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Rating:
Teen And Up Audiences
Archive Warnings:
Graphic Depictions Of ViolenceMajor Character Death
Category:
Gen
Fandoms:
Parahumans Series - Wildbow崩坏3rd | Honkai Impact 3rd (Video Game)
Additional Tags:
CrossoverOC insertReincarnationCanon-Typical ViolenceEmotional BaggageBrockton BayHerrschers (Honkai Impact 3rd)No beta we die like Dr. MEICharacter ExpieslongficNot a power fantasyNot A Fix-ItAlternate Universe - Crossover DivergenceSI/OC
Language:
English
Series:
Part 1 of Veronika of Bet Next Work →
Stats:
Published:2023-01-01Updated:2025-08-07Words:260,031Chapters:63/?Comments:523Kudos:1,366Bookmarks:436Hits:110,882
Selene
Synopsynthesis
Chapter 2: Heir 1.1
Notes:
Before I forget, would appreciate the feedback.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Heir 1.1
{0}
Arthur Vasily used to be a bright-eyed young man once, a fresh-faced blond figure of optimism ready to give disenfranchised and orphaned children new lives in new homes. A decade of having to deal with my shit had chewed him alive and spat out a figure made of pure grit, sarcasm, and caffeine. The man had a burgeoning beer belly, having turned to stress-eating around the time I turned ten, but otherwise, still dressed just as sharply as the day I first met him.
He took a deep swig out of the convenience store-bought coffee, no, guzzled it straight down until it was empty and more. Then I had to stifle a snort as I watched the life slowly come back into his eyes as the drink made its way to his brain and the rest of his body. He tossed the empty cup away (it landed in the waste bin located in a familiar corner of the room) dragged the other chair from the table with a screech of the concrete, and collapsed into the seat.
"God, kid. Monday hasn't even started and I'm already having to bail you out of the slammer."
I shrugged. "Not my fault I walked into an asshole shoving a girl into a biohazard locker first thing in the morning."
"Can't even tell myself she isn't growing into a good kid," he muttered, though both of us knew I'd heard it. I ignored it, just as usual, and watched with mild amusement as he leaned his head back, sweeping his hair back with a groan. When he recovered, he looked at me and sighed.
"Please tell me that someone had the whole thing recorded."
"I counted plenty of someones who had it recorded." Including one bowl-haired blonde boy. I was pretty sure he was important somewhere.
"Good. At least we got evidence no one can deny. You didn't get too hurt now, did you?"
"Relax. I'm fine." I was pretty sure the asshole broke her knuckles on my ribs. Sucks to suck. "Anyway, why'd they send you instead of Alex?"
Alex Simmons was my current foster mother, a woman of average height, blessed with pretty but wanted nothing to do with the dating scene while also wanting to have a kid of her own. It was a strange life goal for a government scientist to have. Then again, I was pretty sure that willingly walking into the bullshit that parahuman science gets into required a special kind of mindset.
"Alex is at work. She can't just take a leave just because you got into a fight. You should know that."
I shrugged again.
"Well, I already gave my statement and got a suspension from Blackwell. You taking me home or what?"
He sputtered. "Phrasing!"
I laughed in his face.
"I swear, you'll be the reason why I die before forty." He rubbed his eyes. "Anyway, we can't. Apparently, the PRT's taking over this case. How this thing ends up, I can't say."
A thought niggled at the mention of the PRT. I'd dealt with them before, mostly when my brute and mover rating got outed that time I got caught in a convenience store robbery about two moves back. They didn't make a good impression. The first time, they did a hard sell and threatened me with juvenile detention to play on my ignorance of the law. They'd roped in an equally clueless Pauline— my guardian at the time— into signing me into their Wards. I'd gotten the recordings of the exchange on my phone and sent them to the Youth Guard, which led to a month-long court rumble and public clash with the bureaucrats. Combine that with my refusal to walk into the PRT building and the PR shitshow that ensued, poor Pauline couldn't take it all and called up Child Protection Services to ship me to a different family.
I was pretty sure that the next family I got was their doing. Jonas was a former sergeant that tried to sign me up the first chance he got. Things got ugly and I had a brief experience sitting in a cell with Brute cuffs. Of course, I had the Youth Guard on speed dial at this point and their investigators turned the whole thing over.
Which was how I'd landed with Alex. Sure, the entire arrangement had the PRT written all over it, but I think the only reason they got through the Youth Guard was that the woman had a psychology degree. Which was a good move, in hindsight. A week and a half together and I think she'd only ever mentioned the Wards once when I asked who she worked with.
But this time was different. The chances they were gonna pull the first one were low, seeing as I'd proven willingness to gleefully sic the NGO on them, not to mention how Brockton had Vista walking in the same space as Hookwolf. It must have been about someone else…
And suddenly, it clicked.
Sophia Hess.
