Chapter 1: I need a Compass.

"Alright sir, your ticket will be $250."

I hid the grimace that comment would of normally caused. The price was ridiculous for a one-way flight, and I don't know why I expected anything less from this deplorable universe (although, to be fair, I did ask for a flight on almost no notice). I carefully withdrew my wallet from my jeans and slowly handed over the exact amount.

"Is cash alright?" I asked for no other reason than to continue pleasantries... I mean, cash is less common (especially in amounts larger than $100), but, realistically, the ticket agent has no real reason to suspect me of anything. To her, I am just an average, young male trying to board a plane. My face has a slight smile to indicate that I am no threat, my stance is relaxed, and I just try and ease my way through the conversation. I also suspect the loss of documents from Endbringer attacks leaves businesses very relaxed in these areas.

Then again, I was playing the role of a minor. How else do you explain that you were born 14 years ago but in actuality have 18 years to your name? Yes, excuse me ma'am? My birth appears to be the result of temporal desynchronization. Would you be willing to ignore that?

I certainly wasn't going to complain though. If minors managed to buy tickets and fly alone in post-9/11 America, it would logically be much easier here. 9/11 never occurred in the wormverse, therefore airport paranoia was thankfully nigh-nonexistent. After all, why fear the middle-eastern man next to you when there were 3 perfectly hateable eldritch abominations mucking everything up?

The ticket agent-unknowing and uncaring of my inner thoughts-gave me one of those smiles as my boarding pass was processed. It was one of those smiles where both members of the conversation know the real reasoning behind her gesture, that she succeeded in her job of getting my money. Regardless of her motivations, happiness can be infectious, and I still get easy transportation, so we both ended smiling in the end. Trade benefits all, except when it doesn't.

"Of course sir. Your flight leaves in two hours."

I expected a not-so-subtle suggestion to visit one of the stores nearby, but none coming was quite the pleasant surprise. I finished our exchange and meandered my way over to the waiting area and... waited... and waited. I'm pretty sure it had been 30 seconds to everyone else around me, but my perceptions of time are slightly skewed and I was already bored. I pulled out a phone-shamelessly stolen from an electronics store on the way here-and made good use of the free Wi-Fi offered. The internet here was more or less the same as where I was born. A vast, uncontrolled mess of chaos that I wouldn't trade for anything.

Unfortunately, it seemed Reddit did not exist. However, Wikipedia did exist here, and I made use of my time by reading anything interesting, then following the related pages and continuing the cycle. That cycle was broken by finding the page for parahumans. It was a small reminder of the differences here, a reminder that I really was here.

I still didn't really have a plan for anything. I had only arrived in this universe a few hours ago. I awoke on my back in an empty alleyway, staring into the sky. At once, I was almost overwhelmed by the excess visual and aural input. I was hearing things far away as if they were close, and seeing details on far-away objects as if they were next to my eyes. My vision was mediocre at best previously, so I spent a large chunk of my first few minutes staring at the roof and clouds in front of my face before even considering to get up from my prone position.

Eventually, I did manage to drop down to a 'simply-whelmed' state and climb my way to a standing position. The pores in the bricks across from my eyes danced out to my vision as large as caverns and I tried focusing outward. It worked, to my satisfaction, when I no longer felt like a jeweler inspecting a brick. Change... had happened. I felt so much more alive. I felt so much more energetic than I had ever felt before. I felt like a could run a marathon, like I could move a mountain with my hands, like I was just… so much more.

Those positives became promptly crushed under the realization that I was in a city I had never seen before. Sheer, primal panic flooded through my nervous system like a forest fire burning away the rationality of my mind.

The rate of most of my biological functions increased as the logical answers that could possibly explain my situation grew scarcer and scarcer. My breathing grew labored as I stumbled towards the end of the alley I had awoken in. Even in my fear, it was clear to me my thoughts were racing along, faster than ever before. The leading two theories to explain my situation were either I was kidnapped for no reason, or, more reasonably, I had decided to go out of state to partake in an acid trip. I was offered once by a good friend, and it seemed like the most probable cause of my displacement.

