197 My SI Stash #97 - Adversary by QAI521 (PreWorm)

-A SI in Worm with some sort of All For One power~ Prepare for the badassery vibes!

Sypnosis: An (OC) self-insert ends up in Worm and decides that he wants to try and make the world a better place by solving (in his mind) the greatest issue first.

Rated: ???

Words: 30K

Posted on: https://forums.spacebattles.com/threads/adversary-oc-si.798962/#post-62290517 (QAI521)

PS: If you're not able to copy/paste the link, you have everything in here to find it, by simply searching the author and the story title. It sucks that you can't copy links on mobile (´ー｀)

-I'll be putting the chapter ones of all the fanfics mentioned, to give you guys a sample if you wan't more please do go to the website and support the author! (And maybe even convince them to start uploading chapters in here as well!)

Chapter 1-2 (exceptional)

So, another self-insert ends up in Worm.

How long before they try to befriend Tayl...

...what's this?

No Taylor? No Brockton Bay? Pre-Canon? What wizardry is this?!

So yeah, an (OC) self-insert ends up in Worm and decides that he wants to try and make the world a better place by solving (in his mind) the greatest issue first.

Technically also a crossover power as well, but given that's the only aspect from the other setting, knowing about it isn't necessary.

The Courts Gather

Linda had never expected much from working in a restaurant.

Sure, the tips were helpful and all, but there was never any real hope of upward mobility. What she did today would be what she would do for the rest of her time working here. She would always be waiting the tables, dealing with the angry customers, and get yelled at by the boss when it was all said and done.

That knowledge had weighed down on her for years, ever since she had dropped out of college. It made it difficult to not resent that in some ways, acknowledging that this would be the epitome of her career. To be nothing more than a smiling mouth on a pair of legs that carried food back and forth to ungrateful customers.

That anger burned in the back of her mind every day.

Though now?

Now she knew that if she lived through the day, she would never complain about work ever again.

"'Tis not often that I get to enjoy parley such as this."

While she wasn't obsessed with capes like some of her coworkers were, she had seen enough warnings on the television to recognize the woman before her. Her shimmering green cloak and shawl were admittedly beautiful, complementing her child-like features. Emerald green eyes popped out in comparison to her nearly inhuman paleness, as though she was a living doll, trapped forever in a single moment.

Though what drew her eyes the most were the shadowy figures that flickered around her. Some of them looked normal enough, while others looked inhuman with exaggerated features. Her heart pounded against her chest as one slid past her, a cold chill passing down her spine. The young blonde let the fear wash over her, holding back the whimper that rose up in her throat.

Glaistig Uaine – The Fairy Queen.

"Really? I would have thought other organizations would have tripped themselves over their feet to have your power added to their forces."

Linda didn't recognize the other cape, but given that he was speaking to the Fairy Queen on equal terms, he was clearly powerful. Power oozed off his body as easily as one might breathe, the sheer weight of his presence pushing down any thought of rebellion against his directives. A suit that probably cost more money than she had ever possessed clung to his form, shoes so shiny she could have seen her own reflection in them clicking against the ground.

The only thing out of place (or perhaps not, given the circumstances) was the heavily armored helm that covered his head. It vaguely reminded her of Darth Vader's iconic mask, though somehow far more inhuman. It was off-putting, staring down an expressionless face while he chatted on in a pleasant tone, as though this was just an ordinary day trip.

"There have been attempts in the past," The Fairy Queen acquiesced as she calmly cut a slice of her steak. Linda wasn't religious, but she prayed with every ounce of her being to anyone that was listening up there that Carter had made the best damn dishes that he ever had before.

She did not want to die because two crazed parahumans had a problem with their food.

"But so often they seek to turn me subservient – as though a Queen would lower herself to be commanded by such rabble," the girl snorted, her strangely echoing voice tittering with amusement. A low chuckle filtered through the man's mask, lacking anything relatable to humanity. It was as though someone had tried to teach a robot how to laugh and had spectacularly failed.

"Yes, I've had similar experiences. Too often, I've been approached by fools that think because they've had power amongst the powerless, that means they'll never be threatened by anything again. Of course, I correct them of this notion rather quickly, but it does get stale after some time," the man mused as he took a sip of his drink, the cold liquid spilling through a small slit in his helm. "I can only assume that you put such rabble in their place?"

