The Disastrous Life of a Psychic Cape Chapter 1 - The Brockton Bay Psychic (Patreon)

(10k chapter)

(Adrian Vale)

*BOOM*

A storefront exploded in a shower of flames and debris as Lung was thrown through it by an explosion from Miss Militia's RPG. Dozens upon dozens of people came to look and gawk at the display between the two capes. No one knew how the fight started or why Miss Militia would even attack Lung, but none of that mattered, all they saw was the epic battle that ensued.

Lung crawled out of the storefront, his body sporting more scales than it had when he'd been thrown in, fire coming out of his mouth with every breath.

"That's so cool."

"I have never seen a dragon before!"

"Who do you think is gonna win?"

"Lung looks kinda sexy, not gonna lie."

Lung roared before he jumped back out and reengaged Miss Militia, who was now put completely on the defensive.

'They have such cool powers.'

'They are so lucky.'

'They must have such amazing lives.'

They are completely wrong.

I barely even looked at the fight taking place in the street before crossing the road. I was getting sick of the same barrage of thoughts that kept appearing in my mind.

'Oh wow, so cool.'

'Miss Militia pretty.'

'Dragon, dragon!'

'Gun go boom!'

Shut up.

At least, that's what I wanted to say, but I'm not stupid enough to make myself look crazy. Plus, it's unlikely they'd even take notice of me while everything was happening.

After quickly crossing the street, I paused in front of a bakery, looking at the selection of treats they had. I couldn't help but drool a bit at how much they had to offer. I took my wallet out of my back pocket and looked inside, only to see a deep void, one that must've swallowed all the money I had, as that must be the only explanation.

Either that or my grandad was damn stingy.

I looked back the pasties in the window longingly. I was still staring into the pastry case, mourning the death of my wallet, when I felt it. That spike of fear. Not the usual kind either—not oh no I forgot my keys fear, but the bad, stomach-hollowing kind that meant something was about to go horribly wrong.

'That car's flying right at her!'

'No, no, no, no—'

I turned my head, just slightly.

Lung had gotten bigger again. A good two feet taller, claws longer, with a tail whipping like a wrecking ball. He'd grabbed a car and hurled it like a baseball.

It was spinning fast and flew right toward the crowd. Right toward a girl who was frozen in place. Everyone else had already moved, or at least dived to the ground. But she wasn't moving. She was just staring at it, mind blanking out from the panic. Like a dear in the headlights.

'I can't move. I can't—'

The car was two seconds away from ending her life, too close she couldn't even finish her thought.

I snapped my fingers in my pocket.

The car didn't stop. That would've been suspicious. Instead, it shifted mid-spin, just slightly, just enough. It clipped a light pole instead of her head and crashed to the ground in a screech of metal and sparks about four feet to her left.

She fell backward, screaming but still alive and not turned into a bloody paste over the ground. Everyone started shouting again. Phones went up. People swarmed. The girl was immediately pulled away by a guy who looked like her older brother.

'Holy shit that was close.'

'Was that Miss Militia?!'

'She didn't even shoot, how did the car miss?'

I turned back to the bakery window like nothing happened.

A guy bumped into me running past, muttering "sorry, man" as he shoved by. I gave a half-hearted nod and stepped away from the crowd. I didn't need thanks. Or attention. I just didn't want to deal with the hassle of giving a statement to the Police before I even started school.

I checked my phone.

Still time.

I started walking again, tugging my hood down a little tighter as the crowd swelled behind me and the fight carried on like it was part of some Saturday morning cartoon. I can't help but wonder if this would just be a regular occurrence from now on and whether I should just get the hell out of Brockton bay while I still could. 

I had lived in the suburbs before this. Peaceful place. Quiet. Boring in the best way. But no, Grandad had to make me promise I'd "go out and live a little." And of course, I had to be stupid enough to follow through on it.

So here I was. In the city where supervillains outnumber rats, where I was now watching lizard-men throw cars, on my way to public school.

Being a cape is the worst. People think it's all cool costumes and flying around and punching Nazis in the teeth. No one talks about the nosebleeds. The headaches. The constant buzzing static of human thought trying to shove itself into your skull like a freight train with no brakes.

And I don't just have one power.... No, that would've been too easy.

I have a full psychic buffet, every power you'd dream of having as a kid, though that's if you don't mind having it be delivered with a side of misery.

Telepathy?

I can hear everyone's thoughts whether I want to or not. It's like trying to study while standing in the middle of Times Square during rush hour. And surprise, people don't think anything worth hearing. Ever.

'Should I get nuggets or a burger?'

'I hope no one noticed that fart.'

'I wonder if spiders have feelings.'

This is my life.

Psychokinesis?

Yes, I can lift things with my mind. I can also accidentally knock over a bookshelf if I sneeze wrong. Precision is exhausting. Keeping everything from flying around like I'm in a haunted house takes active effort.

Teleportation?

Great on paper. But I have to visually lock onto or memorize a place. Mess it up and you can end up halfway into a wall. Or inside someone. Also, it makes me nauseous. Like rollercoaster-vomit nauseous.

Invisibility?

Technically yes. I can blank myself out from perception. But it takes me a minute to fully turn invisible and one touch from a person can undo it, not helpful when the average cape gets into fights at least twice a weak.

Power resistance?

Thinker powers glitch near me. Sometimes it's helpful. Most times it just makes people really angry when their abilities don't work and they can't figure out why. Guess who they take it out on?

Psychometry

Pyrokinesis

Telepathy

All of it is a nail into the coffin that is my hope for a normal life. Being a cape is hell. Being a strong cape that's a special kind of purgatory.

Everyone expects something from you. They want you to fight, or lead, or save the world, or do something with your "gift." But I didn't ask for it. I just wanted to live a quiet life and read, enjoy some pastries and never have to talk to anyone other than my family.

Not too much to ask for.

Instead, I've moved to the cape capital of suffering, where every week there's another explosion, another gang war. There are literal neo nazi's here and somehow my grandad thought it would be a good learning experience to stay in the place he grew up.