I tripped in my haste to make an exit, my legs moving far faster than I was used to. I ended up awkwardly pushing my right hand towards the nearest wall in an attempt to grab the brick while my left went under my chest to absorb the impact. The left would never complete its task because, as my third shock of the hour, my right hand went clean through the brick to ungracefully stop my descent towards the ground.

Chips of brick and mortar were spat over my body while I staggered into a standing position once more. I tuned out the mass of cars my ears were picking up while I just stared at my hand, or more accurately the forearm not currently imbedded in the wall.

Change had indeed happened. Normal people do not hear or see this well, nor do they pass through hardened clay with the resistance of air. This much was obvious. I absentmindedly pried my arm free of its makeshift cast while trying to identify the time of the change. I remembered the previous few days, but the night before this one was hazy and unclear to me.

My breathing grew more normal as I looked at the hole made into the wall not 10 seconds ago. A jagged messed of cracked and crushed brick twice the width of my arm left an opening into the empty room beyond. The low light levels inside did nothing to impede my visual senses. Indeed, as I glanced over the entire face of the building with my eyes to view the age degeneration the unfortunate building had undergone, it seemed no one had lived here in a long, long time.

Curiosity burned within me as I pressed my palm to the wall in front of me. I pushed against the wall with what I felt was a solid effort on my end. The result was the collapse of any brick my hand was touching at the time, all components flung into the opposite wall by an impossibly-strong force. A gap the size of a basketball greeted me and my shocked face.

I could not believe what I had just done, giving only a small, quiet whistle at the scene. I held my hands in front of my face for a moment before deciding to wipe them off on my jeans and place them inside my pockets. This course of action was how I discovered the wallet inside my left pocket. A simple, brown wallet greeted me. With nothing but a scant $100 inside, I placed it inside its previous home once more. While I didn't have my phone to call anymore, at least I had some money. I could probably find a payphone somewhere nearby and call a friend. Then, maybe I could figure out why nothing made sense right now.

With that fantastic plan at the forefront of my mind, I set off. Carefully placing my feet on the ground, I was greatly relieved that the action of walking was not beyond me. When not flailing around like a 6 year old that ate an entire box of Lucky Charms, walking felt mostly normal.

I managed to make it to the end of the alley without further issue. At least, without issue in the physical sense. Mentally, I was confused once again. The memory of me from the moment I awoke was so clear; I had no words to describe the details in my head.

Human memories are malleable, and notoriously unreliable. As amazing as the human brain is, it intentionally forgets an immense amount of information just to stay sane. We only remember key factors in memories, never the small, unimportant details. For instance, I could describe to you a memory of me as a child a decade ago, sitting on my father's shoulders at a zoo. I could not tell you what we saw specifically, or what we did that day. I can only assume. If I told you a memory that happened the week before, where I conversed with a friend about economics, I could successfully recall most of the major topics, the place we spoke, and the time. However, even something so recent lacks the finer details like: air temperature, the color of the shirt I was wearing, or how many people we passed by in our walk.

This was different. I could close my eyes and tell you the number of cracks on each of the walls. I could tell you each of the sounds I heard on every single step that carried me out of the alleyway. To put it mildly, it was intense.

I scoped out my exit using my eyes and ears. There was no one on the small side street I was exiting into, but I could hear people and cars a street or two towards my right and further away towards my left. Distance was somewhat hard to judge with the recent recalibration of my ears, but direction was fairly easy.

My eyes took in everything in an instant, but they honed in specifically on an overturned newspaper several hundred feet down the left of the street, right on the corner. It was dirty, torn in half, wet, unassuming, and irrelevant as a physical object, but it was the information on it that stood out to me. In big letters, clear as crystal to me, read the lines,

"Brockton Bay," and, "April 2nd, 2011."

