January, 2001
Manhattan Island
The Bar With No Name definitely earned its bad reputation. It was, legitimately, primarily a hangout for criminals, goons, and supervillains of various stripes. The atmosphere was dark, ominous, with cigarette and cigar smoke almost always hanging near the ceiling like fog. They also had great Thursday Trivia Nights, and served the goddamn bestempanadas in the entirety of New York City. And yes, there were people who would shoot you if you claimed otherwise.
I had first wandered into the place after taking the wrong train by complete accident back in high school on my way back home. It was very awkward, and also really intimidating, but the thing about lower-list Marvel villains is that most of them were primarily in it for the money. And most of the patrons of the Bar were that kind of villain. But, I feel like I'm getting ahead of myself. You're probably wondering what this has to do with anything, and how the hell I ended up here in Marvel.
Well… I don't really have an explanation for that. I went to sleep one day, and woke up in an entirely different body. The "me from another universe." That universe being the mainline Marvel universe, Earth-616, circa 1991. As a teenager. In New York. Honestly, it sucked a lot less than I'd feared at first. Whatever cosmic force had transposed me into this body had conveniently let me keep all of my past memories from both universes, so that helped a bunch.
What also really helped was the extreme mundanity of my existence here. I wasn't a Mutant, or an Inhuman, or a secret Eternal, or a Half-Skrull, or anything like that. I was just a girl from an upper-middle class family in Midtown, with a normal family, and a normal life. The only thing not normal about me was the fact that when I arrived here, I had just narrowly avoided being collateral damage in some kind of a gang drive-by. And I felt a little bit of amusement from the fact that, as I was standing there in mild shock, a large black van with a skull painted on the side door drove up, and a man in a jumpsuit with the same design poked his head out and asked me what direction the criminals had gone in.
That had been a day.
But, aside from that, and the near-daily super-occurrences that happened around the city, the next decade had been… equally uneventful. I graduated high school, got through college on a scholarship program, got a degree in superhuman ethics, and managed to buy an apartment in Harlem. It was easier than you might think, because prices in Manhattan were insanely low compared to how they'd been in my previous world. Probably had something to do with the constant supervillain attacks and near-destruction of the city. Not that that really fazed me at this point. It was kind of easier to live with if it's been going on your whole life. Hell, I'd been born after a lot of heroes made their debuts and became established parts of society. For the God's sake, I still had my old Fantastic Four temperature regulating lunchbox, and an Avengers backpack. Don't even try and ask me when they were all established. Recent history always gives me a little bit of a headache.
Anyways, after years of mundanity, doing odd jobs, and saving up a fair amount of capital, I had finally gotten enough to finally put an end to that same mundanity. Because I didn't particularly feel like staying as a Marvel Civilian™. Down that way led to probably becoming a massive asshole without any agency of my own. But I also didn't want to become a full-on superhero. Or supervillain. Unless you had some kind of big company already under your belt, being either tended to not pay well. And I still had rent, bills, food, and other stuff.
Thus, I decided to take a page out of the books of several street-level heroes, and make a business involving superpowers. But… I had different ideas than being a hero for hire myself. And it all started from my constant stop offs at the Bar With No Name. Because, while they weren't angels… a lot of the villains and other patrons of the Bar weren't doing crimes because they wanted to, but rather because they had no other choice. Stuff like "ex-con", and "former supervillain" really didn't look good on a resume. It was a sadly common rant heard in the Bar. People trying to get out of the life, but being unable to. Sure, for some of them, it was their own fault, because they relapsed into actual villainy, but for others that just wasn't the case.
All in all… it was shocking just how revolutionary the idea seemed to be. Which meant that there was money to be made by being first.
My starting capital didn't really go anywhere near as far as I would have liked... mainly because of two things. The main one was licenses and paperwork. Man, it turns out you need to jump through a lot of hoops to run a business in New York. Who would have thought? We'll get back to the other expenses later, but just know that by the time I got to the part where I was shopping for office space, I was seriously considering running it out of my own apartment, and if I hadn't been able to cut a deal to rent out one of the offices above the Bar With No Name on the cheap, I probably would have ended up hot-bunking with my own paperwork before long.