I pulled my hood further down as sirens wailed in the distance. Being a cape is the worst. Which is why I decided to try and keep my powers a secret. I don't want to have to deal with the fame and attention that comes with being a cape and I certainly don't want people worshiping me because of the grab bag of powers I've been cursed with. All I want to do is get to school and finish today and hopefully make some progress on my Grandads request so I can get out of this hell hole.

"Good grief..." I muttered to myself as I saw a horde of students from my soon to be school rushing in my direction, no doubt wanting to watch the epic showdown of man vs lizard. There were sixteen students on my side of the pavement, ten of so would definitely collide with me or at least bump me into the path of someone else who would.

Pretty rude if you ask me.

It is my personal belief in life that you should not make trouble for people and just stick to your lane. Ironic that I'd end up in a place where everyone seems to make it their personal mission to make trouble for as many people as possible. As the first person approached I easily slipped past them, then the next and the next. Overall it wasn't very difficult to get past them without being knocked into, it was just a hassle I had to exert so much effort on the first place when I could easily use such things for reading... or eating.

Checking my phone again I realised I better get a move on otherwise I'd be late on my first day. I also took the time to open up the map again and check I was still going in the right direction, of course I could've just used Clairvoyance, but that's the thing about having powers. When you use them too much they start to become a crutch and soon you start to lose normal human abilities that you were born with.

By the time I'd crossed another block, I could still hear the crowd yelling and the occasional thundercrack of Miss Militia's rifle. She must've been getting tired because Lung was roaring louder, not quieter. I made the mistake of checking a live feed on my phone. Someone was recording from a rooftop, shouting into the mic like they were casting a sports event.

'Lung's pushing her back!'

'Wait, someone else just showed up. Holy crap, is that Armsmaster from the turnbuckle!!?'

Oh. Great.

Because what this fight really needed was another cape with an overdeveloped sense of civic duty and a habit of collateral damage.

I kept walking. Faster now.

The sidewalk was crowded with students and regular civilians still loitering around for some reason, like this was a summer blockbuster and not essentially a live weapons test.

'Look! It's Armsmaster!'

'He's so cool, I love his armor.'

'He's gonna wreck Lung!'

'Wait, is that his halberd? That's so coool.'

Of all the weapons he uses a halberd, pretty cool if it was the 1400's.

I sighed as another loud crash echoed across the buildings. I shielded myself as concrete dust floated down like snow. Lots of people from the crowd started coughing and I couldn't help but grin slightly.

This city.

It always amazed me how so many people could look at three highly armed superhumans blowing up a neighbourhood and decide to get closer. This is what I meant earlier. People causing problems. For themselves. For others. For me.

Mostly for me.

And sure enough, the fight moved closer.

A warning klaxon started blaring from one of the street speakers: Capes fighting in the vicinity. Seek cover. Stay calm. Do not engage.

Yeah, sure. Because if people had the sense to listen to an announcement like that they probably wouldn't be here in the first place.

A bright light caught the edge of my vision. I turned and saw it; a wall of flame moving fast across the street. It was wide, dense, and close enough to make the air shimmer.

Three students stood in its path. They weren't moving. One had dropped their bag. Another just stared. And the last one tried to move his friends unsuccessfully.

'It's coming right at us.'

'I can't move.'

'It's gonna hit—'

The flames stopped.

There was no sound when it happened. No explosion. No impact. The fire just hit something mid-air and flattened out, like water slamming into glass.

People around them screamed, believing that the children had been annihilated. But the flames bent and rolled along the invisible surface, spreading sideways until they lost momentum. The students were untouched. Not even their clothes were singed. Everyone gasped. A few people started clapping like it was part of the show. Phones and cameras were out, though no one actually knew what had happened.

'Did she do that?'

'That was Armsmaster's shield, right?'

'No way he got there that fast.'

'Lung missed?'

They all looked in the same direction. No one saw anything.

I watched them from a rooftop one building over.

"Good grief... Why is it so hard for students just to go to school."

It wasn't that I cared.

Not really.

But letting half the student body get incinerated before I even set foot in school would've made for a very gloomy atmosphere. And I'd prefer to make it through the week without being asked to sign a memorial banner.

Luckily for me it seemed that Lung had lost interest or they had all seen the futility of the fight. The half-dragon man skittered away and the other two capes didn't give chase, likely seeing it as futile. From what I'd read about Lung he slowly transformed into a dragon the longer he fought, which improved his durability, regeneration and pyrokinesis. A hassle for a whole group of capes to deal with let alone two. I applaud Miss Militia and Armsmaster for taking the easiest way forward, maybe there was hope for them yet.

I checked the time again.

Then I checked it a second time, as if the numbers might have changed out of pity.

They hadn't.

"Great," I muttered. "Late on the first day."

I took one last look at the street below. The crowd was still buzzing over the cape fight, unaware or uncaring that it had almost turned into a mass casualty event. People still had their phones out. Someone was selling Armsmaster merchandise.

With a sigh I stepped off the roof. My first day and I'd already been dragged into a cape incident, I blame my stupid grandpa for throwing me into this mess. I shot off across the sky flying high enough that most people wouldn't see me, and fast enough that those who did wouldn't be able to get a good look at me. The city blurred by and Winslow High came into view after a few minutes—a square, sun-bleached structure that looked more like a warehouse than a school. The windows were fogged with grime, the grass half-dead, and the front sign had a crack down the middle.

Charming.

I touched down behind a tree near the front entrance and adjusted my hoodie—I had activated my invisibility midflight so I'd be able to get close. A group of students passed by, laughing about something one of them posted. None of them noticed me. Good.

I circled around the building and walked up the cracked pavement toward the main doors. I sighed as I walked inside, my head was already buzzing from the noise inside.

'Hope that teacher calls in sick again.'

'Do not make eye contact. Do not make eye contact.'

'Why is it always chicken nuggets and corn?'

The second I stepped inside, I wanted to step right back out. The air smelled like bleach, burned plastic, and gym socks. The lighting flickered, and were clearly on neeed of replacement. The floor tiles clicked underfoot like they were about to break.

