My World, My Justice Ch.13

-Lisa, Tattletale-

Lisa was drinking a hot cup of coffee in a café downtown, her power idly picking apart everything from the barista’s recent breakup to the fact that the ‘house blend’ was actually just repackaged wholesale beans. Not that she’d mention it, sometimes knowing everything was just exhausting.

Coil still hadn’t given them any new missions or orders, which was completely out of character for the bastard. However, without him breathing down her neck, she’d started digging around and, of course, had already picked up a couple of leads. Which made her quite happy as she connected the dots.

Though she needed more evidence to draw any definitive conclusions, her investigation was progressing nicely. And all of this had started because of one muscled dumbass, who for some reason still couldn’t get a read on him, which was still very much infuriating.

He was an almost cartoonishly heroic figure who looked like he’d stepped straight out of those terrible PRT propaganda comics. She couldn’t help but compare True Might to Mouse Protector, though in her opinion, he was even cheesier than the self-proclaimed joke heroine. But the fact remained that it was thanks to him that Coil went into hiding earned him a few points in her book.

With the Undersiders currently between jobs, everyone had been forced to look for work. Rachel especially had been job hunting with Grue, given her mounting bills–as she’d pointed out numerous times, dog food wasn’t cheap. Lisa made a mental note to help Rachel budget better, even though she knew the girl would probably bristle at the suggestion.

Lisa wasn’t hurting for cash, having secured quite a fortune that the bastard hadn’t managed to get his hands on yet. Yet being the operative word, her power unhelpfully supplied. The financial cushion gave her the freedom to use this unexpected downtime however, she pleased, though being alone with her thoughts wasn’t exactly her idea of a good time.

And she’d chosen to spend it drinking coffee, because even Lisa Wilbourn occasionally made questionable life choices.

Peace in Brockton Bay might be impossible, but she’d take what she could get. This quiet moment seemed enough for now, especially since she couldn’t fully control her power and would end up reading everyone around her otherwise. That was why she wore sunglasses–to hide the fact that her eyes were closed, doing her best to ignore the cascade of information about everyone else in the coffee shop. The last thing she needed was another headache from learning the entire life story of some random idiot.

After finishing her cup, she stood up from her chair, stretching her arms before grabbing her brown jacket and slipping it on. A quick glance at her phone showed no messages from the team. She ignored the twinge of disappointment at that. As she left the shop, her mind was already back on the hideout, where she’d continue working on her personal investigation. 

With any luck, she’d be able to eliminate another bogus lead on Coil’s real identity and narrow down the possibilities. She couldn’t help but smile. After all, few things were more satisfying than using his own secrets against him.

Lisa walked down the busy street, expertly weaving through the crowd while her power supplied her with unwanted tidbits about each passerby. 

Man in blue suit, having an affair. 

Woman with shopping bags, hiding shopping addiction from family. 

Teenager with headphones, third time skipping school this week.

Wait… something felt off.

No immediate threats were visible. No suspicious vans. No one following her. She’d checked twice, letting her power loose on anyone who maintained the same pace as her for more than half a block. But years of cape life had honed certain instincts that went beyond even her power’s insights, and right now those instincts were nagging at her.

She slowed her pace slightly, letting her power analyze every detail it could grab. 

Traffic patterns normal. Pedestrian behavior is consistent with the time of day. No unusual gathering of phones recording. No PRT vehicles in unusual positions. 

Nothing. Which was, in itself, suspicious.

Still, she adjusted her route slightly, taking a path that would keep her in more populated areas. 

Suddenly there was a very loud crash and a shower of glass rained down on the sidewalk as three figures crashed through a tenth-story window, their jetpacks roaring as they swooped into the open air. 

Pedestrians scattered, while others pulled out their phones to film like absolute idiots. 

Lisa’s power immediately started picking up details from the panicked crowd.

 Already posting to PHO, expecting property damage, tourist excited to see cape fight in person.

“REPORT, PROPER PRIVATE AND SERGEANT SENSIBLE!” That came from a woman.

