"Someone" has pointy little horns and a lot of piercings and an incredibly bewildered expression.

"I have," he says, "some questions."

"You speak English," Morty says inanely. "Interesting. Uh, I can answer questions if you ask them. I can probably answer your first couple of questions if you don't ask them, actually: I fucked up a thing and that's why you're here, 'here' is Whateley Academy in Massachusetts in the USA on Earth, and I'm Morty, codename Smokescreen, uh, hi."

"What and why and also how."

"Um, I was trying to siphon energy from an alternate universe, is what, and also why. How is, um, I'm a Devisor? Like, a mad scientist, except technically you're not supposed to call us that but I am actually a bona fide crazy person and also a Devisor so I don't see why I can't say it about myself." He shakes his head briskly. "Sorry. Still a little hyped up from the, uh, episode I was having. Also panicking. You're not a demon, right? This isn't, like, because of the horns - it isn't just because of the horns - just, if you're a demon I do have to call Mrs. Carson and also probably go to jail. Please don't be a demon."

He thinks he likes this guy, through all the why and how and also what. He doesn't totally comprehend what's going on here, but his feelings on his own identity sound really relatable.

"Yeah, no, not a demon. I'm a mutant. There are demons?"

"There totally are! The Mystic Arts folks have opinions about them, I just know they're probably bad news. And that's what I thought, is mutant, but like, this is Mutant High School so my probabilities are kinda skewed. Also: both mutants!" He gives a little wave. "I don't do that every time I run into a mutant, obviously, because like everybody's a mutant here, but you're not from here so, um." He repeats the little wave.

He's adorable.

"And...your mutant power is building weird shit?"

"Yeah, specifically weird shit involving cardboard that defies the laws of physics. I- weird shit, comma, involving cardboard, comma, that defies the laws of physics. Sometimes the cardboard does too, though."

"–it's cardboard-specific."

Wait. Wrong question.

"I didn't know there was another mutant high school."

"We're, like, moderately secret. All the superpeople know about us, most of them went here themselves. I don't know about 'another' mutant high school, we're the only one in the US. Unless yours is very very secret, that's probably an alternate universe thing." He pauses. "Um. Also you're probably from an alternate universe, sorry, I don't think I mentioned that. Because the dimensional siphon was aimed at another universe."

"...I'm...guessing the odds aren't great on you putting me back?"

Please please let them not be great.

"I mean, me personally no. You don't want me putting you back, I'd probably melt you or something. But, um, since I'm a Whateley student it's the school's responsibility. And they know how to get, like, wizards and stuff. This has happened before, Whateley's really good at fish out of water stuff."

Fuck.

"...wow. I've never had somebody call me an emergency wizard before."

"Whateley's got a ton of wizards running around. It's pretty cool. You can learn magic, too, but everybody says it's not really worth it if you don't have a Wiz-class mutation. I stick with Workshop classes. Trying to figure out how to make shit out of cardboard that doesn't explode. Or summon goths from another dimension, not that you're not cool and everything."

“...are we totally sure I didn’t just have a psychotic break or something? I’m coming up to that wonderful time in your life.”

"If one of us had a psychotic break, it's probably me. I've already got Diedrick's. But I'm pretty sure neither of us has."

Well. He doesn’t think he’s going anywhere.

He sits down on the floor.

“Is asking what Diedrick’s is an asshole thing to do?”

"Not really. Diedrick's syndrome is 'mad scientist's disease,' basically: I get fits of mania, paranoia, and general 'I'll show them all!' -ness. I've unironically said that before. It's a mess. Mutants who aren't Devisors or Gadgeteers can get it too, but we're most traditionally associated with it because of the whole, you know, mad scientist thing."

“...sounds kinda rough.”

He nods. "But, you know, maybe eventually I will show them all. If my shit stops exploding all the time."

He laughs.

“Yeah, that’s the right attitude. You’ve gotta own that shit.”

Morty nods.

There's a slightly awkward pause. "I should maybe call the office about having accidentally summoned a goth from another dimension. -I don't have a name for you other than that, do I. What's your name?"

He nods.

“Z. And you’re, uh, Morty, right?”

"Morty Halliwell. Your name is way cooler than mine, congratulations."