I followed the signs to the main office. The hallway was empty except for a janitor who was already hard at work it seemed. It seemed that a mess being made in the hallways was normal, did everyone have breakfast here or something? In my last school there was a teacher who would purposely stand in the hallways to confiscate food, where he would then proceed to eat it in front of the student. Not saying I preferred that, but maybe... clean this shit up at least.

Inside the front office, a woman sat behind a scratched desk, typing something into a terminal that looked older than I was. Her hair was pinned up tightly, and her glasses were sliding down her nose. She also had bleached blonde hair she wore in an 80's style bun; I had a strong suspicion she was single.

I walked up to the desk and cleared my throat.

"Good morning. I'm a new student starting here today. I'm supposed to meet with Principal Blackwell."

She looked up, startled, like she had forgotten students existed.

'Poor boy. Why would he want to come here of all places?'

She offered a polite smile and began clicking through a few windows on her monitor.

"And your name, sweetheart?"

"Adrian Vale."

"Right. I see it here. Principal Blackwell is expecting you," she said, though her mind offered something else.

'She's still finishing her morning drink, she better have left me some this time.'

"You can take a seat just over there," she said aloud, pointing toward the cracked chairs by the wall. "She'll call you in when she's ready."

"Thanks."

I sat down without a word, and tried to tune out the secretary going on about the one night stand she'd had just last night in her mind.

I leaned back in my chair and stared at the ceiling.

I took out my phone, unlocked it, and stared at the blank screen for a moment.

Might as well let the old man know I didn't die on the way here.

I opened our chat and started typing.

Adrian:

Got to the school. Got the apartment key yesterday like you said.

It wasn't long before the screen lit up again.

Grandpa:

Good. Don't screw it up, you antisocial loser.

Try talking to people with your mouth for once, and stop being so dramatic, you're only making friends not redoing the twelve labours of Hercules.

I rolled my eyes. There it was.

A second later, another text came in.

Grandpa:

And don't forget our deal.

If you manage to get a real girlfriend, I'll give you the telepathy blocker.

There it was again. That deal.

Grandpa was a Tinker. Not the mad scientist, world-destroyer type. He was more like a hobbyist with boundary issues regarding his grandson and too much free time. Over the years, he had made a bunch of inventions that never saw the light of day, some useless, some terrifying, and one in particular that had been in my dreams since the day he showed it to me.

A wearable, short-range device that completely shut off my telepathy.

Silence. No voices. No thoughts. No annoying people

He built it six months ago. Said he wanted to test it on someone who could give  real feedback. He was clearly referring to me. I thought that meant he was giving it to me. I was wrong. Instead, he made a deal. If I agreed to move to Brockton Bay, go to public school, and get a girlfriend, he'd hand it over.

Sick old bastard.

Who gets involved in their grandson's love life to that extent?

He claimed it was character building. Said it would "broaden my emotional horizons." I told him it sounded like pervert talk disguised as life advice. He didn't deny it.

Another message came through.

Grandpa :

And don't embarrass me by getting a reputation as some maidenless cape. You've already got the brooding part down. Don't lean in too hard. People have moved past cool and mysterious so start being social unless you want people to laugh at you (myself included).

I stared at the screen. Then slowly locked my phone.

I'm going to punch him the next time I see him.

The waiting room was too warm. The chair had a broken spring that kept nudging the side of my back, and the secretary was chewing too loudly. The air smelled like printer toner and weak coffee. Of course I was noticing all of these things because of my hyper state of annoyance, a state I can only be brought into by my Grandpa. I pinched the bridge of my nose and leaned further back in the chair, staring at the ceiling tile with the brown water stain that kind of looked like a dead moth.

This was going to be a long day.

"Principal Blackwell will see you now," the secretary said, her voice snapping me out of my thoughts.

I stood, stretching slightly to ease the stiffness in my back from the worn-out chair. The woman gestured to the door on her left, giving me a polite smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

'Poor kid. Hope he doesn't end up like the last transfer.'

I didn't bother responding. I just nodded and pushed the door open.

The principal's office was, strangely enough, the nicest part of the school so far. The carpet was clean, the air smelled faintly of coffee and furniture polish, and the blinds were only half-broken instead of completely falling apart. Principal Blackwell stood behind her desk as I entered, setting down a mug and closing a folder. She looked to be in her mid-to-late forties, sharp-featured, with pale skin and a stiff bowl-cut of dirty blonde hair that looked like it had been trimmed with a ruler. Her suit jacket was neatly pressed, her expression one of perfect politeness, like she was about to greet the mayor rather than a student.

"Ah, you must be Mr. Vale," she said with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Please, come in."

'Good grades, high marks, clean record. Finally, a student who can actually read. Maybe this one will raise the school's average.'

'Better make sure the E88 boys don't try recruiting him. They always love a blonde kid.'

She gestured to the chair in front of the desk. "Have a seat, Mr. Vale."

I did, lowering myself into the chair and keeping my posture polite. "Thank you, ma'am," I said. "Sorry I'm late. There was... a cape fight on my way here."

Blackwell waved a hand as she sat back down. "Yes, yes, that's quite all right. Brockton Bay, after all. Hardly a week goes by without one of those. You're not the first to be delayed by a bit of excitement." She gave a short, restrained chuckle and picked up a brochure from her desk.

"Now then, Adrian, we're very glad you chose to attend Winslow High," she began, slipping into what I was pretty sure was her standard welcome script. "We pride ourselves on offering a wide range of extracurricular activities and student engagement programs. Our academic support schemes are improving every term, and we're especially proud of our inclusive environment."

'Good grief,' I thought.

I'm not interested in that. I just want to go home and read a book.

She continued for another minute or two, mentioning clubs, student mentoring schemes, even something called "Conflict Resolution Tuesdays," which went to show how badly this school was doing.

Finally, she glanced back at her folder and nodded. "You'll be assigned to Miss Knott's class for the year," she said. "But since you're a bit late this morning, you'll start in Mr. Gladley's class he's your second period."

She reached for a pen, jotting something down. "Room 203. Down the hall to your right, first set of stairs, then left at the top. You'll see the nameplate, now here's your planner and your schedule."

"Understood," I said, standing. "Thank you, ma'am."