And man, there was a lot of paperwork... because this wasn't just your everyday business. Normal businesses didn't get the side-eye for hiring ex-convicts. Normal businesses didn't take out contracts with clauses for things like 'what if one of our employees gets shot on the job'. Normal businesses didn't have to consider collateral damage a business expense. No, I wasn't running just any business, Maverick Solutions was a company selling heroes for hire.
... And apparently that tagline was copyrighted. Godsdamnit Cage, other people had bills to pay too you know!
Still, with a business for bodyguards, bounty hunting, and private security in a city where there was at least one hyper intelligent evil lizard living in the sewer, the quality of my services was exactly as worth the price tag as the employees I had on my payroll.
Luckily for me, I had the perfect candidates.
Like most Thursdays during the winter, I found myself in the Bar With No Name. This time though, it wasn't for trivia. I was actually there to watch the annual poker tournament. It was honestly a hilarious scene, because most of the patrons were there in full costume...
Then there was me, just a mostly average, mildly mousy blonde woman in jeans and a leather jacket over a Captain America T-shirt. It normally wouldn't be kosher to wear superhero merch in the Bar, but Cap was the exception. Pretty much everyone who wasn't a psycho, total scumbag, or worse, a Nazi, at least respected Cap.
I wasn't actually there to play, since I'm awful at poker, and 90% of the players were wearing full-face masks. How more of these didn't devolve into violence I didn't know, because I was reasonably sure everyone was cheating in some regard. Well, okay, that's a lie. I was fully aware of the fact that everyone was cheating in some regard. It was kind of expected.
Anyways, the game went on mostly uneventfully, with the only real issue being when Speed Demon was tossed out for blatant cheating. It ended with Boomerang taking home the pot, and everyone getting up to leave.
However, I ended up calling out to one of the players. "Yo Herman, you got a minute?'
Herman Schultz, aka The Shocker. Generally considered kind of a joke by most superheroes, usually either a bank robber or a henchman. All kind of true, but also a genius engineer and technician, and someone who's only in the business of crime because it's the only way for him to make a payday. It should say something that his main aspiration is to buy a house in Hoboken with a yard. Not even a big one, man knew his limits.
"Huh? Whaddya want... Ash, right?" He turned to look at me, eyes narrowing behind his mask.
I grinned, and held out one of my business cards. "So, would you happen to want a well paying, legit job?"
He stared at me for a moment. "I'm listening…."
Anyways, that's how I ended up sitting in my big comfy chair (a completely reasonable business expense, presentation was everything) in my new office a few days later, passing paperwork across my desk to Herman Schultz and Aleksei Sytsevich.
I had to admit, I hadn't entirely expected Shocker to bring The Rhino in on this, but apparently Aleksei was rooming with Herman ever since he'd had his suit removed, and was actually interested in having some honest work. It was especially good that neither of them had warrants out on them at the moment, and even more so that I'd contacted Herman when I had, because he and Aleksei had been planning a bank heist the next day. Bullet dodged.
There was a lot of paperwork to deal with, from normal job application stuff all the way to more complex forms. Contracts, waivers, other stuff like that. Boring busywork, but I'd had it all checked over multiple times, and everything was in order. Unfortunately for me, I'd also had to organize it all myself, since I was currently in the process of trying to hire a proper secretary. The whole thing took several hours, especially since I took the time to explain everything in simple terms to Aleksei so that he wouldn't be confused by the complicated legalese. Eventually though, everything was signed and I had my first two employees of Maverick Solutions.
Of course, that wasn't the end of my preparations. After Herman and Aleksei left, I still had another appointment to prep for… and I only could spare myself about three hours of sleep. Godsdammit. Still, I'd done more important meetings on less, and a lot of my insomnia had gone away ever since I was dropped in Earth-616 anyways. So, I locked up the office, and walked the five block's distance between said office and my apartment.
My walk was mostly uneventful, though at one point I looked up and saw a silver armored man with comically extended legs that made him visible even above the relatively tall buildings walking on the next street over. There's good ole Stilt Man, probably off to rob a bank. See, that right there was both the reason why I'd never need to worry about a lack of work... and why running this business was going to be a pain in my ass.
