Spider Man Velocity Suit Drawing

You wake up and get out of bed, only to stumble as your limbs feel a bit too short. You write it off as just being tired, only to find that your viewpoint is… significantly lower to the ground than you would have expected. You look down at your limbs… and they seem wrong. Not only are they the wrong color, but they are also smoother, younger looking than you remember. Your glance around the room shows you that this is not your room, but rather a hotel room.

Quickly, you run over to the bathroom to look in the mirror, and you find yourself looking at yourself. Except it's not you. You're looking into the reflection of a…

[X][Sex] Boy
[][Sex] Girl

that's just started to go through puberty, transitioning from the childlike frame of before into a newer adult one. You have dark brown hair and proportions that seem just a touch wrong for your body. Your arms seem slightly longer than they should be, your head looks a touch too large. All in all, you look like a generic pre-teen.

All of these things would not be so odd if you did not remember being a twenty-five-year-old junior software developer at Nile, the premier online marketplace. Did you switch bodies, and now there's some tweenager that's now in the body of an adult, or were you ripped from your body in your sleep, and whoever comes to check on you next will find you either dead or in a coma. You don't have a partner or roommate, but your boss will probably call if you don't show up for work on Monday.

Right now, though, you need to figure out whether you are currently reenacting Freaky Friday or if your spirit has possessed some poor kid's body. Ideally, you would also figure out where you are, and if the date is still February 23, 2019, like you think it should be.

Then, someone knocks on the door, and you hear a woman call out, presumably to you, "Wake up…

[][Name] Gareth
[][Name] Elise
[X][Name] Tony
[][Name] Write-in.

, I have someone for you to meet."

At first, you're thrilled, you need an adult to help you sort out your current situation. Then you realize that no adult would believe a pre-teen saying that they were an adult in a pre-teen's body. So that avenue is probably not open to you. First, you'll need to figure out what exactly this person's current situation is, and that woman seems to be your best bet.

"I'm getting ready," you call back, as you search the room for any clothing other than your flannel pajamas.

Under the hotel bed, you find an unzipped suitcase full of children's clothing, wait, you're a child now, so it's just clothing. Anyway, you quickly change into jeans and a t-shirt and go to the doorway.

Outside is a woman wearing a rather nice pantsuit and holding a briefcase; who is smiling down at you. It's going to take a while to get used to this new perspective, hopefully, you won't have to. She's got some short-straight brown hair that barely reaches her shoulders and she's just as caucasian as you've become.

"Come now," she says, and then takes your hand. You are annoyed at her momentarily, you don't need her to hold your hand. Then you realize that you sound exactly like a sullen pre-teen, and you decide that you want out of this situation as soon as possible, if that means having someone hold your hand, then so be it.

She takes you down towards the ground floor of the hotel, but rather than go to the breakfast area, she takes you into a conference room. The conference room itself is empty, but once you are inside, she let's go of your hand and puts the briefcase on the table, opens it up, and pulls out a manila folder. You look up at her and then reach for the folder, hoping it will enlighten you about your situation. The woman doesn't stop you but instead smiles fondly at you. There's a hint of some other emotion in your gaze, but you don't have the context yet to pick it out.

Reading the papers, you find out that you are the twelve-year-old child of Elizabeth and Travis Martin, who have both died in a car accident recently, making you an orphan. You would be sad, but you have no emotional connection to any of these people. Your old address was apparently in Montreal, but that doesn't mean that you're still in Montreal. You scan further, looking for any clues about the date, everything around you looks relatively modern, which points to you hopefully being in the same time that you were, but you want to be sure. Then, you find your birth date, Feb 12, 1999. That… that can't be right. That would make you just over 20, not barely 12, not unless…

You flip back to the first page and see that it's been filed on February 20th, 2011. Somehow, you've not only become a different person, but you've also apparently time traveled back 8 years. This only brings up yet more questions. Is there some version of you right now that's attending university. Did some kid replace you while you were at college? None of this makes any sense.

You don't have any more time to ponder the nature of your existence though, as another woman in business wear enters the room. This one has golden blonde hair and is wearing a crisp pencil skirt and business jacket over a white shirt. She gives the brown-haired woman a smile and then you a somewhat sadder smile, which you recognize as pitying. You would appreciate the sentiment, but you still feel somewhat out of place.