She gave a small nod and clasped her hands on the desk again. "Of course. No sense keeping you from your first day. Try to make a good impression, Mr. Vale. I have high hopes for you."

'Let's hope those little shits don't scare him off before the week's over.'

"I'll try," I said. Gave her a nod. Turned toward the door. I shoved my hands into my pockets and headed down the corridor toward Room 203.

One class down, I told myself. Only a few thousand more to go.

...

Room 203 was halfway down the hall. The plaque next to the door read World Issues in faded gold letters, chipped around the edges. I stopped just short of the handle and gave the door two short knocks.

"Come on in!" a voice called out, way too cheerful for this early in the day.

I opened the door and stepped into a classroom that looked exactly as decrepit as the hallway outside, except for the man at the front, who didn't seem tired at all. Mr. Gladley stood beside the whiteboard, a marker still in hand and a grin already stretching across his face. Late thirties, maybe early forties, scruffy jaw, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, tie loose around his neck, he looked like he'd just rolled out of bed or it was some attempt to be one of the cool teachers.

The walls were covered in posters, peace symbols, flags, quotes in big letters about change and community and critical thinking. I already felt like I didn't belong.

"Hey, hey, we've got someone new," Gladley said, snapping his fingers and pointing at me like I'd won a prize. "What's your name, champ?"

I stepped fully into the room, trying not to look at the twenty-something heads turning to face me. "Adrian Vale," I said. "New transfer. I was told to report here for the first period."

"Well, welcome, Adrian!" Gladley said, waving toward the front of the room like I was supposed to step into the spotlight. "Come on in, don't be shy. Introduce yourself to the class, let us know who we're dealing with."

I blinked.

No.

I had absolutely no interest in this.

But arguing about it would just prolong the pain. Better to get it over with now than listen to him drag it out.

I turned to face the class. A few students were only half paying attention. One kid in the back had earbuds in. A tall blonde girl in the front was already finished inspecting me, like she'd just swiped left.

"I'm Adrian Vale," I said flatly. "I moved here from down south. I hope to get along with everyone."

'He's skinny but pretty cute.'

The thought came from a brunette sitting by the window. She had light makeup on and her nails were carefully done in pale pink.

'Such nice hair. I wonder if he's Empire.'

That came from somewhere on the left. A shorter girl with dyed blonde roots, chewing her pen cap.

'Not handsome, but he could be if he fixed his outfit up.'

From the second row, two seats in. Red hair, up in a ponytail. Designer bag.

'Nice to see another pure race in here.'

That one was a Male. Buzzcut. Sitting slouched with his arms folded. His mouth wasn't moving, but he was smirking.

'Wonder what his deal is.'

'New kid's probably a narc.'

'Why do we even have transfers coming here? Did his parents lose a bet?'

'Bet he's gonna be gone by the end of the week.'

I already hate it here.

"That was it?" Mr. Gladley said with a laugh, clapping his hands once like I'd just told a bad joke. "Come on, that wasn't an introduction. You sound like a court transcript."

I bit the inside of my cheek, forcing myself not to sigh.

What's the quickest way to get him off my back?

"I like reading," I said. "And coffee. And anything sweet from a bakery."

I looked at Gladley, who still hadn't moved. He had that same wide-eyed expression, expectant, like I was a wind-up toy that hadn't said all my lines yet. Sorry Mr Gladley you won't be finding a Snake in my boot. Though it would get a little awkward if I kept standing here.

So I gave in.

"And I'm here at Winslow to find a girlfriend."

The room went silent for a split second. Then it cracked open with laughter.

Half the class started cackling, some louder than others. A few started whispering to each other like I had just admitted I was running for prom king. One guy whistled. Another called out something about "shooting his shot."

Gladley raised his hands, trying to wave it all down. "All right, all right, settle down. Let the man live a little!"

It did not help.

Eventually, he pointed toward the back of the room, still chuckling. "Why don't you grab a seat in the last row, Adrian? By the window there. Should be empty."

"Thanks," I said, keeping my tone even. I turned and walked toward the back without looking at anyone.

The chair was half-sprung and a bit uneven, but after that introduction, it felt like the safest place in the world. I dropped into the seat and exhaled quietly.

At least that was over though.

Though, in hindsight, maybe announcing my lifelong romantic goals to a room full of strangers wasn't the most subtle way to go about things. At the time, it seemed like a smart move; draw attention to myself in just the right way in order to get lumped in with the oddballs and theatre kids, and let the social isolation handle itself. My logic was simple: if I proved beyond all doubt that I was hopeless at love, maybe my grandfather would finally give up on this whole "find a girlfriend" crusade and just hand over the damn telepathy blocker.

Why he was so obsessed with me dating, I didn't know.

Why he needed four wives in his time was an even bigger mystery.

Dates.

Acting lovey-dovey.

Sharing food.

Giving up hobbies to spend time with them.

I refuse.

I have too many hobbies I enjoy doing to sacrifice them for a full-time partner. Sure, girls were pretty. I'm not blind. But it's hard to appreciate beauty when your head is constantly flooded with unsolicited thoughts about their insecurities, breakfast choices, and what they really think of you.

And if I stared too long, I'd end up seeing through them anyway.

X-ray vision.

Yes, that includes seeing through their clothes.

No, it's not fun.

Guys would kill for this kind of power I'm sure, until they realised it ruins any mystery or anticipation. Once you've seen everything a hundred times, you start treating nudity like a medical chart.

I sighed quietly and pulled a small notebook from my hoodie pocket.

On the top of the next blank page, I wrote:

School Girls

Don't read too much into it.

This wasn't a checklist. It was a log.

Despite my best efforts to fail, I didn't want to outright disrespect my grandfather. As annoying as the old man was, there was no denying how much he loved me. He raised me after my parents died. He gave me a roof, food, training, advice—questionable advice—and tried to make sure I laughed at least once a day, even if it was at his expense.

The least I could do was put in some effort.

This notebook was what he called a "character assessment tracker."

I called it what it was, a list of girls I might try to talk to. If they didn't immediately disqualify themselves. The reason I kept it went back to something he told me years ago, while trying to sneak a second beer before lunch.