The Fairly Queen giggled, and what should have been a sweet and innocent sound turned her spine to jelly. A startled squeak escaped her lips as another shadow materialized next to her, its ethereal form far too close for comfort. "I had such pleasure adding them to my collection. Their time on the stage may have been cut short, but they still have their parts to play through me. Though as much as I enjoy this conversation Collector, I believe that we have businesses to get to. After all, is that not why you sought to meet me here?"

"I do, but before we get to that, I would be remiss as a host to not see to your needs. Are you enjoying the food? This restaurant is a bit out of the way, but they had good reviews for visiting tourists – I thought it might be a quaint little place for a business meeting," the man – Collector she had called him, said with a casual wave of his hand.

Linda could feel her breath hitch a little.

"Yes, I did find it enjoyable. The food the mortals cooked was quite delicious." Linda felt a cold sweat break out across her forehead as the Fairy Queen's gaze swung towards her. There was an emptiness about those eyes that curdled her blood. "Please do give the chef my regards."

"I-I'll be sure to let him know," She managed to get out with a weak smile. "I-is there anything else I could get for you? Dessert, perhaps?"

It felt wrong to offer such a staple and bland response to one of the great parahuman murderers of the decade, but it was what she knew. Linda clung to the familiarity with everything she had, using it to anchor herself, so she wasn't reduced to a gibbering wreck. The Collector made a show of pulling the dessert menu from its stand, giving it a once over before passing it to his companion.

"Is your Chocolate Lava Cake any good?"

"Y-yes, that's one of our best sellers," she offered, her already weak smile turning brittle. The longer they put on this show, the longer she would be stuck here and the higher chance that they would kill her in a fit of fury. But in the end, she supposed it was best to keep them happy, so they didn't do that and treat them like any other customer as they had ordered her too.

Her gaze flickered towards a bloodstained wall.

A lesson her boss hadn't learned.

Her stomach twisted at the memory of bones shattering, and flesh pulping as a crackling red sphere of energy consumed the dower and spiteful man. It had been so casual, how they killed him, as though he had been a fly buzzing in their faces.

"It does look delicious," Collector offered with a slight nod. The surrealness of a parahuman criminal completing this 'hole in the wall' restaurant's food wasn't lost on her. But Linda beat those stray thoughts down and focused on her task at hand. "But I am trying to watch my weight these days. I don't suppose you'd be willing to split it with me?"

"Yes, that would be an acceptable course of action. I enjoy the odd sweet or two and well, though as they say – moderation is key," The Fairy Queen offered with a smile.

"I-I'll get the kitchen right on it," Linda said, only barely managing to keep herself from bursting out into a full sprint. Their words turned into murmurs as she passed through the door that separated the dining room from the kitchen, her heart pounding against her chest as she did so. There was a certain level of relief of not being in the same room with them, though the threat of death still lingered in the back of her mind.

"D-did they l-like it?"

Linda grimaced as the whole of the kitchen staff, turned towards her, pale expressions marred with the slightest traces of hope. Men and women, some of which she liked, paused and stared, waiting for the response that would mean their doom or salvation.

"Yes." Linda felt terrible about what she was about to say as the tension in the room dissipated, tears of relief running down the eyes of more than one staffer. In a way, she was almost jealous of them, being granted a single instance of relief in the face of certain death.

But she knew they weren't done yet.

"They want dessert."

Just like that, the cloying weight of fear returned.

The nascent hope scattered just as quickly as it had gathered, one of her coworkers stumbling to the ground in shock. Others looked little better, tears of relief replaced by terror and misery. But they moved back to their workstations as she gave off the order, and the dessert was prepared as it always had been – if with a little more trembling.

Lava Cake in hand, Linda steeled herself.

The door swung open as she pressed against it, the pervasive fear that had slunk away while she had been in the back rising once more. Part of her wondered if it was part of one of their powers, to make the people around them afraid, or if they were just that terrifying. Books she had read always seemed to describe an 'atmosphere of fear,' but she had never truly understood what that felt like.

Not until now.

"—to dethrone the high priest of a god," was the snippet of conversation she caught from the Fairy Queen's multifaceted voice as she pulled herself into the dining room. She still possessed that child-like wrongness that made her so terrifying to speak to, but there was a hint of something else under there. Her usually placid expression was marred by the furrowing of her brows, as though she was concerned with whatever Collector had said.

The man's shoulders shifted as though he was about to say something but stopped short as she pulled up next to their table. A wave of cold fear washed over the young woman as their attention centered back on her. She couldn't help but feel as though she were a rat being eyed by a pair of serpents, wondering if she was worth killing. "Y-your dessert."

"Ah, of course!" Collector answered what she supposed was supposed to be a cheerful tone.