"This is Mrs. Munson," the brown-haired woman introduces her to you. "She will be your social worker while you're in Brockton Bay." Brockton Bay sounds familiar, maybe it's somewhere I've been before? "I know you've been practicing your English, can you say hello to her?" Abruptly, you realize that this entire conversation has taken place in French. Which is really odd because you didn't know French yesterday. You glance back down at the paper, and it's definitely in English, which hopefully means that your English skills still carry over, that's a relief.

"Hello… Mrs… Munson." The language feels off coming out of your mouth as if you'd prefer French

"Hello Tony, I'll be taking you to your Uncle's house today. How does that sound?" she asks.

"It sounds good," you manage to speak without pausing between every word. You quickly flip through the document you're holding again and don't see any information about an uncle on either side of the family, so it seems you're out of luck there.

"I've already told the bellhops to take your stuff down to Mrs. Munson's car. So you can leave as soon as possible," she says.

"Alright, let's go," Mrs. Munson also takes your hand, and this time you suppress the spike of irritation without any comment.

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The car ride itself is relatively uneventful as you drive through the pouring rain, but it does allow you to look out on the city. At first, everything appears normal, but slowly the places you drive through appear more dilapidated and run-down. It sort of reminds you those videos you saw of Detroit after the United States car manufacturing industry collapsed on itself. You can't help but wonder what exactly happened to the city to make it look like this, and yet there's this nagging sensation in the back of your head that you should already know the reason, as if you'd learned it before, which definitely fits your theory of 'city I've visited once before.

You have managed to confirm from Mrs. Munson that you are in the United States, Massachusetts specifically, which is poking a bit of a hole in your theory. You've never been to Boston, much less a smaller city in MA considering that you spent much of your life on the West Coast of the US.

The world won't slow down just because you wish to ponder something, however, and the car stops in front of a small, slightly run-down home.

Mrs. Munson goes to pull out an umbrella but stops when you ask her a question.

"What's my Uncle like?" The nervousness that comes through that question is genuine, as this is the person that you're going to be living with for the foreseeable future, at least until you can figure out what happened to you.

"Daniel Hebert is known in the community as a respectable family man with a stable job. Unfortunately, I can't say I know much more and it seems that his wife died only a couple of years ago. Maybe he'll appreciate you more since you are the child of his sister-in-law. Huh?" she says.

You can't exactly say you agree, but then again you weren't exactly paying attention to the second half of her statement, as your brain finally makes the connection as to why Brockton Bay seemed so familiar.

You're in Worm.

Oh you are so fucked.

Well, actually that's not necessarily true, although the city you are in and the man who's home you are going to are supporting that claim.

"Is everything ok?" Mrs. Munson asks, looking back on you in concern.

"Yes… I'm fine." If your shaken up look causes her to believe you are reliving some long-lost memory of your parents which results in her not prying, well that's just a bonus isn't it.

She gets out of the car and opens up the umbrella, then opens your door and holds the umbrella over you so you don't get wet, even if it causes her shoulder to be rained upon. Well, at least your social worker seems like a good person.

You go up to the run-down looking house and go up the front steps. Mrs. Munson promptly trips as her foot goes straight through the second step, but she catches herself before she topples over. Then you get up in front of the door and she knocks on it.

The man who opens it is rather tall and lanky, with dark hair on his balding head to go with his circular glasses. You don't know if this is the Danny Hebert of kiddo fame but he fits the description well enough.

"Are you Daniel Hebert?" Mrs. Munson asks.

"Yes, that'd be me. Are you with Child Protective Services? I got a call the other day asking if I would be home on the twenty-sixth but they didn't say anything else."

"Yes, I am with CPS."

He tenses up, although you kind of wonder if he's actually noticed you exist yet, what with the way he hasn't looked down at you at all. "Is there some sort of problem?"

"Actually, yes," You think this is the worst possible way for Mrs. Munson to start this conversation, but here we go. "This is Tony Martin, your Nephew. His parents died last week in a car accident and you are his next of kin."