*Adrian... always avoid troublesome women. If you don't, you'll end up with four of them constantly around you. And they'll become friends. And gang up on you and sometimes make you cry.

And... hey honey... how long were you standing there...?*

Needless to say, his wives were not thrilled when they found out what kind of wisdom he was handing me behind closed doors.

Still, based on empirical evidence, the man wasn't entirely wrong. I loved my grandmas, but even they would admit they were a handful. Especially when in sync.

I tapped the page, wrote Maddison at the top, then drew a small question mark next to it.

Didn't know much yet. Pretty. Not annoying voice. Thought I was cute.

Too early to tell if she was "troublesome."

Mr. Gladley clapped his hands from the front of the room, bringing the class back from their side chatter. "All right, everyone, eyes up," he said. "We were just talking about which capes currently define the state of Brockton Bay."

That was easy.

Probably whichever cape was content letting Brockton Bay remain a warzone. Of course I didn't say that out loud. Would have been considered "too cynical" or "concerning for a first day."

Still, it was ridiculous.

We have the Triumvirate, three of the most powerful capes in the world. Alexandria, Eidolon, Legend. The so-called best of the best. And yet somehow, we still have gang wars, weapons trafficking, and literal lizard-men setting things on fire in broad daylight, the heroes and villain's here were no better than scooby doo characters; I wouldn't be surprised if one of them shook their fist and said they would've gotten away with it too.

It's almost impressive. In a tragic way.

Mr. Gladley kept going, weaving in names like Kaiser, New Wave, the Wards—a few of the students perked up at that—then wrapped it all up with a question.

"What kind of responsibility do you think capes have to the cities they operate in?"

He pointed to the board. "Split into groups. Discuss. Take twenty minutes, then we'll share."

Then came the line, I'd already read his mind so I knew it was coming... didn't make it any less annoying though.

"And Adrian... why don't you go ahead and join Maddison's group?" he said, gesturing toward the middle of the room. "She's one of my star pupils. I'm sure she'll catch you up on what we've done so far."

'He's going to love me for this. Gladly you old dog.'

Good grief.

Why did I mention I wanted a girlfriend again...?

Nevertheless I picked up my chair and walked it over to their table. No way I was dragging it across the tile and drawing even more attention to myself. The group sat in the middle of the room, chatting lightly as I approached. Four girls, all of them sizing me up before I'd even sat down. One of them smiled as I got closer.

"Hey. I'm Maddison," said the brunette with shoulder length hair and pastel nails. She wore lip gloss and had the kind of confidence that said boys think I'm cute. Sorry cuteness doesn't work on me, unless you can perfectly imitate an almond danish square with a raspberry jam smeared on top and sugar lightly sprinkled on top.

"Emma," said the redhead with high cheekbones and a ponytail pulled so tight it looked like it hurt. She tilted her head as she spoke, assessing me like I was on the bachelorette.

"Sophia," the dark-skinned girl said flatly. Her body language screamed "don't sit near me" even though she was pretending to be polite. If a red flag was a person then it was definitely Sophia. In fact, I almost teleported back home on instinct.

The fourth girl had short blonde hair with a pink streak running through it and a bored expression like she was halfway through chewing gum.

"Chelsea," she said, not looking up.

"Adrian," I said, placing my chair and sitting down. "Nice to meet you."

'He's kinda cute.'

'Way cuter than he looked up there.'

That was Maddison and Emma.

'He looks weak. Bet he cries if someone raises their voice at him.' Sophia barely concealed her scowl at me

You trying to pick a fight? I thought, dryly.

"So, Adrian," Maddison said, turning a little in her seat to face me better, "where are you from?"

"South side, little nameless town," I replied. "Moved up last week."

"Big family?" Emma asked.

"Not really. Just me and my grandparents now."

"Have you ever had a girlfriend?" Maddison asked with a smirk.

"No," I said plainly. "Never."

"Seriously?" Chelsea asked, blinking. "Not even, like, one?"

"Not even one."

"What's your type, then?" Emma asked, leaning forward slightly.

That actually made me pause. I hadn't really thought about it in detail. What was my type? Looks didn't count for much, and neither did personality when I knew everything about them before they opened their mouths. I frowned slightly in thought, then answered:

"Someone who isn't troublesome."

That made them blink.

'What does that even mean?'

'That's... weird.'

'Is he calling us troublesome?'

Emma and Maddison looked confused. Sophia just narrowed her eyes again.

'So he thinks he's too good for us, huh?'

No, I just don't want to babysit someone emotionally unstable for the rest of my life. Not that I could say that.

Emma looked at Sophia and back at me.

Hope Sophia likes him. He's cute. Would suck to have to bully him if they don't get along.

Please bully me so I can be somewhere else.

Thankfully the girls drifted back into their own conversation, switching topics faster than I could pretend to care. They started talking about what they planned to do after school, Chelsea wanted to grab frozen yogurt, Emma was complaining about a science project, and Sophia started trashing one of the other teachers.

'Mr. Hennessey's such a joke. I swear he just lets us watch documentaries because he's hungover.'

'I can't take another minute in that classroom. It smells like dust and shit.'

'The guy's like forty and still uses a flip phone. End him.'

I pretended to listen, giving the occasional nod or smile where it was expected. Mostly I just jotted down mental notes and kept my eyes on the clock.

Then there was another knock at the door.

Mr. Gladley looked up from his desk. "Come in!" he called.

The door opened slowly, and a girl stepped in.

She was thin, pale, with long dark curly hair that hung around her shoulders and went down her back like a curtain. Her bag was too big for her frame and her glasses sat slightly crooked on her nose. She loooked like she was doing everything she could to try and make herself look smaller than she really was, which was difficult considering that she was pretty tall.

The moment she entered, my head filled with noise.

'Why is she back?'

'Freak.'

'Oh look, it's locker girl.'

'God, I thought we were rid of her.'

'She should've stayed home forever.'

'Disgusting.'

The thoughts were so loud I physically flinched. My usual deadpan expression cracked into a small frown.

Even Gladley, the teacher who had been nothing but friendly all morning, sighed mentally as he stood up.

