Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Charlotte was not, by most standards, an unusual girl. Not unusually beautiful, or unusually ugly. Not unusually cruel, or unusually kind. Not unusually intelligent, or unusually stupid. Not unusually rich, though perhaps slightly poorer than the norm. She was unusual in that she lived in Brockton Bay, but plenty of people lived in Brockton Bay. Perhaps the most unusual thing about her was that she was jewish in a city with neonazis, though even then she took care to keep that detail away from the sort of people who would take violent offense. She went to school, avoiding confrontation between the various gangs and cliques while she tried to get a decent grade. She talked with her family, keeping a few things secret from her parents (that they knew about, and allowed, to demonstrate their trust) but talking to them about her life. She admired the heroes of the city, though only in the vague sense that they were 'the good guys', and thus worth admiring. She worried about her future, sometimes, but only in passing.

She didn't live through a traumatizing event, she didn't seek out a secret group selling powers in a bottle, she just existed, day by day.

And then one day, what seemed to be an ordinary package addressed to her arrived. It was a surprise, of course, but it was a small package--small enough to fit in a mailbox--and all the postage seemed accurate. So Charlotte opened it, and found what appeared to be a normal smartphone inside.

"Huh," she said, reading the accompanying manual. "Mom, did you order me a phone?"

Her mother looked at the object strangely. "No... no, I don't think I did." She sighed. "The package was probably mislabeled, delivered to you on accident."

"We'll call the post office," her father decided. "Explain the mix-up."

Charlotte pouted. "Awwww... I kind of wanted a phone, though. You know, so I could... call you in case I got in a bad situation."

Her parents chuckled, knowing full well her real excuse was probably more teenage, before her father sighed. "Let me see the information on the data plan."

A few days, and a few calls passed. The post office found that the phone was apparently meant to be shipped to a local store and, on entering and explaining the situation, the storeowner decided to waive payment for the service plan for six months. Just a fun little glitch, he said jovially, for a fun little phone. That it allowed him to get back at his corporate overlords in some small way went unsaid. That his corporate overlords expected small deals like this from time to time and wouldn't look too closely into it went unnoticed. And so Charlotte, a perfectly ordinary girl, decided that in a quirk of fate she'd gotten a perfectly ordinary phone at a not-so-perfectly ordinary price.

The phone, of course, came preloaded with apps. Most of them seemed normal enough, of course, music and internet and obviously the phone app itself. But there was one that caught her eye.

WorldInject.

From the cheesey graphic, she assumed it was some sort of phone game. She didn't open it the first day she had the phone, nor all through school. Phone games were notorious for being simple ways to pass the time when there was nothing else to do. Idle programs for idle moments, and she didn't have an idle moment until the weekend. After finishing her homework, reading a few books, and tiring of the internet, she shrugged and opened the WorldInject app.

Her eyes narrowed as the screen simplified into a simple button. Above the button were the rolls 'Press to Inject' and below, a timer, marked 'Next AutoInjection'. Nothing else, save the simple swipe that would pull her back to the phone's main screen, and apparently in five hours the program would 'inject' anyway. With a shrug, she tapped the button.

The screen shifted, a dramatic 'INJECTING!' rolling across it like a loading bar for a moment. Then it flashed bright enough that Charlotte had to look away, blinking the blindness out of her eyes for a moment. When she finally looked back, the screen had returned to its previous state, although with an additional button simply reading 'List of Injections' on the side, and the autoinjection timer had moved up to six hours.

Charlotte frowned, about to examine the phone closer, when an awkward "Aaaaah...." made her look up.

And up.

And up.

A very tall man, with a neck long enough that the crest of his hair almost brushed the ceiling, waved gently with a three-fingered hand. "Hello, young miss. Do you mind telling me where I am and... ah... how I got here?"

"Uuuuuuuuuuh," Charlotte managed, staring at him in wonder and confusion.

"Ah. You've never seen a Kaminoan before, I take it."

"A... Kaminoan?"

"Yes." The man brought his hand to his chest with a small bow. "I am Rala De, from the planet Kamino. And... You are...?"

"Uh." Charlotte blinked. "Wait, planet? You're an alien?"

"I--what?"

"You're from outer space?!" Charlotte continued, staring at him.

"I'm from... Kamino... I'm sorry, why are you acting so surprised? Hyperdrives have opened up the galaxy to exploration for generations--"

"Earth doesn't have spaceships," Charlotte said. "Or hyperdrives, or--holy shit, there's an alien in my bedroom."

Rala De frowned. "...So I'm on a backwater planet then." He sighed, dragging his hand down his face. "And no idea how I got here... this could be a problem."

Charlotte looked at the phone in her hand, and the app running. Then she looked up at the alien again.

"Yeah, I... I guess it could be," she admitted. "But... I think the PRT might be able to help?"

"The...?"

"The Parahuman Response Team. This... this isn't exactly the sort of thing they're supposed to handle, but, uh, they might be the best bet for figuring... everything out."

"I suppose if that makes sense to you... ah..."

"Charlotte," she replied. "My name's Charlotte."

Charlotte was not, by most standards, an unusual girl. But by chance, she had obtained a very unusual phone.