THE RIDICULOUS RESPAWN!

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◄ 11:40 AM ► ◄ June 21st 20ΧΧ ► ◄ New Metro City CA | W.A.R.D HQ | Lobby ►

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Meredith fidgeted uncomfortably in the hard plastic chair, her long legs crossed and bouncing slightly as she waited. At 29, she felt rather out of place among the late-teens to early-twenties recruits surrounding her in the New Titans Rookie Program. It wasn't so much a job as it was a last resort - either this or flipping burgers at McDonald's. Mer shudders with McDread at the prospect of a McJob... she'd rather McKillherself... as if that was even an option...

She sighed, tucking a stray strand of dark brown hair behind her ear. Her power of resurrection was certainly unique, but hardly useful in any practical sense. At least, not that she could think of before being "recruited" into the program. Now here she was, cooling her heels in the sterile white waiting room of the W.A.R.D. headquarters.

Lounging back in the chair, studying the cracked ceiling tiles. She had a feeling the only reason W.A.R.D wanted her was for that stupid test they did at the registry - the one where they said she had some 'nascent metaphysical influence' or some bull... she didn't listen too closely since she was playing a game on her phone at the time. Her power of respawning was just something useful for 'worst case scenarios' as that gruff recruiter had put it.

Meredith had zoned out during the orientation, only half-listening to the bored-looking instructor drone on about team dynamics and code names. Something about how each rookie would be paired with someone who complemented their abilities?

She should probably go ask her... supervisor about that... was it supervisor? Mentor? Training officer?

"Aww man..."

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◄ 09:40 AM ► ◄ June 22nd 20ΧΧ ► ◄ New Metro City CA | W.A.R.D HQ | Lobby ►

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Meredith's mind wandered, as it often did, trying to come up with hero stuff like cool poses and catchphrases... maybe an actual costume and not those standard-issue New Titans duds...

Well, that or drifting through the last few months of unemployment-pilled NEET-maxxing...

She had no idea why the W.A.R.D. wanted her, a near-thirty virgin loser with no real-world skills or any sort of useful job experience (Would you believe me if i told you space-case over there managed to fuck up being a Vtuber?). But they kept mentioning her 'unique' power set...

In truth, the W.A.R.D brass had seen something else entirely in Meredith's initial evaluation - a nascent talent for metaphysical nullification and influence. They believed that with training, she could learn to dampen or even neutralize other metahuman's powers. A secret weapon against the city's rising tide of dangerous villains and rogue heroes.

But our main gal Meredith over here, just assumed they wanted her for the respawn thing. Mer was oblivious to the fact that she could become the ultimate meta-human power dampener.

She glanced at the door again, wondering what was taking her new partner so long... kinda wishing she'd have just stayed in bedge...

"Man... this sucks..."

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◄ 07:15 AM ► ◄ June 30th 20ΧΧ ► ◄ New Metro City CA | W.A.R.D HQ | Locker Rooms & Prep Area ►

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The W.A.R.D. issued 'standard issue' jumpsuits were supposed to be made of advanced, hyper flexible polymer meant to accommodate various morphing abilities. To Meredith, however, they felt like wearing a glorified, overpriced trash bag that's also way too tight and somehow baggy at the same time...

She stood hunched over a narrow wooden bench, grunting softly as she wrestled with the zipper of the sleek black and grey bodysuit. It was tight in all the wrong places, digging into her bits and squeezing her waist & butt in a way that made walking uncomfy. Her thick, messy hair was currently caught in the collar, scratching and tickling her neck.

"Stupid... piece of... wardrobe..." she muttered to herself in the empty changing area. Yanking at the stubborn fabric.

Her fingers fumbled clumsily. Being half asleep and generally lacking coordination was a recipe for disaster, especially when dealing with high tech spandex. As she gave one final, Herculean tug to pull the stuck zipper up past her ribs, her footing slipped.

Her arms flailed wildly, searching for purchase in the air. For a split second, she looked like a startled bird, wide eyed and panicked, before gravity took hold. She tumbled backward, her lanky frame twisting awkwardly mid air. Instead of landing on the padded mats, her head found a sharp metal corner instead... It's like her neck yearns to be snapped...

