“Save us Captain Wormhole!” Actress

Then the theme music starts playing and I switch off the channel.  Why the hell do people still make superhero tv shows?  Let alone the damn comics, nowadays those are aimed at actual people, not literary ones!  I shake my head at the thoughts, the real reason is because with the emergence of Supers, every nerd immediately turned into an expert on most forms of power and it’s progression, making them fairly influential.  And because of that, they have begun to turn things to match their preferences, including superhero tv shows.

And besides, the top class “Heroes” like it when Hollywood strokes their egos.  

I get up off of my lazyboy and switch the TV off.  Good TV died out for Supers as soon as we get our powers, and Netflix is mostly just a series of shittier TV shows.  Hell, I can’t even go to the movies these days without seeing one of those arrogant pricks show up on screen.  The fact that I know them on a work basis just makes it worse.  

I stretch a little before walking over to a calendar I have on my room’s wall.  I want to make sure of my schedule for today, since you never know when you might forget something highly important.  The schedule has a long series of crossed out days, leading up to today, and I groan a little, a small amount of hope dashed.  Today is orientation for the recently captured Unregistereds, meaning I’ll have to give that damn speech again.  I hate giving that speech.

At least I had a good breakfast.  One of the few perks I earn from my position, I get to have actual food instead of the mass produced slop they serve in the cafeteria.  I love the lunch ladies, but pink slop is pink slop, even if it isn’t necessarily pink.

I go over to my bedroom, which is as messy as can be expected of someone who lives alone and has neither anyone to impress or OCD.  I remove the comfortable PJs I was wearing before grabbing the uniform they have for working here, a black and red jump suit that’s reminiscent of the one in Half Life.  Once that’s done, I take a quick look at myself in the bathroom.  I have a tiny bit of shadow on my jaw, but nothing that will be overly noticeable unless you’re looking for it.  My hair is a little messy, but nothing a little combing won’t fix.  I showered last night, so no problem there, and I have deodorant on.  The little scar on my cheek is faint, so even if someone notices it they’ll probably assume it was some stupid accident, so I doubt I’ll have questions on that front.

After doing some combing, I leave my quarters and start walking down to the orientation room.  I take a cursory glance at the compound surrounding me.  My quarters is stuck in the middle of isolation, the Fridge as it’s often called, and because of that I get a good view.  The Fridge is a series of clear cubes, named ice cubes, that are spaced and suspended in a three dimensional cubic grid pattern around my home.  As I take my walk out of my home, I hear and see the people around me start stirring.  A lot of them start banging on their walls and jeer at me, though they probably don’t realize that their chambers are soundproof.  The smart ones keep quiet and simply observe me.  

I keep on walking down the catwalk and take a small look at the walls of the Fridge.  They are huge, since the entirety of the Fridge is rather spacious.  Each wall is white, and made from a material that could take a couple nukes at the same time, on the ridiculous chance that the convicts in here regain their powers.  

Oh right, did I mention that I live in a compound filled with Supers?  Well, I do.  The regular staff and most of the guards are normal and make up most of the population, though.  The actual number of people in here is about two thousand.  About ten percent of those are prisoners, over whom I have the wonderful job of presiding to make sure they don’t try and break out.

Hence why I live surrounded by the most dangerous ones.

When I get to the security door to get out, I pull out my SCAI card, SCAI standing for Security Clearance and Administrative Identification, and put it into the door mechanism like a credit card into a gas pump.  After a moment a buzzing sound and the disengaging of the locks alert me that I was successfully cleared for exit, along with the card jutting back out for me to grab.  

I grab the SCAI and then start walking through this, rather heavily, fortified section of the compound that has been fully automated and relies on one's Tape.  Tape and SCAI cards are fundamentally different.  My jumpsuit is unique in it’s color and Tape clearance, but the way it usually works is different.  See, most people have orange jumpsuits like the convict’s, but it’s the colored markings that are the Tape.  they had black Tape, marking them as permanent residents of the Fridge and a shoot on sight target for the guards and automated security.  

Regular convicts have red Tape, marking them as dangerous though to only shoot to incapacitate, as opposed to a black’s shoot to kill.  Newcomers that aren’t convicts are given white Tapes, security and other staff members are given blue Tapes, their SCAI determining their personal clearance level, and that’s about it.

I eventually exit the fortified section and get to the lift, entering it and calling out my destination.

