"You have got to be kidding."
That was my voice. I could hear myself saying it. I suppose it had to be me saying it. My mouth was moving, the words were coming out from my throat. But my mind was a million miles away. No, more than that...a whole universe away, if the guy in the doctor's coat was serious.
Yeah, right.
My voice...was level. The words weren't exactly brilliant, but they were calm, and perfectly pronounced.
Across from me, the doctor blanched. He actually looked pale. The man backed away a step, almost bumping into the wall of the interview room.
For some reason, they'd been all nervous when I woke up. There were other people I recognized from the supergroup meet-up outside in the big room, but they'd made a point of taking me aside, separating me from the rest. They seemed vaguely worried about me...
Funny, that. I've never been a particularly threatening individual. I'm told my face, when at complete neutral rest, looks quite disdainful...so I look arrogant or disinterested if I'm not careful. Sure. I'm used to that. I'm also used to looking like a complete clown when I do smile. But one way or another, my face isn't exactly a terrifying thing. People aren't supposed to be scared of me.
This guy was.
Weird.
"So," I continued, "this is a joke, right? One of those...Candid Camera things. I'm really supposed to believe I've like...fallen through the rabbit hole? Right. Look, Doctor..."
I squinted at his name tag.
"...Miller, if that's your real name...assuming you ARE a doctor...why don't you tell the camera crew to just come out? Sorry, man, but I don't...it's not funny, you know?"
Dr. Miller coughed.
"Um," he began, "disbelief and denial is, a common reaction among displacees, but I assure you...you are in a different world. I can explain the Physics involved, but..."
"Er, no," I replied, flatly, "give me some proof."
"Well," Dr. Miller said, "there's your manifestation of a Cole Index ability..."
I twitched. "Of what?"
"Uh, a superpower," Dr. Miller hurriedly corrected, "we understand from your fellow displacees that your home universe doesn't have individuals with verifiable metahuman powers, at least as we understand it here."
"Sorry, doctor," I replied, "I don't feel super. I got more energy, maybe...but I blame that on whatever drugs you guys knocked me out with when you decided to play this stupid joke. Try again?"
"Actually," Dr. Miller said, carefully, "I was referring to your ability to manifest matter or at least a psuedo-material construct from no clear..."
I leaned forward, almost coming out of the chair. "WHAT are you---"
Dr. Miller made a wordless yelped, dropping the papers in his hands, and tried to take cover behind a lampshade. The light fixture was rather ill-suited to the task.
I just blinked. Was he trying to hide from me?
From behind his rather inadequate obstruction, Dr. Miller squeaked, "Could you NOT point that at ME?!"
"Point what at..."
Confused, I lifted a hand to scratch my head. It stopped, halfway.
I looked down.
Resting in my grasp was a very familiar shape, all black metal and plastic. Four years since I'd last handled one...but it's not the sort of thing you forget, after bearing it through a whole lot of sweat.
In a trance, I lifted it. Keeping it aloft with one hand, I moved the other. Two fingers looped round the t-shaped end of the charging lever - hauling it back until the dust cover flipped open, until I felt the click. Then my hand returned to the smooth plastic of the guard, while the other tightened round the grip. It settled nicely into the crook of my arms, as I turned, sighted, held my breath...
...and planted a round into the wall.
My ears rung with the echoing sound of the shot.
Dreamlike, I turned my head, watching the brass cartridge eject from the chamber, flying to my left. It hit the carpet, bounced...
...and vanished.
I lifted my gaze, looking back at the wall. The hole was still there.
I held the M16 parade-style, staring at it dumbly. There wasn't any smell of propellant, I noted, absently. The side of my chest, near the shoulder, did ache faintly with the kick of recoil - but nowhere near as much as I remembered from way back in Basic Military Training, nowhere near as much as it should.
I grinned.
"Cool."
Dr. Miller whimpered.
* * *
-- Acyl
That was my voice. I could hear myself saying it. I suppose it had to be me saying it. My mouth was moving, the words were coming out from my throat. But my mind was a million miles away. No, more than that...a whole universe away, if the guy in the doctor's coat was serious.
Yeah, right.
My voice...was level. The words weren't exactly brilliant, but they were calm, and perfectly pronounced.
Across from me, the doctor blanched. He actually looked pale. The man backed away a step, almost bumping into the wall of the interview room.
For some reason, they'd been all nervous when I woke up. There were other people I recognized from the supergroup meet-up outside in the big room, but they'd made a point of taking me aside, separating me from the rest. They seemed vaguely worried about me...
Funny, that. I've never been a particularly threatening individual. I'm told my face, when at complete neutral rest, looks quite disdainful...so I look arrogant or disinterested if I'm not careful. Sure. I'm used to that. I'm also used to looking like a complete clown when I do smile. But one way or another, my face isn't exactly a terrifying thing. People aren't supposed to be scared of me.
This guy was.
Weird.
"So," I continued, "this is a joke, right? One of those...Candid Camera things. I'm really supposed to believe I've like...fallen through the rabbit hole? Right. Look, Doctor..."
I squinted at his name tag.
"...Miller, if that's your real name...assuming you ARE a doctor...why don't you tell the camera crew to just come out? Sorry, man, but I don't...it's not funny, you know?"
Dr. Miller coughed.
"Um," he began, "disbelief and denial is, a common reaction among displacees, but I assure you...you are in a different world. I can explain the Physics involved, but..."
"Er, no," I replied, flatly, "give me some proof."
"Well," Dr. Miller said, "there's your manifestation of a Cole Index ability..."
I twitched. "Of what?"
"Uh, a superpower," Dr. Miller hurriedly corrected, "we understand from your fellow displacees that your home universe doesn't have individuals with verifiable metahuman powers, at least as we understand it here."
"Sorry, doctor," I replied, "I don't feel super. I got more energy, maybe...but I blame that on whatever drugs you guys knocked me out with when you decided to play this stupid joke. Try again?"
"Actually," Dr. Miller said, carefully, "I was referring to your ability to manifest matter or at least a psuedo-material construct from no clear..."
I leaned forward, almost coming out of the chair. "WHAT are you---"
Dr. Miller made a wordless yelped, dropping the papers in his hands, and tried to take cover behind a lampshade. The light fixture was rather ill-suited to the task.
I just blinked. Was he trying to hide from me?
From behind his rather inadequate obstruction, Dr. Miller squeaked, "Could you NOT point that at ME?!"
"Point what at..."
Confused, I lifted a hand to scratch my head. It stopped, halfway.
I looked down.
Resting in my grasp was a very familiar shape, all black metal and plastic. Four years since I'd last handled one...but it's not the sort of thing you forget, after bearing it through a whole lot of sweat.
In a trance, I lifted it. Keeping it aloft with one hand, I moved the other. Two fingers looped round the t-shaped end of the charging lever - hauling it back until the dust cover flipped open, until I felt the click. Then my hand returned to the smooth plastic of the guard, while the other tightened round the grip. It settled nicely into the crook of my arms, as I turned, sighted, held my breath...
...and planted a round into the wall.
My ears rung with the echoing sound of the shot.
Dreamlike, I turned my head, watching the brass cartridge eject from the chamber, flying to my left. It hit the carpet, bounced...
...and vanished.
I lifted my gaze, looking back at the wall. The hole was still there.
I held the M16 parade-style, staring at it dumbly. There wasn't any smell of propellant, I noted, absently. The side of my chest, near the shoulder, did ache faintly with the kick of recoil - but nowhere near as much as I remembered from way back in Basic Military Training, nowhere near as much as it should.
I grinned.
"Cool."
Dr. Miller whimpered.
* * *
-- Acyl