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Gacha God: Moment to Breathe (ch. 5)
🕑 Added 2022-10-29 15:08:50 +0000 UTC"I want him found. Now," Nick Fury stated, his tone harsh and matter of fact as he stood at the bridge of the Helicarrier. Stark's hologram projectors had been repurposed, letting him stand on the bridge and examine a dozen different information feeds at once. It was convenient. Less turning, for one. At the moment, all of the holograms projected one thing -- Codename Roller Derby.
An unknown variable. The very worst kind of variable.
Five foot ten. Caucasian. Estimated a hundred and forty pounds of lean muscle. Smoker. And a dirty little thief that ran off with the Tesseract, which could open holes in space and time along with a scepter that could mind control people with a touch. At the moment, that was all that Shield knew. Name, age, who he worked for, how he got his tech, where he put his loot, and where he was... All unknown. That last one really bothered him because Nick knew he couldn't answer any of the above unless he found the little bastard.
"We traced the Tesseract's gamma signature to here," Maria Hill informed him, pulling up a map of New York. A random building in New York. By random, Nick meant random. He already had every record pulled up -- schematics, deeds of sale, information on who owned the building along with every single employee that worked there and had worked there within the past ten years. He had a team on the ground investigating the building itself to make sure that a secret facility hadn't been conveniently forgotten about in the blueprints, but thus far, his boots on the ground reported only rubble.
Either the entrance was buried -- a distinct possibility -- or there wasn't one. Nick was assuming the former, but he was prepared for a dead end.
"Here, it just disappears with no residual radiation. The battle disrupted the power grid, so CTV cameras were all knocked offline," Maria continued, earning a glance from Nick that she very deliberately ignored. They had a satellite view of New York, but unfortunately, it had been focused on the entire city as a whole rather than a specific spot. Of the building that the Tesseract and Scepter disappeared into, there were more than three thousand people that had left it after the two items disappeared.
It was something, but it was less of a lead than Nick would like.
"That's not what I want to hear right now," Nick told her and everyone else on the bridge. "We have an unknown vigilante with two of the most powerful 0-8-4's that Shield has ever come across. We know he was in our systems. And right now, all we know about him is that we don't know much." The situation was bad. Not as bad as it could have been, but it was bad.
The World Council was breathing down his neck about the whole mess, there was mass panic across the world, New York had taken a bad punch to the face, and the Tesseract and Scepter has been stolen from them right under their noses. Coulson's loss stung bitterly. Phil Coulson was one of the very few people that Nick had ever trusted and his death was hard to swallow, even if he had used it to unite the Avengers.
Even if he was going to make sure it didn't stick.
Nick heard the door opening up behind him and he turned around to see the Avengers -- all of them looking worse for wear, but Clint was the worst of the lot.
"We have Loki under lock and key, sir," Steve reported, sounding every bit the soldier. Nick half expected him to snap off a salute. He wasn't adjusting well to the new time period. Not as well nor as fast as Nick had hoped. There was too much baggage in his past that he was having to come to terms with. Nick made a mental note to follow up on the mental note to strangle the agent that had screwed up the radio. All they had to do was pick any game after Steve went on ice…
"There's some good news. Don't hold back, keep it coming," Nick replied, offering Steve a nod while Stark sipped on a Capri-Sun in his armor, lounging in a chair like he owned the Helicarrier.
"My brother's injuries were severe, but he shall live. However, I cannot leave," Thor stated, making it sound like bad news but as far as Nick was concerned, it was Christmas come early. "The Tesseract must be recovered. It will be necessary to repair the Bifrost, which my people use to travel the nine realms, and without it… already, there is chaos across the nine realms due to our absence. It must be found, and quickly."
Earth's view of the wider galaxy was growing. The Kree, the Skrulls, and the Asgardians were the major 'local' players. The latter was a peacekeeping force for smaller kingdoms and empires, protecting them. Which they couldn't do on account of their teleportation network being busted. Not ideal for the Asgardians and most of their protectorates, even if it was ideal for Earth. However, there was always a chance that what was going on in space could spill out onto Earth, so measures would have to be taken.