The familiar feeling of anxiety rose within me as I responded to the new information as best as I could, mainly by making a 180 degree turn and walking in the opposite direction. While chanting nope in my head the entire time, I walked faster in my haste to leave the area. I moved as fast as I dared to without tripping, progressively accelerating until I ended up running the entire length of the street in only a few seconds. I slowed down and turned the corner to an unfamiliar road. I was lost in both time and space. Despair was crushed and buried just like the superhuman feat I had performed not 3 seconds ago.

I followed the road as traffic increased up ahead, sticking to the very edges of the sidewalk. I could only deny the reality I was being subjected to. I had never been able to think so fast in my life, but now dozens of theories were formed, discarded, and catalogued inside my head.

Insanity, that is what this was. The chance of me being displaced to an entirely-different set of cosmos was infinitely high, except, paradoxally, it was also 100%. If you subscribed to the idea of an infinite multiverse, which I did not necessarily disagree with, then everything must occur an infinite number of times. The concept is not alien to me, but it is difficult to comprehend. It is similar to the area under a curve. How can an infinite number of rectangles fit into a finite space? My mind may be faster now, but it is no less boggled by the thought.

My memory was unbelievable perfect now, but the recent 30 minutes or so to me give no additional useful information. The facts before me are I am in a place previously thought to be inaccessible to my person. Even if it was capable of being travelled to, who in the right frame of mind would want anything to do with this apocalyptic world. Why me? Isn't that always the question?

My anger at the unfairness of my situation resulted in an impulsive kick to a soda can lying in my path. The result was a can compressed as far as possible onto the brick wall next to me. I think it may have even partially imbedded itself into the wall, given that gravity did not seem to apply to it. I nervously turned my head to look around. Almost no one was walking near me, and none were looking in my direction. I also doubted someone in one of the passing cars had to time to see anything unusual either. I let out a breath of relief and continued me walk towards an unknown destination. That was stupid of me.

I had powers now. That much was obvious. I needed to not be careless. I recalled everything that had happened up until now. I was stronger, faster, had improved senses, and a faster thought speed. My limits were unknown to me, and it was imperative for me to test the boundaries as soon as I found a secluded place nearby.

Of course, these recent revelations brought with them even more questions. The most obvious being how did I get here? I had three leading ideas: a ROB, Cauldron, or just sheer misfortune. Bad luck was a possibility, but the existence of superpowers somewhat negated that theory. Then again, the previous night was not recallable to me, and it was entirely possible I triggered then. Cauldron, ironically, seemed the least likely catalyst for my arrival. If they were, I'd probably be strapped to a table somewhere, being pumped for information that could save the world.

I turned the corner to the street, enjoying the speed that my thoughts raced past. So many more possibilities could be considered to me now. The fact that an extradimensional door wasn't opening to me when I woke up meant good odds that precognition either is or was actively blocked on me. I had no way of telling whether that effect only applied to my entry or my very person, but I suppose not seeing Contessa within a week would validate that theory.

The final option was of course a ROB. The end result didn't really matter though. Given no instructions, whether I was put here by Q, The Tooth Fairy, or the Ghost of Christmas Past had no relevance to my situation without direct interaction. I would try my damned hardest to make my life my own.

More possibilities were regarded and disregarded before the sight of a image I was previously accustomed to shone in the forefront of my mind, the Worm CYOA. The information contained within definitely matched the chain of events so far, but the specifics were beyond me. I could have solely the Alexandria power set. I could live an easy ten years and return safely. Of course, I could also have every possible complication. That thought was simply not worth the effort of worrying about because, if it was true, I was going to have a much shorter life expectancy than anticipated anyway.

Terrifying implications do not help the terror blossoming in my heart, but they must be ignored for now. I was unaware of the exact time, but it must have been early morning given the sun's position in the sky. That same celestial body let me know I was travelling north, which was fine with me. As long as I stuck towards a particular direction that wasn't east, I would eventually get out of this city, and that was certainly the plan.

