Look Up (Chapter 1.)
This Stupid System is Trying to Kill Me!
Having a System that dictates your every move isnât all peaches and cream. Whoâd a thunk?
Oh, and apparently you landed the job at the Daily Planet. Good luck.
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TAGLIST: @altumsomnum @powercake @lapaufabi @guavafruitjuice @annoyingenthusiastperfection @midnight-shifts @ceramic-raven
PROLOGUE Chapter 2
For a long moment, you just stood there.
Staring.
Breathing.
Trying very hard not to think.
Every time your thoughts started to form, they spiraledâ fast, sharp, and unforgivingâ straight into you are not in your world anymore and you gave yourself Superman powers like an absolute idiot.
So, you didnât think. You just breathed, slow and steady, like that might somehow anchor you in place.
âThis is fine,â you said out loud, because apparently saying it made it more believable. âPeople wake up in alternate realities all the time. Totally normal. Happens everyââ
Your reflection moved.
You froze mid-sentence, your body going rigid as your eyes slowly drifted toward the wardrobe mirror across the room. There you wereâ standing exactly where you should be with that âdeer-in-headlightsâ lookâ but something about it felt⊠off.
â⊠thatâs not rightâŠâ
You took a cautious step closer, as if the mirror might betray you if you moved too quickly.
It didnât, just like the floor didnât crack when you moved. Still, better safe than sorry.
The mirror just stood there, reflecting you back with quiet, unwavering honesty.
Except⊠it wasnât quite you.
You were taller. Not dramatically so, but enough that it threw everything off. Your eye level sat higher than it should be, your proportions just slightly stretched in a way that made you feel like youâd been shifted half an inch out of alignment.
Your shoulders were broader, too. Your posture naturally straighter, like your body had decided slouching was no longer something it tolerated.
Which was something you dreaded if you were to pull off the whole âClark Kentâ persona thingâ
You looked stronger.
Not bulky, or exaggeratedâ just built.
Like every part of you had been refined into something sturdier, something denser. Something that could take a hit and keep standing.
For the second time in an only a few minutes, your stomach dropped straight out of your ass.
âOh my god, I got buff.â
Your hands came up immediately, patting at your arms, your sides, your waist, like you were checking to make sure everything was still attached properly.
Spoiler alert: you were not pulled apart and put back together again like some sort of Frankenstein experiment. Your nose shape was still the same, your lips still had the same pull as before, shitâ even your hip dips remained!
Still, it was unnerving to see all these familiar features on an unfamiliar body.
Everything felt solid (R.I.P to the soft pudge on your stomach, you will be missed). Real. Warm beneath your touch.
ââŠOkay,â you said faintly, trying to keep your voice steady. âOkay, thatâsâ fine. Thatâs fine, I can work with this. I canââ
Something brushed against your brow.
You stilled.
And finally, your gaze rested on the one small thing that really drove the âoh-my-god-Iâm-fucking-Supermanâ idea home.
A single curl of hair, resting perfectly, deliberately, across your forehead.
You stared at it.
You pushed it back. It fell forward again.
You blinked, then pushed it back again, harder this time. It bounced right back into place like it had something to prove.
âNo,â you said firmly, like this was the one thing you could not stand with. âAbsolutely not. I refuse. I reject this. I did not sign up for branding.â
The curl, evidently, disagreed.
It stayed exactly where it was, like it paid rent.
After a stunted pause where you had to heavily resist the urge to march into the kitchen to grab a pair of scissors and snip this damn thing offâ
You leaned closer to the mirror, narrowing your eyes at your own reflection. ââŠOkay, butââ you tilted your head slightly, studying yourself from a different angle. ââwhy does it kind of work?â
You straightened a little, almost unconsciously. Your shoulders squared, your posture shifted, and something about the way you held yourself changed in an instant. You plastered on a brilliantly bright smile, andâ oh my god, are those dimples?!