“Orientation room, A8.  Administrative clearance, codename, Void, password, Abadon.” Adrian

I still get a bad taste in my mouth every time I have to say that damn codename, despite having to twice a day, at least.  The female, robotic voice of the compound’s automatic functions replies.

“Acknowledged, Mr. Murphy.” Osus

I never learned if Osus was an acronym or just the name the technicians gave her, but that’s what the general population refers to her as.  

The trip inside the lift was quick, barely taking more than a minute despite the fairly large size of the compound, and I was walking out of it rather soon after entering.  When I exited, I saw a group of staff leaders, other people who are going to introduce themselves today.  

They were mostly replacements for the last group of department heads, since this place is usually just a milestone for most people trying to go up the ranks in DSMIR.  Usually we get a new round of staff every two years, this being the cycle year.  The only exceptions being Mrs. Palmer, the compounds psychiatrist, and a man I’ve only ever know as Smith, the leader of the compound’s security.  

The instant Mrs. Palmer saw me, she got the disgruntled expression she usually has before talking about something that has, obviously, disgruntled her.  

“I sent a letter to the project directors and government overseers, but they still refused to give you more time above ground.  I can’t stand this!  Not only are they treating you like a slave, but they’re preventing you from experiencing the necessary elements of mental growth that someone your age needs!  It’s barbaric!” Mrs. Palmer

“As much as I appreciate the sentiment, doctor, every moment I’m away from the compound is another opportunity for a convict to start a fully powered riot.  Besides, I’ll be even busier now with the new batch of Trainees.  It’s for the best that I stay here, unfortunately.” Adrian

Plus my term of service is up in a month, soon enough I’ll be able to leave this hellhole and do whatever the hell I want with my life.  I’m about the only one left in my training class of DSMIR agents who hasn’t had at least the opportunity to retire.  An agent gets the opportunity to leave DSMIR if they maintain the same position for four years.  I’ve held this position since I was twelve, and I’m already sixteen.  

And just so you’re wondering, strict government oversight as well as League of Heroes oversight, prevent the board of directors at DSMIR from constantly switching us out at the last minute.

“And don’t forget that you may end up killing innocents, parasite.” Asshole

I unintentionally let out a small growl as the voice of one of my least favorite Supers, Captain Wormhole, or Captain Asshole as I prefer to call him, teleports himself and another Super, one of the low tier bimbos he’s always got following him, into my field of vision.  I’ve never met the woman, which means trouble, because if she’s never been an Unregistered, it means she’s related to someone very important.  Both are wearing masks that only barely hide their distinguishable characteristics, aside from skin color, height, build, and hair color, though I suspect the woman is dying it blonde, going by the darker roots.

“Oh, Captain, it looks like the bug thinks he’s a dog!  How cute.” Bitchface

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

I take a closer examination of Bitchface, and notice that she is smoking, though not in the literal sense, unfortunately.  No, just in the sense that breeds false confidence and arrogant behavior patterns.  Her light combat armor fits a little too tightly to her form to be family friendly, and I squint my eyes at all the pink.

“Hey, Captain Asshole, you should introduce me to your new Weeker, or else I’ll probably lose my chance to ever meet her again before she falls back into obscurity.”  Adrian

Bitchface froze for a moment at my casual reference to the illustrious Captain Wormhole, as Asshole.  Then she glimpsed for a mere moment at Mr. Wormy himself as she realized what I meant by Weeker, since I suppose her intelligence seems to be less lacking than her relevance.  If you’re still wondering what I mean, well, allow me to say that Asshole has a habit of finding the love of his life frequently, so frequently it once happened on a weekly basis.  

She probably would have thought nothing of it if Assholes expression hadn’t frozen the instant she looked over, causing her to go even more into shock.  

Well, that was unexpectedly potent.  Although watching him squirm is a wonderful experience, I need him loud and proud for his speech.

I roll my eyes and then start walking through the two, and address Bitchface.

“Oh calm down, you’ve got plenty of more than any of the previous ones, specifically in two protruding areas.  Oh, and Asshole, try not to piss yourself today, as per usual.” Adrian

I take a glance over my shoulder to make sure that everyone is ready to head out, which they are.

I walk through the door to the orientation room as it slides open automatically for me, and then turn left to head for my chair at the podium.  Taking a cursory glance at those present, I see the hundred or so people who are currently in either small groups or standing alone in the entire chamber.  I mark those standing alone in my mind, characterising them for being loners in times of uncertainty.  Everyone else is in hurried groups, who are each examining me and those behind me.

