Power is worth nothing if it cannot help others.

The WAAPT members' headspaces are the stage. Creative works that are not part of the WAAPT Roleplay. See also the old forum non-WAAPT section.
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Joined: 2021-Mar-24 21:07
Location: Nacrene City, Unova
Your WAAPT character: Tagg
Pronouns: he/him, fine with they/them


Post by rmctagg09 »

(Originally written August 23, 2020)

This was originally written last year but I'm posting it here now. While there are some references to WAAPT, it's self-contained enough that I feel it makes more sense to put here in Author Works than in the WAAPT section.

(Warning for political references)

Grand Central Terminal's spiritual realm had the terminal's ceiling appear as a real night sky complete with constellations as opposed to just the art of the physical realm. What could best be described as shadows, the echoes of people in the physical realm, walked on thin air, on the floating platforms made from the flooring, walking up and down staircases and towards train platforms to nowhere. The bottom was nothing but a giant cloud layer, and its centerpiece was a massive version of the clocks found above the center ticket booth.

The area was lit with golden light, but with no visible light source, giving it a golden haze. Principalities and Powers, the angels in charge of maintaining the physical laws of the universe and protecting humanity, flew about, seeing to their assigned purposes. It was here that the Wanderer chose to sit on one of the higher platforms and observe this place on the backside of reality, after Vibing in from the material plane. The angels noticed him, but didn't pay him much mind, and for Richard's part he found that most angels tended to make for poor conversationalists, so that was perfectly fine with him.

The current pandemic made it so there were less shadow echoes around than usual, but there were definitely more than there were towards the beginning of 2020. For the Wanderer's part, he was a bit envious that a certain Pokémon universe so much like his own had seemingly managed to avoid anything like it. Even if he was more or less highly resistant bordering on immune to even novel viruses like COVID-19, it still made things incredibly inconvenient, not even going into the hundreds of thousands of deaths that made it horrifying, with more sure to come.

And then there was the current leader of his nation, who the Wanderer truly loathed, who was responsible for so much suffering in the United States. He tried helping out where he could, but knew it more akin to putting a bandaid on a festering sore. Richard knew he had to keep his emotions in check, but some days he really wished he hadn't signed that secret accord with most nations limiting his ability to affect regime change out of the belief that it would make those actually aware of him less afraid of the Wanderer toppling countries in fits of pique, and lessen the chance of agents both foreign and domestic attempting to hold his loved ones as leverage.

But damn it would be really great to fly south and remove the heads of some fascists and stab them on spears as a threat towards all who'd threaten the peace of the world for their own naked greed and ultranationalism. Unfortunately, the sixth sense that told him how interfering on other worlds could go didn't really work on his own homeworld, and unless the Almighty directly told him it was time to do more than take visits to Washington to subtly remind certain politicians that going toofar would invoke his wrath, he was stuck only with his own gut. And the Wanderer was also well aware that direct action so close to an election could only serve to make things worse, but then at the same time certain parties were doing their damndest to try to subvert it to begin with.

"Can go around helping other worlds directly," Richard said to himself bitterly, "But my own happens to be beyond me when there's no world wars or demons to kill."

Just like Izaya still managed to evade the Wanderer Corps even more than eight months following his getting thrown through an Ultra Wormhole. Just like how even with all his quite literally Earth-shattering power, there were still things he couldn't fix. You can't solve systemic racism by literally vaporizing to death Klansmen and Neo-Nazis (As admittedly satisfying as it was to put the fear of God in them just by showing up), or beat poverty with a laser blast. These were the result of systems more than individuals, no matter who personally loathsome.

"Fight the giant-ass monster in New York Harbor or off the continental shelf, can't knock off someone putting children in cages," the Wanderer continued even more bitterly, "All this power, but it's been of no use lately."

"Just like all the people you haven't been able to save these past 20 years, oh Sword of God." a voice responded, whether his own insecurities or some demon that had managed to get close, the Wanderer couldn't say.

9/11 happened not too long after his first adventure to gather the Power Stones and beat back the demonic invasion, and the thousands dead at the World Trade Center weighed on his soul to the present due to feeling like his own weakness prevented him from saving more lives, Even as the Wanderer grew into his role and his powers, observed even worse atrocities and prevented others from happening, those he couldn't save merely amplified his feelings of bitterness and hopelessness. Judith felt that he had a tendency to place the world (If not the worlds) on his shoulders even when he really couldn't do anything, and Richard couldn't help but agree, not that it stopped him from continuing to do the behavior.

Richard looked to the stars, hoping that he'd find some sort of answer to this current predicament that he and Judith had argued over multiple times over the past couple months, a sign from Heaven.

He found none.
Testing this forum.
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