âHold onââ
You turned slightly, then the other way, taking yourself in from different angles. There was something undeniably different about your presence now.
Something that made even standing still feel intentionalâ like you occupied space in a way you never had before.
ââŠI mean,â you said slowly, âif Iâm going to be stuck like thisâŠâ
Your gaze drifted downward as you shifted to see yourself from a side angle. A smug grin pulls at your lips once you see the buff increase also applied to your ass.
â⊠it could be worse.â
The moment lingered for just a second too long before your expression flattened entirely.
âFocus,â you told yourself sharply. âThis is not the time to be hot and mysterious! This is the time to panic correctly.â
With that, you tore yourself away from the mirror (not without sending one last look at your behindâ holy shit, even your back is ripped!) and started pacing the room. Every step was carefulâ you didnât trust your own strength not to betray you if you got careless.
âOkay, so,â you muttered, ticking points off on your fingers. âNew body. Super strength. Super senses. Probably the rest of the package too. Thatâsâ great. Love that. Big fan.â
Your gaze swept the roomâ and then stopped.
There, sitting on a small desk near the wall, was a phone. Plugged into a charger. Completely normal. Completely out of place.
Your breath caught.
You rushed toward it, then forced yourself to slow down halfway there, visibly reining yourself in. âCareful,â you whispered under your breath. âGentle. You are no longer allowed to run.â
A bit strict, yeah, but you canât run (ha) the risk of accidentally slamming through the wall and giving the neighbors a fright.
You pick up the phone like it might explode.
It didnât.
(Maybe you should stop being such a pussy and realize that not everything is going to crack under youâ maybe. Hopefully.)
The screen lit up instantly. No lock screen. Not even a password.
ââŠSuspicious,â you muttered, eyeing the thing like Cecil-fucking-Stedman might pop out and ask threaten you to join his team. That obviously doesnât happen so you allow yourself to relaxâ only slightly though, because that old man is more slick than a greased up eelâ
Your thumb hovered for a moment before tapping the screen. The display flickered to life, showing the time, the batteryâ and then the date.
You nearly gagged at the sudden information presented before you.
February 26th, 2021.
One month before the events of Invincible start to take place. One month before Mark Grayson gets his powers. One month before Nolan Grayson murders the Guardians of the Globe and breaks the trust of everyone around him.
Youâre gonna be sick.
You lean closer, as if the proximity might somehow change what youâre seeing.
It didnât.
The date remained exactly the same. One month before everything.
Your thoughts came too fast now, tumbling over each other.
Cities reduced to rubble.
Blood stained concrete.
That trainâ
You squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head like you could dislodge the images.
âNope! Nope, weâre not thinking about that.â
But you already were.
Because you already knew how bad it would get. You knew who was coming, what was comingâ and now you were here, with powers that practically screamed Viltrumite-Level-Threat! Might as well write it across your forehead in bright red marker.
Worst of all, you have no idea how to use your fucking powers! Youâve been dropped in this absolute hellscape with no control, no training, and absolutely no clue on what youâre supposed to do.
Your breathing quickened.
âI canâtâ I canât do this,â you muttered, your voice unsteady. âIâm not a hero, I watched this from a couch. With snacks. I didnât sign up toââ
A sharp ping cuts through your thoughts.
You suppress the urge to send your head through the nearest wall.
The air at your right side shimmered.
âCome the fuck onââ
Light fractured across empty space, assembling itself piece by piece until the now-familiar screen snapped into existence.
But this timeâ
It looked different.
Not just a floating messageâ a full interface.
Clean lines. Structured panels. Soft glowing borders that felt less like something divine and more like something ripped straight out of a video game HUD.
Text scrolled in smoothly, accompanied by a quiet chime.
[SYSTEM ONLINE]
USER SYNCHRONIZATION: Complete
POWER SET INTEGRATION: Stable
Welcome, PLAYER
You stared at the word.