“LET’S MAKE ALL THESE YOUNGSTERS PRE-SEN-TA-BLE!” 

“AT ONCE, MRS. MANNERS, SIR! / ROGER, MRS. MANNERS!”

Lisa’s head snapped upward, her power instantly engaging as she took in the bizarre sight of three figures in military garb, complete with oversized jetpacks hovering above her. The apparent leader, Mrs. Manners, was almost comically short, barely reaching five feet tall even with her oversized military helmet that seemed ready to swallow her head whole. Her orange hair was styled into two massive buns that somehow managed to peek out from under the helmet, the whole ensemble making her head look disproportionately large compared to her tiny frame. 

Compensating for height with authority, helmet modifications suggest tinker involvement, hair styling indicates an obsession with “proper” appearance extending to herself.

To her right hovered Private Proper, a painfully frail-looking man whose uniform seemed to hang off his bony frame like clothes on a wire hanger. 

Posture too rigid to be natural, attempting to project military bearing, nervous tick in left hand suggests nervousness.

Sergeant Sensible rounded out the trio, his muscled frame a sharp contrast to his companions. The man was built like a brick wall.

Former bodybuilder, maintains strict routine, follows orders without question, dyes his roots every three days to maintain proper military appearance.

None of them are or were actually part of the military.

Group dynamic suggests Mrs. Manners as primary planner, Private Proper as tech support, Sergeant Sensible as muscle. 

They are the Decency Patrol

Power theme revolves around enforcing “proper” appearance through-

Her power was cut short as it supplied her with an immediate warning.

 Mrs. Manners has noticed you. 

Views your attire as inappropriate. 

Intends to “correct” your appearance. 

“What?” Lisa barely had time to process the absurdity of the situation before all three figures dove toward her position.

“HAHAHA YEEEHAAAW!” The shortest of the trio let out a wild cheer before all three capes opened fire on her.

Lisa’s body tensed automatically, but there was no time to dodge. She braced herself for pain, but felt... nothing?

She opened her eyes cautiously, looked down at herself, and her jaw dropped in disbelief. Her casual outfit had been transformed into what could only be described as a cotton candy explosion: a frilly pink dress that would make a Disney princess blush, topped with an aggressively styled hairdo and an enormous pink bow tie.

“EXCELLENT SHOT, TEAM! ANOTHER UNCOUTH YOUTH PROPERLY ATTIRED!” Mrs. Manners declared from above.

Lisa glanced down at her new outfit, initial anger giving way to curiosity as her power involuntarily kicked in. 

High-quality fabric, professional stitching, custom-made clasps.

Expensive materials despite ridiculous design. 

Tinker-tech modification of existing clothing manufacturing process.

“What kind of weirdos...” she muttered, fingers running over the material. 

Fabric enhanced for durability and weather resistance. 

Cost of materials alone exceeds standard boutique pricing.

Above, the trio continued their fashion crusade, swooping down on unsuspecting young pedestrians. Each blast of their lasers left another victim in a matching ensemble of pink frills and bows or a saturated blue suit. 

“WHAT THE FUCK!”

Lisa’s head whipped around at the familiar voice, and her face split into a fox-like grin. There stood Sophia Hess, Shadow Stalker herself, wearing an identical pink monstrosity, looking absolutely murderous. 

She didn’t need her powers to know and see how mad she was.

Without hesitation, Lisa pulled out her phone and snapped several photos to get the best angles to capture Sophia’s face beneath the absurd pink bow.

Should have brought Alec, she thought, imagining his reaction to this. Either way, she would share the pictures for laughs.

Either way, she checked her new dress again.

Quality comparable to high-end fashion houses. 

Basic structure could be modified into something less... princess-like. 

Potential for resale to right buyer, or modification by professional—

Huh…

With the right alterations, she might actually get something useful out of this bizarre encounter.

And this was much more preferable than facing that discount knock-off vampire, that was for sure.