'Not her again. Always drags the energy down. The other kids just clam up when she's in the room.'

But no thoughts were harsher than the ones coming from the girls next to me. Especially Sophia.

'She better not look at me. Freak, she's definitely getting it after class.' Emma glared at her.

'I hope she trips on her stupid face, might be an improvement.' Chelsea chuckled to herself.

'She smells like mold and floor cleaner.' Maddison scrunched her nose up in disgust.

'Don't even think about trying to run away after class, locker girl.' Sophia looked damn near hatefully at her.

Mr. Gladley cleared his throat. "Welcome back, Taylor," he said, trying to sound upbeat. "We're doing group work today. Why don't you go ahead and join Greg Veder's group with Alex and Nabeela?"

Taylor nodded silently and began walking toward the back of the room.

I watched her go. Something was strange.

I couldn't hear her thoughts.

It wasn't like she had mental walls up or she was actively blocking me. She was just... quiet.

Which meant one thing.

She was a cape.

It wasn't that rare. I'd come across Trumps before—some capes had passive effects that blocked psychic reading. But Taylor felt different. Like trying to focus on her mind only made it worse. It was like tuning into a signal and picking up static layered over a thousand other voices. Like she had a thousand other people inside her head.

It was disorienting, but oddly refreshing.

I kept my gaze on her as she moved past.

"Best you stay away from her," Emma whispered beside me.

I turned my head slightly.

"She's... not right. Like, she's kind of messed up. She's also pretty creepy."

"Creepy how?" I asked.

Emma shrugged, but her thoughts painted a different picture.

'Can't have him trying to befriend her, even as unlikely as that is.'

Maddison leaned in. "Yeah, she's weird. I think she got caught stalking some guy once. Or was it that she broke into someone's locker? Actually it was both."

'I can't wait to do Sophia's plan at lunch, it's going to be so hilarious.'

Chelsea chimed in too. "She barely talks. Total freak."

'She's definitely into some psycho stuff. Like horror movies and probably bugs. Gross.'

Of course they were lying.

None of them believed what they were saying. The images in their minds were hollow, stitched together from half-truths and groupthink.

'He's not gonna go for someone like that. Flat-chested nobody like her? He'll stick with us.' Emma's thought rang especially clear.

I nodded vaguely and gave a neutral smile. At the same time, I reached into my hoodie and pulled out my notebook. Quietly, I flipped to the page.

Maddison – Troublesome

Emma – Troublesome

Sophia – Red Alert

Taylor Hebert – Pursue

Emma leaned over and squinted. "What's that?"

"A log," I said simply, snapping it closed.

"Of what?" Maddison asked.

"Girls that might make a suitable girlfriend," I said.

Emma blinked. "Wait, seriously? Can we see?"

"No."

They looked at each other. Then, like clockwork, each one took a turn trying to lean over, swipe the notebook, or sneak a look.

Chelsea even stood up and circled behind me like she was being subtle.

I raised an eyebrow and held the notebook a little tighter.

I moved the book out of the way easily, even dropping it into my other hand and sliding it across the table. The one most outraged by this was Sophie who seemed to see this as a personal game of sorts. Upon closer inspection she was faster than normal, at least when compared to the others.

"Oh come on," Maddison said. "Just let us see our ranking!"

"Hard pass," I said, shoving the book back in my pocket.

Good grief.

Troublesome indeed.

The rest of the lesson was exactly as boring as it looked. Mr. Gladley spent a good twenty minutes going off on a tangent about how parahuman dynamics reflected the global order, something about "cultural power vacuums" and "cape theory," all while half the class whispered and threw notes across the room like it was study hall. At least five people had their phones out under the table, and one guy in the corner was watching a video.

I tried to zone out. It didn't work.

The thoughts never stopped. A steady stream of boredom, lust, aggression, insecurity, daydreams, and internal screaming. Someone was mentally ranking the protectorate capes. Someone else was imagining what Emma looked like without her shirt. A third person was counting how many ceiling tiles were cracked.

And through all of it... Taylor.

I saw it start when the first crumpled piece of paper hit the back of her head. No reaction. She didn't even flinch. Then it happened again, this time a pen cap that bounced off her shoulder and rolled to the floor. Still no response.

By the third time, I stepped in.

I used psychokinesis to nudge the next item that went for her, making it miss her. Then another came, and I nudged that one, too.

It soon became a game when people realised no one was hitting her. A test. They were seeing how close they could get. Who could land a hit. Of course none of them ever did, not when she had a guardian psychic on her side.

And Mr. Gladley?

He didn't say a word.

'I'm not paid enough to get into girl drama.

Taylor can handle herself.'

'If I intervene, it becomes a whole thing. God, let me just get through this class.'

Pathetic.

By the time the bell rang, people were already halfway out of their chairs. The classroom emptied fast.

I heard Sophia's thoughts as she brushed past.

'She's not getting away today. I'm gonna corner her behind the stairs like before. She won't talk back this time.'

Maddison's mind was trailing close behind her.

'Ugh, Sophia's in one of those moods again. Hope she doesn't go too far we are lucky we didn't get in trouble last time. But I still wanna watch.'

Emma lingered, standing next to my desk with a half-smile.

"So, what've you got next?" she asked.

"Computer science."

"Oooh, boring," she said. "Well, I'll see you at lunch, then."

'Heh like he can resist coming to hang out with me.'

She gave a little wave and headed off, trailing after her friends.

Taylor hadn't moved.

She stood by her desk, holding her bag like it was a shield, watching the door Sophia had just gone through with the kind of dread that could only be recreated on the frontlines. Her shoulders had tensed, and she kept checking the window reflection like she expected to be jumped from behind.

I crossed my eyes.

*Clairvoyance*

My vision expanded in a blink, rising through the ceiling like a ghost. I traced Taylor's path as she left the classroom and moved down the hallway. She turned the corner, and there they were.

Sophia. Maddison. Emma. And two other girls I didn't recognize, flanking either side like they were hired muscle.

They surrounded her at the corridor's edge, just out of view. Emma was smiling. Maddison crossed her arms. Sophia stood closest.