Most notions were considered. I could stay, fighting crime valiantly in this city. I could interject myself into everyone's lives and tell them their problems like a voluntary therapist. Or… I could let them do their own thing and go do my own. That sounded like the best idea to me. Fighting crime had several issues that made the concept unfavorable to me. I simply was not heroic, and I didn't want to be heroic. That does not mean I am malevolent in any way (I certainly wouldn't consider myself as such), but me and the Protectorate have remarkable different definitions of heroics.

The main difference is the law-abiding aspect of the job. Laws are merely social contracts people uphold. Some are obviously agreeable with me, such as don't murder and don't put cigarettes in your kid's Lunchable box, but others I disagree with. The conflict of interest that is present decreases the merit of the action in my eyes. If I were to, say, come across someone smoking cannabis, I would be legally obligated to arrest them if I signed up with the Protectorate. The problem is I don't agree with that law in the first place, so I either fail myself or fail my employer.

The second issue I have with the Protectorate is its underhanded function as just a part of a Cauldron plot. Call me conceited, but if I work with, not for, Cauldron, it won't be on anything less than my own terms.

The final issue is the pointlessness. I would essentially be forcing compliance with no regard to the factors that set up the situation. To clarify, why waste my time arresting people for stealing when I can devote my energy towards solving the problem of why they're poor in the first place. The entire system as is only perpetuates the conflict and suffering of the nation and world as a whole. The unwritten rules are a response to the hopelessness plaguing the people here. Its only purpose, as I see it, is to marginalize the suffering of men and women fighting each other, so that they may ultimately suffer via Endbringer instead. It is the subsistence trap of the modern era. The situation sucks, but it's no one's fault specifically, it's just a necessity when your species is on the backburner. If I was going to do anything good with my abilities, it would start with the Endbringers.

The limit of my involvement with this city would be a letter to some individuals at best. It's hard to care in the scope of the entirety. Why should I care for the relatively minor tyrannies forced onto the people here when a genocidal space whale threatens the population of thousands of Earths and trillions of people? 15,000 children died of starvation every day in my home universe. I wouldn't doubt that number was higher here, so what difference would a few more make, other than making me feel like a better person?

My internal monologue was put on hold as I walked into the nicer area of town. I had no memory of specific streets to follow, but surely this area must of been the Boardwalk. It was pristine compared to the area I awoke in. The people in it walked differently, more confident of themselves, and I figured their lives were much easier with the material wealth they owned in comparison to the poorer parts of the city. Most importantly, they were all just people. They all lived unique lives, with unique hopes and dreams, and all of them were equally faceless to one another. The concept itself was called sonder, and it certainly put into perspective that everyone considers themselves more important than someone else.

I was not here to people watch all day, though I could likely multitask quite well, but, rather, look for some specific locations that could help me. I walked with the crowd, blending in until I found what I was looking for after a few minutes of travelling and asking several shop vendors. The Boardwalk was the rich, touristy area of the city, and tourists need information to keep the exchange of cash to services flowing. Though I had never been here specifically before, almost all major cities have public maps. Given my current lack of a phone and, consequently, GPS, I was looking for The Brockton Bay Information Center. I finally found the building near a chain of stores I didn't recognize and entered. A simple request while posing as a tourist, and I came out with a free map and complimentary brochure of popular destinations that were entirely useless to me. I wanted out as soon as possible.

The map was what all that I really wanted, and now I could go find an area with as few people within as possible to perform some experiments with my abilities. Looking over the chart between my hands, I decided that the Boat Graveyard was the best place to practice abnormal activities. I memorized the layout before me exactly before tossing the paper into the nearest waste disposal bin and setting off once more.