------------------------------------------

-Daniel, True Might-

The waiting game drags on while Oracle does her investigation thing, and I have a nagging feeling that it will take her at least a week to conclude. 

Joy.

Anyway, I’ve been taking whatever random missions pop up to get those precious credits, but the offerings have been about as exciting as watching paint dry, nothing noteworthy as it was practically penny pinching with the rewards. It feels like this is done on purpose…

No scratch that, it HAS to be done on purpose. RNG my ass.

It’s really frustrating that I can’t fully commit to attacking the gang territories and deliver some well-deserved karma since I have no proper way to capture anyone relevant. And no capture means no credits, which means a very unhappy accounting department and debt collectors.

So here I am, committed to the Taylor mission, playing guardian angel to a bullied teenager and having her be grateful for it. That’s why I’m perched on top of a building overlooking Winslow High as the final bell screams freedom to its inmates.

Okay, the last part was a little dramatic.

The doors burst open, and teenagers spill out like ants, scattering in every possible direction.

I narrow my eyes, scanning the crowd.

Then I spot her, a lone figure trying her best to blend into the background. Stick-thin, long curly black hair that could use some care, glasses, and clothes that look like they were picked specifically to avoid attention. 

Yep, that’s Taylor Hebert. The protagonist of Worm. 

I only knew what to look for because I finally got smart enough to check the companion catalog on my company phone. 

God, I feel like an idiot for not thinking about using it sooner. Sure, I still can’t access any of the really juicy meta knowledge, but the catalog’s basic info is fair game. It’s available to every contractor with a pulse, anyway. So of course I browsed the catalog with Worm filter to see all the available characters for this fucked up world.

Either way, Taylor soon gets away from the crowd and walks alone. Does she have her powers already? And if she does, she has her cape persona yet?

However, her walk turns out to be disappointingly normal. No thugs, no bullies, not even a purse snatcher. Just a teenage girl walking home with her shoulders hunched, trying to make herself as small as possible.

I rub my chin, considering my options for making first contact. It would be convenient if some low-life decided to cause trouble, giving me the perfect excuse to swoop in with a heroic landing and introduce myself. Maybe throw in one of those cringe-worthy speeches I have learned to live with.

Then again, I could always patrol the area more obviously and claim my justice sense was tingling, just like I told Oracle. 

Who’s going to question True Might’s methods? 

… I can already feel another part of me dying a little more.

God, being a hero would be so much easier if villains stuck to a convenient schedule. “Yes, I’d like to order one mugging, hold the lethal violence, with a side of perfect timing.” 

But no, looks like I’ll have to work a bit harder for this introduction.

I suddenly realize I’m overcomplicating this whole thing. Why create some elaborate scenario when I could just... walk up and talk to her? 

Sometimes the simplest solution is the best one. A casual encounter, maybe pretend to stumble, basic, but effective.

Nodding to myself, I leap off the building and land quietly in a nearby alley. From there I start walking in her direction, planning to ‘accidentally’ cross paths with the girl when a funny thought hits me - we’re actually about the same age. 

It’s easy to forget that sometimes, given that I’m massive while she’s... well, definitely not.

Shaking my head to clear it, I stick to the plan and maneuver myself into her path. 

And soon enough, Taylor notices me approaching, her eyes widening slightly behind her glasses.

“HARK! What justice brings me to cross paths with a young citizen walking these streets alone!” I boom across the sidewalk, raising my arms to flex. “Fear not, for True Might’s watchful gaze ensures no harm shall befall you!”

I notice Taylor’s entire demeanor transforms at the sight of me. Gone is the hunched, withdrawn posture and she becomes really but really surprised.

“True Might!” Her voice comes out as an excited squeak before she tries to compose herself. “I... um... it’s really you?!”

“INDEED! For who else would stand as such a BEACON OF JUSTICE!” I declare, automatically striking a heroic pose, ignoring the feeling of crawling into a hole due to my theatrics. “Tell me, young citizen, what brings you to brave these streets without companionship?”