He goes over to the phone and punches in a number. He waits for about fifteen seconds, then someone picks up. "Miss Hartford? This is Morty H- okay. Um. I accidentally... summoned someone from a parallel universe." He winces. "Yes, ma'am. No. It's- you don't have to send- okay."

He hangs up the phone. "She's sending Mrs. Carson. She looks kinda scary, but don't worry about it."

There's a flash of light and a knock at the window. Morty opens it, and a glowing woman flies in holding a silver scepter. She looks at Z intensely, and her scepter glows brighter. "Are you a demon?"

“I. Uh. Nnn...o?”

The scepter flashes once. The woman relaxes slightly, but keeps her guard up. "Are you a danger or a threat to my students?"

“Only if they’re a danger or a threat to me first.”

She appears to accept this. She stops glowing and descends to the floor. "Thank you. I'm sorry for my suspicion, but under the circumstances... Anyway. I apologize deeply for your being summoned here without your consent, and we will do whatever we can to return you to your world. If you do not wish to return to your world, we will also be willing to help you establish a life here. Do you have any pressing needs? Were you injured in any way by your journey?"

“Uh—no, I just kind of showed up here...”

“...you’d help me stay here? I can just—not go back?”

She hesitates. "You do seem to be a minor... but if you actively do not want to go home, we can discuss your specific case. The school does have the legal ability to take on wards in certain circumstances."

"...maybe there's something about here I don't know yet, but...I really, really...don't want to go back."

She nods. "Ordinarily we would need consent from your parents in order to enroll you. Am I correct in thinking that's not an option?"

He laughs.

"Yeah, no. It's not."

She nods again. "In that case, fuck them."

Morty startles. "Hey!"

"Listen, Morty, when I tell a mutant teenager who's just been kidnapped that I can send him home and he says 'actually how about we don't,' I begin to assume things about his parents."

"Didn't know you were allowed to swear, is all."

He laughs, surprised and delighted.

"Fuck them! And fuck wearing hats!"

"Personally I have nothing against hats," says Mrs. Carson. "Anyway. Given that you're from an alternate universe, and it would take a legally untenable amount of effort to conventionally investigate your family situation for signs of abuse or neglect, we're actually allowed to just take your word on it. So on the paperwork we'll put 'parental consent unavailable' and that'll be the end of it. Now, if we're going to enroll you we'll need to assign you a room, which means determining what Hall you'll be in. You said your powers aren't a threat to yourself or others, so you don't need Hawthorne. The horns would seem to imply Twain, unless you're gay, bisexual, trans, or similar, in which case-."

Morty raises his hand. "I feel like this entrance interview should be going on somewhere I'm not. It seems confidential."

Mrs. Carson nods. "Yes, actually, it should. Also, Mortimer, before I forget, you'll be taking Interdimensional Threat as a tutored course, detention in Hawthorne for a month, and I want you back with your therapist until you can work out some way to stop yourself from doing idiotic things when you're having an episode. If that means getting Mr. Conway to physically pin you to the ground every time you get near an Allen wrench unless you can explain what you're doing with it, then you do that. Are we clear?"

Morty grimaces. "Crystal."

She turns back to Z. "Shall we reconvene in my office?"

“...sure.”

What kind of school placement interview depends on whether he’s gay?

(He gives Morty a sympathetic glance.)

There's a flash of light, and they're both standing in a sparsely but elegantly furnished office. "As I was saying," she continues, "we need to determine your Hall. Ordinarily you'd be in Twain, since you have an obviously nonhuman appearance. However, if you do happen to identify as LGBT, Poe is the default. The reasoning being that we are dealing with teenagers here, and while we realistically can't completely eliminate bullying, we can at least create a safe space within the residence halls themselves. So: would you prefer Twain, or Poe?"

He’s been teleporting around a lot today. Two more times than he ever has in his life, in fact!

“Uh—yeah, I’m queer. Poe works for me.”

She marks this and a couple of other things down on an entrance form, then slides the form over to Z. "Just fill the rest of this out and we'll talk about our next steps."

The form contains standard questions (home address [which has been crossed out], name, date, signature), and less standard questions (tentative power ratings, GSD/BIT/MATD irregularities, age of manifestation). It's not very long.

...well, he can fill out the standard questions, at least.

Age of manifestation...he can put 'birth' here, right? It's not like he was taking any beatings as a baby but he's pretty sure he's had this his whole life.