I ended up taking in the sights of the city along the way. It was reminiscent of the last time I travelled to Los Angeles. By all accounts, it was just a normal city that would not be out of place in my universe. Reality sunk in when I walked by the bay. There, overlooking the city, was unmistakably the Protectorate Headquarters. Despite being a repurposed oil platform, the structure was quite impressive visually. It was unintentionally even more impressive to my eyes as, regardless of its distance away, I could make out the streamlined efficiency of its construction. A beautiful work of architecture that was likely made to inspire hope in the city's inhabitants. I suspected it also succeeded in hiding the true state of just how fragile this society was. Something to change in the future…

The map within my head proved eternally helpful as I navigated my way north in the city. My improved senses tracked everyone in an impressively-sized sphere around me, which I used to my advantage once the number of pedestrians thinned out. I avoided the majority of the people nearby, and eventually found my way to the south end of the Boat Graveyard.

I stood on a hill overlooking this part of the bay. I glanced at the several dozen derelict ships sitting in the water, having lost their battle against time long ago, and decided to make my way deeper into the mass of abandoned steel. I had been filtering out heartbeats from my awareness, but even when specifically looking for them it only revealed that there was no one around. That might be different further along the shore, but here I could be safe as long as I played it smart.

Most of the ships were out a hundred feet or so into the water, but there were a few much closer to the shore. I spotted one that had a tenth or so of its length stationed on dry land. It was a typical container ship, if absolutely dwarfing me in both volume and mass. A metal skyscraper on its side, perfect for me. I took off my shoes and socks, placed them on the ground, and moved to the end of the angled vessel to begin testing.

It was obvious that I was substantially stronger than I was previously, and, by proxy, most assuredly more durable. I placed my left palm flat against the hull of the ship, and attempted to grip the material by closing my fist. Even after witnessing it previously, there was no small amount of surprise when the steel under my hand crumpled like paper to conform to the shape of my fist. The end result was a hand imprint in the sheet with tearing to compensate for the pulling of the steel. I placed my right hand onto the hull to counterbalance my left while it pulled with all its might. There was a screech of tortured metal as a strip the size of my body was removed from the hull.

I took the piece and played with it while I wandered inside the ship. I twisted the metal into all kinds of shapes with the same resistance as styrofoam until the ductility of the steel failed and it snapped. I continued walking through the ship, damaging areas as I saw fit. It was kind of fun, like playdoh or clay, and using steel made me feel much manlier about the collateral damage I was causing.

The low light levels didn't bother me inside the hull, though I did stop my journey when I found a flooded section not to far from my makeshift entrance. I decided to test out the second aspect of my new abilities, increased speed. I eyed the wall to my left and decided to throw a punch at it as fast as I could manage. Given the feats I had just performed, probability was on my side that my skin would win out. That theory was proven correct when my fist broke clean through the wall with only a mild bulging in the area surrounding my forearm. A visible pressure wave erupted from my hand as water streamed in through the new hole. I watched the air hit my ears and a crack echoed like a gunshot throughout the metal walls of the ship. I cringed involuntarily as the sound reverberated loudly through the vessel.

Right, given the correlation of information between my powers and their most likely source, it would be a safe assumption that I should have a way of accelerating without the negative effects of physics affecting me. Described as a skintight force field that was apparently not active by default, I only needed to figure out how to use it. I stepped away from the leaking hole and started punching the open air.

"Activate, start, protect," I switched to flicking my index finger at supersonic speeds after the entire ship started vibrating from the shock waves, "abra cadabra, open sesame, flame on, this isn't even my final form, o' lord of darkness grant me strength…" Absolutely no variations occurred from my endeavors.

I tried halting the bubbling frustration within me. How skewed my perspective was, that I was so much more than I was and still complaining of not being even better. I took a deep breath and just thought. I racked my brain for details on what exactly the specific of the field was, but the facts just weren't there. All I could remember was that certain physical laws were ignored. Even if my memory was now perfect, it couldn't fill in the gaps from before. Just like resizing a 640x480 image into a 3000x3000 frame, the details just aren't there to accommodate the new space.