"We're already looking for the Tesseract, but failing that, I'll assemble a team to get you and your brother back home." A white lie. He already had a team of scientists puzzling out how the Asgardian's Bifrost worked. Both to utilize it, and to protect themselves from it. Thor was a good man, but that didn’t mean every Asgardian was.
Thor offered a grateful smile, "My thanks, Nick of Fury."
Odds are he would be shacking up with Jane Foster over in Portland. Having the God of Thunder around would be handy, but Thor would have to be managed. With a little finesse, the two of them could be assets -- Jane for her mind, and Thor for his brawn.
"We managed to get a partial print on the lighter that Roller Derby used to set Loki on fire," Natasha spoke up, her tone professional but he knew her well enough to see the delight in her eyes. He saw all in the Helicarrier, and she might have hid it well, but he knew that Loki's words struck a nerve. Natasha was his best agent, bar none. But she wasn’t a machine despite everything the Russians tried to do to her.
Nick let out a breath of infinite patience, "I better not be hearing a but coming."
"But," Natasha continued, the faintest hints of a smirk tugging at the edge of her lips, "there haven't been any hits. In any database -- on or off record. I’m reaching into my contacts to look into his tech, but no one comes to mind with roller skates and yoyos in their weapons program,” she continued. That was not good news. Even when you got good news, if there was a but attached anywhere within the sentence, it made it bad news.
Naturally, Nick turned his attention to Stark and Banner -- the two eggheads on the Avengers. One was a barely functional, egotistical, billionaire genius and the other was a man that was equally intelligent. He just had the habit of turning into a lime-green rage monster when he was angry that, naturally, got stronger the angrier it was. Banner looked up, having been in the middle of wringing his hands as he looked around the bridge, clearly uncomfortable being back on the Helicarrier after he tore it up.
“The tech? Totally stolen. Or developed by himself,” Stark remarked, draining his Capri-Sun dry until it made that irritating slurping noise. He did it for a solid ten additional seconds, sucking more air than flavored water, and purely because he could. “Kid used oven mitts to hold the Tesseract. Doesn’t really say ‘backed by a secret organization’ to me. Or maybe it does. I don’t know how you spies think,” Stark tacked on with an unhelpful shrug.
Banner was nodding, “The roller skates would need a powerful motor. Propulsion and deceleration are likely pressure based. Lightweight but durable frame… probably a titanium alloy. I’m more interested in what's being used to power the skates themselves.” To that, Stark perked up.
“I’ll run up some designs to play around with, but the skates have a battery powering what amounts to a V8 engine that’s the size of a shoe sole at the largest. That’s a pretty big leap in terms of miniaturization. I have my Arc Reactor, which also happens to use a super rare element that I rediscovered, so I’m betting that he’s not rocking some run of the mill materials to make a battery that small.” Stark offered, proving useful. That was actually helpful information. If only it was offered because he wanted to help instead of finding something interesting.
Thor spoke up from there, “I am most concerned with these yoyos. I was not aware humanity had such powerful melee weapons.” Nick could see it -- at some point, he was going to get a call about Thor robbing a child of a yoyo because he thought it was a weapon. “The stab through the back was the gravest of Loki’s injuries by far. However, his body had a number of bruises caused by it.” That, Nick thought, was mildly unsettling.
Loki was tough. Bullets bouncing off his skin kind of tough.
“Rare thing. We only break them out in emergencies,” Stark was quick to double down on the misunderstanding while Steve shifted in his seat. Odds were yoyo weapons fell into that category of ‘did this change while I was on ice’ that he was building up. It was going to be an impressive file because a lot of things had changed since the forties. “Of that, I’m less certain. Looks like an inertial amplifier with a hard light projector. In a yoyo.”
Clint leaned on the table while Stark brought up a video of the fight, making Clint gesture to it, “I’d say it’s a recent thing. He moves like an amateur. Not bad, just has some obvious kinks that he would have worked out if he’d had the yoyo for very long.”