Not my problem today though. Stupid gimmick or not, the guy was in power armor; if a SWAT team would struggle taking him down, the hell was I supposed to do? Besides, he'd probably be regretting this by the end of the day with or without me, knowing how things usually went for men who fought Daredevil using stupid gimmicks like that. I'd feel sympathy, but Wilbur Day was also an asshole most of the time, and pretty much deserved whatever was coming to him. Sure, in the comics he mellowed out before Punisher shot him in the face, buuuut… this wasn't that time yet.
Still, that was about the most eventful thing that happened on my walk, and I reached my modest apartment safe and sound, and settled in for a comfy nap about the second I was through the door.
I was awoken by my StarkTech SleepBuster mobile alarm clock, which waddled to the other side of my nightstand on its four little legs, and hopped off the side, forcing me to actually get up and turn it off. I sometimes hated myself for paying a frankly absurd price for the little guy… but it was definitely effective. I hadn't slept in on a day I wasn't supposed to, or missed an alarm, in the past three years I'd owned the adorable little guy. Almost made those robo-pets they sold look like a good idea, but a four-digit price tag for something like that was still way too much... Plus my building didn't allow pets.
Then came my morning routine… and once I was cleaned up, dressed, and had microwaved some leftover Chinese for breakfast, I pulled out the gunmetal box I'd been given as part of my appointment, and pressed the button recessed into the top. Near-instantly, I vanished in a flash of bright green… and found myself elsewhere.
That elsewhere being a rather cluttered room that looked one part bunker, one part machine shop, and one part closet of curios. I didn't know what half of the machines could possibly do, since they didn't look like any equipment I was personally familiar with. It was much the same for the glass cases filled with an absurd variety of technical doodads, everything from ray-guns and wristwatches all the way to technologically arcane metal boxes and robot heads.
"Miss Anderson, you are just on time. Perfect. I prefer punctuality." I turned, and saw a fairly unassuming older man with short gray hair and small round spectacles currently pouring over a robotic arm of some kind with a set of pliers and what looked like a tiny cattle prod. He hadn't even looked up from where he was working, and as I watched he shocked a component on the arm, making it wiggle its fingers and raise up slightly, before flopping lifelessly back onto the table.
Phineas Mason, also known as The Tinkerer, let out a dissatisfied grumble before finally looking up. "I assume you brought the payment with you? And did not forget that you are supposed to pay exclusively in cash."
Right, the other expense. The big one. The thing that I had had to put aside nearly half my startup money for... but considering what I was getting here, that was really a steal.
"Yeah, I've got it all." I nodded, and pulled out a pink plastic case from inside my jacket. "Right here. Twenty thousand dollars, in cash. It's all counted out and everything."
Tinkerer nodded, and to my surprise, a metal arm descended from the ceiling and plucked the case from my hand, traveling on a rail system to deposit it in front of him, who had pulled out a large boxy machine with a set of doors in the front. He opened it, placed my case in, and tapped away at the keypad and screen on the top. There was a loud whir, and then the doors opened.
Opening the case, Tinkerer removed the cash, then sent the empty case back over to me via the arm. "Yes, everything is in order. Follow me."
Standing up from his workstation, Tinkerer led me further back into the lab, through a very large door that looked like it belonged more in a submarine, and into a dark, vaultlike room. It was all very bare, though the lines and seams in the floor and walls spoke of probably something more. And at the center of it all was what I had purchased from Tinkerer.
A tall, bulky, humanoid suit of armor, with heavy shoulder pads, a harsh helmet with a single slit visor and three slits over the mouth. It was all painted up in silver, with red accents. I walked around it, marveling at seeing something like this up close, and knowing that it was now mine.
"One suit of refurbished Mark IV Crimson Dynamo Armor, originally put into service in 1978. Vintage, not a reproduction, though I have made some refurbishments: the Fall was quite unkind to advanced hardware like this. Everything is in working order, and all tests have shown it to perform slightly above the intended specifications in almost every category," Tinkerer explained.
"Normally, a suit like this would be far more expensive. However, your request to retain the analog systems and forgo any sort of artificial intelligence system or modern computing equipment cut down on the cost a great deal." Another mechanical arm handed me a folder that was filled with various papers and documents. "That is the technical specifications and further details on the armor. And also your warranty."
