Adjusting To The New Normal

The classroom was still, the air thick with an odd tension as everyone processed what had just happened.

Then, Harper spoke up first, breaking the quiet.

"Will afternoons in the library work for you?"

Miss Powell clapped her hands together. "Splendid!"

Then, just as quickly, she shifted gears again. "Well, now that it's been sorted, I need to head downtown. Just try to get used to our little campus for now. We'll worry about future assignments after you've caught up."

She turned to the class. "Alright, class. Dismissed!"

He exhaled, making his way toward the door—only to find someone waiting for him on the other side.

Cyrus, leaning against the wall, exuding an emo vibe that's impossible to miss. Her brown hair falls in jagged layers, framing a pale face accented with bold black makeup—smudged eyeliner and dark lipstick. She's decked out in a short black jacket, a short red skirt, black thigh-high stockings, and combat boots, all tied together with fingerless lace gloves. Compared to Harper's thicker build, she's more petite—slim hips, a flat chest, but there's a cute sharpness to her, like a porcelain doll with an edge.

"Hey there, stud," she greeted with a smirk.

"Did you enjoy my little supplementary lesson?" she teased, stepping in closer.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "Supplementary lesson?"

"It's a shame we got interrupted," she pouted, tilting her head. "There was so much I wanted to show you."

She leaned in even closer, her lips just inches from his ear. "How about it? Want to review the material?"

There was no mistaking what "material" meant. And, well… he wasn't about to turn down an offer like that.

"Sure. Why not?"

Chrys grinned. "I knew you were a good boy."

She pressed a hand against his chest, guiding him backward until he bumped into the doorframe. Her other hand trailed down his chest, her painted fingertips tracing along his pelvis before descending further.

"Has it been a while for you, handsome?" she whispered. "I bet it has. I bet you're just aching...Well, don't you worry. Professor Chrys is going to make it all feel better—"

There's a sharp tug on his belt. Then another. Sebastian blinks as Chrys freezes, staring down. Her glove is stuck—caught in the buckle's prong through a hole in the lace.

"Uh—"

"Do… do you need my help?"

She immediately snapped back. "As if! This is all part of the process, stud. You've just never had a girl like me before!"

Another tug.

And then—

THWACK.

The moment her glove came free, the force of it backfired—straight into his groin.

"Sebastian!?"

The world tilted as Sebastian crumpled to the floor for the second time that day.

"Oh my God, are you okay!?" Harper's voice suddenly cut in.

Sebastian groaned. Not even a little.

"I'm sorr—" Chrys started before quickly recovering. "I mean, I hope you like it rough, stud! You'll need to, with a girl like me!"

She took a step back, then waved dramatically. "Anyway! I bet you've had enough for today! I wouldn't want to wear you out too quickly!"

And with that, she turned on her heel and all but fled up the staircase. Sebastian lay there, gasping like a fish out of water.

With a groan, he pulled himself up. And headed towards the library

The library was quiet when he arrived save for the creak of the floorboards under his feet. Harper's there, but no textbooks or notes—just her, sitting at a table, looking slightly lost.

"Oh, hey…" she says, glancing up. "Just take the seat over there."

He sits, and she fidgets. "So… I guess we're on combat theory or something. Like, how to stop villains with superpowers like us… I guess."

"I have no idea why Powell wanted me to tutor you," she continues, rambling now. "She should've asked Riley or even Valentina—if she could stop scowling long enough to help. I don't study much, my grades suck, and…"

Her voice trails off. She tucks her chin, and unsteady breaths puff through her nose.

"Harper?" Sebastian prompts.

"…and I'm sorry I threw you across the floor!" she blurts as she abruptly stands from her chair , wincing as she bangs her knee on the table.

"Ow, ow, ow…"

"Are you okay!?"

She straightened up. "Yeah....Anyway! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to, I was just so surprised—even though I shouldn't have been because you were looking at me naked for so long and I didn't notice and I should have noticed and—"

Sebastian raised a hand. "Breathe."

She inhaled. Exhaled. Then groaned, rubbing her temples.

"I thought I could overpower Metal Mage. I got careless. And when he threw the shard, I tried so hard to stop it. But it was too heavy. I only had seconds to react."

She bit her lip. "I thought for sure it was going to hit me. When it didn't…"

Silence.

After a beat, she looked up at him. "Do you think we can start over? Just a bit?"

Sebastian smiled slightly. "Nice to meet you, Harper."

"Nice to meet you, too… Sebastian,"she replies, using his alias with a small grin. "I guess I should start bringing my notes so we can study together. Although… maybe not my notes—unless you can read ink hieroglyphs. I'll borrow some from Chrys. Hers are actually good, even if she's scoring below me somehow. We can meet like this in the afternoons, and I'll help you catch up."

"You picked a good time to join," she adds. "Villain Theory's way more interesting than the ethics crap we had last week—though Powell'll probably sneak some of those questions in for you later."

"Villain Theory?" he asks.