ââŠPlayer?â you echoed faintly. âOh, thatâs notâ no. I donât like that. That implies mechanics. I donât want mechanics.â
The interface did not care.
A new panel slid open to the side with a soft, satisfying click.
[PRIMARY DIRECTIVE INITIALIZED]
The text beneath it appeared one line at a time.
Objective: Establish Hero Identity
Time Limit: 30 Days
Requirements:
Gain Public Trust
Gain Recognition from Active Heroes
Achieve Positive Standing with Global Defense Agency
Your pulse spiked.
ââŠExcuse me?!â
Another line appeared.
Failure Condition:
Classification as Unregistered Threat.
Silence filled the room.
Your mouth opened slightly.
Closed.
Opened again.
âOh, so youâre not even pretending this is optional.â
A soft ding responded as another panel slid into place.
[DAILY QUEST: HEROIC ENGAGEMENT]
Description: A hero is defined by action. Passive observation will result in failure.
Objectives:
Intervene in 1 Civilian Incident (0/1)
Prevent Property Damage or Injury (0/1)
Maintain Controlled Use of Power (0/1)
Optional Bonus:
Positive Civilian Reaction Recorded (0/1)
Rewards:
+1 Reputation (Local)
+1 Control
System Guidance Unlocked
Failure Penalty:
Negative Reputation Modifier
Increased Surveillance Risk
You blinked at the screen.
ââŠYou want me to go outside?â
[CONFIRMED]
ââŠAnd do hero work.â
[CONFIRMED]
You let out a short, breathless laugh, dragging a hand down your face. âIn the Invincible universe. The one where people get obliterated. Thatâs the one you picked.â
The interface remained perfectly still.
Unbothered.
Unmoved by your plight.
Your hand slices through the air, the screen only flickering briefly in response. Your lips curl up in a snarl as you continuously try to swipe the screen away, the words remaining unchanged.
Your other hand came up, swiping harder, more frantic. Again. Again. Again.
âGo awayâ!â
Your voice broke completely now, rising with panic as you tried to shove it aside, to push it out of your space, your life.
âStop itâ justâ stop!â
Your hands cut uselessly through light.
The interface didnât move.
Didnât even react.
[QUEST TRACKING ACTIVE]
âSTOP!â
The shout tore itself free from your throat, raw and desperate, echoing off of the walls.
Silence.
Your arms dropped.
The fight drained out of your body like someone had pulled a plug.
You stood there for a second longer, shaking, your breath coming in short, uneven bursts. Your vision blurred, the room warping at the edges as tears spilled over before you could stop them.
âIâm notâ Iâm not supposed to be hereâŠâ
That was the worst part.
Not the powers.
Not the System.
Not even the month.
The quiet, suffocating realization that everything familiar was gone.
Your home.
Your life.
Your mom.
Even the person in the mirror didnât feel like you anymore.
âI donât evenâ,â your breath stuttered, shoulders starting to shake as you pressed a hand to your face, trying and failing to hold it together. âThis isnât my bodyâŠâ
The words came out in a broken whisper.
âI donâtâ this isnât mine.â
Your knees gave out before you really registered it.
You sank to the floor hard, catching yourself just enough not to crack the tile beneath you, curling in on yourself like you could somehow make all of this smaller.
Manageable.
It didnât work.
Tears slipped freely now, hot and relentless. Your breathing uneven as panic bled into every inhale you took.
Fear.
You were scared.
âI donât want to do this,â you whimpered, the words barely audible even to your sensitive ears. âWhy me?â
The question hung in the air.
Your fingers curled weakly against the floor, your body still trembling as everything finally set in all at onceâ the reality, the responsibility, the impossible expectation sitting just inches from your face in the form of that damned screen.
It didnât care.
Of course it didnât.
It just hovered there.
Patient.
Waiting.
[OBJECTIVE REMAINS ACTIVE]
ââŠYeah,â you whispered hoarsely, tears still slipping down your face. You make no move to wipe them away, your hollow gaze fixed on the glowing screen. âOf course it does.â
You let your head fall forward to rest against your arm, eyes squeezing shut like that might block it all out.