“Possibly given to him for the mission of stealing the Tesseract. It’s possible grabbing the Scepter was an opportunity that he took,” Natasha remarked. That would fit. Roller Derby was capable enough of a fighter, yet there had been flaws in his style that someone experienced wouldn’t have. The Scepter itself -- unless Roller Derby was in league with Loki, it was unlikely that he could have known about it beforehand. The yoyo could have been given to him to deal with the Norse god that stood between him and the Tesseract, and he only ended up taking the Scepter because he defeated Loki and it had been needed to get the Tesseract.
Steve frowned, “I think we’re jumping to conclusions here. The kid helped us -- helped New York. Maybe he took the Tesseract because he thought that it shouldn’t be in Shield’s hands. If he was in Shield’s files, then he could have known about Phase Two,” he pointed out. There was an edge to his tone that told Nick that conversation was very much not done. Unfortunate. He would have preferred it if Steve had moved on and accepted it for what it was.
Earth was now in an arms race with the rest of the galaxy. Their eyes had been opened to the dangers that lay beyond their own solar system, and they needed weapons capable of protecting the Earth and its citizens. Regardless of borders. Were people going to misuse the weapons produced in Phase Two, powered by the near limitless energy the Tesseract offered? Undoubtedly. But it would still be worth the cost when the next alien invasion came around.
That aside, Steve did have a point except for one thing. “The question that remains is how he managed to make the Tesseract disappear. The building was obviously an extraction point.” To that, Steve inclined his head, accepting the point. “This is preliminary. We have to assume the worst -- that a possible hostile organization with advanced, if unorthodox, technology managed to infiltrate Shield and they intend to use the Tesseract for their own agenda.”
Nick stepped forward, “As of today, you are all Avengers. Earth’s mightiest heroes. You stepped up to the plate, and I know that when the time calls for it, you’ll step up to it again. In the meantime, I would appreciate it if you kept an eye out for this young man. If not to find whoever he might work for, then for his own sake, because we aren’t the only ones that will want what he took.”
Wherever the kid was, it had better be secure. Because he just became the most wanted man in the world.
…
"Of all the buildings that had to be leveled during an alien invasion, it just had to be the one I was sleeping in, huh?" I muttered, looking at the massive pile of rubble before me. I checked the rest of the street to see that every other building was at least sporting some damage as well. Good. I would have been very annoyed if it was just my building that got completely leveled. Homelessness had a sliding scale -- there was on the streets, sleeping in a cardboard box, then there was making a small unofficial home in a forgotten and neglected part of the world.
I had been the latter, but right now, if I didn't think of something soon, I'd be the former. Scratching at my head, I frowned at the city and considered rolling back the clock to save my building, but decided that would be way too much of a pain in the ass. Instead, I simply pivoted and marched down the street, abandoning my former home in favor of searching for a new one.
In one ear, a headphone played the news. The world was freaking about the whole alien invasion thing, but deaths were pretty low. Comparatively. There were two thousand confirmed dead throughout the city, but that estimate was expected to rise somewhere between five to ten thousand. A lot of dead people, but still rather light in the grand scheme of things considering that it could have been in the millions. It was better that way. Could you imagine being one of like a hundred people that get killed during an alien invasion?
I'd be so pissed off.
The public was also eating up news about the Avengers -- Captain America, Iron Man, Thor, Hulk, Hawkeye, and Black Widow. However, the public was also digging into other sightings of powered individuals that had been seen fighting in New York, way on the other side of it. Some guy shooting lasers out of his eyes, or a redhead smashing things with her mind. People were hit with a lot of information and they were still sorting it out, trying to tell who worked with who and so on. They generally assumed that I was with the Avengers and were very confused why I wasn't part of the official announcement.
In a few days, the shock would wear off and New York would make sense of what happened. Until then, it was a clusterfuck of misinformation and blind guesses.