I looked through it briefly, then closed it before Tinkerer continued. "Normally, the armor would be very cumbersome to transport: as such, I have made some adjustments."
He flipped open the Dynamo's faceplate, and then revealed a hidden series of switches underneath a panel just under the collar. Flipping them in the proper order, the entire suit started to shift and whir, opening up for about ten seconds, before collapsing into a compact silver and red box that looked very much like a briefcase, and was about the same size. "The collapsing function will not work if there is someone in the armor, and this cannot be mechanically overridden without opening up the internals of the suit."
I nodded. "Wouldn't want to accidentally be crushed."
"Indeed. I prefer repeat customers." Tinkerer had the robot arm pass the suitcase over to me, which was surprisingly light. Tinkerer obviously saw me testing the weight, because he specifically made note of it. "Carborundum matrix alloy is remarkably light for the strength and durability it has. Really, it would be something of a miracle material if it were not for the radiation problem... It is still heavier than most modern suits of powered armor in the same size class, but the design was made to last."
"Definitely a plus." I finished messing around with the case, before turning my attention back to Tinkerer. "Is there anything else you need?"
The supervillain supplier shook his head. "Thank you for your patronage. And try not to get yourself killed. As I said before, I prefer repeat customers."
He pulled out a box similar to the one that I'd used to get here, and pressed the button… sending me back to my apartment.
I set the case and folder down… before pumping my fist in the air and letting out a whoop of laughter. I had just bought a suit of power armor. And better yet, I get to write that off as a business expense.IRS, eat your heart out!
With that dealt with, now I just had a bit more busywork to deal with… and then my adventures in the Marvel Universe could truly begin.
January, 2001
Queens, New York
Our first job came fairly quickly, and wasn't the most glamorous… but it was work, and it was honestly fairly rewarding. Maverick Solutions had been contracted by the F.E.A.S.T. Charity to provide some security for the newly opened Queens shelter on what was looking like a particularly busy week.
Apparently, there had been some break-ins at nearby homeless shelters and soup kitchens over the past few weeks, with some of them even being during operating hours. The perpetrators were even wearing costumes and using unusually advanced tech, thus a greater need for security. And thanks to my finagling, our rates were pretty good.
Thus, that cold January morning found Herman, Aleksei, and myself all inside the brightly lit and welcoming facility. It had a nice, new building sort of smell, like fresh lemons and mint, though that was mostly overpowered by the absolutely deliciousscent coming from the kitchens permeating the whole building. Plus, only a few of the workers got spooked when they saw The Shocker, The Rhino, and a repainted Crimson Dynamo hop out of a rental van with matching security uniforms on.
...Well, Alexsei was wearing a uniform, anyway. He'd specifically asked for one. It amounted to a gray hoodie with the words SECURITY RHINO in big white block text on the front and back, and he'd joked about taping something to his forehead when he'd first put it on. Apparently he tried to avoid wearing his new Hammertech suit when he didn't need it, and I couldn't really blame him considering what his old one had done.
Herman, on the other hand, was wearing basically a slightly cut down version of his normal costume, forgoing the mask and covering over the more recognizable gear with a blue winter coat and pants, with a security vest stuck overtop with SECURITY SHOCKER printed on it.
Then there was me. The CEO and owner of the company, and the best I could manage was an armband with the company name and logo. Turns out they don't make T-shirts sized for giant suits of very obviously Soviet style power armor, who knew? I'd plonked a Santa hat on my helmet to try to make up the difference and make myself more approachable.
Only one of the shelter's employees had to be convinced we weren't there to rob anyone. I think the somewhat-matching uniforms helped, but honestly, I was expecting way worse. F.E.A.S.T. hired good people, it seemed.
"Is very strange, no? What kind of asshole breaks into homeless shelter during winter?" Aleksei rumbled.
"I got nothing big guy. From what I've heard they mostly just trashed the places, and didn't really steal much." Herman shrugged. "Even more of a dick move."
"I'll say. Just sounds like someone just being a jackass." I still wasn't quite used to the harsh metallic echo the suit's speakers gave my voice. "Still, with all three of us here, there shouldn't be much trouble."
Aleksei barked out a laugh. "That is great understatement! Imagine, being thug who walks in here, and sees us. Like man who walks into bar, they will say 'Ouch!', and probably run!"