It didnâtâŠ
Nothing did.
After a whileâ seconds, minutes, you didnât knowâ your breathing started to slow. Not steady, your throat still caught every so often.
Just⊠less jagged.
You didnât get back up.
Didnât argue again.
Didnât try to swipe the screen away.
You just laid there on the floor, feeling small in a body that felt too strong for you, staring at nothing as the weight of everything settled in.
You didnât bother denying it anymoreâ this was real, and no amount of screaming or crying was going to change that.
âââââââ
The System had the decency to let you wallow in self pity for another half hour. You stayed slumped on the floor, your tears having dried out a while ago. A petulant pout stuck itself to your face as your body trembled just enough to remind you that you were still alive.
You let yourself breathe, small, shaky breaths, trying to convince yourself that the world hadnât completely collapsedâ just your personal world, your body, your future.
A sharp ding cut through the quiet.
You raised your head, fully prepared to cuss the System out for interrupting your little pity party.
The HUD glimmered again, impossibly bright in the dim room.
[SIDE QUEST ASSIGNED]
Your stomach lurched.
Objective: Prepare for Your First Day at the Daily Planet
Description: You are to integrate into your designated occupation to establish a cover identity.
Requirements:
Don professional attire suitable for office duties.
Arrive at workplace before 9:00AM
Maintain composure during first interactions with colleagues
Rewards:
+Reputation (Local)
+Public Recognition
+ [DAILY PLANET] Fondness
Your jaw dropped.
The world snapped into sharp focus. Your pity party evaporated instantly, mind racing as adrenaline floods your veins.
âNo, no, no, no, no!â you shouted, scrambling to your feet. The room seemed impossibly small all of a sudden, furniture threatening to block your path as you made a mad dash towards the wardrobe.
Your hands gripped the glass knobs of the doors and flung them open, eyes darting across hangers and drawers.
Clothes. You needed clothes. Work clothes.
Your fingers flew over shirts, jackets, skirts, slacks, your mind moving faster than your body as you tried to find something professional. Fuck, you worked as a god damn librarian in your past life where the only dress code was to be dressed! You had no idea what shirt went with what skirt, or if heels are the only acceptable footwear.
You needed to find something professional, something you could survive wearing. Something that wouldnât scream alien monstrosity disguised as human.
You yanked out a crisp white button-up and froze, staring at it. ââŠI⊠can I wear this? Is this evenâ does this even fit this stupid body?!â
Of course it fit.
Your new body was built differently, and the shirt clung in all the wrongâand rightâ places, but there was no time to freak out over it. You shoved it on, fumbling with the buttons, muttering curses under your breath the whole time.
You grabbed a blazer next, a pair of slacks, shoesâ black flats that looked fairly comfortableâ and tried to assemble an outfit that wouldnât stick out too much.
All the while, the Systemâs screen stayed stubbornly by your side. It displayed a clock that was slowly ticking down to 9:00AM.
One hand mussed up your hair as the other adjusted the collar of the shirt for the third time in thirty seconds.
You carefully played with the strands to hide the pronounced curl that still fucking refused to blend in with the rest of itâ
âOh!â
A pair of light red glasses stared up at you innocently, like they werenât the one thing that pulled this whole thing off. You paid no mind to how perfectly they were placed or how they fit the curve of your faceâ you were just happy that this whole thing might not go up in flames yet.
The System made sure to have you grab a lanyard and a briefcase, both tucked neatly by the front door.
The door slammed shut behind you as you rushed out into the hallway, almost crushing some poor guy against the wall.
âSorry,â you called out over your shoulder, already speed-walking down the hall. âIn a rush!â
The man grumbled some curses after you but you couldnât make them out properly over the racing of your own heart.
Christ on a stick, just how bad can this get?!















