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Rating:
Mature
Archive Warning:
Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Category:
F/M
Fandoms:
Parahumans Series - Wildbow僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga)Multi-Fandom
Characters:
Original CharactersOriginal Male Character(s)Colin Wallis | Armsmaster | DefiantUsagiyama Rumi | MirukoTaylor Hebert | Skitter | Weaver
Additional Tags:
Action/AdventureAction & RomanceActionFluffComedyGrimdarkfight the grimdark!Gang ViolenceHeroes & HeroinesTsunderesMultiverseRed HerringsMistaken IdentityDiscriminationReferences to DrugsImplied/Referenced Child AbuseDarkCross-PostCompetent Parahuman Response Team | PRT
Language:
English
Stats:
Published:2025-12-26Updated:2026-02-12Words:116,669Chapters:22/?Comments:51Kudos:117Bookmarks:32Hits:6,275
My World My Justice (WC)
Choloman
Chapter 6: Chapter 6
Chapter Text
-Rumi Usagiyama, Mirko-
Mirko's eyes snapped open, her body tensing instinctively as she pushed herself up with a growl. Her head pounded like she'd smashed her head repeatedly against a rock, and her mouth felt as dry as a desert.
"What the hell?" she muttered, rubbing her eyes furiously. The fuzzy white shapes around her sharpened into a sterile hospital room. She glanced down, relieved to find herself still in her hero costume rather than in some flimsy gown.
A familiar emblem caught her eye–the PRT symbol plastered on the wall. Mirko's ears twitched in irritation. She was either in their floating fortress or their downtown base. Probably the latter, given the lack of ocean smell.
"Look who's finally rejoined the land of the living," a voice called out, tinged with dry amusement.
Mirko's head whipped around, spotting a woman in fatigues closing a book. The American flag scarf covering the lower half of her face marked her clearly as Miss Militia.
"You've been out for quite a while," Miss Militia continued, her eyes crinkling in what might have been a smile. "How are you feeling? Any lingering effects we should know about?"
Mirko scoffed, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "Like I went on a bender with Fat Gum and woke up in another dimension. What happened? Last thing I remember is kicking some ass and running."
Miss Militia's eyebrows rose slightly. "That's putting it mildly. You took on half the Merchant roster single-handedly. Impressive, but reckless. You ended up with a nasty cocktail of contact highs, some rather severe burns, and plenty of self-inflicted wounds on your arm that caused bleeding that required careful cleaning due to potential risk of infection. We had to stabilize you and perform emergency surgery before Panacea could finish the job."
Mirko clicked her tongue, looking down at her unblemished skin. She flexed her fingers, feeling the familiar strength coursing through them. She really needed to get that girl a nice gift for saving her ass twice.
Mirko ran a hand through her hair, her ears twitching in irritation. "Okay... fuck, I admit I was a bit reckless. But how was I supposed to know those bozos would bring fucking Snowflame? Better question: why the hell was he in this dump of a city?"
The PRT cape or Protectorate cape or whatever, they were the same to her… Miss Militia's eyes narrowed slightly. "From what we've gathered, and what I'm cleared to disclose, the Merchants struck a deal with South American drug lords. Snowflame came as some sort of... representative."
"Well, shit," Mirko growled, crossing her arms with a scowl. She could already imagine more villain capes coming to the city. As if it didn't have enough problems with three gangs already, she liked to kick ass, but there were limits. "I don't like the sound of that."
"Neither do we," her fellow hero agreed.
Mirko's brow furrowed as she tried to piece together the gaps in her memory. "Okay, but how did I end up here? I don't remember dragging myself to this place before... taking my little nap. Was it Glory Girl? No, that's stupid - she'd have taken me straight to Panacea. Maybe Assault? Or Eraserhead?"
The woman shook her head. "It was True Might who brought your unconscious body to our headquarters and requested medical assistance on your behalf."
"True Might?" Mirko's ears perked up, her head tilting in curiosity. "That's a new one. We got fresh meat in town?"
Miss Militia's eyes crinkled in what might have been a smile, but there was a hint of confusion in her voice. "You fought him a couple of days ago."
"Days ago?" Mirko unfolded her arms, her eyes widening. Then realization struck, and she waved her hands frantically. "Wait, wait - you mean the semi-naked dude screaming justice this and justice that at the landfill?"
The older woman nodded. "He technically registered days ago, but didn't have a cape name until recently."
Mirko leaned back, a smirk playing on her lips. At least the new trigger became a hero instead of a villain. That was always a win in her book, but then a thought crossed her mind- "Hold up. You mentioned days. How long exactly was I out?"
"You've been unconscious for approximately 46 hours." She replied.