He taps the other parts (the confusing abbreviations especially) with the pen.

"What's this stuff?"

She takes back the form and poses her pen over it. "Power rating... What actually is your power? And how potent is it, ballpark?"

"–oh. I can do slow shapeshifting if I concentrate on it, and I regenerate when I get hurt, and there's–stuff. Want me to show you?"

She raises her eyebrows. "Not the regeneration, I don't think. What are the limits on your shapeshifting? Do you have a fixed set of forms, or is it more general cosmetic freedom? And what do you mean by 'stuff'?"

"Uh, the second one. I haven't had a ton of time to test it because I have to hide it before my parents see it–it's way faster if you hurt me, though. And if I cut myself or get broken bones I get spikes or extra eyes or whatever when it heals up."

She blinks. "That is- unusual. Well, I'll... put that down as a very unusual case of MATD. That's 'manifestation-augmented tissue deformity' in human English. It doesn't quite fit the, ah, symptoms, but it's close enough. How quickly do you regenerate?"

"I can do decent cuts in a couple seconds right now? I've been getting better."

"Alright. We'll want to test a tissue sample to get a more accurate rating, but it sounds like regen 3-4, depending on your definition of 'decent'. As for the shifting: you can obviously grow horns; could you grow functional wings? Can you substantially alter your body weight?"

"...I've never tried wings before. It'd probably take me a while–same with changing my body weight a ton, I think..."

So many possibilities.

"Well, if you ever manage wings, that'd bump you up to SH-5, that's 'major cosmetic and functional shifting'. As it is I'll put you down at Re-3, Sh-4. And other than that you're baseline - no enhanced strength, speed, memory, et cetera?"

“Just some punk, otherwise, far as I know.”

"That's a lot of 'otherwise', you understand. You're not Champion, but shifting and regen at this level is nothing to sneeze at. Anyway, that's your enrollment handled; would you like to sign up for classes now, or take a course catalog and get the campus tour?"

–that was fast.

"...what kind of classes do you even have here?"

He vaguely recalls something about learning magic, and something else about learning mad science which you shouldn't call mad science because it's sort of insensitive.

Mrs. Carson lays out the course catalogue. Again, much of it is relatively normal, though there are some classes that seem very advanced for a high school; the rest of it is absolutely bizarre. Powers Theory and Lab, Costume Design, Intro Magic, Psychic Basics, Special Topics (Assassination); the list goes on. 

Assassination class.

Mutant school is great.

"Do I actually have to take the normal stuff?"

"Yes," she sighs with the voice of someone who has heard that question a lot. "Now, we don't technically have access to your academic records, but we do have some very good placement tests, so you'll be assigned general education classes accordingly. You'll probably be pleased to hear that we require less 'normal stuff' than most schools; we don't see much point in forcing teenagers to learn calculus unless they're likely to actually use it in their projected career paths, and we try to keep literature and history classes genuinely relevant to our students' lives."

He nods.

"...'Powers Lab' sounds kind of great, but I don't think you'd let me do a lot of my thing in class."

She shrugs. "Probably not in front of other students, no, but if you want to experiment and push the limits of your abilities, there are ways to do that safely. Our scientific teams are very careful and rarely squeamish, and I'm sure they'd find time to work with someone who has such a unique power." She considers. "That came out creepy, didn't it. They're really very friendly, I swear. And I don't let them vivisect anyone. Not that they want to."

"...are you sure? Like...totally sure? I'd sign up. For science, I mean."

Mrs. Carson drops her head into her hands and mutters something about someone named Jade Fucking Sinclair. Then she straightens back up and steeples her fingers in front of her like nothing happened.

"If you want to allow the scientific staff to vivisect you then I will need you to get a psych eval from Doctor Bellows and we will need to confirm a very high level of regeneration, possibly higher than you currently possess, but your right to do so has already been fought for and won. I didn't think it would come up again, but evidently I was wrong."

This would probably be an ominous giggle if he didn't look so excited.

It's still ominous, at least in Mrs. Carson's opinion. She pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs heavily, then clears her expression and turns an apparently genuine smile back to him. "That... matter aside, I do hope we at Whateley Academy can do right by you. I'll set up the placement tests for you later today and call someone in to show you around campus, alright?"

The manic grin clears up.

"Okay. Thanks."

"...I can honestly stay here. Right? And this is...real."