Good grief.

Such a troublesome school.

I closed my eyes. Cut the clairvoyance. Slung my bag over my shoulder and stepped out the door. In the hallway people laughed, gossiped, shouted across lockers, and not a single one of them looked back at the scene happening just down the hall. Most of them knew what was happening as well, but they chose to ignore it and walk away.

I didn't walk away.

Instead, I walked straight toward the group of girls and the clearly uncomfortable girl in the middle of them.

"Taylor Hebert, right?" I said, just loud enough for the group to hear and turn around.

They all looked at me.

Taylor blinked. "Y-yeah?"

"I was told by Principal Blackwell that you'd be my welcome buddy today. Something about helping me get to my classes. Mind showing me around?"

Taylor hesitated. For a second, she looked completely caught off guard. Then her expression shifted as she leapt at the chance to get out of the situation. "S-sure," she said quickly. "I... I can do that."

"Wait," Emma interjected, stepping forward. "I could be your welcome buddy instead. We've got more in common anyway, and—"

'That ugly bitch better get out of my way.'

"I appreciate the offer," I replied, cutting her off, "but we don't share many classes. I wouldn't want to trouble you."

I turned to Taylor. "Ready to go?"

Taylor nodded, a bit too quickly. "Yeah."

She stepped away from the group like someone ducking through an open door in a fire. I walked beside her, not looking back.

Emma's glare was hot on the back of my neck. Sophia's thoughts were worse. Maddison's were confused and annoyed.

I didn't care.

When we rounded the next corner, out of sight, I reached into my pocket and flipped open the notebook.

Maddison – Red Alert

Emma – Red Alert

Sophia – Red Alert

Taylor Hebert – Pursue (Potentially Troublesome)

Taylor led the way without saying a word. She walked quickly, her shoulders slightly hunched, her bag held close to her side like it might shield her from everything in the hall. I didn't speak either. Not because I was being rude, but because I could tell she was on guard. Not against the hallway. Against me.

Understandable, I suppose.

After everything I'd heard in the past hour, it was obvious she wasn't treated like a person in this school. She was treated like a virus. A presence people tolerated only because no one had figured out how to get rid of her yet.

Even now, as we passed groups of students loitering at lockers or hanging out at hallway junctions, I could hear them.

'She's still here?'

'God, she's walking with him? Poor guy.'

'Maybe if we bully her harder, she'll just vanish.

Someone should just tell the teachers she's got aids.'

Eventually, Taylor slowed down in front of a classroom door and gestured toward it. "This is the room," she said quietly.

"Thanks."

We stepped inside. The computer lab was a rectangular room with dull grey carpets, a whiteboard at the front, and rows of well-worn PCs on desks. A couple monitors had stickers peeling from the sides. There was a faint chemical scent in the air, probably from the cleaning sprays used in the morning. A woman in her early thirties stood near the front desk. Light brown bob, thick glasses, a cardigan with elbow patches. She looked up as we entered.

"Ah, you must be the transfer. Adrian Vale?"

I nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"I'm Miss Knotts. You'll be sitting next to Taylor for now."

I gave a polite nod and took the seat beside Taylor's.

More students filtered in, most of them giving me a glance and Taylor a glare. A few whispered things under their breath, but none loud enough to hear over the rustling of bags and chairs. Once the bell rang, Miss Knotts clapped her hands once to get everyone's attention.

"Alright, people. Settle in. I'm splitting the room for today. Some of you will be continuing work on the design brief from last week. Adrian, Taylor, you two along with Greg, Aisha, and Noel you'll be working on a separate assignment."

She handed out sheets to each of us.

"Taylor's one of my strongest students," Miss Knotts added as she passed my desk. "If you need any help, don't hesitate to ask her."

I nodded. "Understood. Thanks."

She moved on.

The assignment wasn't hard. A basic logic flowchart exercise combined with some light coding in Scratch. I could've finished it in under five minutes, but that wasn't the point. Drawing attention to yourself in a school like this was the fastest way to end up with problems. Finish too fast, people expect more from you. Or they think you're a show-off. Too slow and they'll put you in a special class where they read really slowly and give me gold stars for not chewing through my pencil.

So I paced myself. Let the cursor drift between clicks. Made a point of rereading lines of code I had already understood.

Across the table, Taylor worked in silence. Every so often I caught her glancing at me, quick looks like she was trying to study me without actually making eye contact. I pretended not to notice, though the lack of thoughts from her made every glance feel louder.

Not being able to read her mind was deeply unsettling.

Then, finally, she spoke.

"You shouldn't have done that."

I glanced up. "Hm?"

"Back in the hall," she said. "With... them. You shouldn't have gotten involved."

I turned in my seat a little, resting one arm on the desk.

"I'm not too worried. I'm good at avoiding people when I want to be."

Which is all the time.

She didn't laugh. Just stared at me for a moment, then looked down again. A few minutes passed in silence. Then, again, she spoke. "Why did you get involved?"

I leaned back, letting my eyes drift to the ceiling before answering. "You weren't making trouble for anyone. You were just minding your own business."

I looked back at her.

"It's my personal belief that people shouldn't have to be troubled by others when they just want to live a normal life."

She blinked. A little surprised, I think. She probably expected some joke, or a lecture, or maybe an empty promise. It was a pretty dramatic line, admittedly. I sounded like I was giving a speech in a bad anime.

Still, after a pause, she nodded.

"...Thanks," she said softly.

I just nodded back, and we went back to our work.

The rest of the school day passed in a slow crawl, made only slightly more tolerable by the fact that I had spent nearly all of it next to Taylor. She never said much, which suited me perfectly. Her silence wasn't the strained, awkward kind that made you want to fill it with pointless chatter, either. It was peaceful. Like we had entered into a mutual non-verbal contract to stay out of each other's business.

Several times, I had to subtly redirect things using my powers, a juice box that moved away just before it could spill into her lap, a wad of gum that mysteriously bounced off course midair, a chair leg that adjusted before someone could pull it out from under her. Pranks, mostly petty ones, all obviously aimed her way. There was a rhythm to it now, like people had made a game of trying to catch her off guard. But every attempt ended with mild confusion and disappointment. They could never quite hit their target.