"Two days?!" Rumi exclaimed, her fists clenching. "Dammit, that's way too long. I've got patrols to do, villains to punch!"
"Your enthusiasm is... admirable," Miss Militia said, with a strange tone. "But you've just recovered from severe injuries and drug exposure. It would be wise to take some time to—"
"To what? Sit on my ass?" Rumi scoffed, hopping off the bed. She stood up, stretching her arms above her head. "Sorry, but that's not my style. This city's a mess, and I still want my rematch."
Miss Militia didn't argue further. Instead, she stood up from her chair and pulled out a flip phone.
Rumi eyed the device, and quickly recognized it as hers. She could have saved herself some trouble if she'd just made a call. But there was no point dwelling on it now.
"True Might said this was yours," Miss Militia explained, holding out the phone. "And don't worry, we didn't pry."
She frowned as she snatched her phone. It was hard to believe the PRT didn't snoop on her phone, but she'd have to take Miss Militia's word for it. For now.
She flipped the phone open, noticing a message notification.
"Next time wait for my report, you bonehead."
"Very lucky True Might was around."
And it was from Oracle.
'Shut it, you twerp,' she quickly typed back, hitting send with perhaps more force than necessary.
But something didn't sit right with her. With a reluctant sigh, she typed a follow-up message: 'Thanks for saving my ass.'
Almost immediately, she received a smiling emoji in response. She rolled her eyes, fighting back a smirk as she stashed her phone on her belt.
"So, can I leave?" She turned her attention back to the cape.
The older woman nodded, gesturing to her side. "Just sign the form on the table, and you're free to go."
Rumi snatched up the clipboard and pen, scrawling her signature without so much as glancing at the text. Paperwork be damned; she had places to be.
"Done," she declared, thrusting the clipboard back at Miss Militia. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a reputation to repair."
"Not so fast." Miss Militia stepped in front of her, blocking her path.
Rumi groaned, slumping her shoulders. "What now? I swear, if it's more paperwork, I'm jumping out the window."
Wait, there weren't any windows. Damnit.
"Nothing so drastic," Miss Militia replied dryly, handing her an envelope. "But you're forgetting this."
Mirko raised an eyebrow, snatching the letter and ripping it open. Inside was a long, receipt-looking paper with a list of items and numbers so it has to be a…
"Medical Bill? You've got to be kidding me."
"Yes," Miss Militia explained, her tone matter-of-fact. "The PRT provides healthcare to all registered heroes, but independents must pay a fee and cover medical costs upon use."
"Huh..." she scanned down the bill and reached the end…
"15000 DOLLARS?!"
How the fuck it was this expensive?!
"I assure you, the charges are standard. Would you prefer to pay in installments, or—"
"NONONO TIME OUT TIME OUT!" Mirko shouted, frantically making the break hand signals. "Why the hell is my bill this high?! Did you stuff me with gold-plated bandages or something?"
"You fall under the parahuman category. Medical costs for parahumans have a higher rate due to the specialized equipment and personnel required to—"
"I know that!" Rumi stomped her foot down. "I mean, why is it so damn expensive when I have insurance?!"
The older woman tilted her head, keeping the professional tone, much to her annoyance. "Your insurance doesn't cover heroic activities. That only applies to your civilian identity."
Mirko's jaw dropped as she processed this information. "What? Then what the hell have I been paying for that expensive insurance plan for all these years?!"
"If you don't have money to pay, you could always sign up with the PRT until your debt has been settled."
Rumi's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Oh, you sneaky little—" She cut herself off, taking a deep breath, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Fine, whatever! I'll pay, you damn leeches!"
She couldn't believe she would have to take those stupid modeling offers just to pay for medical bills because for some reason all fighting rings were under those nazi fuckers control. This was complete and utter bullshit!
No…
This was the new guy's fault!
She was going to kick his ass the next time she saw him.
-Daniel, True Might-
A week has flown by since I crash-landed on Earth-Bet, and besides my unique entrance and cape debut, it's been surprisingly... mundane.
These patrols aren't the adrenaline rush some make them out to be. Honestly, it feels weird just strolling the streets alone with no real objective. Maybe I need to spice things up, venture into ABB turf or poke the Empire's hornet's nest.
On the bright side, I guess, people have been looking for me to get a selfie. Guess I've left quite the impression, which is good. And I've been stomping out petty crime left and right as well. It's almost comical how these thugs just surrender the second they spot me, scared out of their minds.
But that should also mean that all those important and powerful thinkers must already know about me, but must be racking their brains and accumulating headaches as my company's defenses protect me precisely from them. I'm technically a blank to them, so they cannot predict me or get any information out of me unless I explicitly tell them. Currently, only Zion should be the only one capable of reading me or prying into my secrets since his powers fall under entity/god, but that would be fixed when I get the second tier of my defenses.