But that wasn't really my problem at the moment. I needed a place to sleep. Could go to one of the refugee camps, but it wasn't like I was that desperate. Plus, those places would be monitored up to the gills and that would mess with my plan to inconvenience anyone searching for me. Instead, I walked into a supermarket, uncaring about the cameras that were pointed in my direction. I bought a few things there with the cash I stole from Midtown -- a hammock tent, sleeping bag, one of those airline neck pillows, along with some basic necessities like deodorant and candy bars.
Then I wound the clock by an hour, left the supplies underneath a payday symbol that past me would notice, and smoked my last cigarette with the new Zippo lighter I had purchased. This one had a little green alien on it. Thought it was cute.
…
Grabbing the supplies a future me had procured, I thought about where I would go. I could try setting up in the rubble, but that was fundamentally temporary and asking to be stumbled upon. Instead, I found a map of New York for tourists and tossed a dart at it to pick the neighborhood I would be holding up in.
Hell's Kitchen.
"Alright," I muttered with a mental shrug of my shoulders. Hell's Kitchen was a rough neighborhood. A lot of murders happened there. Like, a lot. I'd go as far as to say most of New York's murders happened there. But the dart had spoken and I couldn't be bothered to throw it again. So, off I went in search of a new home.
Hell's Kitchen looked like it could have been a good neighborhood at some point. Dense urban residence planning, some trees sprinkled around for ambiance, a nice view of the Hudson River. It had all the makings for one of the nicer parts of the city, possibly another tourist trap. Instead, the buildings were damn near covered in graffiti, and the streets and sidewalks had a layer of gum and questionable substances spilled all over them. The back alleys were filled with drug fiends on the prowl for their next hit or a way to get one. Gangsters and drug dealers marked their territory with goons posted up out in the open.
Windows had bars on them, so did doors. The people had a hard shifty look about them, so jaded that I'm not even sure that they registered that New York had been invaded. While it had been dangerously close to the focal point for the invasion, it didn't suffer much damage. The little that it did was closed off with Shield goons preventing anyone from getting grabby with alien tech. Pretty sure that hadn't stopped anyone though.
From there, I hunted for a nice spot. I searched the back alleys, then moved on to occupied buildings. Then abandoned buildings. Then abandoned buildings that were occupied by my fellow squatters. It was there that I found a winner -- top-floor apartment building with scuffed floors that were sporting the stains of at least a dozen murders. The walls were busted out, conveniently revealing the wood studs so I could secure my hammock tent in place. The busted-out window offered a lovely view of the Hudson River, and in rain or snow, I could fasten the tarp that I used to murder past mes over me to stay dry and warm.
"What. A. Day," I muttered, getting into bed even though it was only about seven o'clock. Securing the neck pillow, I swung back and forth on the hammock, finding that it held my weight and with that, I closed my eyes and went to sleep.
…
Shouting woke me up some hours later. Not panicked shouting, but angry shouting.
"You fucked that bitch at the club! Fucking say it!" Some random woman screamed at the top of her lungs.
"I didn't do shit, you crazy bitch! Get the fuck off me!" Some random guy shouted. I pried my eyes open, a low groan escaping me. Looking out the window, I'm pretty sure that I saw the two going at it in the building across the alley. Muttering under my breath, I closed my eyes again and tried to tune it out.
But they kept going.
And going.
And going.
"Lady!" I shouted out the window about five minutes later, "if you're going to murder your man then fucking do it quietly! I'm trying to fucking sleep!" I shouted out the window, making the two quiet down for a few short blissful seconds.
"What the fuck you gonna do-" I heard the lady start shouting at me. To answer her question, I picked up the pistol I had on the windowsill, flicked off the safety, and popped some shots in her general direction. They all struck brick, joining the other bullet holes, but I heard the couple scramble for dear life.
Wasn't like people would call the police about gunshots. Not in this neighborhood.
"What a bunch of inconsiderate assholes," I muttered to myself, shifting my weight and closing my eyes as I went back to sleep.