“I was just heading home from school,” she manages, pushing her glasses up nervously while still staring at me with barely contained excitement. “I... I’ve read about all your fights against the Empire and the ABB!”

“AHA! A vigilant follower of the path of JUSTICE!” My voice resonates with impossible enthusiasm. “Take heart, for True Might shall ensure your safe passage home!”

The girl nods frantically and looks like she is shaking with enthusiasm about it. 

“AH YES! Let us embark upon this noble journey homeward!” I declare, gesturing dramatically forward. My inner self notes with satisfaction that the initial contact with the protagonist is going better than expected.

As we walk, she keeps sneaking glances at me, practically buzzing with questions until she finally works up the courage to ask, “Hey, ummmm, True Might, what brings you here? Like no offense, just curious about it.”

“AH! My justice senses tingled with the presence of a troubled soul!” I declare, gesturing dramatically. “For a hero must always heed the call of those in need! Hence I couldn’t ignore it!”

I notice her flinch slightly and look away at that. Bingo.

“Could it be that something troubles your noble spirit, young citizen?” I ask, showing some concern for her well-being.

Taylor hunches her shoulders slightly, her earlier excitement dimming. She fidgets with the strap of her backpack, clearly wrestling with whether to say anything. “It’s... it’s nothing really. Just school stuff,” she finally mumbles, her voice barely audible compared to my booming voice.

“NONSENSE! For True Might knows that even the smallest injustice can weigh heavily upon a noble heart!” I proclaim. “Speak and let justice guide us to victory!”

Taylor seems to shrink even further into herself, but I can see her stealing glances at me, weighing her options. 

“It’s just...” she starts, then stops, adjusting her glasses nervously. “There are these... these girls at school...”

“AHA! Villainous perpetrators of school yard tyranny!” I wasn’t actually expecting her to open up this quickly, but I’ll take it. “Fear not, for-“

“No!” She cuts me off, then immediately looks mortified at interrupting. “I mean... I don’t want to cause trouble. They’d just make things worse if they knew I told anyone. Not like anyone would ever believe me, either.”

“FEAR NOT, young citizen! For the path of justice is illuminated by the courage to stand against tyranny!” I proclaim, my voice echoing off nearby buildings. “Like a lighthouse in the darkest storm, one must not let the shadows of cruel words dim their inner light!”

More analogies, it is part of my brand at this point.

Taylor just stares at the ground, shoulders hunched. Not exactly the inspiring reaction I was hoping for, but my power’s already launching into full motivational-speech mode.

“BEHOLD! For even the mightiest hero’s journey begins with a single step! Your daily battles are no less noble than our fight against villainy and evildoers!” I strike another pose, because apparently that’s mandatory. “Each confrontation with these dastardly bullies is a test of courage, much like facing down the most nefarious of villains!”

I notice a brief spark in her eyes at that, but it quickly fades. “I’m not... I’m not strong like you,” she almost whispers.

“AHA! But strength, dear citizen, is not merely a gift bestowed upon the fortunate!” I declare, raising my fist to the sky. “It is forged in the crucible of adversity! Even True Might was not always as mighty as you see before you! The power to stand against injustice lies dormant within all who seek it!”

Yeah, more cringe words. Still, I can see Taylor hanging on every word, so maybe the hammy approach isn’t completely useless.

“Always remember, noble citizen! If the weight of injustice proves too heavy to bear alone, seeking aid is no mark of weakness!” I proclaim. “For True Might stands ready not to fight your battles, but to help you discover the strength that lies within!”

Taylor stops walking, actually seeming to consider my words beyond their ridiculous delivery. 

After a moment, she looks up at me with a different light in her eyes. “Could... could you really help me?”

“BUT OF COURSE!” I flash my most heroic grin, puffing my chest. “For no cry for justice is too small, no citizen’s plight too minor!”

I raise my fist to the heavens, because I know that’s mandatory when you are making a promise with a public. “Upon my heroic honor, I will aid you in your time of need! But first, might I know the name of the citizen I’ve sworn to assist?”