"Yeah, case studies on villains and their powers. Not today, though—I need to grab books and notes. But we'll do this again real soon! I mean, tomorrow. I'm your tutor, so we have to meet tomorrow. Uh… I'll see you then! Bye?"

She darts off, leaving him to head back to his room.

After their study session wraps up with plans for another meeting tomorrow afternoon, Sebastian heads back to his room—but not before realizing he still has some of Harper's belongings: several books and what appears to be her notes (or possibly her diary).

"Fifty Sheets in a Day."

"The Princess and the Piledriver."

"The Rage Beneath the Sheets."

He blinked at the covers, turning them over in his hands. If nothing else, this confirmed two things:

One, every book from his original world is completely different in this one.

And two, the only thing Harper reads are cheesy romance novels.

"Well… that does explain why she was alone and naked…"

The thought lingered longer than it should have.

His mind replayed the scene—her bare skin, the soft curves of her body, the way the dim light had traced along the thickness of her hips. He could still picture the way her ass had looked so plump and soft, pressed against the sheets. There was a warmth to her that made it hard to look away.

And for a second—just a second—he wondered how it would have felt to run his hands over her back, to press his tip into the plushness of her ass, to hear the hitch in her breath if he—

Focus.

Sebastian shook his head hard, forcing the images out of his mind. He wasn't here for that. He was here to return her things and move on.

He gathered up her notes, ready to get it over with—until his eyes drifted over the pages. Scribbles, scattered across three sheets, some of them hurried, some underlined with frustration, and others… different.

Hesitation flickered in his chest, but his curiosity won out.

It wasn't like he meant to read them. But... well, they were already here. What harm would a quick skim do?

Page 1 - Scribbled Notes

The test this week was just so bullshit! How the hell am I supposed to know what to do with a villain that can turn himself into gas? Wave a giant fan around? Would that even kill him? It's not like I carry a car-sized Tupperware for this!

Page 2 - Scribbled Notes

I can't believe Chrys went through an entire bag of eyeliner pencils in a week! What is she putting it on? The damn wallpaper in her room? This is the last time I let her borrow any of my black makeup!

Page 3 - Scribbled Notes

I've never had someone try and rescue me before. Well… that's not true. But really, like, someone normal try before. I guess he's not normal-normal, though. Does that still count? I think it does.

I don't know. I just keep replaying the event in my head. He jumped right in front of that shard, I thought for sure—

What an idiot. What a complete and total idiot. What a super, utterly, completely, kind of cute idiot.

...Okay. Very cute.

(Scribbled out furiously)

Sebastian exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Hopefully, she doesn't turn into a yandere."

Setting the books and notes under his arm, he headed off to return them.

Sebastian glanced at the doors as he walked.

"Let's see... I doubt it's the red door... and I already ran past the blue one... Maybe this one?"

He knocked lightly against the pink wooden barrier.

"Chrys! I told you, nothing happened! For the last time, we were just talking in the library!"

A voice—Harper's—called from inside, sharp with frustration.

Sebastian cleared his throat. "Uh, Harper? It's Sebastian. You left some things in the other room that I wanted to drop off."

Silence. Long enough that he could hear the faint rustling of leaves outside.

"…Harper?"

"Just a minute!"

There was movement inside—fabric shuffling, something falling, the hurried twist of a doorknob. Then—

The door creaked open.

"H-hey, Stud..."

Sebastian blinked. Harper's blonde hair was tied up in a bun, and she was wearing a soft pink blouse—something delicate, flowery. Most noticeably, she wasn't wearing her glasses.

There was a noticeable strain in her voice, though. Her posture was stiff—legs awkwardly positioned, shoulders rigid. One hand toyed with her hair, fingers curling.

Her smile was forced, and her nose twitched as she tried to hold it in place.

Her thighs, ever so slightly, shook.

The whole display was so unexpected, it took him a few seconds to register that it was real and not some lingering side effect of repeatedly bouncing his head off the ground earlier.

"Harper—"

Before he could even finish the sentence, the door slammed shut.

Sebastian exhaled, startled by the gust of air that blew against his face.

"Harper, is everything—"

"I'm fine!"

"…Okay. Uh, I'll just leave your stuff out here, then. Is that all right?"

"THANKS."

"…Alright. Good talk."

He carefully placed the books and notes beside the door, straightened up, and turned to leave.

"Do I apologize in this situation? Does she apologize? Do we talk about it tomorrow? Do I bring it up ever again?"

He was still debating when—

Voices in the walls?

Sebastian turned his head. The walls were… thinner than he expected.

Harper: It didn't work! I feel like such an idiot!

Other voice (Chrys?): What do you mean it didn't work? Did you do everything I told you to?

Harper: Yes! I swayed my hips, opened the door in the cutest thing I had on—

Chrys: Did you call him 'Stud'?

Harper: Of course!

Sebastian rubbed his face. Oh boy.

Chrys: Well? How did he react?

Harper: He, uh… he kinda… I mean, he watched me, I guess.

Chrys: He watched you? For how long?

Harper: Just a few seconds… I might have, just a little, closed the door on him…

Chrys: You did what?!

Harper: I didn't know what to do after that point!