It sounded horrifying.

"As I was saying," Collector said as he cut off his half of the cake, gently sliding it over to his companion without so much as touching it. Linda held her breath as they started to pick at their food with dainty bites.

In the dark corners of her mind, she chanted. You just need to get through dessert.

"I have no doubt that it will be a difficult goal to reach. But important things rarely are, and what would life be if we didn't challenge ourselves every now and then?" Collector asked with a small shrug. Linda shivered as his tone grew darker, fiercer, and it was as though all the life was being sucked out around her. "Besides, you and I know what their meddling has unleashed upon this world. What it will unleash."

"…it is true that they have sowed chaos upon the stage and touched powers beyond the ken of mortals. But you have not explained what you wish of me; otherwise, you would not have called their parley. Your goal may be ambitious, but fighting against the high priest is not an ambition of mine," Fairy Queen warned, and Linda couldn't help but wonder if she was about to watch a superpowered brawl.

That would be so cool if it didn't kill me.

"It is not my intention to call you to battle against him. Besides, I would be a fool to challenge him now, not while there is still so much to do. He might be the end goal, but there are so many more stepping stones I must take on that path," Collector offered with an easy shrug, seemingly unconcerned with his companion's dismissal of his goal – whatever it was.

Who goes around calling themselves a 'high priest' anyway?

"No – for now, I have a much easier target in mind." Collector leaned forward, tense with energy, and it took Linda everything she had to not lean forward with him. Despite the threat of certain death, something was exhilarating about being witness to these proceedings. The one silver lining to this whole thing that could see her through to the end. "A band of bandits and murderers. One whose leader has a penchant for speaking with powers."

"I see." There was a smile on the young teenager's face now, as though she had just been given a vat of ice cream and told to go wild. A youthful exuberance probably didn't mean anything good for those in their path. "You wish to take his place, hear the words that he has? To understand the power of the Fae in a way that only one of us can? A noble sentiment, though it does not explain why you sought out my aid. They could easily fall to you as to me."

"Call it precaution," Collector said slowly, drawing the words out with a certain tenseness. "I would be as much a fool as those who sought to bend you to their will to believe that I am undefeatable, invincible. The power of his mad dog, the one he keeps on his tight leash…it concerns me, the thought of facing that in battle."

"One soul in exchange for eight others?"

"I wouldn't be opposed to taking more if you aren't interested in their powers, but yes, that arrangement would work for me."

"Then we have an accord. Shall we take our leave?"

"Of course."

Linda's breath hitched.

This was it.

Either they would walk out that door and leave her unmolested, or they would turn around and turn her into a smear against the wall. Her knees wobbled as the masked man turned towards her, his shielded gaze washing over her body. A single man who held the power of life and death against her and all her workmates.

It was terrifying on a level she couldn't comprehend.

"Would you mind bringing us our check?"

"W-what?" She couldn't help but ask. Linda could feel her thoughts screech to a halt, all the horrible things she had conjured in the dark corners of her imagination of what he might do to her vanishing in an instant against the sheer banality of his question. They had acted as though they were paying customers, but she never would have guessed in a million years that they would actually pay for their food. "O-on the house."

"You're too kind," he said with what she was sure was a smug smile. It made her want to grit her teeth in anger, but she kept her smile as placid as she could. Her lips twitched once or twice, and for a moment she thought she heard the faintest of giggles. His hand reached into his suit, and a spasm of fear flashed through her legs.

I'm about to die…

"For your troubles," he said as he set down a wad of bills at least as thick as her wrist. The terror that held her in place washed away at the sight of the money, what she could see as hundred-dollar bills gently resting on the table. From a mere glance, she could see that it was easily a few thousand dollars! "Feel free to call the authorities once we leave, though I would recommend waiting ten minutes or so. You would hardly want this to turn into a firefight, now would you? It would likely get…messy."

"N-no, sir," she agreed with a vehement shake of her head.

What does it say that a supervillain is a bigger tipper than most regulars?

Linda kept her tongue firmly clamped down, and her breath held long after the two passed through the doors, waiting until they were far down the street before she finally released it. The young woman nearly collapsed to her knees as the tension fled for her all at once, tears of joy and relief freely flowing down her face as she wept.

It took ten minutes for the rest of the staff to gather the courage to check on her.

---

Chapter 2

From Nine to None

The tingling hadn't stopped.

Jack Slash kept his expression placid even as something akin to concern bubbled in the back of his mind. His instincts and intuition had gotten the Nine and himself (mostly himself) out of plenty of dangerous situations before. Even when he and his band of killers (his band, not King's – not anymore) were at their weakest, he knew that he could trust his instincts to guide him.