…
Being homeless was pretty easy when it came right down to it. It was hardly an inconvenience, really. Stealing was probably the best way to make it, but that opinion was fueled by the fact that my food was delivered to me by a future me -- always what I woke up craving and completely free. Cleanliness was probably the biggest issue, but one easy enough to sidestep with some stolen cash. Instead of going to the bathroom or shower in a bathroom apartment, I headed to a local YMCA gym. There, I could get a workout and a shower.
And for the first time, I could properly inspect my body. The first thing I noticed was my body was more defined and muscular. I had always been fit, but now I leaned more towards action hero rather than just generally fit -- defined six-pack, pecs, larger biceps, triceps, and my ass wasn't just some cake, it was a whole bakery. There were other changes, I noticed.
Like, for example, I was completely hairless below the head. That was a little annoying. I thought having some chest hair was cool. Weirder, my body hair hadn't fallen out so I was forced to assume my body sucked it up or something. Weird. Dick was also bigger, but that could just be the lack of pubes talking.
My skin was also clearer. Acne was part of being a teenager. I took care of my skin, so I rarely got more than the stray pimple, but the one that I did have was gone. My workout had revealed that I was near twice as strong, fast, and had twice the endurance. I could double my weight in a bench press, I could run faster, and for much longer. I don't think I had reached superhuman levels like Captain America or anything, but I would say I had entered the upper percentile when it came to fitness.
In all? Mostly good changes.
My phone buzzed, letting me know I got a text. I half expected it to be from a future me, but instead, I saw it was from Peter. Giving it a quick read-over, I saw it was an invitation to meet up with him, Ned, Mary Jane, and Michelle. The meet-up was at a deli diner in Queens. Firing back a quick confirmation, I was curious to see what they wanted to meet up about. If it was something lame, I could always just tell myself not to go.
That was the benefit of time travel.
Hopping on a trolley that took me to Queens, the traffic was bad on account of those that were trying to leave the city. But, half an hour later, I arrived at the diner to find that it wouldn't look out of place in the seventies -- red cushion seats, a vibe of 'this is what the future would look like by the year two thousand.' from back when people had hope. I saw the four sitting in a booth, drinking milkshakes. I could sense the awkwardness coming from the table long before I approached.
It was like a friend group that only existed because of one mutual friend. Without them, the rest of the group really didn't talk much.
Well, except for Ned.
"Sebastian!" Ned waved me over like I hadn't already seen them. "Want a milkshake? They're pretty good."
"Malts are better," Peter shot off, sounding like it was a long-standing argument. Ned rolled his eyes so hard I thought he might pull something.
Mary Jane perked up at my arrival and almost in complete proportion, Michelle narrowed her eyes at me, suspicious of my very presence. Mary Jane was the one that spoke up, "Glad you could make it. Have you been watching the news? You're everywhere," she added in a low tone.
"Over thirty million hits on YouTube," Ned remarked. That was a lot. "You even have your own hero name -- Audacity," Ned stated with a sense of awe, like he was making a sales pitch and I had to approve the name.
I shrugged as I pulled up a seat at the booth, stealing a chair from some couple that was too busy eyefucking each other to actually fuck. "People can call me what they want," I replied. I would prefer a cool name, but it wasn't like I was going to be heartbroken if they gave me a lame one. Audacity was as good of a name as any.
"Cool," Ned decided, responding like I gave the name glowing praise.
Mary Jane smirked at me, "He's asking because he named you. Apparently, he's spent all night floating the name until the internet picked up on it."
"Dude," Ned complained, scratching at his neck with some embarrassment when I cocked an eyebrow at him. "Names are important. Do you think anyone would think Tony Stark was half as cool if he called himself… the Tin Man? No. No way."
He probably had a point there, "I'm more interested in how you managed it," I admitted to him.
"Ned's a black hat," Peter answered, taking a sip of his chocolate malt. Ned puffed his chest out proudly at the information.