Thinking about gods, what is the delusional of Coil doing?
I don't really know much about him besides him larping as a super mastermind and schemer, who can somehow see alternate timelines and pick which one he likes.
Also that he is the secret boss of the Undersiders too, especially of Tattletale who he recruited under gunpoint.
Maybe he's scurried off to his secret lair, tail tucked between his legs. After all, I'm the wild card he can't account for in his rigged mediocre games.
Either way, I should deal with Coil soon. That coward's scattered bombs all over the city as a last "fuck you" if he ever dies. But speaking about him, it is impossible to think about his minions. I haven't spotted Lisa at all. Makes sense, I guess–she doesn't need to be seen to use her Thinker powers. Or maybe I'm assuming things wrong.
Suddenly, a weird tick in my eyebrow stops me dead in my tracks. A tick that doesn't feel natural at all.
There it is again.
And again.
My hand reaches for the spot and rubs it, but I still feel the same weird thing and I frown.
I reach up, rubbing the spot, but the sensation persists. My frown deepens. Nothing's wrong with me, but this tickling sensation... could it be that my defenses are acting up?
Another tick, and I whip my head around, just catching a glimpse of blonde hair ducking behind a nearby rooftop.
Found you.
So, Lisa's been trying to get a read on me. That tick must be my Mind Defense or Information Defense kicking in and blocking her attempts. I'm not an asshole, but I hope she gets a migraine for that.
Although... why's she spying from a building instead of blending into the crowd? Aren't there better ways to do this? For a supposed master manipulator, this seems pretty amateur. Unless I've been overestimating her.
Well, I don't know enough about Lisa to make a solid call. But if she's digging for info, it means Coil's already making his move. Not that I'm worried – even if he hacks the PRT database for my "civilian identity," there's jack shit to blackmail me with. I've got no attachments in this world, or important secrets or family.
Still, fuck you, Coil.
I need a thinker on my side now.
And I only know Lisa… wait.
Oracle is a thinker as well, and she already knows me. The only problem is that I don't have a way to contact her because I didn't ask for her number…
Ok, that was a big oversight on my part, but maybe another hero knows her number and I don't really know any other cape who might have Oracle's number. So, not a great start.
Or maybe, as dumb as it sounds, I can just look it up on the internet.
I scan my surroundings. Not many people around. Perfect. I break into a full sprint, then launch myself into a soaring leap. The wind whips across my face as I sail through the air, landing carefully on a nearby rooftop to avoid property damage.
From here, I open a portal with my phone on the floor and dive in.
As I emerge from the portal, I find myself in the familiar surroundings of my dimensional apartment.
If it wasn't for this apartment or the monthly stipend I'm entitled as a contractor, despite I've been fucked over, I would have been in a lot of trouble in Earth-Bet.
I make my way to my desktop and boot up the computer before I check the PHO forums and start looking for Oracle.
Thankfully, I end up finding threads with Oracle and they provide information on how to contact her, although I don't know if I can trust this information, but I guess it is worth a shot.
Summoning my phone, I add the phone number to my contact and write a small short message.
Almost instantly, a reply pops up on the screen. "Took you long enough, True Might."
My eyebrow shoots up. Huh, she nailed it in one try. Now the question is, do I play dumb or not?
I drum my fingers on the desk, weighing my options for a moment. Screw it, might as well be direct.
"Correct."
"Cool, I knew you would end up looking for me since you forgot to ask for my number."
"Either way, good work in patrolling the streets. Petty crimes are as important as cape fights."
I rub my chin in thought. I want to be direct with her, but I shouldn't break the character I've been building up no matter how much I gag.
"The path of justice is paved with deeds both great and small!" I type back. "Every act of righteousness ripples through the city!"
"Glad you see it that way. But if you are looking for work, there isn't much going on at the moment after the ABB assault."
Damn.
"I see."
"Buuuuuuuuut that doesn't mean I cannot create a new quest just for you!"
My eyebrows shoot up. New Quest? Is she a secret gamer or just playing into my over-the-top hero shtick?
"Your assistance honors me, friend Oracle! What noble task awaits?"
Moments later, my phone pings. A map location pops up on the screen, a red pin dropped squarely in Empire territory.
"Possible E88 weapons shipment. You in?"
A grin spreads across my face. Time to put a dent in the Empire's operations and maybe ruffle some Nazi feathers in the process.
"Evil shall find no respite while True Might stands guard!" I type back, my fingers practically vibrating with excitement.
"Perfect. Happy hunting, hero. Call this number."
I lean back in my chair, cracking my knuckles. Well, I just got myself a new mission.
New Mission alert!