“T-Taylor,” she manages, a small smile breaking through her expression. “Taylor Hebert.”

“WELL MET, Taylor Hebert!” I extend my hand for a shake. “May this mark the beginning of a most righteous partnership in the name of JUSTICE! As of today, you have embraced the path of young justice seekers!”

“S-so when should we start?”

“A most excellent question!” I boom, watching Taylor practically glow with enthusiasm. “Why, we shall begin our crusade against injustice THIS VERY MOMENT!”

I strike another pose because my power demands it. “What better way to start than with a mighty and righteous sprint to strengthen both body and courageous spirit! SHALL WE?”

Taylor looks surprised for a moment, then nods with determination. “Y-yes! I mean... YES!” She tries to match my enthusiasm, though her voice cracks a bit.

“EXCELLENT! Then let us embark on this first step of your journey to greatness! Lead the way, young Taylor, and I shall match your pace!” I declare, gesturing forward dramatically. “For the path to victory and righteousness begins with all but a single stride!”

I can see her fighting back a grin as she adjusts her backpack before she starts jogging, occasionally glancing back as if to make sure I’m really following through with this impromptu training session.

Inside, I’m actually pleased with how this is working out. 

Making contact with the protagonist? Check. 

Getting her to open up about her problems? Check. 

Starting to build trust? Double check. 

Though I have to wonder what passersby think about seeing a massive superhero in full costume jogging alongside a skinny teenager with a backpack.

But hey, if it works, it works.

------------------------------------------

-Rumi Usagiyama, Mirko-

Rumi bounded across the rooftops of the Docks South, each leap carrying her further as she scanned the streets below. The forum posts mentioned that True Might had been spotted in this area a while ago, and she wasn’t about to let this chance slip away. A rematch with the big guy, but this time in a ring which she happened to find and book a timeframe, it was perfect and legal, so those paper pushers wouldn’t be able to interfere this time. And she was pretty confident in her boxing skill, meaning she would get to punch that face plenty of times.

However, her long ears twitched at distant sounds, pulling her attention to the sounds and discovering that those weren’t sounds of combat. 

Instead, she heard... enthusiastic shouting?

She frowned and followed the source until she found herself perched above a run-down park. And much to her unexpected but pleasant surprise, there he was, True Might, his massive frame impossible to miss, doing jumping jacks alongside a teenage girl with long, curly dark hair.

“FEAR NOT, YOUNG TAYLOR!” True Might’s voice boomed across the empty park. “FOR EVERY DROP OF SWEAT IS A TESTAMENT TO YOUR DEDICATION TO LADY JUSTICE!”

“Yes, sir!” Taylor called back between breaths, her face flushed with exertion but eyes burning with clear determination. Despite her lanky frame, Rumi could see that the girl did her best to match the big guy’s pace, her curly hair wildly bouncing with each jump.

“BEHOLD!” True Might continued, not missing a beat in his jumps. “WITH EACH LEAP WE REACH CLOSER TO THE HEAVENS OF HEROIC VIRTUE! THE PATH OF RIGHTEOUSNESS DEMANDS BOTH MIND AND BODY BE HONED TO PERFECTION!”

“Both mind and body!” Taylor echoed back, pushing herself harder. 

Rumi couldn’t help but grin. She hadn’t expected to find True Might playing mentor, but the girl’s fire was unmistakable. However, watching him being so passionate about it, like his speeches, shifted something in her perspective. The big guy who had given her one hell of a fight during his trigger event was down there, earnestly helping some skinny teenager get stronger, shouting about justice with complete sincerity.

“REJOICE, YOUNG TAYLOR!” his voice carried upward. “FOR WITH EVERY MOVEMENT, WE FORGE THE FOUNDATIONS OF TOMORROW’S JUSTICE!” And he finished with a very high split jump before striking his ridiculous over the top poses once again.