Which was why it was so irritating that he couldn't figure out what they were warning him about.

They had left the nearest town hours ago (where they had…liberated the RV they were currently using from their owners) and were in the middle of nowhere. The Protectorate didn't have much of a presence in the state yet. What few heroes did call this place their home tended to drift towards the main cities or isolated towns. Neither of those groups would be willing to spend the time and effort to track them down.

"Something wrong, Jacob?"

Jack twitched as Grey Boy leaned against the passenger seat. Screamer, the one who had chosen the short straw to drive, was far less controlled, leaning as far away from the monochrome looking boy as she could. Jack prided himself on being able to keep his group in line, but even by their standards, Grey Boy was unstable and powerful.

Ideally, those were good for Nine membership.

Not so much when the possibility existed that he might turn on them.

"Nothing to concern yourself with," Jack said with a slick smile. He leaned back, letting his posture relax, demonstrating his lack of concern at the psychotic Shaker's presence. It was like staring down a hungry predator, they wouldn't attack if they thought they couldn't take you. "I've just been finding these empty plains rather tedious. Perhaps we should spend on time on one of the coasts. It might be a refreshing change of pace. What do you think?"

"I don't care," Grey Boy droned with that bored down he always had. He used to be more excited about visiting places back when they had first started out under King. Still, Jack supposed with a power like his, everything became dull after a while. The only times he ever saw the man grow interested was when he was torturing someone, or one of his victims was telling him an exciting story. "Just let me know when we have something to do."

Jack didn't quite let out a sigh of relief as Grey Boy turned back towards whatever he had been doing. The one downside of constantly traveling was that since his time bubbles couldn't move, they couldn't really bring anyone alone to keep his attention away from him. Long trips like this always had to be interspersed with stops so the boy could let off some steam and cool down.

"…ah, crud."

"What is it?" He asked, turning his attention towards Screamer. The blonde's expression was twisted into a scowl, and she roughly jerked her head down the road. Jack followed her gaze and grimaced in annoyance himself at the sight of a downed powerline. The metal tower had literally been ripped from the ground and tossed across the street like a child's broken toy. Likely from that tornado that has passed by here a few days ago.

Natural disasters like that (and Endbringers) made it so much easier for them to operate, but it left small annoyances like this in their paths.

"Well, I suppose Crimson is going to be getting his workout," Jack muttered as he glanced back to the only parahuman in their group who could move something that large. Breed might be able to use a few of his minions once they got big enough, but staying in one place for a few days wasn't the best of ideas.

Especially not when Grey Boy was already getting testy.

"Bring the RV up and we can—"

The tingling grew to a roar in the back of his skull. The transition was so startling that Jack gasped for a moment, clutching his head as a rather potent migraine struck. It felt like someone was running over his skull with a truck. Distantly, he could hear Screamer asking him what was wrong. His lips pulled back, teeth grinding against each other as he tried to respond…

But then the RV was spinning, and there was no time to answer.

The world around them twisted with a thunderous crash as something slammed into the side of the vehicle with enough force to send them spinning. Those who were wearing seatbelts (Breed was always cautious like that) clutched at their harnesses while the rest of the troupe were tossed around the twisting hunk of metal like bugs in a jar until it finally came to a stop.

Jack gasped for breath as he tried to pull himself up.

Pain lanced through his legs, and it only took a quick glance to realize that they had been broken. Flecks of white pushed their way through flesh at an angle that wasn't natural. For the dozenth time, the serial killer berated himself for not turning that healer they had met back a few months ago.

We could have really used that.

The bearded man (now that he could finally grow a beard) turned to find Screamer's head lying next to him, empty eyes staring out at the world. If that wasn't enough confirmation that she was dead, the giant jagged piece of metal sticking through her throat was. If he wasn't in such pain, he might have laughed at the irony.

She always did enjoy slitting people's throats when she had the chance.

With a grunt, Jack pulled himself up as best as he could, using the shattered wreck of the RV for support as he did so. The ground shook at the familiar sound of battle echoed outside, the shattered glass on the earth quaking as though it anticipated being drenched in blood today. A quick pat-down revealed that his blades were still attached to him (though a few had pierced his skin), which meant that he was armed.

He had gotten out of worse situations than this ambush (what else could it be), and he would do so again. Nothing they could do could bring Grey Boy down…so all he needed to do was keep the monochrome cape's ire focused on their ambushers and not him. Even if the rest of the Nine died, they could recover and rebuild so long as they were given enough time.