Rhino was too busy laughing at his own joke to notice that nobody else was.
Still chuckling at his joke, Aleksei wandered off to walk around the floor as people started to file in, since it was nearly time for lunch to be served.
Herman shook his head and sighed before chuckling slightly. "Well, it's always good to see that no matter what, I'll always have a better sense of humor than him."
I just shook my head. "At least he's having a good time. I was worried you guys might be bored with stuff like this."
Herman waved me off with a genuine laugh. "Boss, lemme tell you, this is goddamn paradise compared with some of the stuff I've dealt with. There's heat, it doesn't smell like a flaming garbage pile, and I'm not getting shot at or punched by a certain web-slinger. And, I'm gonna be able to collect a paycheck at the end of next week that isn't just more dirty cash."
"Well, when you put it like that..."
He shrugged. "Well, I'll definitely get shot at at some point, but that ain't anything new."
I tapped the forehead of my helmet. "Pretty much. But I guess that's kind of a normal issue when you put on a costume of any kind."
"Man, sucks to be a clown in a town like this!" Shocker smirked.
We both shared a laugh about that, until one of the shelter volunteers moved over to us. "Do you two need anything?"
I looked her over for a moment… and was very glad for the Dynamo MK IV's support frame… because otherwise I would probably have fallen over and embarrassed myself. She was an older woman, with entirely gray hair done up in a bun. That, by itself, wasn't really noteworthy. What was however, was the nametag on her shirt, which had her name in very clear lettering. 'May Parker'.
Holy fucking shit. I knew that the legendary Aunt May would be working for F.E.A.S.T. when it would be chronologically introduced in a few years… but I hadn't expected her to be here now. I suppose it makes sense though. This is a time when Peter's moved out… god, it's incredibly surreal to be thinking about the fact that these are real living, breathing people, not just characters on a page.
I've been reading their stories for so long… and it's kinda trippy that I feel so much familiarity towards people who I've never actually met in person. Still, I didn't want to let any of that show.
"Thank you for asking, Mrs. Parker. I'm fine at the moment though," I replied, popping my faceplate open to speak.
Herman shrugged. "If you guys have a pot of coffee brewed?"
May directed him over towards the kitchen, and told him to talk to Kayla. Then, she turned back to me. "I can't thank you enough for this, by the way. People have been so worried, what with all the things happening…"
I smiled, and nodded. "Don't worry about it, it's probably just some stupid goons who got their hands on some kind of supertech and think they're the next Masters of Evil. If they show up here, they'll be in for a bad time."
Then I turned back towards the entrance, fully expecting the door to fly off its poor hinges now that I'd said that. But, thankfully, there was nothing. "Okay, false alarm."
At May's confused expression, I explained. "Fifty-Fifty chance that saying that would suddenly make whoever's been attacking the shelters show up." We both shared a laugh at that.
"You know, my nephew says things like that all the time. And I've noticed it tends to be true." May replied. "Even if it's like you said, I still can't imagine why someone would do all of that, especially around this time of year…"
Before I could answer, the doors of the F.E.A.S.T. building were suddenly kicked off their hinges, and a group of five garishly clad individuals piled in. "NOBODY MOVE!"
I blinked, faceplate already snapping into place.
The intruders were a… colorful bunch. Colorful, as in most of them looked like they had raided a Thrift Store for their outfits.
In the lead, there was a man in a neon yellow fur-lined winter coat and a banana colored balaclava with welding goggles over his eyes. He'd very obviously spray-painted an image of a 'Caution, Lasers in Use' warning sign on his shirt, probably because he was carrying a large, boxy energy rifle of some sort, which had been kitted out with a bunch of really stupid tactical attachments. There were at least three rails welded messily onto the gun, with an assortment of laser sights, grips, and scopes. The gun itself also had some panels removed, and what looked like more cables and a very large energy cell also shoved in it.
The one next to him was a guy in a massive, bulky suit of Power Armor, taller than even I was in my own armor, with an extended head and visible eye-slit, along with large cables that connected from his shoulders, to his arms, one of which was a large cannon, and finally linking in with his legs. Oh my gods… was that a Mandroid Mark 1? S.H.I.E.L.D. stopped using those before I was even born! It also had 'Droid-Man' spray painted on the front.