"White hats are total sellouts. I haven't done anything like super big, but yeah, I can hack pretty well. I actually got invited to the Rising Tide not that long ago," Ned said, sounding like he rather enjoyed tooting his own horn.
Mary Jane tilted her head, "A hacker group? Like Anonymous?"
Peter facepalmed at the question while Ned looked like he was gearing up for a rant, giving the rest of us a hint that Mary Jane stepped on a landmine. "No way -- Anonymous are totally a bunch of government hacks. Maybe it might have been a group of black hats once, but they've been converted into stooges. They're just a way for the government to hack other countries and systems through a third party."
"Okay," Mary Jane accepted when Ned paused for a breath. "I didn't know that."
"Rising Tide is better?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow in interest. I liked Ned. Wasn't as ballsy as Peter was, but I liked him. Seemed like a decent guy.
Ned eagerly nodded, "There's always a chance that it's a government prop up, but I don't think so. They spill major league secrets about corporations from across the globe and leak government secrets. The damage is too much for the government to call it collateral for cover, you know? Why? Do you want me to sign up?" Ned asked, and if I had one complaint about him was that he was too eager to please.
"If you want to," I told him. People had to decide what they were going to do for themselves. Even if it would be useful. Probably. Maybe I could actually look inside Shield instead of just saying that I was. "I would avoid hacking Shield, though. I told them that I had a mole in their organization."
"Do you?" Michelle questioned.
"No, but they don't know that," I answered with a smirk.
"Shield are those government guys, right? You know about them?" Mary Jane questioned, sounding interested.
I nodded, "Shield is a secret international organization that only answers to the World Council. They deal with weird stuff -- alien invasions, artifacts, advanced tech, magic, and so on. Basically, they deal with that stuff so normal people don't have to."
Peter's brow furrowed, "Wait -- magic?" He questioned and I saw that I had the table's full attention.
"It's a thing. Most of the practitioners are with one organization or another and they pretty aggressively scout talent. There are some one-off users that are doing their own thing, but they can only do that because they either manage to go unnoticed, or they're too dangerous to provoke." I told them -- magic was pretty dangerous, but what made it so dangerous was the fact most people didn't believe in it, and thus had no protection from it.
"I could be a wizard?" Ned breathed, wide-eyed and excited. Held out a hand to him and he eagerly clasped it.
I felt… "Huh. You have a spark of it," I told him, finding myself mildly surprised. "Not sure if you can actually do anything with it though." From the looks of it, Ned honestly couldn't have cared less.
"I'm a wizard," he breathed, practically vibrating with excitement. Naturally, the others took that as an offer to check them. Peter seemed pretty disappointed when he learned that he learned that he had nothing. Mary Jane too. I told Michelle that she also had nothing, but I think she just didn't believe me. Really not sure what her deal was, but whatever.
"So, is there a reason that you all called me out here?" I asked them, sweeping my gaze over the table. Peter looked at Ned while Ned shrugged. It was Mary Jane that spoke up.
"Maybe we just wanted to see you," she remarked, her tone flirty. Peter seemed to completely miss it.
"Yeah, we just wanted to hang out. If that's cool with you, I mean. It's just that… we helped save New York, you know?" Peter remarked and I smiled at that. I expected something to be wrong or they were gunning for someone or something. Nope. They just wanted to chill a bit.
"Sure," I decided, leaning into my chair and flagging down a waitress for a chocolate shake of my own.
Wasn't like I had anything better to do.
Comments
Alexis Medor
I don't really know about this story, honestly. It feels like he's way too in control, so nothing really has any high stakes. He doesn't have a goal, so he has nothing to work towards that give the story any suspence on his goal of reaching it, nor is there any tension when he can just rewind the clock. He doesn't really care about what he's been doing either so far, so it's hard to care for me as well.
Lynxarius
He said Michelle didn't have any.
Wanous
I had an idea pop into my head. Ned and Michelle both have magic and MJ get superpowers somehow and even when Pete gets spiderized he's still the least powerful one of his friends.