Unlike King, he wasn't…attached to individual members.

"WINTER!"

Crimson's grated against his ears. It was unlike the hulking brute to sound so concerned at the injury of his lover, which likely meant the former child soldier was dead. Unfortunate, given how useful her ability could be at times. Well, at the very least, her death would serve to motivate Crimson to avenge her, which would buy him time to…

…oh no.

Jack crawled through the shattered remains of the windshield just in time to see Crimson soar through the air. The rust-red parahuman shriek of fury was cut short as a lance of power serrated through his heart, muscle, and bone pulping in an instant. Like a puppet whose strings had been cut, the still-growing giant fell to the ground with a dull thud, cracking the road with weight alone.

But that wasn't what concerned Jack.

No…it was the floating figure that had done him in, green shawl and cloak draped across her back. Loose curls hung from her head, accenting her youthful appearance. Yet despite her youthful looks, she held herself with all the regalness of a conquering queen.

A Fairy Queen if he wanted to be precise.

He had heard about her years ago, back when King had still held his leash. The potential she could have made as a member of the Nine was staggering, but there was something about her that scared him. He could never put a pin on what was the cause of his concern, but he could always remember the cold chill he felt when he thought about her.

The only one who he found more frightening was Grey Boy.

And when you had to compare someone to Grey Boy…that wasn't someone you wanted to meet.

Except now, she had found them and was taking them down with the ease of a tiger in a pen of pigs. Granted, they mostly used hit and run tactics because they didn't have the means for prolonged conflicts. An ambush like this played against their strengths, left them unprepared and lacking their usual tempo and momentum. They were off their game, and as one of her shadowy ghosts wreathed Nyx in flames, he could tell she was using that to her full advantage.

He needed to getaway…he needed to regroup and—

"And where do you think you're going?"

Jack twisted towards the sound of the voice, his hand slipping down towards one of his blades with practiced ease. He could feel the thrum of his power grow as his hand wrapped around the finely carved grip, the blade's edge extending beyond the realm of physical limitation. The ambusher's suit tore and frayed as he flicked his wrist in an attempt to make the man bleed, to bring him low like he had brought low so many others…

…only for the invisible blades to bounce of his flesh.

Brute, he cursed in the back of his skull.

His power might allow him to extend his blades as far as he could see, but they could only cut what the base blades could cut. An issue he had worked around before (usually passing them off to Crimson or Grey Boy), but he didn't have that option anymore. He could only hope that Grey Boy was able to deal with Glaistig Uaine in a timely manner.

Survive.

"This suit cost me a pretty penny," the masked man commented as he examined the torn fabric that hung from his frame. Jack thought the helmet was a nice touch if a bit tacky. There was something to be said for having something as plain as a face be the most terrifying thing that one could see. Putting a mask between you and your victims…it always felt like a wall was in the way then, as though you couldn't enjoy the moment as much with that division.

Jack smiled as best as he could, considering the circumstances. "Well, I suppose that goes to show – dress for the occasion and all that. I don't suppose you – gahk!"

The parahuman serial killer spasmed as an impossibly strong hand wrapped around his jaws, pinching them shut. He could feel the cartilage of his nose crack, his teeth and jawbones screaming in fury as he was hauled to his feet. His legs dangled in the air even as he desperately lashed out at the man with everything he had, blades swinging faster than he could remember.

"No. Begone."

Then the pain started.

Jack Slash was intimately familiar with the concept of pain.

He was something of an expert, really.

But he had never felt something like this before.

The closest thing he could compare it to was as if a thousand molten fishhooks were digging into his brain, ripping something out that he knew was necessary. His skull felt like it was splitting open underneath a chainsaw, his body spasming as all his nerve endings ignited.

Then, as quickly as it had come, …it was gone.

A gasp of relief escaped his throat as he was tossed to the ground. His limbs felt numb, refusing to respond to his commands. His thoughts were a muddled haze, twisting in so many directions he couldn't make sense of what was up or down. But despite all that, Jack Slash could feel that something was wrong, missing. As though a vital piece of him had ripped out and left behind an empty void.

"An interesting power," the helmeted man mused, casually reaching down for one of his blades. All Jack could do was watch as the man brought up a small pocketknife that he had pulled from the corpse of a Boy Scout whose campsite they had raided (they had made such delicious screams). The blade whipped out towards him, and despite their distance, he could feel the line cut across his cheek a faint dribble of blood running down his flesh.

