My Superhero Academy: Crisis Of Infinite Reboots - Cendrillon's Daily Routine
- First Post: [Omake - Compiled Below]
- Summary: Following Cendrillon on an ordinary day.
Tropes
- A Day in the Limelight: As mentioned, this piece follows everyone's favorite assassin and beloved mother.
- Unreliable Narrator: Tis Cendrillon.
Story
Cendrillon's Daily Routine
I woke up at around 8:30 as usual, albeit not at a time I would have preferred. At that moment I was under the impression it was my day off. Which is a rare thing, see. I usually take advantage of any breaks I can get. I'm not always so active. I like to sit down with a hot coffee and a book like anyone else. Watch a movie I missed, or so forth. Care for my birds. Whatever's my inclination. Nonetheless, I got out of bed and prepared for a more lazy day. I wasn't expecting the call.
It was around 10:35 that the landline rang. Most of my assignments are at night, but there's usually a lot of prep to them. That and they're also out of state. Timezones need to be taken into consideration. I wasn't too disappointed—it wasn't as if I was planning anything much anyhow—so I got myself ready, took out the trash, and went up onto the roof. I also threw one of the budgies away. It died in the night.
The helicopter arrived at 10:55. Schedules are usually tight in this line of work. I don't care. They usually run shows on the way anyway. Personal request of mine. They didn't seem to have much objection. They think they're manipulating me. It's cute.
I think a newbie was aboard. Tried to make small talk. I ignored him up until he started calling me deaf and raised his voice. He didn't even move when I opened the chopper doors. I think he was too focused on his own shouting. He certainly shouted on the way down.
The ride was a lot more quiet after then, so I took the opportunity to read for a while. It was also getting blustery, so I shut the door again.
I must have fallen asleep, since one of the men woke me up. He said we'd arrived and were ready to drop. I asked him if he was coming with me. He said that ‘it wasn't that type of mission’.
Strange.
They didn't offer me a parachute. They never do. I can take the impact fine. It's never silent, though. I realised later that they were most likely purposefully sabotaging me. I think they're afraid of me.
Unfortunate.
As I landed, I caught attention immediately by a patrol guard. He screamed and let out a spray. I shot him six times. He had an assault rifle. Old model. Everything was old model. Must've been a guerilla camp. A particularly out of touch guerilla camp. It was disappointing. This was grunt work. Still, I continued.
24 men in all crossed my path. I stabbed one. I shredded six others. I shot... once, I think. I was trying to make things somewhat difficult for myself, so I decided to neglect usage of my gun. Still they were easy to take care of. But it was about that time when the armoured fellows arrived. They had modern weapons, and there were about 50 of them.
Still... same process. I had a bit of fun with a couple of them at least. Gored one with the other. So not much to note except for that and the last one standing. He shot himself.
I stripped him of what I could carry, then dumped him with the rest. He was the lucky one. Mostly intact. I congratulated him as I left for lasting that long without him catching my eye.
It was then through my subdermal implants that they reassigned me. Said I was to destroy the whole premises. I confirmed, then got to work. The supports of the structures were lacking—only a punch or a kick or two to each and they shattered. Most definitely a resistance group.
After I did so and had tidied up the mess, the helicopter came back. It lowered the rope, and I climbed up. They looked a little perturbed at my stack, so I sang a song for them. I don't think they liked it. Rude.
Well, that was all. They dropped me back home at around 4:15 AM. I was very tired, so I didn't change. I cleaned the sheets after I woke up. I bought a lot of spares for this reason alone. My work isn't clean usually.
My pay came in later that morning. A drone dropped it off. As I came back in, the other budgie was making a lot of noise, so I shot it and threw it away. I got two replacements later that day. I made sure they were quiet ones this time.
I find it strange. Some of those I cross paths with on these missions call me beautiful when they see me. Then call me monstrous when they get to know me. There's a lack of consistency. They turn on you like devils. I think they pity me. Or don't understand what I do. Then have the audacity to complain when I answer. Claim I've been tricking them, but I've done nothing wrong. I am who I present myself to be. It is their fault for assuming what they see is who I am.
I am no one. I don't bother myself with this useless minutia about honour and morals everybody is blabbering on about all the time. Why should I? If my no dissolves hassle regardless of whether it's true, why say yes? It amuses me greatly when they say I'm crazy when they listen to imaginary voices in their heads saying ‘you shouldn't do this’ or ‘this is wrong’ or ‘this is right’. I'm like all of you, really. I just don't care.