Then, there was a giant of a man wearing heavy black tactical gear, which kind of looked like semi-used SWAT Gear mixed with an off-brand EOD Suit, with a black ballistic mask covering his face. He was holding a sledgehammer, and had one of those cheap 'My Name Is' name tags, which proudly read 'Jerry'.
The last two were a girl in biker leathers, with obnoxiously purple hair, a hannya mask, carrying a long Japanese sword that was currently shrouded in a blazing field of energy… and finally, a Robot. Like, a fairly generic looking gray humanoid robot, with heavily segmented limbs and torso, along with a head that looked kind of like an old bulky TV set. On its chest was stamped the serial number 'R-001LMTD'.
"And who are you guys supposed to be?" Herman asked nonchalantly, having come back out with his cup of coffee. He was very obviously not taking them very seriously. "The Bargain-Bin Baddies?"
The guy with the laser gun growled. "We are the Fearsome Five! Sound Off!"
With that, he cocked his gun… which had that, for some reason. "Toastmaster, the Lord of Lasers!"
The guy in the Mandroid raised his gun arm. "The Deadly Droid-Man!"
The tacticool enforcer-looking guy thumped his chest. "Your worst nightmare… JERRY THE BREAKER!"
The girl with the sword took up a defensive stance that she had clearlylearned from watching too many action movies. "The greatest swordswoman in Queens… Odachi!"
Finally, the robot made several beeping noises, and its face-screen lit up, displaying the words "I am Mister Roboto. I have come here to destroy you. "
Herman and I just stood there for a moment, turned to look at one another, and then back at the group of absolute goobers standing in front of us. We had to resist bursting out into open laughter. Then Aleksei wandered up, having found a Santa Hat of his own somewhere, along with a matching coat in his size somehow. "Oh ho! Has entertainment for the day made it's arrival? Excellent!"
He clapped his hands. "Aww, look at all these tiny babies. You see Herman, they are out on their first crime spree. Is precious, no?"
Herman shook his head. "It would be, if they hadn't decided to spend it knocking over shelters and soup kitchens. What are you guys even doing that for?" I noticed that as he addressed the 'Fearsome Five', he shifted his hands, causing the knuckleduster-like apertures of his Shock Gauntlets to slide out over his fists.
It was Toastmaster, the obvious frontman of the group, who responded, not noticing the growing sense of menace in the room directed at him. "We got some good intel that an old gangster hid a lot of loot in the walls of one of these old shelters, and we want to grab it!"
Before Herman, Aleksei, or I could respond, instead it was May who shouted at the would-be supervillains. "This facility was just finished last month! There's been no suspicious activity since construction started last year. Your imaginary treasure isn't here, so I'm going to have to ask you to leave!"
"Oh like we're gonna believe that you old bag!" Toastmaster yelled way too loudly, pointing his gun at May. "We're not leaving until we get our loot."
"Alright. That's enough." I stepped in front of May, and activated my own gauntlet-based weaponry, as my lower arms suddenly crackled with electricity. "You've been asked to leave, and I'm going to advise you to please do so."
This time, it was Droid-Man who decided to take a crack. "Oh, like we're scared of some Rent-a-Guards. I'm betting that isn't even real Dynamo Armor. And compared to my top-shelf S.H.I.E.L.D. tech, it's dogshit!"
I cocked my head to the side, absolutely flabbergasted by both his stupidity, and his arrogance. "Well, I guess I can say you've got balls." Then, I looked at May. "You guys have supervillain insurance, right?"
She nodded. "Mister Li picked up Damage Control's Plus Policy."
I grinned behind my faceplate, before turning back towards the Goober Group. "Herman, Aleksei, let's take these clowns outside. Less collateral damage."