Then the chatter begins.

“Hey, is that Captain Wormhole?!” Groupie 1

Oh God damnit.

“Oh my God!  It is!” Groupie 2

I can’t see where the voices are coming from, though I wish I could, just to remember their faces.

“I’M YOUR BIGGEST FAN!!” Super Groupie

This one I could see, and I gotta say, she is rather… well, I now fear for Bitchface’s continued position.  The girl looks to be about my age, but aside from that she belongs on the front cover of a magazine, and from her current actions her brain probably belongs under a microscope.  Wormhole is only twenty years old, his age a question I can’t help but ask as I always request for someone older and more respectable, like Iron Berserker.  Anyways, due to his age, I think that statutory law allows for him to have a relationship with Super Bombshe-- Groupie.

I see Wormhole freeze for a second before his smile brightens a little, though there is a tightness I’m having trouble understanding.

Then I start hearing the intelligent chatter start up.

“Who’s the kid?” Idiot 1

Never mind.  I know I’m young, but at least I get a begrudging respect from top members of the League of Heroes.  I hear some similar comments, but most of it was directed at my fellows who sat down all to my left.  

Then the emotional groups get everyone riled up.  Shit.

“WHEN DO WE GET TO GO HOME?!” Emotional 1

“I WANNA GO HOME!! WAAAAHH!!” Kid 1

Oh damnit, the Hunters really don’t fucking discriminate, do they?  God damnit!  I hate it when they grab kids!  I work fast and focus my powers on the two that started, and both immediately start coughing a little violently.  I do the same with several others directly afterwards.

“Ah damn, Osus!  Some people have Jumper Sickness, send a nurse to lead them to the infirmary!  Last thing I need is them throwing up all over--” Adrian

At that, the emotional guy who was trying to start a riot pukes his guts out all over the floor, which causes me to groan a little.  That was, partly, intentional on my part, but I still hate it when it happens.  The guy probably had actual Jumper Sickness, Jumpers being the teleportation devices that Hunters use to bring their catches to the Compound.

I know that most of the names are a little on the nose, but that’s just how people like to call them, of this I have no control.  Besides, they work, even if they cause some sickness in 1 out of 10 Supers.  Pretty quickly some nurses who were waiting for something like this to happen rush in and start guiding the sick ones to the infirmary, bags at their belts waiting to be filled.  

Once they’re all out, everyone is suitably quieter, not a word being said.  Taking that as his cue, Captain Asshole steps up to begin his speech.

“My fellow Supers!  Each and every one of you was captured as an unregistered Super by the Hunters.  Now, while you are lawfully criminals, we won’t hold it against you, as many of the Heroes who are now members of the League were once in a similar situation to you.  As such, an opportunity has been extended to each and every one of you.  An opportunity to have all past crimes pardoned, and become a member of the League!” Asshole

A lot of people start looking at one another with trepidation and uncertainty.  I can’t help but sigh.  It doesn’t matter how many times this idiot gives that damn speech, he still can’t manage to give these people any determination.  Noticing that everyone is starting to give him looks he’s not used to receiving, he does what he always does.

“Ah, Red Dawn!  We’ve got an alert from the League, we need to go!” Asshole

I sigh, before my face scrunches up in disbelief, “Red Dawn?”  She’s pinker than a fundraiser for cancer research!  She looks a little flustered, definitely having no clue whatsoever about what is going on, and bumbles slightly as Captain Asshole opens up one of his namesakes, talking about the wormholes, before grabbing her and dashing through.  

Everyone is silent for a moment, before I let out an audible groan.

“Will that dumbass ever stop being such a damn chicken?  I swear!  I wish he didn’t personify the stereotype for all mobility type Supers, but damn me, it’s like he fucking created it!” Adrian

My rant seems to have gained the attention of the entire chamber, and people are looking at me with wide eyes.  It looks like the groupies are seething with rage and uncertainty, while Super Groupie is on the verge of crying.  I shake my head as I let it hang for a moment before getting up and start strutting onto the center of the podium.  

