“...definitely Saitama-class.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding. Tell me you’re kidding, Cap.”

“That’s ‘Captain’ to you, Fiona, and why on earth would I be in a joking mood considering what we just went through? Whose body he stole?”

"But Saitama-class? That’s only ever been theoretical.”

“Seems like it just turned factual.”

“But how do you know?”

“...I do.”

“...oh shit, Cap, you weren’t Appraising him without authorization, were you? I know it's Starak, but-”

“Don’t worry about it, Fiona.”

“But Cap-”

“I said drop it!”

Brock blinked blearily as consciousness returned, the babble of voices washing over and around him momentarily eclipsed by the pounding headache assaulting his forehead. It felt like he was lying on something hard and metal. Maybe a bench? He tried to bring his hands up to rub his face but they seemed to be stuck behind his back. The bench suddenly jolted, smacking his head against the unforgiving surface, and he groaned.

“...ooohhh... ouch...”

“...looks like the Sekkie’s awake, Cap.”

“Watch him, Fiona. I need to check on Mikael and Verdant.”

“Sure thing, Cap.”

Brock momentarily debated trying to return to unconsciousness in the hopes it would clear up his headache, along with whatever new strangeness he’d now been thrust into, but after a couple seconds of trying it seemed clear that he was going to have to open his eyes. A cheerful green face with high cheekbones framed by fiery hair, marred only slightly by streaks of dried blood smeared every which way, greeted him up close and personal when he did, the two of them nearly close enough to touch noses. Her eyes were a vivid shade of yellow, like summer wheat, and her lips were pursed in fierce concentration. Startled, Brock flinched away, bouncing the back of his head off another unyielding surface, and she burst into a sunny smile.

“Hi!”

“...gnghhhhh...”

She frowned, turning her head and calling out.

“He’s not talking so great, Cap. Maybe you punched him a bit too hard, scrambled his brains?”

“Shut it, Fiona,” the first voice shouted from somewhere behind them. The smiling face turned back to Brock and winked.

“You got it, Cap!” Fiona lowered her voice. “Cap’s a bit pissed at you right now, and she’s got reason to be, but I figure the rest of us at least gotta say thanks. Since apparently you saved us from that Overlord. So, uh, thanks.” She leaned back into her seat on the bench opposite Brock and started disassembling a pistol she conjured from thin air, apparently done talking for the moment.

Brock didn’t feel up to carrying on the strange conversation, and gingerly leveraged himself into a sitting position, hands still stuck behind his back, which he now realized were in restraints of some sort. Whoever Fiona and ‘Cap’ were, they had clearly made him a prisoner.

He peered around, trying to take stock of his surroundings. It looked like he was inside a vehicle, an impression reinforced by the landscape whizzing past outside through the barred windows, a mixture of lush forest broken up by an occasional massive building. Wherever they were going, they were getting there fast. Sucking in a breath, he stared closer at the woman, her slight form and blazing hair tickling the funny bone of memory. After a second, it clicked. She was one of the people on the floor in the building, the one carrying all the guns.

Stolen novel; please report.

“You... hnghhh... saved you. I saved you. You’re green.”

Fiona looked up at him and frowned.

“Yeah, I already said thanks. Don’t make it weird.”

“Where... what... who...”

Suddenly, everything caught up to Brock all at once. Head hitting the curb. The grey place. A taste of a dream, and now, a headache and headed who knew where. Hot wetness prickled his cheeks, and he couldn’t stop the tears. “What’s happening to me?” he asked in a broken voice.

“Oh jeez, now you’re definitely making it weird.” Fiona rolled her eyes, but then her expression softened and she reached forward with the scrap of cloth she’d been using to clean the pistol. With a surprisingly gentle touch, she blotted Brock’s cheeks. “You’re not like any Sekkie I’ve ever seen, that’s for sure. Never seen one of them cry before having the Limiter explained to them.” She pursed her lips in sudden thought. “Actually, never seen one of them save someone before having a Limiter equipped, either. Wonder what Cap saw in you when-”

“Fiona!” The redheaded goblin jerked back into her seat, a guilty expression fluttering across her face. “I told you to keep an eye on the Sekkie, not pamper him like one of your pets!”

“Uh, yeah, right, sorry Cap.”

The speaker stepped into view, and Brock realized he recognized her as well. She was the sleekly muscular woman he’d locked eyes with while absorbing the last Death Blast. Her nose was red and her cheeks blotchy, as if she’d been crying heavily and frequently recently, but the one-eyed gaze she leveled at Brock beneath her midnight hair promised nothing but pain if he stepped out of line. Brock got the sinking sensation he’d sure like to know what the line was so he could avoid stepping over it.

She swept past them to a control panel that flickered to life in front of her. It was set between two pilot-style seats that were each facing a large viewscreen currently displaying a view from the front of the vehicle. It looked to Brock like some sort of futuristic holographic display, all bright clean blue lines and angular keys, and she leaned over to tap several of them, causing the vehicle to accelerate even more and emit a wailing siren. Looking at the empty seats, Brock got the sensation that the vehicle was piloting itself.

“What’s the hurry, Cap?”

“That Overlord-class dropped some sort of exponential wasting plague in Verdant. It’s a real nasty piece of work, and it’s multiplying quicker than the healing spells and her self-regen can stabilize. We need to get her to a proper med-unit.” She straightened up and looked over at Brock. “I assume you’ve explained the Limiter to him, hence the tears?”

“Well, uh, not quite yet, Cap. I kinda told him ‘thanks’ and then forgot about it.”

The dark-haired woman ran a hand across her face and looked back at the redhead.

“Oh come on, Fiona. At least pretend you care about something other than shooting things. Why’s he crying then?”

“I think he’s confused. About what’s going on.”

“Wait, what? The Sekkie is confused? They’re never confused.”

She glared at Brock, as if she could will him into non-existence. Bewildered, Brock stared back, and she tossed her hair to the side, eye narrowing.

“Listen up, Sekkie. You might have fooled Fiona, but you don’t fool me. I know you know you came here from somewhere else. Some other Earth where nothing you did mattered, and you never got to be the hero.” Her lips twisted. “But here, it’s our Earth. Not yours. This isn’t a game, and we’re very much real people, not NPCs to manipulate for your pleasure. If you can prove you’re capable of contributing to society, you might get to use some of your power, but make one false move and,” she crouched in front of Brock, a finger yanking him face to face by the hard metal collar around his neck, “this Limiter will obliterate you down to the atomic level. None of us want that. You got me?”

Brock gulped. Whoever ‘Cap’ was, clearly she didn’t like him. Something was bothering him, though.

“Umm, can I ask a question?”

The woman growled.

“What wasn’t clear about my perfectly cromulent explanation?”

“Ummmm, what’s an ‘en pee cee’? That guy in the building said it too.”

Cap snarled, and lifted her eyepatch, revealing a milky-white orb with a golden pentagram in place of an iris. It flared, and Brock felt like somehow she was looking through him. She glanced up and down, then sucked in a quick hiss of breath and let the eyepatch drop, her other eye going wide. Brock was mesmerized by the gold flecks swimming its chocolate depths. Swaying slightly, she rose, letting go of Brock’s collar, and turned to Fiona, who was pretending not to notice what had just happened.

“Fiona.”

“Yeah, Cap?”

“The Sekkie is confused.”

“Yeah, Cap. Told you so, Cap.”

“They’re never confused.”

“Looks like that’s just a theory, Cap. You know, you shouldn’t Appraise-”

“Shut it, Fiona.”

“Gotcha, Cap.”