Call me inhumane if you like. You're probably not wrong. I don't know. And I still don't care. All I know is that I get what I want when I'm like this. Call me a machine without a cause, a body without a soul—etcetera, etcetera. Blah blah blah. I've heard it all. It's up to you.
You can't even fix me, so don't dare try. I'll break you down and ask why you have the right if you do. Just for wasting my time. I'm perfectly fine the way I am. I'm happy. Content with myself.
And really, isn't that what anyone should be?
It was around 10:35 that the landline rang. Most of my assignments are at night, but there's usually a lot of prep to them. That and they're also out of state. Timezones need to be taken into consideration. I wasn't too disappointed—it wasn't as if I was planning anything much anyhow—so I got myself ready, took out the trash, and went up onto the roof. I also threw one of the budgies away. It died in the night.
The helicopter arrived at 10:55. Schedules are usually tight in this line of work. I don't care. They usually run shows on the way anyway. Personal request of mine. They didn't seem to have much objection. They think they're manipulating me. It's cute.
I think a newbie was aboard. Tried to make small talk. I ignored him up until he started calling me deaf and raised his voice. He didn't even move when I opened the chopper doors. I think he was too focused on his own shouting. He certainly shouted on the way down.
The ride was a lot more quiet after then, so I took the opportunity to read for a while. It was also getting blustery, so I shut the door again.
I must have fallen asleep, since one of the men woke me up. He said we'd arrived and were ready to drop. I asked him if he was coming with me. He said that ‘it wasn't that type of mission’.
Strange.
They didn't offer me a parachute. They never do. I can take the impact fine. It's never silent, though. I realised later that they were most likely purposefully sabotaging me. I think they're afraid of me.
Unfortunate.
As I landed, I caught attention immediately by a patrol guard. He screamed and let out a spray. I shot him six times. He had an assault rifle. Old model. Everything was old model. Must've been a guerilla camp. A particularly out of touch guerilla camp. It was disappointing. This was grunt work. Still, I continued.
24 men in all crossed my path. I stabbed one. I shredded six others. I shot... once, I think. I was trying to make things somewhat difficult for myself, so I decided to neglect usage of my gun. Still they were easy to take care of. But it was about that time when the armoured fellows arrived. They had modern weapons, and there were about 50 of them.
Still... same process. I had a bit of fun with a couple of them at least. Gored one with the other. So not much to note except for that and the last one standing. He shot himself.
I stripped him of what I could carry, then dumped him with the rest. He was the lucky one. Mostly intact. I congratulated him as I left for lasting that long without him catching my eye.
It was then through my subdermal implants that they reassigned me. Said I was to destroy the whole premises. I confirmed, then got to work. The supports of the structures were lacking—only a punch or a kick or two to each and they shattered. Most definitely a resistance group.
After I did so and had tidied up the mess, the helicopter came back. It lowered the rope, and I climbed up. They looked a little perturbed at my stack, so I sang a song for them. I don't think they liked it. Rude.
Well, that was all. They dropped me back home at around 4:15 AM. I was very tired, so I didn't change. I cleaned the sheets after I woke up. I bought a lot of spares for this reason alone. My work isn't clean usually.
My pay came in later that morning. A drone dropped it off. As I came back in, the other budgie was making a lot of noise, so I shot it and threw it away. I got two replacements later that day. I made sure they were quiet ones this time.
I find it strange. Some of those I cross paths with on these missions call me beautiful when they see me. Then call me monstrous when they get to know me. There's a lack of consistency. They turn on you like devils. I think they pity me. Or don't understand what I do. Then have the audacity to complain when I answer. Claim I've been tricking them, but I've done nothing wrong. I am who I present myself to be. It is their fault for assuming what they see is who I am.
I am no one. I don't bother myself with this useless minutia about honour and morals everybody is blabbering on about all the time. Why should I? If my no dissolves hassle regardless of whether it's true, why say yes? It amuses me greatly when they say I'm crazy when they listen to imaginary voices in their heads saying ‘you shouldn't do this’ or ‘this is wrong’ or ‘this is right’. I'm like all of you, really. I just don't care.
Call me inhumane if you like. You're probably not wrong. I don't know. And I still don't care. All I know is that I get what I want when I'm like this. Call me a machine without a cause, a body without a soul—etcetera, etcetera. Blah blah blah. I've heard it all. It's up to you.
You can't even fix me, so don't dare try. I'll break you down and ask why you have the right if you do. Just for wasting my time. I'm perfectly fine the way I am. I'm happy. Content with myself.
And really, isn't that what anyone should be?