Daniel (Danny, Mr. Hebert, Uncle Hebert, Uncle Dan? What the heck are you supposed to call him?) looks down at you as if finally realizing your existence. "Oh," he says eloquently. You give him your best puppy dog eyes, even if you may be a bit too old for such things. "I-" Mrs. Munson cuts him off.

"If you're worried about the funds, his parents have left him enough to keep him clothed and fed until he's an adult, and even a college fund, so I assure you Mr. Hebert, he won't be a drain on your finances and the agency does it's best to reunite children who've lost their parents with their closest family."

"Anette never mentioned anything about siblings, but then I guess she never was all that close to her family. Come on in, I don't have a room set up for you, but I think I have an air mattress."

"I'll go get his luggage from the car," Mrs. Munson says.

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Once you've got your luggage, and Mrs. Munson has left with a "Take care." Danny (You're just going with that until the man himself tells you what to call him.) goes… somewhere to look for the air mattress. Leaving you feeling a little out of place in an empty living room.

You're not alone for long though, as Taylor comes down the stairs, pausing at the bottom of the stairs. She gives you a suspicious look, "Who are you?"

"I'm your cousin, Tony," you reply. "My parents died in a car crash, so I guess I'm living with you guys now." Her expression softens when you mention the fate of the parents you don't remember.

"I'm Taylor," she says, sounding unsure of herself. "I'm going to make lunch now. Is there anything you'd like to eat?"

Your mind immediately goes to that fucking lasagna meme but you refrain, instead saying "No, anything is fine," politely.

You sit at the table as Taylor prepares lunch. Idly, you grab a pencil and start doodling on one of the napkins Taylor had laid out on the table. Once you finish, you examine your doodle.

Oh. Apparently, this new body is very talented at drawing, at least whatever it is that you'd drawn on that piece of paper. It looked like some sort of intricate diagram, some sort of tech-"

Oh. You're a tinker… and you live with the person who is hyper-aware of their surroundings at all time.

Judging by the way she didn't know who you were, she hasn't figured out hearing with her bugs yet, but even then, it will basically be impossible to hide something in this house since it's not like she can not constantly be aware of everything and especially if your tinkertech registers as weird to her bugs

Oh you are so fucked.

You quickly hide the napkin before anyone can see it, crumpling it up into a ball and throwing it in the garbage. You take a brief look at it first so that you know what you drew…

Your first design was from...

[][First Fiction] Marvel (Did you ever want to be Iron Man?) (Power Armor, Gamma Radiation, Pym Particles; Magnum Opus: Infinity Stones (Lite))
[][First Fiction] RWBY (It is in passing that we achieve immortality…) (Mechashift Weapons, Dust, Aura (At least a device that simulates having Aura); Magnum Opus: A Machine that Actually awakens a person's Aura)
[][First Fiction] Bleach (Do you think I should give up just because you're stronger than me?) (Devices that simulate the following: Spiritual Power, Kido, Shunpo; Magnum Opus: An Asauchi)
[][First Fiction] One Piece (Miracles only happen to those who never give up.) (Devices that simulate the following: Haki, The Six Powers, Absolutely Inhuman Levels of Fitness; Magnum Opus: Devil Fruit)
[][First Fiction] Starcraft (Battlecruiser Operational) (Acess to the tech trees of all three playable factions (Warning!: This stuff is designed for interplanetary war. Don't expect it to be small, easy to build, or non-lethal) ; Magnum Opus: A Battlecruiser Flagship, A Mothership, or An Overmind)
[][First Fiction] Write-in. (Pending Approval from QM) (Please also give examples like I've done above, along with a description of what you're expecting)

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Votes for next chapter:

Plan voting, please. Non-plan votes will not be counted

• Gender
• Name
• First Fiction

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QM Note:

I'll edit out the insert name parts once the vote is closed so that the chapter flows better, but I really wanted all of this to be in the introductory chapter.

The binary gender options weren't meant as a snub towards non-binary people, I'm just not confident in my ability to write a convincing non-binary protagonist.

Spider Man Velocity Suit Drawing

Source: https://forums.sufficientvelocity.com/threads/tinker-of-fiction-worm-sort-of-crossover.54982/

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