Shadow Stalker.
(God, that's an embarrassing moniker. It was so edgy you could cut your tongue just saying it.)
If memory served me well, a lot of fanfics harped about the need to cover up the entire shitshow, seeing as the actions of the probationary Ward were equivalent to a public execution if it ever came to light. Unfortunately for them, there had been someone who didn't care about discretion:
Greg Veder.
The bowl-cut blonde had definitely looked like he was excited to post his recording on the forums if only to fuck Sophia over, especially when he saw how easy it was for me to put her out of commission.
Yeah, at this point I was pretty sure the bully was gonna get sacrificed on a table, somewhere, some way, somehow. The PRT will probably be scrambling to at least leave her cape persona unmolested. Though, I still think there's a chance that it'll still bite them in the ass. Coil was always characterized as a slimy bastard and you never really know what hand he's trying to play when he can experience two timelines in the same go.
It was at this point that someone knocked on the door. In walked a tan woman dressed in military fatigues, face wrapped in an American flag, with an equally colorful sash tied around her waist. She turned to us and had a smile in her eyes.
"Hello there!" she said, pleasantly. "I'm Miss Militia, from the Brockton Bay Protectorate. Is this an Arthur Vasily and Veronika Schariac?"
I almost didn't respond. Then I almost whipped around at the name. It was still a surreal experience that I happened to reincarnate as a Schariac with legitimate light silver hair and blue eyes. I think I missed Arthur's response when I realized that Miss Militia was looking at me with a raised brow.
"Ah yeah. I go by V most of the time. Sorry."
Miss Militia smiled with her eyes again.
"No need to worry, V. I'm just here to get a statement from you and you'll be on your way."
I nodded, feeling a little numb. Talking with capes was quite different from talking to government agents. With them, you could be sure they were following and representing their organization. With capes— more than just parahumans— they had their own presence. Their own agenda. Their own way of doing things that no one else could really stop.
What I'm really trying to say is that despite technically being a government agent, Miss Militia didn't really feel like a suit.
"Okay, let's start from the beginning. At Oh-eigh-hundred today, the Brockton Bay Police Department received a call coming from Winslow High to report an incident…"
And so I repeated my story, how I came upon one Taylor Hebert and saved her from an assault felony. Miss Militia interrupted a few times, mostly to ask about my power or if I knew any of the other girls involved (I knew an Emma something. Forgot who the small girl was). At the end of it all, Miss Militia was congratulating me for standing up for a helpless victim and, well…
"You showed an incredible amount of courage there, V. Even with powers, most people would hesitate in stepping into a situation like that." She smiled. "Would you like to join the Wards? It's a good place to cultivate that kind of bravery and provide a place for young capes to exercise and learn about their powers, and eventually, become heroes. The Protectorate's outnumbered by villains three to one, so we could always use the numbers."
The corner of my mouth twitched. It was some cosmic joke that I only got the soft sell on my third pitch. I was half-tempted to bring up the last time the PRT tried to co-op me but, well, that would be immature. Credit is given where credit is due. She was honest in her pitch and I got the feeling she wasn't going to pull a "you could be tried for assault with parahuman powers" card the old me had come across in a fanfic.
So, regretfully, I swallowed the "Youth Guard" that was about to leave my lips. Time to give an honest answer.
"If I do join, would you be the Team Mom?"
Well, not without some needling.
Miss Militia raised an eyebrow, and Arthur had to stifle a laugh. I grinned, then a moment later shook my head.
"Honestly?" I began. "I didn't want to join the Wards because I've seen—" and read about "—all the bullshit capes get into. The politics, the shenanigans, the escalation of violence— you should understand why I, an orphan touring the country since I was five, don't want to poke anything to do with it without a ten-foot pole. And even then, I'm pretty sure that's within Blaster or Master range."
Left unsaid was the potentially corrupting effects my more exotic powers likely produced. I wasn't stupid enough to stick a note that said "Nilbog 2.0" on my forehead.
"I see. But, well, don't your actions today suggest otherwise?"
I shrugged. "If you see an asshole, you see an asshole. If I'm gonna be stuck somewhere, I might as well get rid of things I don't have to work with."
Miss Militia nodded. "That's understandable." She smiled again. "That's all I needed V. If you ever change your mind or need a place of solace, just know that the doors to the PRT are always open."
She and Arthur ended up talking for a bit after that but left the police department soon after. A moment later and a police officer checked in and informed me that I could go home. My case worker and I collected our belongings and headed back to my new home.
Alex lived in a nice apartment just a few blocks North of Downtown. It made the commute to Winslow something I'd have to wake up at dawn for, but I didn't really mind the distance since, unlike some other cities, the buses in Brockton had the express protection of all the gangs. It also meant that there were a lot of shops nearby; I had Arthur stop by a decent pizzeria a Mrs. Herren (who I was pretty sure was either twenty or below) recommended. Alex tended to get home late, and while I knew how to cook (not that I was good at it), there usually wasn't anything in the fridge besides some sandwich stuff and desserts she'd take home.