“So, I’ll just tell you all everything that Captain Wormhole failed to inform you about.  Firstly, not everyone is going to become a Hero, most of you will actually become people like me, Agents of DSMIR--” Adrian

“That acronyms shit!” Squeaky

The voice was shrill and no doubt belonged to a member of the accursed subhuman race, the Squeaker.  It’s not my first run in with the Ilk, though I’ve only ever met them in their natural habitat, the FPS, never in the wild.  I don’t even try to look at him as I reply without thinking, just staring at the entire group as one singular entity.

“Well, Squeaky, if you want to tell that to the president, director of the FBI, director of NSA, Flambe, and Blackzone, I’m sure they’ll stop their wonderfully meaningful jobs, just for a Ten year old.  Now then, onto--” Adrian

“I’M TWELVE!!” Squeaky

“And your balls still haven’t dropped?” Random Guy

I start snapping my fingers to return attention to myself.

“Thank you, for this wonderful peanut gallery debate.  Now then--” Adrian

“YOU’RE JUST A BIG BITCH!! SUCK MY DICK!!” Squeaky

Just then, I see a dot start approaching my eye at a fast speed.  In response, I shoot up my hand at a speed that would surprise most, given my age and lanky appearance.  I grasp at the projectile and catch it, the distance from my eye miniscule.  I pull it down slightly, and inspect the pencil, before casting my eyes were the pencil came from.  

The resulting sight is a disgustingly fat dough ball.  Now, I’ve met fat people, I can respect fat people, I have nothing against fat people.  But this… when your face starts bloating and looks like one of those squeezy dolls that people use to relieve stress, you have to realize that you will die by the age of twenty.  

Well, I guess I’ve found the emotions I need to enjoy my speech.

“So, Squeaky, do you want to know what your actual options are right now?  I’d meant to be very civil about instructing you all, but I suppose a demonstration would be educational.” Adrian

I jump off the podium and start twirling the pencil in my hand, somehow managing to give myself an air of menace by doing so.  Apparently I’ve always been rather unsettling to people, but ever since I started training my powers it just got worse.  At least I figured out a switch for it, and sometimes I wonder if I have a superpower that can unsettle people, despite how impossible that is.

The crowd parts in front of me, forming a straight line from me to Squeaky, who now started shaking, which just made him look even more like a water balloon.

“There are actually three possible outcomes for most people.  1, you become a Hero, which is for people who are either pretty or powerful.” Adrian

I started slowly but surely closing the gap between us, causing him to start actually sweating, which somehow made me even more disgusted.

“2, you become an agent of DSMIR.  People who become agents are usually trained to become living weapons, even if their powers aren’t as magnificent as most Heroes, they can still kill one easily.” Adrian

Okay, that isn’t even remotely true, but it’s making him shiver.  I got even closer, and I could tell his world had already melted away to just be me and him.  I couldn’t help but sigh on the inside, he doesn’t even have a proper fight or flight reflex, just what the hell.  Time to tell him about the final option.

“Or option 3, for those with no determination, self-control, a will to improve, or even a sense of respect or caution, they all become convicts.  Now, being a convict means you’ll be stuck down here, in this compound, for the rest. Of. Your. Natural. Life.” Adrian

I was right in front of him now, and I gotta say, he stinks to high heaven.  

“Now then, lots of people can aim without the help of a superpower, you’re not pretty in any sense of the word, and you don’t even have the marginal sense to at least back up right about now.  That leaves you one. Final. Option.” Adrian

I didn’t know for sure if that was his power, but given his confidence it had to do with throwing things.

I give him the same demonic smile I’ve been working on for years.  His face was already pale, and I wonder if he had any actual blood flow to his brain.  I smelled something that belongs in the bathroom as he faints, somewhat surprising me, and I can’t help but take a step back before voicing out my annoyed surprise.

“Really?  You piss yourself and faint?  I havne’t even-- oh God damnit he shit himself too!  Osus!  Send a damn janitor, my lord.  First people are puking on my orientation room, now it’s literal shit!” Adrian  

I just shake my head in further annoyance before turning around and hopping back onto the podium.

“Smith, tell the Hunters that they need to stop being so damn sloppy and that we need to actually strip search these people, not just drop these people in the Orientation room.” Adrian

I then start walking over to the door to the lift, before stopping myself, and addressing the stunned crowd one more time.

“Oh, and you all can call me Warden Murphy.  And if any of you act up like Squeakers down there, don’t forget that I’m a Super like you lot, and making ten years olds shit themselves isn’t my power.” Adrian

And it’s then that I decide to walk out, seeing how I’ve done all that needs doing.