CRUNCH

There was a brief, silent moment where Meredith lay sprawled on the floor, her neck bent at an angle that would have sent any sane person screaming for a medic. Her eyes remained glazed and vacant, staring at nothing as her consciousness flickered out like a blown lightbulb.

Then...

POP!

With a soft burst of glittering violet sparkles and a faint puff of smoke, Meredith sat bolt upright on the bench. She blinked slowly, her expression remaining entirely unchanged the same tired, distant stare. She reached up, tentatively rubbing the side of her neck where the bone had just been pulverized, feeling nothing but the lingering warmth of her respawn.

"Huh..." she breathed, her voice trailing off into a yawn. She stared at the zipper, which was still stuck halfway up her torso. "...Still stuck."

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◄ 10:30 AM ► ◄ July 12th 20ΧΧ ► ◄ W.A.R.D HQ | The Danger Room | Simulation Zone 4 ►

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The observation deck was packed. Rookie initiates huddled behind reinforced glass, their faces pale and sweating, while seasoned veterans leaned casually against the railings, though even most of them were tensed up. Today wasn't just a routine drill; it was a Tier 3 Chaos Simulation. The goal: 'Survive' waves of automated drones and environmental hazards.

Obviously, the word "Survive" is in quotation marks. All drones and deadly implements are meant to only simulate a high lethality battlefield or disaster zone and thanks to the incredibly advanced AI devised by:

The Big Think!

They will automatically dampen or stop themselves before any injury may occur. Power scaling to the targeted metahuman and adjusting as needed.

Down on the arena floor, the spectacle was overwhelming. Lasers crisscrossed the darkened chamber, sonic booms rattled the spectators' teeth. Most of the trainees were moving in synchronized patterns, dodging projectiles with practiced grace... except for Meredith.

She was currently wandering aimlessly through a hail of plasma fire, squinting as if she were trying to read fine print on a menu. She hadn't quite figured out the whole 'dodging' concept yet, treating the deadly battlefield more like a particularly stressful grocery store aisle.

"Uh, hey, Mere watch out!" one of the rookies yelled, his hand slamming against the glass. He pointed frantically toward a massive, hovering Heavy Class Shredder Drone descending from the ceiling.

Meredith heard him, but she was distracted by a loose thread on her sleeve. "Huh? What's...?"

She never finished the thought. The drone’s rotary saws, spinning at thousands of RPMs, slammed directly into her midsection. In a spray of crimson mist and sickening squelches, Meredith was effectively bisected. One moment she was a lanky girl in a jumpsuit; the next, she was two distinct pieces of anatomy flying in opposite directions. Her upper torso spun through the air, trailed by a gruesome ribbon of intestines, before smashing violently into the far wall with a wet, meaty thud.

Silence descended upon the observation deck. A freshman trainee audibly gagged, turning away to dry heave into his hands. An instructor froze, his mouth agape, paralyzed by the visceral sight of her organs sliding down the reinforced plating of the arena wall.

The instructors scramble for the emergency shut off, something like this should never have happened! the drones they-

POOF!

A cloud of shimmering violet glitter and a lazy puff of smoke erupted in the center of the arena, right where she had first been struck. Before the blood from her previous 'self' had even finished dripping onto the floor, Meredith appeared, fully intact and seated cross legged on the ground.

She blinked, looking around the scorched, bloody wasteland of the arena with a confused, hazy gaze. She seemed to notice the puddles of red liquid surrounding her, but her brain didn't quite connect the dots fast enough to cause alarm. She just looked mildly inconvenienced by the mess.

"Whoa..." she murmured, her husky, smoky voice echoing in the stunned silence. She rubbed her eyes, yawning widely as she looked up at the horrified faces behind the glass. "...Did the lights flicker? Why's it so quiet?"

She paused, glancing down at a mushy chunk of her own spleen that was still lying a few inches from her foot.

"...Did somebody spill juice?"