Chrys: I give you my best pick-up material and you throw it away because of a little stage fright?!

Harper: Best material? It was so awkward! And my legs were freezing!

Chrys: Well, they're gonna get frostbite after we raid the kitchen, then. C'mon, this calls for ice cream.

Sebastian sighed, shaking his head as he finally turned away.

"I'll let this lie for a while."

Back in his room, Sebastian locked the door behind him, then moved to the window, sliding it open.

A cool breeze hit his face as he crouched on the sill.

Time to test my limits.

Now that he had a stable place to stay, he could finally push himself—see the full extent of his abilities. Today had been an eye-opener.

Lesson one: Even with his superhuman durability and rapid healing, he still had weak points. Targeted attacks could take him down.

Lesson two: He needed control. His enhanced senses were powerful, but without fine-tuning, they were just as much a liability as a strength. If he'd been fully aware back in the classroom, he wouldn't have missed that damn question.

Tonight, he was fixing that.

He launched into the air, wind whipping past him as he soared beyond the academy's borders. He needed space.

Sebastian touched down in an abandoned lot on the outskirts of town, littered with scrap metal, rusted cars, and the occasional stray cat. He grabbed what he needed—a few heavyweights, some junked vehicle parts, and a speedometer+ swiped from a nearby shop.

Strength Test.

A rusted car—two tons. Too easy.

A junked pickup—five tons. Arms steady.

An overturned truck—twenty tons. Muscles tensed, but he lifted it.

Then, a concrete slab—sixty tons. His arms trembled, veins bulging.

Speed Test.

He set the speedometer+ and took off.

On foot: 933 mph. His legs blurred beneath him, tearing across the open ground, but he could feel he wasn't at max yet.

In flight: He broke the sound barrier, Mach 1. About 767 mph . And he could go faster—he felt it.

Heat Vision Test.

He focused on a pile of old tires. His eyes glowed red—the air shimmered. The rubber melted into bubbling sludge. Not bad, but still took too long.

Sensory Control.

Cars honking—a mile away.

A squirrel—scampering through leaves.

A heartbeat—faint, but steady, from the other end of the junkyard.

He adjusted, filtering out what he didn't need. That was better.

And finally

Durability Training

Sebastian stood before the 60-ton concrete block, his knuckles tightening. He'd lifted it, sure—but could he break it?

He drew his fist back and swung.

A deep, thunderous boom echoed across the junkyard as his knuckles smashed against the concrete. Dust puffed out from the impact, but when the air cleared—nothing. The block barely had a dent.

Again.

His fist slammed into the concrete, splitting the air with another heavy crack. A faint indentation. Barely anything.

Again.

And again.

His bones ached. The shockwaves rattled up his arms, making his shoulders burn. He gritted his teeth, sweat rolling down his temple as he reeled back for another strike.

Damn. I can lift this thing, but I can't even crack it?

Sebastian shook out his hands, flexing his fingers. New plan.

The lake stretched out before him, dark and endless beneath the night sky. Deep waters, high pressure, oxygen control—perfect.

He took a deep breath and dove in.

As he sank, the temperature dropped, the weight of the water pressing in on his body. 50 feet. 100 feet. 300 feet. The deeper he went, the more the pressure built. His ribs compressed, his skin tingled with the strain, but he pushed further, aiming for the oceanic depths.

At the bottom, where the pressure was crushing, he planted his hands against the rocky floor.

And started with something basic.

Push-ups.

The first one was smooth, effortless. The second, slightly harder. By the tenth, his arms burned. The weight of the water fought against every movement, forcing his muscles to work twice—no, three times as hard.

His body wasn't used to this level of resistance, but that's why he was here.

He gritted his teeth, driving through the pain.

Twenty. Thirty. Fifty.

His lungs demanded air, but he ignored them. He needed to last longer. Survive longer.

If I get thrown into the ocean, I need to function. If I get hit so hard I'm buried underground, I need to break out.

One-hundred

With that he finally surfaced, he took in a deep, sharp breath. His chest heaved, his limbs shook, but there was a smirk on his face.

Because if he could feel pain then that meant he made progress.

Back at the dorm, he stepped into the shower, hot water running over his skin.

His mind drifted. Thinking on his body's stats.

• Height: 6'2"

• Build: Lean, ripped—like Toji and Garou, all coiled yet flexible strength.

• Dick: 6.5 inches long, 2 inches wide (6.28-inch girth) when flaccid with a scrotum stretching to about 4 inches long and 2.5 inches wide when relaxed

He smirked. Hero name ideas: Cosmic? Brightburn?

Dick name ideas: Python? Zeus? Mighty Hammer?

He chuckled. Mighty Hammer had a nice ring to it.

Out of the shower, he dug through his ID papers.

• Age: 18.

• Education: No high school diploma. In his past life, he had mechanical and electrical engineering degrees, but here? Nothing.

Step one: Get money.

Step two: Build a suit. Homelander's powers meant Homelander's vulnerabilities—he needed a countermeasure.

Drying off, he collapsed into bed, mind buzzing with plans.