Tend to your business:
Oracle, a well-known thinker for independent capes, is curious about you. And the Empire will be the guinea pig to satisfy that curiosity.
Also, they are the last gang they need some proper justice.
Rewards:
Hidden
Even more reason to crash those idiots' party.
I shove away from the desk, my chair spinning wildly as I make my way towards the door. A vortex materializes, and I step through, the air crackling with energy as I emerge back onto the same rooftop where I left.
My eyes dart left and right, scanning for possible witnesses. But there are none. I take a couple of breaths, relaxing my muscles a little. Then I'm off like a shot, each leap practically carrying me across entire city blocks. The wind whips through my hair as I soar over traffic and pedestrians, a blur of motion high above the unsuspecting city.
As I bound towards Empire territory, I fish out my phone, the screen glowing in the fading daylight. I double-check the drop location, committing it to memory. My path leads me to a dilapidated building, its weathered brick facade a stark contrast to the surrounding area. It's like a rotten tooth in an otherwise decent smile.
I perch on a nearby rooftop, my gaze scanning for any sign of Empire goons. But I found nothing there. No sentries, no lookouts, not even a bored teenager with a walkie-talkie. It's so quiet I can hear distant traffic and the faint creak of rusty metal in the breeze.
Something's off, but I push the thought aside. I'm here to wreck their weapons shipment. Simple in, simple out.
I roll my neck, feeling a few pops in my bones. My shoulders loosen as I rotate them, preparing for action.
Crouching low, I tense every muscle in my legs. The rooftop cracks beneath my feet as I launch myself skyward, the wind screaming past my ears. For a moment, I'm suspended in the air, a nice partial view of the city sprawled beneath me.
Then gravity takes hold.
I plummet towards the building like a meteor. The roof doesn't stand a chance. It splinters and caves beneath my feet, a thunderous crash echoing through the neighborhood as I bring half the ceiling down with me.
Dust and debris rain down around me as I rise to my full height, concrete crumbling off my shoulders and I strike a heroic pose.
"JUSTICE HAS ARRIVED!"
But there's no response. No panicked voices, no scrambling feet. Just... silence.
Frowning, I scan the room. The weapons cache is right here, partially crushed under my dramatic entrance. Talk about convenience.
I move towards the remaining crates that are intact, tearing them open effortlessly. One by one, I bend and break each weapon, the metal groaning in protest as I render them useless. It's almost disappointing–these are just run-of-the-mill guns, nothing like the Tinkertech I've faced before.
As I work through the stockpile, my frown deepens. Still no Empire goons, no capes, not even a measly alarm. Something's off, but I can't put my finger on what.
Finally, the last weapon snaps in my hands. I dust them off, surveying my handiwork. A win's a win, I guess, even if it feels... anticlimactic.
I fish out my phone, dialing Oracle. "Justice has been served!"
"Nice work," Oracle's voice crackles through the speaker. "Any trouble?"
"None," I admit, still puzzled.
"Weird. I thought Cricket would be around."
So she sent me to fight a cape. Not that Cricket would've stood a chance, but still. I feel a twinge of... something. Annoyance? Or disappointment?
"Still, thank you True Might," Oracle continues. "I hope we can work again."
"I should thank you instead, friend Oracle," I reply. "Your righteous work is everything that this city needs!"
As I end the call, I can't shake the feeling that there's more going on here than meets the eye. But what? And why?
I should just leave this place, but first I check the mission tab.
Mission Complete!
Empire weapon shipment destroyed.
Defeat Cricket (Failed)
Defeat Rune (Failed)
Defeat Victor (Failed)
Rewards:
1 credit
Note: Failed to meet requirements for better rewards.
Oh, come on! Where were those guys then?
Whatever, I have to leave.
Bonus scene: Alexandria, Rebecca Costa-Brown
"What do you mean Contessa bought another media company?! This is the fifth one this week!" Rebecca gripped her phone so tightly that her knuckles turned white. "And she didn't even use a fake name or shell company?!"
She terminated the call with a forceful jab, then exhaled slowly, her free hand moving to massage her temples.
The director knew the Path to Victory operated on a level beyond conventional understanding, but Contessa's actions often bordered on the absurd. Yet, time and again, those seemingly random steps coalesced into world-altering outcomes.
And now she had to get to work.
As she pulled up the necessary documents on her computer, a part of her couldn't help but wonder about the endgame. What crucial piece of information or influence did these media companies provide? How did they fit into the grand scheme of things to save humanity?
Rebecca's jaw clenched as she dove into the work. "I swear, Contessa," she growled under her breath, "if you've made me solo all these accountability books for anything less than averting a world ending threat, we're going to have words."
If it wasn't literally one of Contessa's steps she would have thrown all that paperwork to her face or hired someone else to do it.
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