I had a few different ideas I could try, but the best one to attempt at this moment was meditation. I closed my eyes and looked within myself. I had not tried using my improved senses on my own body since awakening this morning, and I was not expecting the result. When passing by random citizens in the streets earlier, I could make out everything obvious about their biology on a macro scale. Their heart beats, breathing rates, even the blood flow into different areas could be identified, but I never realized how much different I was. I focused on listening to my own bundle of flesh sustain itself. It was… muted compared to everyone else… so much quieter. That was not necessarily a negative thing though. There was something there, just beyond the expanse of my senses.

I felt it. Like a silk blanket bundled around me, I knew of it on a higher level than perhaps I even knew myself. I found the field and drew it around me, feeling its protective embrace. My eyes snapped open and I clenched a fist. I could feel the difference. I felt smoother, and likely was given the ability to ignore air's density. I pushed my arm forward as fast as I could. There was no harsh crack to greet me this time, and a smile found its way onto my face from the success. I attempted moving my entire body next. Zipping through the entire length of the ship in under a second, I exited the boat to perform my final test for now. Pleased that my clothes didn't turn into char cloth over my body, I crouched down and grabbed two fistfuls of the steel wall and heaved.

I forced the 'blanket' to cover the entirety of the cargo ship as I pulled. I had not lifted anything even remotely heavy since this morning, but I gave it my all regardless, expecting to both be able to move the ship and not move it. The ship groaned and creaked, but gained momentum vertically as I managed to lift it 3 or 4 feet in the air and level it out. Water splashed down the sides further down until finally the boat was wholly, if barely, out of the water, the entirety of its weight held up by my hands and not collapsing in on itself. For the mass discrepancy present between me and the ship, the physical strain was less than I was expecting. I could probably have lifted another ten at least, though I certainly wasn't going to set any speed records while doing so.

I slowly lowered the boat back into its rightful place in the water and took a step back, feeling like I had just won the lottery (which I suppose I had, in a way). The test was successful. I had just moved a container ship that most likely weighed in excess of 7 figures pound wise. The last test I wanted to perform was an attempt at flight, but that would have to wait. Doing so here would only attract unwanted attention.

I placed my shoes back on and headed back into the city. I needed directions to the nearest airport so I could finally leave the area. Several ideas of how to due so came to me, but there was one that was the most efficient, if morally detestable. I kept the field over my body and moved, scoping out the city for an store that sold cellphones. I found one after a rather extensive search of the city. A large mall sat in its own area, and I had entered to further extend my search. Inside, there was a small shop selling the latest brand of phones. I dashed past the open doors, and scoped out the selection. The few people inside stood still like statues around me as I walked passed them, and I don't even think they would feel a gust of wind from my passing.

The wireless saviors finally found, I looked over my options. I selected a random Samsung off the shelf given that it was the only brand I actually recognized. The rest I had never even heard of, and I didn't feel like learning the specifics of the timeline's divergence quite yet, so familiarity would win out here. I flat out took the box with me, along with a few dollars from every open register in the entire building. So long as I remained in motion, the only things that were going to notice me in any detail were high speed cameras or other parahumans, and the odds of either here were low.

I opened the box and dumped my trash into a trashcan on the other side of the mall. A problem I had not considered soon became obvious. The phone was not charged in the box. I spent a few minutes looking for a secluded outlet before realization struck me as I walked by a vending machine. I quickly moved the machine and plugged in my new phone before heading to the food court.

A great joy filled my heart as I saw that there was a Dairy Queen/Orange Julius combo here. Without hesitation I strolled up to the line at a normal human walking pace and impatiently waited my turn. A young man that looked to be in his mid 20s greeted me when my turn arrived,

"Hi. What can I get you today?"

Not even the threat of a societal collapse could keep the smile off my face,

"A medium-sized oreo blizzard my good man." My exuberance seemed to improve his mood as well considering he gave a genuine smile back.

"Alright sir, that'll be $6.30." My hand was already holding a ten by the time he finished, and he took it from me to complete our exchange. I was ecstatic that the price was roughly the same even here. Ice cream surmounts space and time once more.

