answer. I couldn't take my hand off the lasso without making myself look too suspicious and I didn't want that. So that meant I couldn't lie and the truth is..."They are. The enhanced physical strength aside, they're naturally aggressive and have a desire for battle. I've already felt the former but it isn't too bad and I only really need to get used to the new emotional intensity being what I am gives me."

Wonder Woman nodded in reply but before she could speak I added something as soon as I remembered it, "And it would be for the best if I don't go outside when there's a full moon--when's the next full moon, actually?"

"Three days from now--why?" she asked curiously.

"It enhances my aggression and desire for battle, sending me into a sort of berserk frenzy," I spoke my answer carefully. The lasso of truth wasn't immune to partial truths then.

Her eyes blinked in response before she nodded, "I'll keep that in mind, Ethan," she said before giving me a grateful smile, "Thank you for adding that last part. The lasso compels people to speak but I can tell when people add information voluntarily, so thank you, Ethan."

"Uh, sure thing," I paused before looking at her inquisitively, "So...what now? Do I stay here and just wait or something else?"

"Stay here?" she looked appalled *for* me, "With those brutes who shot at you when you did nothing other than appropriately reacting to their insensitive questions?" she sent a pointed glare of reprimand to the one-way glass to our left before looking back to me with a much softer gaze, "No, not on my watch. You'll be coming with me to the Justice League's base of operations. You didn't have a Justice League back on, correct?" I shook my head in denial and she smiled, "Then seeing the Watchtower will be quite the surprise for you. Oh and you can let go of the lasso now, Ethan."

Sighing in relief, albeit inaudibly, I let go of the glowing rope and it's glow dimmed back to a soft gold as Wonder Woman placed it back at her side.

But the Watchtower, huh? I was unsure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. Wonder Woman's entire persona from the moment she entered could've been a lie. A facade to get me to calm down so I could answer her questions. Yet what choice did I really have? I didn't exist here. No one I knew did either. I had no money, or records or a place to live. I was well and truly between a rock and a hard place.

A hand reached over and grabbed mine all of a sudden and I was brought out of my melancholic thinking. Though smaller than my own bear paw-like hand, the hand gently but strongly held my hand in such a reassuring manner.

"It's all going to be okay, Ethan. I promise you that we'll find a way to return you home and if it proves impossible, the League and I will help you adapt to life here," I looked up to see a smiling Wonder Woman. The genuineness and heartfelt tone to her voice made me feel a not so small amount of shame for doubting her and her intentions.

Due to the sudden tightness of my throat, I could only manage a nod and a crooked smile in response to her reassurance.

For better or for worse, I'd be going to the Watchtower. I doubt I'd survive long without help, anyway.