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◄ 02:15 PM ► ◄ July 19th 20ΧΧ ► ◄ W.A.R.D HQ | The Danger Room | Sim Scenario #12: Civic Duties ►

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One week after the 'Splatter Incident,' the mood in the observation lounge had shifted significantly. The frantic terror had largely been replaced by a soul crushing fatigue among the veteran staff. They had learned the hard way that the AI’s safety dampers worked brilliantly for ninety nine percent of the student body, but Meredith was essentially a glitch in the system’s logic. Because she couldn't truly die, the simulator tended to treat her like an indestructible object, leading to increasingly absurd levels of death.

On the monitors, the current simulation was titled ‘Civic Duty: Neighborhood Watch.’ It was supposed to be a gentle walk through of basic rescue maneuvers. No drones, no shredders just simulated pedestrians needing mild assistance.

"Alright, team," the Lead Instructor sighed into his comms, sounding less like a commander and more like a tired father preparing for a toddler shitting his pants. "Keep it tight. Try to maintain formation. And please, for the sake of the cleaning crew... try not to let Meredith wander off..."

Below, Meredith was indeed participating, albeit in her signature style. While the other students were practicing ways to lift debris or guide elderly NPCs, Meredith was currently attempting to navigate a 'simulated puddle' with the concentration of a tightrope walker.

An instructor tapped a pen rhythmically against his clipboard, staring deadpan at the monitor. Beside him, a junior technician sipped a latte, eyes fixed on a spreadsheet instead of the screen.

"Simulation forty two is loading," the technician droned. "Theme: Gentle Neighborhood Interaction. Objective: Assist elderly pedestrians and domestic animals."

"Great," the senior instructor sighed, rubbing his temples. "Try to keep the casualty count below ten this time. My nerves can't handle another 'Splatter Event'."

On the floor below, the artificial sunlight bathed a suburban streetscape. Everything looked peaceful manicured lawns, quaint houses, and a highly realistic golden retriever chasing a tennis ball. Meredith was currently trudging down the sidewalk, looking like she was navigating a dream state after a weekend gaming binge and consuming a gallon of sugary soda.

The prompt flashed on her HUD: HELP THE ELDERLY LADY CROSS THE STREET. Ahead, a simulated grandmother began shuffling cautiously toward the curb.

Meredith drifted toward her. "Hey... grandma... wanna walk...?" she mumbled, reaching out a clumsy hand to guide the NPC. But as she stepped off the curb, the simulation's logic engine tripped. Perhaps it was a glitch, or perhaps it was just Murphy's Law deciding to manifest within the W.A.R.D. mainframe.

Suddenly, a nanite construct sim delivery truck barreled around the corner at eighty miles per hour. Due to the 'scaling' nature of the AI, it didn't just tap her; it treated her like a concrete wall, meeting her at terminal velocity.

THWACK!!! CRUNCH!!!

The impact was deafening. The truck didn't just hit her; it essentially liquified her entire skeletal structure. Meredith was launched upward, her ribcage shattering with the sound of breaking twigs. Her lungs, heart, and several meters of digestive tract were ejected from her chest cavity in a grotesque, fountain like explosion of viscera that coated the simulated 'Grandma' in a warm, steaming layer of biological bits.

Her headless torso skidded across the asphalt, leaving a broad, glistening streak of red and bile behind it, before coming to rest inside a hard-light mailbox.

Up in the booth, the junior technician didn't even blink. He just checked a box on his tablet. "Student neutralized via blunt force, deceleration injuries and traumatic transection. Estimated splatter radius: sixteen feet."

The senior instructor merely groaned, leaning his head back against the chair.

POOF!

Violet sparks danced in the air beside the bewildered NPC grandmother. Meredith materialized, stumbling slightly as her feet regained contact with the pavement. She looked remarkably refreshed, though her eyes were wider than usual, darting around the sunny street.

"Wait..." she said, her voice raspy and confused. She wiped a smear of something sticky from her collar, not realizing it was bits of her own liver and not ketchup from lunch. "...Was there a car? I thought I heard a horn."

She looked at the 'Grandmother,' who was currently covered in a layer of translucent red sludge. Meredith tilted her head lazily.

"You okay, ma'am? You look... a little flushed."