Chapter Text
Okay, let's do this one more time. And, uh, sorry if this sounds cliché.
My name's Ashley Tan-Shin O'Leary. I'm ten years old. I keep my hair in a long ponytail. I have green eyes, a weird red birthmark between my shoulder blades, and I was diagnosed with high-functioning autism spectrum disorder when I was eight. I love music, all kinds, but especially folk and country. Not super big into anime, even though Mommy was, but My Hero is cool, and a lot of them have good soundtracks. I was homeschooled. Did pretty well in online classes, Apparently I've read a weirdly large number of books outside my age level. My favorite superhero is Spider-Man, and I worship Thor.
Mommy was Japanese, Daddy was half-Chinese and half-Irish. I'm technically royalty; clan O'Leary is descended from two Irish kings. My paternal grandma Xuě Méi died before I was born, but she was apparently descended from some bigshot noble from feudal China whose name I could never remember or pronounce. Maternal grandpa Tanshin—yeah, that's where my middle name comes from, but it's pronounced a little differently, and mine doesn't really mean anything—had the family name Fujimoto, and I guess that means we're descended from a clan that had a lot of power in Japan back in the day. Grandpa Patrick taught me a bit of Irish Gaelic, but I don't really know much about my heritage outside of that...
...That's a lie. I'm descended from villains on both sides, too. Grandma Sakura, still alive but there's a restraining order, was a member of a branch of The Hand. Apparently, her faction split off before the whole Demon Worshipping thing, but they were still bad guys. Mommy and my aunt Yuki, who I don't remember much but apparently used to spoil me rotten before Mommy cut her off for falling in with the Friends of Humanity, both got Ninja training as kids, and some other stuff, before Grandma got arrested for child abuse when Grandpa Tanshin noticed the scars and asked some pointed questions. Not really sure how you don't notice that your wife is a ninja assassin or what's going on in your own home like that.
Grandpa Patrick, meanwhile, sometimes mentioned that he was descended from the bastard son of an Englishman named Hamilton Slade. It's not common knowledge, but Hamilton Slade was a member of a group called Clan Akaba, who were descendants of En Sabah Nur.
That's right, I'm descended from flippin' Apocalypse! I sound like a Mary Sue in someone's fanfic, don't I?
That weird red birthmark? Clan Akaba's symbol, emblazoned right on my skin. If you didn't know better, you'd think it was a tattoo.
The worst part is I'm an epsilon class mutant. My 'power' is basically a disability. I'm supposed to be an alpha-class mutant with complete complex control over my own biomolecular structure, according to some genetic screening we got when I first started getting sick, but my powers kicked in early for some reason, and something broke. My hormones are all screwed up in a way that compromises my immune system and leaves me weak and tired all the time, and my powers automatically normalize my biochemistry. Which was great when the Terrigen Mists rolled through and got into my room through the tiniest crack in my window, but not so good when I'm sick, and no medicine will work. And I get sick a lot. And then my still living great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great grandfather is a flipping eugenicist.
Mommy and Daddy... aren't around anymore. About a year ago, some jerkfaces got hold of my medical records and decided that kidnapping me would be good for business. MGH dealers, they figured they could get better results from a smaller dose by lacing their regular product with stuff refined from me. They kidnapped me from my own home, and my parents got shot. I got to visit their graves a little bit ago, but...
They kept me for most of a year, doing the bare minimum to keep me alive while regularly harvesting my blood, lymph, spinal fluid, and anything else they thought they could use to refine quality MGH from me. Glad they didn't think to go for bone marrow. They were not careful with the needles. I kept hoping that Spider-Man or Captain America or someone would save me, but they didn't.
What happened was... Well, the nastiness with Carnage from not too long ago. One of the serial killers with a piece of the Carnage symbiote stuck to him busted into the warehouse where the drug lab was. The security lit him up, but the symbiote fragment jumped off of him and latched onto me.
I'm not gonna say I liked eating the mac bhitseach who kidnapped me and murdered my parents under the symbiote's influence, but I'm not gonna say I regret it, either. Tasted like trash though.
Anyway, my weird hormone imbalance includes producing a lot of very high-quality adrenaline and phenothylamine, so when Carnage was killed, and all the other dopplegangers went with him, mine barely survived and started developing his own personality. I named him Mister Snuggles.
After all that, I was found by heroes who were doing cleanup. Spider-Man, Captain America, the Thing, Wolverine, Hawkeye, Dr. Banner. I told them some of what I'm saying now and...
Well, my only living relatives are my ninja assassin grandma, who isn't allowed to have any contact with her children or their families, and my ninja-trained aunt, who openly associates with anti-mutant terrorists.
"And that's how I came to live on Krakoa," I finished.
"I have questions," Honey Badger, my main audience, began.
"Shoot."
"Did you really name a piece of the Carnage symbiote 'Mister Snuggles?'"
"He's my symbiote, Honey Badger, I can name him whatever I want! Right, Mister Snuggles?" I asked out loud.
"I honestly don't care," Mister Snuggles replied in my mind's ear.
"Mister Suggles agrees with me," I noted.