Three minutes later, and I was the owner of the world's newest Oreo Blizzard. I chilled out on a nearby table and just watched all the people go by. Some were as excited as I was, most were neutral, and a few looked like someone pissed in their Cheerios this morning, but, overall, everyone was doing great. I made the best use of inhuman speed possible by finishing my blizzard in under 5 minutes. I also discovered first hand that brain freezes did not affect me, and I could taste the ice cream fully without my tongue going numb. I took back anything negative I might of said in a parallel universe, this is awesome.

Still, all good things must come to an end. I let out a content sigh as I tossed my empty cup of creamy goodness into the garbage bin. I strolled around the mall, taking in the sights for the next half hour or so, comparing products and goods of the two universes. I then walked at a normal pace into the nearest restroom, which was thankfully empty, and dashed back out at full speed. Retrieving my new phone, I was pleased to see it had almost 50% of it's battery filled.

Making use of the free Wi-Fi at one of the stores, I used the map application already installed to memorize the route to the nearest airport some 50 miles away. I walked into one of the clothing stores, before heading to a corner empty of people and cameras and accelerating one final time.

With the layout memorized, I cleared the city limits in only a few seconds before heading in a straight line off of the highway. At the speed I was moving, I could clear the entire distance in under a minute easily and unnoticed to almost everything. I was ever grateful for the pervasive field shielding me and the environment by proxy. Without it, my clothes would ignite off me body, air around me would undergo nuclear fission, and I would likely fly after outpacing gravity relative to the Earth's curvature. The sheer collateral damage of me passing through an area would be as devastating as any Endbringer attack. How humbling a thought, that thousands could die from a second of me losing control…

Eventually, I made it to the airport without incident, and that leaves me to the present, playing flash games on my new phone.

Luckily, I only had to wait 15 minutes or so, otherwise I think I would have tried walking myself, before my flight's boarding began. The affair was simple, short, and exactly the same as the last time I boarded an aircraft. I ended up in a seat near the back, and next to me was an older gentlemen reading a book with no one next to him.

An obese man walked down the aisle just before boarding ended, and I felt a twinge of fear not heard of for hours. To the relief of both me and my unnamed compatriot in the seat over, the large man ended up in the seat in front of us. My heart went out to the brave man next to the obese individual, who, when his arm rest became absorbed by a fat roll, gave the large man a single raised eyebrow as if to say,

"Really dude?"

The fat man-to his credit-had the decency to look sheepish at the spectacle. He and his disgruntled partner pulled out their own electronic devices and went off into their own worlds while I pulled out my phone and spent some time looking over all the settings. All my effort this morning finally paid off when the aircraft advanced forward, gaining speed until we left the ground. I spent the first hour checking all the phone's functions several times and playing the games already installed at the airport. I was growing bored fast of these though, and I still had 5 hours to go.

Another gentleman to our left had a laptop open (presumably his). He was watching footage of some kind of disaster relief going on, but it was he source of which drew my curiosity when I saw the headline near the bottom.

"Disaster Relief Continues in Canberra, Australia"

I turned off my phone, attention focused solely on the screen. Scenes of devastation were displayed prominently, but the images depicted were likely the more viewer-friendly ones. After all, showing dead heroes is a great way to discourage Protectorate employment. I used my magnified hearing to listen in through the man's ear buds. Interviews with survivors were being conducted, along with the facts about how the city is looking to recover well in the future. Hah, if only they knew.

My passenger (and not of the space whale variety) was more observant than I originally thought because he noticed me watching the laptop and decided to give his own two cents,

"They always say things are looking up when they're not, and that things are ending when they're stable.

I turned my attention from the screen to address him,

"It'd be a lot easier if there weren't any world ending threats."

He gave me a sad, humorless smile in return.

"Before the Endbringers we lived in fear of the Soviets, and before them my father lived in fear of the Nazis. We always have something to fear."

I could see the traces of nostalgia dancing in his eyes as he was most likely remembering that occurred to him years ago.

