Time to try diplomacy. “Hey, there!” Enmachina called out. The shifter paused in the middle of slamming their shoulder into a brick wall. “Could you please stop that?” They seemed to be listening, so Enmachina pulled his inhibitor cuff out of one a compartment. “I know you’re probably wondering what’s going on. I’ve got something that can help you out, okay?”

The shifter looked at the inhibitor cuff, but before they could do anything, a gunshot rang out. They stumbled back, screamed at the police, and charged. Nathan flew forward, faster than the shifter, and got his pulse cannon ready. As soon as he reached them, he whipped around and shot the cannon. No matter how invulnerable someone was, they simply had to be affected by pure force. The shifter stumbled, and then looked directly at him. Enmachina ran to the side, away from the officers, and the shifter followed.

“Don’t shoot!” he yelled at the police. Before they could respond, though, the shifter charged at him. Enmachina held his ground and the shifter stopped before reaching him, looking at him quizzically. Maybe trying to provoke him into a response? But they seemed perfectly calm without one. After a moment, they looked back over at the police. Enmachina pointed his cannon at them. “No shooting,” he said. As long as they didn’t shoot the shifter, everyone should be perfectly fine.

Well, they were doomed.

The police fired on the shifter, and immediately the shifter began charging them. They scattered. Enmachina flew to the side and hit the shifter with a pulse, drawing their attention to him again. He flicked on the comm. “Angie… lica, can you get these cops outta here? I’m spending more time protecting them than actually working.”

“I’ll do what I can,” she said shortly. Probably because of the nickname. Or maybe the flying. Or maybe the continuation of what she thought was a vendetta against cops. He didn’t have much time to ponder it, as the shifter charged at him again.

Well, if the cops wouldn’t leave, he needed to get the shifter away from them. He fired again, flying away and hoping the cops didn’t follow. Fortunately, they stayed milled around their car. When they reached a safe distance, Enmachina pulled up, hovering in the air just above their head. The shifter skidded to a halt under him. “All right,” he said. “You’re perfectly safe now. Nobody’s--”

The shifter ran headfirst into the nearest concrete wall, which didn’t seem to hurt them or the wall. Enmachina set himself down and watched. Honestly, he would have expected the shifter to slam him into the ground. That was usually what happened.

Uncontrolled Alter Egos generally worked off of instinct and any urges they had right before changing. So what was this one’s deal? On the one hand, they had charged him and the police. However, before the police had shot at them, they’d been perfectly fine, and as soon as nobody was attacking them, they moved back to attacking the buildings. And that part with rubbing glass against their arm… self-harm? That did explain why they were currently putting their head through a concrete wall. And they’d charged him, but stopped when he didn’t retaliate. Was that only to seek out harm?

So, his working theory was that they were currently in a self-harm phase. Problem was, with their invulnerability and lack of control, that translated to attacking themselves via property and things. His priority was to calm them down, or at least to stop them from causing any more damage while he figured out how to do that. So far, they’d listened while he talked. If that didn’t work, then it was time for a battle.

“Okay,” he said, reaching them. “I think we got off on the wrong foot.” The shifter looked over at him. “Sorry for interrupting you, but could you please stop that for a moment? I’d like to talk.” They put their head back in the wall. “Look, I don’t know what happened to you, but I’m guessing you’re in a really bad place right now. I can help.” After another blow, the concrete cracked. “Stop that!” he said. The shifter glared over their shoulder at him, then resumed. Enmachina touched their arm, and the shifter backhanded him, sending him tumbling until he hit the floral shop on the other side. He groaned, got back up, and walked off the stiffness across six lanes of traffic. Definitely super strength.

Talking was not working. That meant violence. He fired his pulse cannon. The shifter whipped around at a speed that really should have been impossible for their size and swatted at Enmachina. He jumped up, activated his rockets, and caught the shifter’s hand, dragging it up into the air. The whole shifter came along with it, flailing.

“Tell me what’s hurting you,” he said calmly. They swatted at him again, but he swung them so that their arm missed. He tried again. “Tell me why you hate yourself.”

They worked their mouth, and it took a few moments for speech to come out. That wasn’t unusual for uncontrolled Alter Egos. “Ugly,” they said in a deep, guttural voice. “Wrong. Man.”

He frowned. Wait, did that mean…?

They twisted free and fell onto the road. This time, instead of going for the building, they scratched at their face. The face that had masculine features driven up to eleven… because that was part of how they saw themself. Or rather…

Enmachina landed. “Ma’am,” he said. The shifter froze. Maybe a good sign? “Ma’am, would you like some jewelry?” He held out the cuff. “I got a pretty bracelet for you.” Not that he’d personally call it pretty, but it did have colorful stones on it. “Something for a lovely girl?”

The shifter stopped scratching her face, at least. She stared at it, as she had before, and tentatively reached out her hand. Was she smaller and less blue? He watched for a moment, opening up the cuff to max size so it would fit on her Alter Ego arm. Yes, she was definitely shrinking. That probably meant her dysphoria was getting somewhat better. He placed the cuff on her arm and she instantly changed back to a young white woman with very short hair and no visible signs of transition. Enmachina grabbed her by the shoulder before she could fall any further. Her eyes were glazed, but she slowly reached up to cover her chest with her arms.

“Hey,” Enmachina said, “Ma’am? Are you all right?”

The question snapped her awake and she twisted around to see the rest of the street. “No,” she whispered, not in response but in horror.

“Ma’am, it’s going to be okay.” He dropped to one knee.

“I didn’t mean to!” she cried. “I just wanted to hurt myself and then I was growing and then…” she broke off sobbing.

“They’ll understand,” Enmachina said.

“They will?” she sniffed.

“You’re not the first person who’s accidentally caused a bit of damage when their powers wake up,” he said. “In fact, one of my teammates did the same. Now, what’s your name?”

“Um.” She shook her head. “I have a name, but I hate it and I don’t have a new one.”

“How about we stick with ma’am for now?” Enmachina said, and she smiled. “Now, ma’am, you will have to go through the courts. I won’t lie, it’ll be pretty stressful, but nine times outta ten, you’ll wind up with a sentence of community service and therapy and having to wear the inhibitor cuff unless the therapist says otherwise. And after that, you’ll have an open job offer anytime you like it. How’s that sound?”