Chapter 347 - My SI Stash #47 - Jokers Wild by Bowler Hat Guy (WormXLeagueOfLegends) (1/2)
-It's pretty much Ben 10 in Worm but without the watch and in the place of aliens we have League of Legends champs! For the top mains out there, the first champ he gets is Jax~
Synopsis: A Self Insert ends up in Brockton Bay with 148 Heroes sharing head space with him.
Rated: ???
Words: 45K
Posted on: forums.spacebattles.com/threads/jokers-wild-worm-league-of-legends-self-insert.839822/ (Bowler Hat Guy)
PS: If you're not able to copy/paste the link, you have everything in here to find it, by simply searching the author and the story title. It sucks that you can't copy links on mobile (´ー｀)
-I'll be putting the chapter ones of all the fanfics mentioned, to give you guys a sample if you wan't more please do go to the website and support the author! (And maybe even convince them to start uploading chapters in here as well!)
Chapter 1-3 (exceptional)
So as it turns out, being stuck at home for weeks is really boring. It's been like five days for me and I've mostly just been chewing through my video game back log. Then it dawned on me that theres lots of stuff I never cared to write because of the time investment involved and that I suddenly had the time to do. So heres one of those Self Insert things no one really reads. Have fun with it.
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I woke up in an alleyway.
I think at least. You read a lot of stories about characters waking up in unexpected places, and almost all of them lurch up and start looking around. For combat hardened badasses and their ilk, I'm sure rapidly getting yourself situated for another fight was probably pretty standard fare.
I myself am the kind of heavy sleeper who once missed a hurricane because it wasn't loud enough to wake me up.
This is why instead of my eyes fluttering open to take in my obviously changed surroundings, I just sort of kept them closed while part of me noted how hard and wet my bed suddenly felt.
”Mggg?” I gurgled after what must have been a solid five minutes of just accepting the new sensations without investigation, cracking one eye open.
Only to find myself making direct eye contact with a rat the size of a small dog.
”Guh!” I caveman screeched as the primal part of my brain my ancestors used in order to hunt prey and hide from predators punched into overdrive. It sent a jolt of adrenaline down my spine, setting my heart to jack hammering and giving me the impetus to finally lurch backward, shoving myself upward and away from the perceived threat.
Of course, because that threat was a simple rat, I ended up half sprawled against a dumpster, watching the damnable thing scuttle away in shock at the sudden movement.
”The f_u_c_k?” I hissed out, only now fully taking stock of my circ_u_mstances.
It was an alley, obviously, but more than that, it was like an artist's rendition of an alley from Gotham City. The brick walls framing the alley were in stark disrepair. Not just scuffed or marred, but actually missing in some places, leaving tiny holes into the neighbouring buildings. Bits of garbage and what looked like several used needles littered the ground, surrounding an oily black puddle of some substance I was afraid to investigate, mostly because I had just been laying down in it, and I did not want to know what it was.
To my right was the big blue dumpster I had pressed myself against in my surprise, it's paint weathered and its surface rusting almost comically. To my left was the mouth of the alley, which let out onto an empty and pitted street that looked like no one had bothered to repair it since it was made.
”Why!?” I blurted out, confused and terrified in equal measure.
I would love, love, to be able to say that I had a reasonable expectation that this was a practical joke of some kind. If I was better at deluding myself, I might barely be able to see one of my very limited number of friends doing this for fun.
But honestly, I just straight up knew they wouldn't. I am, overall, an extremely prickly person. I'm antisocial and have a low tolerance for 'excitement'. I'm the kind of guy who gets annoyed at the crowds in Disney Land and tries to nap or read in the hotel room for the whole trip.
Which, of course, still didn't explain why I was in what might as well be crime alley with no memory of how I got there.
I started to breathe hard. Not from exertion but from stress. My heart began to pound, not audible in my ears like so many action hero's would have you believe, but still so hard that every heartbeat felt as though the organ was trying to escape my rib cage.
Despite my obvious panic, I managed to do the b_a_r_e minimum to keep up with my situation. It's a habit of mine. When panicked or confused I almost instinctively act instead of freezing up. That action isn't always smart, and in fact I'm often told I tend to behave like a lunatic when responding this way, but hey it's better than crying and doing nothing... right?
So I did a quick check. There were needles in the alley that I was sleeping in, so the first thing I had to do was make sure I hadn't accidentally gotten HIV or something. I looked down at myself.
It was probably for the best that I had already hit my maximum threshold for stress by that point, because while there was nothing overly out of place with my clothes - which at the very least I recognized as my own - what I was struggling with was how freaking skinny I was. I mean what the hell? I looked like my kid brother! I was basically a day of not eating away from being borderline skeletal! This was not normal. I'm easily three or four times this size! I'm big boned! I'm supposed to look like my kid brother ate my kid brother!
Well. That might be a slight, exaggeration. Still, a lot of my girth was earned working my a_s_s off at one job or another. It wasn't particularly flattering but it was mine! There are no words to describe the sudden sense of violation that accompanies the sudden knowledge that your body is not fully your own. It was both frustrating and humiliating. Everything was just... wrong. My gait was off. My scars were all gone. I was like a vaguely skeletal pastiche of myself, completely devoid of the imperfections that my life had left me.