"...so I actually go by Scout now," Honey Badger replied.
"Honey Badger's a better name," I said.
"Yeah, but some stuff happened. The cutsey name wasn't really doing it for me after that," she said with a sad expression.
Oh. "Alright then, Scout," I conceded.
"...Do you have a mutant name?" Scout asked.
"No," I said, "I think they're dumb. If I start fighting crime regularly or something, I'll be going by Menace, but that's it."
"Fair enough," Scout said. "...So you're really just walking around wearing a symbiote that came from a serial killer and made you eat a man?"
"He didn't have his own mind yet, that'd be like blaming someone for something they did as a fetus," I deadpanned. "Right now, he's loyal to me. He's also how I'm walking around right now. I can't stand most days, and when I can, it's not for very long. I can't bathe on my own, and I can barely feed myself. I'm tired all the time, I'm sick all the time. Mister Snuggles takes care of all that for me. He keeps me strong and healthy, enough to... Just being able to be outside on my own whenever I want is almost overwhelming... You might see a weapon or a monster, but for me, he's disability accommodation."
"Right, sorry," Scout replied.
"Also, as long as I'm wearing him, I have powers like Spider-Man's, and that's really, really cool," I finished.
"Fair enough," Scout repeated. "So you've been here for like a week. What do you think of the island so far?"
I shrugged. "The food's good. Getting used to Pacific time was tough, but I think I've got the hang of it. The atmosphere's nice, everyone seems happy, Mr. Snuggles and I have our own house, but..."
"But what?" Scout asked.
I sighed. "A lot of stuff rubs me the wrong way. There are a lot of supervillains here, and while some of them are trying to change for the better, some of them aren't. Grandpa Genocide made an effort to reach out to me, saying he wants to do right by all his children, but... Something about him rubbed me the wrong way, and it's really hard to get over the fact that six months ago, he would have gladly broken my neck and tossed me into a trash incinerator, and we both knew it," I continued. "Also, he called me Gospel. I'm not really into biblical Greek names, but especially I'm not using one he gave me. And don't even get me started on the von Strucker twins. The girl one called me a bad word for Koreans. I'm not Korean."
"Yeah, I get where you're coming from," Scout admitted. "I love Akihiro, and he's trying his best, but... I slept better before I learned exactly what his crimes were, you know."
"I don't know who that is," I replied. I was a huge Super fangirl, but it's not like I knew every hero and villain.
"... Let's circle back around to that later," Scout deflected.
"And X-Corp... I like the idea of using powers to make high-quality products and services for cheap. And if you can't fix capitalism, then twisting the broken systems around to screw over the corrupt companies that exploit people and put their resources to better use is an okay thing, but... I don't know, whenever the executives do something public, something about that Selene chick rubs me the wrong way." I took a second to organize my thoughts. "I got banned from storytime with Exodus. Turns out frootloop religious fanatics don't like it when you fact check them."
Scout snorted. "Yeah, he's a stick in the mud. I carved out my own heart and put it under his bed. It took him two days to notice and three more trying to figure out if it was a sign before he realized it was a prank."
I blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"
"I have a very powerful healing factor, and I'm completely incapable of feeling pain except for that one time I had part of my soul ripped out," Scout said. "And I've got a really morbid sense of humor."
"Okay then..." I said. "Speaking of morbid... I made the mistake of mentioning that my powers aren't really a gift around some older kids, and after I explained what I meant, one of them suggested I sign up for that 'Crucible' thing and get my powers fixed. That's not what that's for, for one and... I've had it explained to me, I understand that a lot of people who lost their powers on M-Day are super desperate for any chance of getting them back and that the Crucible is the least bad of only bad options but the least bad is still pretty bad and the casual way some people are treating these Ressurection Protocols... I don't trust them," I admitted.
"You don't?" Scout asked.
"You're using mental backups and clone bodies. Even with omega-level mutant powers and reality warping that... I made it clear that I'm DNR unless and until they bring in Doctor Strange or one of the Valkyries or something to verify that they're real resurrections. Otherwise, this just feels like a clone saga waiting to happen, and I don't need that kind of existential horror."
"Okay, yeah, I get you," Scout said. "To be honest, the casual way some people talk about dying and coming back bugs me, too... The rules say that they don't bring back Dupes, a handful of exceptions aside, and whether or not clones count as dupes is done on a case-by-case basis. I'm not just a clone, I'm a clone of a clone. The odds of me ever dying are slim, I've literally regenerated from nothing once, but if I do, especially if it's because somebody doesn't think twice about collateral damage, since most of us can come back... There's no guarantee that I will. And uh... That scares the hell out of me."
"Oof," I replied. "...Would you like a hug?"
"I'm good," Scout covered. "Also, most of the Valkyries are dead."
I blinked again. "What?"
"Yeah, they died in the war of the realms," Scout explained.
"The what of the what now?" I asked.
Scout threw an arm over my shoulders. "Let's get you caught up on the last year of stuff. Now I don't know that many details since I was in imaginary prison at the time," she began as she led me off. From the corner of my eye, I saw something small and pink vanish into the tropical foliage.