Arthur left after dropping me off. I used the spare-spare key (I'd gotten into the habit of making third spare keys and now have a veritable collection of devices I can use to break into the homes I've been to) to get inside.
The apartment was a cozy place, occupying only a part of the floor. It had two bedrooms and a general space for cooking, eating, relaxation, and work. It had an Internet connection that I was pretty sure was Dragontech, and, if you didn't feel like using humanity's functional hive-mind, a small library of books that mostly consisted of books on Parahuman Studies and Fantasy.
Left with most of the afternoon and two days to myself, I decided to do the teenager thing and used my new laptop (Dragontech again) to surf the web.
{0}
Alex got home at around half-past seven. She was a figure of bureaucratic exhaustion; blonde bun in disarray, suit and labcoat ruffled, and coffee cup half-empty. She scanned the apartment with the intensity of a retired veteran, but upon seeing me, that all melted into a genuine smile.
"Hey, V. Didn't get into too much trouble?" she said as she tossed her bag onto the L-shaped couch and walked her way over to where I was reading my (also new, not Dragontech though) phone in the presence of a bowl of salad. I raised a brow; I'd honestly expected a confrontation at this point, especially since it was so early into my tenure as an honorary daughter. Whatever psychology hack she'd gleamed off my records must have made my behavior look so understandable that she'd decided that reacting with light-hearted concern was the right approach.
Unfortunately, she wasn't wrong.
"Eh," I said, pushing said salad to the other seat— Alex's seat. "Came across an asshole shoving a girl into a locker full of rotting tampons and punched her lights out. Got suspended until Thursday, provided a statement for attempted murder, and had a quick chat with Miss All The Guns."
Her response was a sigh that was in equal parts amusement and exasperation.
"And you called Miss Militia a Team Mom?"
I grinned. It was an open secret between the two of us at this point that I had a Brute rating and she worked at the PRT. Of course, we never actually said it, and the game of saying-but-not saying had actually been fun. Talking with a psychologist helps in brightening up your day, who knew?
"I mean, does Armsmaster look like he'd do well as 'Team Dad'?"
She grimaced. Yeah, our first night together was after she'd come back from an after-work Christmas party. Signing an N.D.A. was a novel experience, though I'll admit that the only way I'd gotten through the legalese was by turning on the "for the worldbuilding" fiction-writing switch I had back in my old life.
"Be glad he wasn't the one to get your statement. Speaking of, why'd you turn down Militia's Wards pitch?"
I shrugged. "I mean." I gestured around. "I'm basically a Ward, just, you know, no powers, not allowed to do police work, and no wearing a ridiculous costume."
Functionally, it was true. Any trip I made that I told Alex about had at least a single PRT van in the vicinity of the destination. Sure, it could just be a coincidence, but when you find a PRT trooper by an arcade dangerously close to what was considered Empire Eighty-Eight, actual Neo-Nazi territory, it's bound to clue you in.
I was also given containment foam grenades, which, if I remember it correctly, was basically more than Vista's ever gotten.
Vista. Now that was a thought. I wonder how she'll interact with the Herrscher of the Void's power.
… I guess I'll know if I join the Wards.
Alex smiled ruefully and shrugged. 'Well, you're not wrong,' basically. The rest of supper was spent in quiet companionship as she dug into the salad and occasionally complemented my special sauce.
(I have no idea why ketchup-mayo's considered "special". Making it didn't even take five minutes!)
After that, we cleaned up, did our evening absolutions, and bid each other good night.
I lay on my bed and closed my eyes. Sleep didn't come. My thoughts spun a mile a minute, drifting through memories of my old life, Taylor's slop-crusted hair, and the sweet background hum of my power in my nerves, waiting to come out. I rolled around, switching between positions and experimenting with putting a pillow on my face, hugging one, or both. A while later, I got up and drank a glass of water, crawled back to my room, and tried again.
I opened a bleary eye and looked at the clock. It was 11:58 PM and I was still wide awake. I stuffed my face on a pillow and groaned. I've been having less and less sleep for the past two years. It was another thing I'd noticed as I and my power grew. Herrschers- which I probably was based on the game that I knew- likely didn't need to sleep like regular humans and I wouldn't be going to sleep anytime soon.
I got up and started getting dressed: a hoodie, face mask, and jogging pants. I went downstairs and put on my shoes, then wrote a note to Alex saying I couldn't sleep and went for a run. I then took a spare key and stepped out in the cold of January.
---
Notes:
Edit: reread the chapter in the site. My copy-paste turned out weird with some formatting mostly around punctuation and italics not transferring correctly. I also sicced Grammarly on it again.
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