She nods. "This is real. It took us a while to make it as good as it is, and we're still improving, but it's very real. And you can stay."

Then she sweeps the paperwork on her desk into a folder and presses a button on a small machine, which prints out a small student ID card. CODENAME is blank, as is TEAM AFFILIATION. "This will allow you to eat in the dining hall, as well as purchase items at the school store and at most stores in the neighboring town of Dunwich."

She presses a button on her phone, and someone answers. "Ariel? I'm perfectly well, thank you. Can you come to the office? -no, there's a new student I'd like you to show around. Yes. Excellent."

Approximately fifteen seconds later, there's a knock at the door, followed by the door opening immediately. "New meat!"

Wait he didn't even have a chance to get emotional!

"Uh–hi? Hi!"

"Where do you want to go first? Are you hungry? Curious about your dorm? Desirous of toiletries and dorm room furniture? I am here for you, my fine, piercéd friend!"

"We get to pick furniture?"

"I mean, you get a loft bed and a desk and a little wheelie chair. If you want an ottoman or something, that's your prerogative. Also, like, bedding and stuff counts, in my opinion."

“—yeah, guess it counts—I’m Z. You’re...?”

He doesn’t trust names he gets off other people.

"Ariel! Stormhammer, when I'm punching people. Nice to meet you, Z! Also, cool name. Do you want me to just take you on a general wherever's-closest tour so you can get your bearings?"

“You have a punching people name,” he says, like this is all his dreams delivered to him. 

“—uh—yeah, for sure!”

"Technically it's a superhero codename," Ariel admits. "Come on!"

She leads him out of the office and turns around to indicate it. "Alright! This right here is Schuster Hall, AKA the administration office. Immediately behind it," she says, indicating a massive geodesic dome, "is the Crystal Hall, colloquially referred to as the cafeteria. If you're hungry, it is your go-to place for outrageously delicious food. Are you in fact hungry?"

“—I don’t believe a school can have outrageously delicious food. You’re gonna have to give me some evidence.”

Ariel leads him around to the entrance. "Lesson one about Whateley: This school has more money than it knows what to do with, and no extramural sports programs to waste it on. This means a very atypical budget, including the best-paid teachers in the continental US, and relevantly, the best-paid cafeteria staff as well. There are actual gourmet chefs in the kitchens of the Crystal Hall. They don't do most of the work, of course, but even the line cooks are much more competent than average. That's important, because most mutants tend to eat a lot, and have a heightened appreciation for food because of it. I'm one of those mutants, which is why the Crystal Hall is practically my home."

The dome, once entered, reveals itself to have three levels, the upper level containing a fountain with waterfalls down to the ground floor. There are several different food lines, each delineated with a unique legend. "The carrot," Ariel explains, "is for vegan fare. The cheese is for vegetarians. The steak is for meat-eaters, not to be confused with the cow, which is for obligate carnivores. The geode is for people who eat rocks and minerals, the baguette with a line through it is gluten free, the banana is various fruits, and the cake is for desserts. You must try the desserts. Also, there's the specialty kiosk, which is for people with specific dietary needs, like blood, insects, or live prey. If you have such needs, you can inform the administration and they will be provided. I am going to go to the obligate carnivore line to get an entire rack of lamb, then to the dessert line to get some pie, and I'll be available on the first floor when you're ready. Okay?"

This place is

so

so

cool.

He just has to stand there gaping for a minute.

"O...kay."

He kind of wants to eat some bugs just because they have them.

Ariel heads off towards the carnivore line.

As Z approaches the specialty kiosk he may notice that the girl manning it appears to be half cockroach.

”Hi!" she says in a bright, surprisingly feminine voice. "I haven’t noticed you here before, are you new? What do you need?”

Oh, no.

He can't eat bugs in front of a bug person.

"...I'm kinda just looking around. I'm new to the...dimension."

She nods sympathetically. “It’s a lot to take in all at once, huh? I’m not from another dimension, but sometimes Whateley feels like one anyway, compared to Oklahoma.”

Absently, she pops a grasshopper into her mouth from a paper bag. 

"Ouch. That must have sucked."

She shakes her head. "It was a weird adjustment, for sure, but it's easier trying to fit in as a hick in New England than as a bug girl in Tulsa. 'Sides, Whateley's nice."