Confused and now kind of angry, I quickly checked my hands, which were blessedly still at least the right color. I could put up with a lot of weird shit, but suddenly being Caucasian or Asian or something would be... weird beyond even that. I can't say being a mocha skinned biracial kid was always fun, but much like my fat a_s_s, it was uniquely mine.
”So how the f_u_c_k do my clothes fit right now?” I asked aloud to no one in particular, tugging on an old tattered long sleeve sweater that I recognized as being a little big even on my formerly wider frame.
Jesus was this f_u_c_k_e_d. I had no idea where I was or how I got here. My first thought was to go to a police station but I would have to find one first so... I guess just ask the first person I see?
Now provided with a direction to move in, my anxiety and panic calmed down a little. It was always like that for me. For me panic is inaction. It's doing nothing while the serial killer chases your friends. It's having an argument with someone and then leaving the result to fester. It's feeling helpless basically. If I was doing something then I couldn't be panicking. At least not so much that I stopped functioning.
So without really thinking beyond the surface goal of locating another human being, I stepped out of the alley, glad that I'd been dumped wherever the hell this was with my work boots on. Even if the fact that my familiar work boots had clearly been resized somehow got thrown on the pile of worrying things I was trying not to think about along with everything else.
The sun was high overhead, only just past its zenith, and I guessed the time to be around one-ish in the afternoon, which was about the best anyone could expect a stupid city boy like me to figure out just by looking at celestial bodies. The air was chilly, but not so cold that my sweater was insufficient - yet. If I had to spend all night out like this I would definitely be missing my jacket, but for now I'd live.
The area I came out into looked like those pictures of abandoned towns like Chernobyl sans the plant life. It was just... completely empty. No people, no cars - nothing. Just big run down building after big run down building. It looked like I was in a warehouse district. Or what used to be one anyway. The aforementioned warehouses were periodically broken up by squat little office buildings where all the paperwork was probably getting done. Keyword. was, since they were just as abandoned as everything else.
I grimaced at the barren streets, and for a second entertained the thought that I might be in an entirely abandoned city - which is when I looked up. Wherever I was, the entire place appeared to be constructed on a fairly high slope. High enough that from near its bottom I was capable of seeing much farther into the city than I should really be able to.
On the one hand, it helped me figure out which direction to move in. On the other, it was kind of a lot of ground to cover. I could only hope that I would run into someone inclined to help me out sooner rather than later. I could easily see myself getting turned around in an unfamiliar city like this.
So it was that I tramped into the early afternoon, dodging small puddles of murky water and paying approximately zero attention to my surroundings.
I did this often. Not get lost and wander into the sunset, but become so distracted by my own thoughts I would lose track of real life. It was easy for me to sort of phase out what my eyes were seeing and my ears were hearing. I could just let my body run on autopilot, while my mind was elsewhere, often agonizing over things that stressed me out.
I mean, can you blame me? If I laid out all the facts I had about my situation, the only obvious conclusion that I could come to was that I had been kidnapped, kept in captivity long enough to lose most of my weight, and then dumped somewhere afterward. I couldn't remember being kidnapped, and that didn't explain my inexplicable lack of scars, but I also knew for a fact that something that traumatizing would be grounds for some repression. Because while most people might jump to 'I was isekai'd by truck-kun' as an explanation for something like this, I tended towards pessimism wherever possible.
That's probably why I wasn't as surprised as I probably should have been when someone lurched out of a nearby alleyway as I passed it and dragged me back into it with them. Terrified? Yes. God yes. But surprised at something completely random and objectively horrible happening? Not so much.
Slightly dazed by the jarring sensation of being dragged sideways mid-step, I was unable to effectively fight back against my attacker - a non-descript looking guy wearing a cobbled together combination of tattered clothes that I could charitably say made him look like sort of a vagabond. Less charitably, he looked like a deranged transient. Without any leverage, I stumbled further into the alley, still being held by his shaky grip, and found myself looking the man in the eyes for just the briefest of moments.
They were beady, bloodshot, and almost completely devoid of what I would consider higher thought. He wasn't a zombie or anything, but he almost definitely wasn't fully mentally present. I'd seen similar in drug addicts before. People who had given up so much of their individuality in the never ending quest for the next hit that they were almost drone like in nature outside of their rare moments of lucidity.
”Wai-” I tried to open my mouth to say something, knowing that in all likelihood he only wanted whatever cash I had on me, which was quite obviously none, but he didn't bother threatening me. Heck, he barely even bothered to acknowledge I had spoken. The second we were safely out of view of the main road he lunged towards me.
”F_u_c_k!” I yelled, leaping backward with all the grace of a wounded elephant, narrowly avoiding the knife the man had drawn from somewhere on his person to swipe at me.
”Just-” I started again, trying to reason with the guy, only to be pushed further into the alley as I was forced to leap away from him again. Only it was less of a 'leap' and more of a graceless bunny hop that would have sent me sprawling on the ground if I didn't have the nearby wall of the alley to hold myself up.
Look I'm not a fighter. I have literally, never, been in a significant combat of any kind. So despite the fact that I intellectually knew that a knife would be mostly useless if I just had the balls to step into his reach and actually attack him, I also was incredibly scared of dying in an alley to a crackhead.