Chapter Text
"Worm CYOA, the second version." A voice stated from the dark. "Skitter mode and not AU. Twins is limited to Wards from Brockton Bay and Wildcard is the power of a random Great Lakes Avenger. Yes that includes Deadpool."
I considered for a long moment. By this point I'd played with the system often enough and made enough builds with it that I didn't even need to see the pages. "Reincarnation for three points. Without a map for two... The other easy ones are out because of the central power of the build... Fuck. Ah well, I can still job it."
I lean forwards, "Twins: Browbeat but Jail-broken. Full control over my own biology and infinite biomass reserve though I can only draw up to ten pounds a second. That's three. The other two I spend on Apprentice: Ninja Magic."
"Full control is a bit much, isn't it?" The voice asked with disapproval. "Your making the 'self' a bit fluid there."
"I want to make more than just minor adjustments to the human form. Moving between discrete forms would just be shape-shifting and that would suck away all the creativity." I argue back.
"How about we make it function like a Primal Zerg with a regenerating Essence reserve?" The offer. "You can still modify yourself internally, but it's more abstract and directed."
"That... Sounds okay." I agree.
"Great! Now... Get out there and kill some Orkz for me!"
"Oh shi--"
"-it!" I finish my curse just in time to have my ears filled with the roar of a charging Ork Boy.
The green being's sheer physical presence makes him feel closer than her really is. At the moment he's still about ten yards out but that's falling fast. I'm sure he must be at least four hundred pounds, all muscle, and in his hands is a massive fucking axe with a jagged edge that seems like it would be unpleasant to die on.
"Oh-god-oh-god-oh-god! I need to move!" Something in me loosens, like a muscle I didn't know I'd kept taut, and suddenly the world slows to a crawl. It loosens a little further and suddenly I can see the Ork in impossibly high definition, making out every minor scratch and scar in his thickly muscled arms and bare torso.
Belatedly I realize I'm holding a pistol and now is a very good time to use it. I raise it, feeling like I'm pushing against toffee as it slowly raises. My hand comes to a stop with the weapon aimed directly at the creature's left eye and I pull the trigger.
A red beam of coruscating light flashes from the tip and leaps across the distance between us burrowing into the cheek just below the eye. I'm treated to the unpleasant sight of watching the eye-ball flash-boil and the skin of the cheek char and warp in the extreme heat. Unfortunately it's only bone deep and he rears back roaring in pain.
Finally my legs choose to respond to my orders and I start a stumbling run towards an empty looking street. The rubble from bombed out buildings nearly trips me but soon I'm on a flat and straight segment. I hear the Ork bellow in rage uncomfortably close behind me and the pelting of its legs as it chases after me. Another loosening sensation and my legs swell slightly as my speed increases dramatically.
For what feels like ages I can't do anything but run while the bastard keeps hot on my heels.
The streets I'm running through are depressingly monotone. Grey concrete streets. Grey concrete buildings. Bodies dressed in unfamiliar styles of grey clothes and all too familiar green and grey imperial guard uniforms. Somewhat depressingly the blood splatters were so unique in their not-grey properties that I couldn't help but feel they actually improved the decor. That's a depressing thought. I pushed myself harder, aesthetics be damned. I did not want to be splashed across the scenery anytime soon.
My luck changed when I noticed a very bloody intersection in the distance. It wasn't giving off the sounds of occupation or active battle like I could hear in the distance though. At that point I could really only think one thing at the sight, loot.
Lucky for me I was right.
The bodies of a squad of Sisters Sororitas were strewn across the intersection. Obviously they'd been ambushed but the damage was much too precise and clean to be Orkz. It was a mystery I'd have to solve later. For now I wanted the Heavy Bolter I noticed laying next to one of the corpses. It was the only weapon obviously visible at the moment.
With a final sprint I made it to the weapon and started to heft it. For a brief moment it didn't budge, but then I felt that strange not-muscle loosen to a degree I hadn't known was possible and my arms swelled with muscles that thencompacted down until they looked merely Olympian in appearance. Now I could lift it, though it still felt heavy and cumbersome.
I turned to face the Ork and saw what I'd have sworn was a delighted gleam in its remaining eye. I pulled the trigger. For a brief moment I thought it was broken before realizing that my perception of time had once again slowed. Although the rest of the world had seemed to go into slow motion the massive slugs that exploded from the barrel were still moving almost too fast to see. I could barely make out the kinetic impact of the slug burrowing into the Ork's chest before it exploded in a messy wave of green and red.
The impacts stitched their way up its torso as the recoil pulled the weapon higher despite my best efforts. My feet left a visible trail in the dusty concrete as I was literally pushed backwards from the recoil I could absorb. Finally a slug smashed into the already damaged cheek and burrowed deep before popping the Ork's head like a watermelon at a Galhagher convention. I let my weapon fall silent.
Despite listening for several long minutes, I couldn't hear any of the sounds of battle getting closer or any creeping feet. With a sigh of relief I fell back on my ass, ignoring the maroon spread of dried blood I was sitting on. My chest feels uncomfortably tight in the basic carapace armor I only now realize I'm wearing. For a brief moment I'm tempted to take it off so I can breathe freely. I quash that suicidal thought ruthlessly.
My eyes rove around the bodies of the fallen Sororitas looking for anything else I can loot. It's not long before I notice one of them is only missing their head above the tongue level or so. Even with the blood I can tell the armor they're wearing is pristine.
Jack Pot.