"True, " I gave him a conceding nod, "but we will always have men to fight for the protection of everyone else."

He shared a little more of his life story with me then,

"I remember the draft back 40 years ago. I was still in high school then, but I remember my older brother going off in defense of the country. I remember him giving me a pat on the shoulder and telling me, 'Thomas, I need to do this. This is what I was meant for.' That was the last time I saw him, and I always want to believe he died happily so I could live freely. News like that makes feel like people like my brother died for nothing." His voiced was chocked with emotion as he pointed to the oblivious man across the aisle watching the news.

Tears formed in his eyes as he wiped them with his sleeve. He sniffled a few times before recovering rapidly and chuckling slightly.

"Sorry. Sometimes I forget people don't want to hear the ramblings of an old man's life."

"Don't feel bad sir, I'm sure someone will stop them eventually." I didn't even have to fake cheer. I would not stop until the cores of the Endbringers were crushed between my hands.

"People like your brother help inspire others. I feel inspired just listening to the strength of character people like him have." Wasn't that the truth? I don't know if I had it in me to sacrifice myself like that.

He gave me a much happier smile in return.

"Thank you son, but where are my manners? Thomas Powell at your service." He held out his right hand to me, which I quickly and very carefully reciprocated.

"Just Zack."

We settled into a comfortable silence while I eavesdropped on the news broadcast. We spoke only a few more times that flight. I learned Thomas was heading out to California to visit his son, and I told him I was just going home on vacation. Though we did part eventually, his presence did help ease the boredom of the flight. We finally arrived at the San Diego International Airport a few hours later.

I exited the plane, said my goodbye, and left without another thought. I imagine we would both become each other's faceless person within the hour. I pulled up the map application of my nearly-dead phone and set the coordinates of my hometown. Unexpectedly, they did not show up. Indeed, a rather large radius was unfamiliar to me here. I finally decided to search for something familiar instead. I left the airport and moved at high speeds around the area. It was unrecognizable to me, even though I had been here before.

I ended up settling for a nearby city that did show up only 20 minutes from my home. That city was only 70 minutes away from the airport by car, which would equate to roughly one or two minutes by foot.

I followed the route memorized in my head for the short time I needed to. I added an additional minute or so on my travelling time by sticking off the sides of the main freeway to minimize my risks of being spotted, but I felt it was worth the few seconds it took.

The layout of the street were really the only thing I recognized in the city. What was once a bustling center of shops and entertainment venues was now just a small town off the main freeway.

I followed the roads I had crossed the past decade and still nearly missed my hometown. I zipped past the off ramp of the freeway to find my hometown…. It was nothing like I remember. A city of several hundred thousand reduced to nothing more than a gas station and a few shops for people passing by.

I ran faster than I had been travelling previously (not being tired was pretty nice) and made it to where my house would be in my home dimension…. Nothing, there was nothing there. I walked passed the side street I had travelled hundreds of times in the past only to find there was no street that should have been there. Nothing more than a simple wall next to the road was there.

Frustration built inside of me as I refused to accept the reality of the situation. I hopped over the wall with no difficulty to find nothing more than dirt. The entire area was nothing more than an empty lot. I strode forward slowly until I reached the area I had lived in for over ten years. I fell to my knees, not wanting to believe this was true. I picked up a rock in my anger and tossed it in front of me. The resulting impact left created a tsunami of dirt that flew forward rapidly. The rock melted to slag as it left my hand, but still managed to create an impact creator the size of several semi trucks.

I laid on my back, utterly drained in a way that wasn't physical in the slightest.

"I'm home," I quietly whispered to no one in particular. I watched the sun move ever so slowly past the sky, my eyes never bothered telling me they hurt, nor did my vision degrade after several minutes, so I assume it was fine to watch the sunspots. I heard nothing but the cars a mile down the road, driving on the freeway. I was already bored….

I sighed…. I take back anything I might have previously took back; this universe sucks.