Oh no…

The implication of what this meant (please don't let it be true) and what it would mean for him (don't take the one thing I have) hit him at once. The cold pit in his stomach rolled and boiled even as the sounds of battle started to quiet down. A dull thud echoed in his ears as Grey Boy's body slammed against the roof of the shattered RV.

It lacked his infamous monochrome coloring.

It's over…

It was such a small thought, but one that crumbled every other thought that had previously dominated his mind. A loss…he could handle a loss. Even as successful as the Nine were, they had lost plenty of times over the years. They had retreated from more than one cape that turned out to be a bit too much for them to handle.

Well, for anyone not named Grey Boy, that was.

But this was more than a loss, wasn't it?

The Nine had never been defeated in such a decisive manner before. They had always made sure to keep themselves from getting into extended conflicts, fleeing whenever they had the chance so they could still take their revenge another day.

"You can feel it, can't you? The clawing emptiness?" The man asked, casually leaning against the shattered RV. He held himself with the same casual confidence that he had once felt, that was now bubbling away like morning dew in the face of the sun. Despite that, Jack tried to keep up his smile, his coolness, to hide the growing horror in the back of his head.

He was more than just knives.

He liked to talk, to bring people down, turn them into the monsters that they really were.

He just needed to do it again…

…and avoid being killed in the process.

"It's a neat trick you have," he managed to get out, smiling through bloodstained teeth. "Though I can't help but—"

CRACK.

Jack howled as the man's foot slammed against his chin. Bone shattered and splintered, and he could feel teeth fly out of their sockets. His tongue screamed as it was nearly bitten off by his own jaw, and his throat tasked like copper, the metallic tang staining everything it touched. He glared at the man through one of his eyes even as he laid in the dirt like…like he was a victim again.

As if he hadn't killed King.

"Even without your secondary power," his attacker started, much to Jack's confusion. Secondary power? What was he talking about? "I'm not interested in listening to whatever half-cocked pseudo-philosophy you've chosen for the day to justify your degenerate ineptitude as a human being. I imagine that's the only way you've ever been able to convince anyone, hasn't it? Changing the reason for doing what you do so nobody can refute you? So you can always have the correct answer to turn them to your side? The mental gymnastics of an overgrown child who can't stand being told no."

The man let loose a laugh just dripping with contempt.

"What a waste."

The cold chuckle did little to focus his mind. It was one thing for people to be disgusted at what he did (that was part of the fun), but something about the way the man spoke grated against his nerves. King may have founded the Nine, but it had been him that had turned it into the force that it was today. The terror of small towns across the country, the nightmares that left hardened criminals quaking in their boots.

Yet here was this man (who he didn't even recognize) casually dressing him down as though he were a common thug. As...as though he didn't matter.

It was…infuriating.

…and terrifying.

Jack would admit that he was used to having the upper hand in situations like this. He took great pleasure in being able to captivate his audience's attention, to force them to confront the ugly truths of themselves and the world around them. Peeling back all that glamor and glitz that they thought made them important, made them more than the animals around them.

This…this was new for him.

Or maybe old, considering his previous relationship with King and his parents.

The sounds of battle were quieting down in the distance, the final gurgle of his form compatriots wafting through the air. A chill of terror swept across his body with the realization that he was likely the last of the Nine alive.

Here he was, the last of the legacy that he had hoped to forge…and he couldn't even talk.

Was this how he was going to die?

Not gloriously, in a way that would seal his name in the annals of history forever, but rather being slaughter in the middle of nowhere by a monster and her pet nobody?

…was this how he was going to be remembered?

I don't want to die.

The man laughed.

It wasn't a friendly laugh – it was the kind of laughter that would have fit right in with the Nine.

"Oh, Jacob, Jacob, Jacob. You're not going to die today. Though, I suppose by the end of it all, you're going to be wishing your parents had left you to rot in that bunker of theirs," the man said, a bright smile hidden by his helm.

Jack swallowed, the metallic flavor of his blood mixing with saliva.

How did he know that?

How did he know that!

King hadn't known about that!

"Your punishment is not that you die, Jacob," the man commanded, rising to his full height. His shadow seemed to swallow the sun, casting the downed killer in darkness. Deadly intent rolled off him in waves, and a small part of Jack pulled itself back to the time when King's ever-present shadow loomed over him.

Back when he had been Jacob.

Crackling power engulfed the man's hand as he reached down.

"Your punishment is that you live."

----

"I think quite often a fate worse than death is life, for lots of people." - Tom Baker