Taylor never noticed, or if she did, she didn't let on.

At lunch, she sat with me in the cafeteria, which by the looks of it, wasn't her usual habit. I could feel her discomfort the moment we stepped inside, like she was trying to make herself small, invisible. She took her tray and sat, staring at her food, opening a worn paperback without saying a word.

I did the same.

Pulled out my book. Ate slowly and read in silence.

The table around us stayed blessedly empty.

Across the cafeteria, however, three pairs of eyes were locked onto me like I was a shiny new toy they hadn't been allowed to play with.

Sophia's thoughts were angrier than before.

'Who does this freak think he is? Gonna have to teach him not to stick his nose where it doesn't belong.'

Maddison was stewing too

'How could anyone stand to sit with locker girl? Does he have no standards?'

Emma was fuming beneath a plastic smile, her thoughts more self-directed.

'Why her? Why not me? I'm prettier. I'm smarter. She's flat and awkward and nobody. What's wrong with him?'

It was less about Taylor and more about how she couldn't stand not being the center of someone's attention.

If I were a meaner person, I might have laughed.

As things stood, I just kept reading.

Though I couldn't help but note one important detail: not a single person had tried to talk to me since I started sitting next to Taylor. No one asked me to join their group, no one tried to drag me into anything, and no one "accidentally" spilled anything on my bag.

In that way...

She might be the most girlfriend material person I've ever met.

She kept the troublesome people away like a natural repellent.

The rest of the day went on in that same quiet fashion. Teachers talked. Students mostly ignored them. A few more pranks were aimed in Taylor's direction, but none landed. And when the final bell rang, I could safely say, it was a pretty average day.

As I was packing up, I remembered I was supposed to stop by the principal's office again.

Taylor glanced over when I stood.

"I've got to report to Blackwell," I said. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

She blinked, then nodded. "Yeah."

And, in a rare moment, she gave me a small smile. It looked like it hadn't been used in years.

I returned it with a nod and left.

Back in the main office, I didn't have to wait this time. The moment I walked in, the secretary waved me through with a smile and a mental note of Poor boy, he looks exhausted already.

Principal Blackwell greeted me with an overly enthusiastic grin. "Adrian, welcome back. How was your first day?"

'Please say it went well. Please don't leave. We can't afford to lose someone with test scores that high.'

"It was good."

"Fantastic!" he said, clapping his hands together. "That's what we like to hear. You know, Winslow offers a wide range of after-school activities. Debate, theatre, the science club, and—oh! I heard you were part of the chess team at your old school?"

He leaned forward slightly.

'God, our team is a disaster. Maybe he can finally get us out of last place. Or at least get us to win a round.'

"We've got a team here that could really use someone of your calibre. Think you'd be interested?"

I gave a polite smile. "I'll think about it."

"Of course, of course," he said, raising his hands. "No pressure. I won't keep you any longer."

I nodded and left, grateful to be done with the forced enthusiasm. I was halfway down the hall when I started to hear it.

Angry thoughts. Cruel thoughts.

'This'll show her.'

'Scream all you want, no one's coming.'

'I hope she cries this time.'

'Stupid whore deserves it.'

I crossed my eyes.

*Clairvoyance.*

My vision shot outward, slipping through the brick and glass and to where Taylor was. There, in the alley behind the school. A small crowd of girls. Sophia at the front, Emma close behind, Maddison to the side. Two others stood watch at the end of the alley.

And in the middle... Taylor.

They had cornered her again. She was trying to back away, but Sophia grabbed her by the wrist and shoved her toward the others.

Taylor screamed and struggled. "Let me go!"

Emma shoved her. "Maybe if you stopped throwing yourself at every boy you see, you wouldn't end up in the trash."

Sophia stepped forward with a smirk. "Looks like you didn't learn last time."

They reached for the lid of a nearby dumpster.

Seriously?

This school really let this kind of thing happen?

You'd think Taylor had committed several war crimes with how aggressive they were being.

No one else was around.

Good.

I teleported to a side alley nearby, on the other side of the school here I could hear no voices around. Here there was a dumpster the same size and type as the one Taylor was currently being thrown into.

*Apport*

This power was more nuanced. It let me swap two objects of similar value within a specific range. I couldn't trade people, as living things had no defined value, but I could trade objects that contained living things if their value was similar. A loophole. As since they had no assigned value it didn't effect the value of the dumpster

I focused and the moment Taylor was thrown inside the dumpster I Apported Taylor's dumpster with an empty one in front of me.

I popped open the lid.

Taylor was curled up inside, fists clenched, mid-scream. She blinked up at me in shock.

"I'm finished with the principal," I said, offering her a hand. "Want to walk home together?"

She looked around, confused.

For her everyone who had been there was now gone.

The alley was empty.

"What... what just happened?" she asked, panic in her voice. "They were— I—"

That was when the bugs came.

Not a few. Not even hundreds. Thousands. Ants, flies, beetles, earwigs, spiders, all crawling from cracks in the pavement, the edges of walls, the distant tree line.

They swarmed.

Nope.

I felt one touch my shoe.

I teleported on instinct, and suddenly, I was standing on top of one of the pyramids of Giza.

I stared at the sand for a moment.

"Damn it. I thought I was over that."

After the cooldown, I teleported back.

Taylor had climbed out of the bin. The bugs were dispersing. Most had retreated already. She was brushing herself off, though her face was still pale.

The moment I reappeared, she turned to look at me.

I sighed. "You want to walk home?" I asked again.

(AN: Worm is pretty cool I like it and I like writing about it. Pretty fun to do so imma do this along with the UNSC. I've not written in first person since lost in Sothoryos. So it'll be fun to do something different. Plus the disastrous life of Saiki k is one of my favourite anime's and having his powers here would be cool. Obviously some can't stay like mind control, like for obvious reasons. Medusa gaze too, I wanted to keep that but it's a bit too cheap. I think those are the only two, though I can't remember any more that might break the universe.)

(PS. I'm not a comedian, nor do I have that level of comedic writing so don't expect that 😂)