A genuine smile spread across Rumi’s face, replacing her usual cocky grin. She’d come here looking for a fight, but seeing this... well, maybe the rematch could wait. Whatever he was doing with this kid seemed important to him, and she respected that kind of dedication.

With a quiet chuckle, she turned away from the scene. There would be other chances to challenge him to that boxing match. With one last glance at the unlikely training duo, she bounded away across the rooftops, leaving them to their… justice-fueled workout session.

Let them have this moment. She had some other ideas to explore, anyway.

------------------------------------------

Bonus scene: The return of the Ward’s nemesis

-Victoria Dallon, Glory Girl-

Victoria Dallon soared above the streets of Brockton Bay, keeping pace with Clockblocker and Maple as they patrolled below. Her mood was soured by their earlier encounter, or rather, their failed attempt at an encounter with the Decency Patrol. Those sanctimonious jerks and their tinker-tech jetpacks had proven surprisingly elusive.

Victoria descended closer to her patrol partners, hovering just above them. “Tell me again why we didn’t get a heads-up about these fashion police wannabes?”

Clockblocker snorted beneath his mask. “Oh, we did. PHO had a thread about this, not very popular but still.’” He gestured with his fingers. “Not my fault. People didn’t listen to that warning and still brought their limited edition brand-new clothes.”

“It’s kind of funny, though!” Maple chimed in, somehow managing to trip over nothing while walking. She caught herself with a giggle. “Like a surprise clothing swap party!”

Victoria couldn’t help but laugh a little. “At least you’re making the best of it.”

“Oh! Oh! Look over there!” Maple suddenly called out, pointing excitedly down the street. Her enthusiastic gesture nearly threw her off balance again.

Victoria followed her gaze to spot a public restroom surrounded by scattered cleaning supplies, bottles of disinfectant, scrub brushes, and an alarming amount of toilet paper rolls strewn about.

“Three guesses who this is, and the first two don’t count,” Victoria said dryly.

“Our paper-pushing friend strikes again,” Dennis agreed, his voice carrying that particular tone that meant he was fighting back a barrage of toilet-related puns.

As they approached, a figure burst dramatically from the restroom entrance, striking what he probably thought was an intimidating pose.

“Hahaha! You are too late!” the Toiletnator declared, his costume somehow even more ridiculous in broad daylight. “For my magnificent plan has been put into full effect and reached its conclusion!”

Victoria peered past him into the bathroom and had to do a double-take. The place was immaculate. Every surface gleamed, the mirrors sparkled, and there wasn’t a speck of dirt in sight. The faint scent of lemon-fresh cleaner wafted out.

‘Why is this guy a villain again?’ Victoria wondered, trying to reconcile the spotless bathroom with the man’s villainous posturing. ‘Oh right, he’s a joke villain. A real one.’

“FEEL MY WRAAATTHHHHH!” he bellowed, and before Victoria could process the absurdity of the situation, rolls of toilet paper were flying through the air toward them like papery missiles, which she easily evaded in the air.

However, as soon as she looked down, her partner was completely cocooned in toilet paper with only his masked face visible, just like Dean and Vista were weeks ago.

“H-HOW?!” he yelled in shock as he struggled in his prison. 

Victoria shared his confusion. His time related power should have prevented this exact scenario!

However, the Toiletnator cackled maniacally. With a flourish, he produced plungers from seemingly nowhere, attaching them to his hands and feet before he launched himself upward with surprising agility, landing on the building wall.

“YOU WILL NEVER CATCH MEEEEEE!” His high-pitched voice echoed as he started wall-running horizontally across the building’s surface, plungers making soft pop sounds with each step.

Vicky pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a long-suffering sigh. 

“Wow, he’s really good at that!” Maple exclaimed as she pointed at the joke villain getting away. “Do you think he could teach me—”

“No,” Victoria cut her off, already floating higher to start the pursuit. This was going to be a very long day.

“Um, guys?” Her hero partner called them out as he was dumbly rolling around. “A little help here? Pretty please?”