And with that, we moved. Herman pulled his mask down from under his hood, and raised his hands towards Droid-Man and Mister Roboto. I hadn't ever seen Shocker's gauntlets in action before, just a few shots of them on the news, so I wasn't expecting the sheer sudden burst of noise. Twin rippling tunnels of compressed air slammed into the pair of clowns, knocking them back out of the shelter. Aleksei followed up on that, charging forwards with footfalls that shook the building, impacting Jerry and carrying him through the hole in the front. I calmly walked forwards, ignoring the several blasts from Toastmaster's gun. Yeah, it was pretty much exactly what I thought it was. A hot-modded AIM laser gun. A very poorly hot-modded AIM Laser Gun. I was so focused on examining the jury-rigged weapon that I didn't even notice Odachi run up to me and swing her massive weapon at the side of my neck… only for it to bounce off, the blade making a very unfortunate chipping sound as it hit the repainted armor. Now, Carborundum is often called 'a poor man's Adamantium', but that's drastically undervaluing its durability and strength. The alloy that my suit was made of could bounce an Adamantium blade, let alone cheap energized steel.
I looked down at Odachi, who was staring at her chipped sword with an expression of horror. "Mail Order Ninja Gear?" I asked, and she nodded mutely. "Figured."
And then I reached down and zapped her, knocking her out cleanly and instantly. Gods, I love comic book tech. Of course, Toastmaster hadn't stopped firing at me… even if his gun was currently ominously smoking. I just sighed again, and just waited. It took less than a minute for something to give… and with a very sad poof, several small explosions went off in the erstwhile villain's gun, and he dropped it with a pained shout as it glowed red hot and then melted into sludge before disintegrating in a flash of blue energy. Then I zapped him as well.
"Sorry about the mess…" I turned to May, shaking my head. She just waved me off.
"It's fine. I've seen worse after hero fights."
With a nod, I picked up Odachi and Toastmaster's insensate bodies, and joined my employees outside.
It… wasn't going well for the 'Fearsome Five'. Jerry the Breaker had been planted like a tree in the concrete, and was struggling to pull himself out, swearing up a storm of "FUCK YOU!"'s while Mister Roboto was missing his arms and was laying unmoving against a tree. Herman and Aleksei were now both moving towards Droid-Man, who was turning to try and run, his boot-jets activating… only for me to do much the same as I dropped Odachi and Toastmaster, and tackled the power armored criminal out of the air. We crashed to the ground in the middle of the F.E.A.S.T. center's yard, and I almost immediately tore off the front part of his suit, pulling him out.
"So. How about that 'top shelf S.H.I.E.L.D. gear?"
Before he could respond, I zapped him. "Right, did anyone call the cops?"
As it turned out, someone had. It took about five minutes for New York's finest to show up, and things were awkward for a little bit. After all, Herman and Aleksei were here, thus they were automatically more than a little suspicious. But, May and I were able to smooth things over, so nothing escalated too far, and the 'Fearsome Five' were carted off to jail. Apparently, the four organic ones had recently raided a police lockup, and gotten their gear (and Robot) from there. Well, except Odachi, who had already had her sword. Which explained a lotabout her gimmick and the cheapness of the weapon.
I had a feeling that this wasn't the last time I'd see this band of goobers though. Eh, wouldn't particularly be surprising.
Damage Control showed up about a half hour later, by which time the three of us had put up some temporary tarps to try and waylay the cold. That meeting was also awkward, since quite a few of the DC agents were not happy to see Aleksei there. I… couldn't entirely blame them, and neither could he.
"I am not most… discerning, yes, discerning when it comes to running through city. Makes cleanup crews unhappy…"
I just patted him on the arm, and reassured him that nothing too bad had happened this time. It didn't even take much time for them to fix the building, and then everything was back to business as usual. Nothing particularly eventful happened over the rest of the day, so things were nice and chill.
Aleksei found the rest of the oversized Santa Suit, which apparently belonged to Ben Grimm when he'd helped out near when the Shelter had opened, and spent the rest of the evening regaling the kids at the shelter with stories of his exploits against Spider-Man. With the actual threat dealt with, Herman and I also spent the rest of our time at F.E.A.S.T. helping serve food. Herman also retrofitted one of the tables that had been broken in the 'Fearsome Five's' attack, and turned it into a really good air-hockey table, which was a big success.
Eventually, everything wrapped up, and we left in the van, but not before May pressed several tins of homemade cookies into my hands. Hey, I wasn't going to say no to cookies from Aunt May. The payout for the job wasn't the highest, but it was still pay, and it was enough to let me pay all the necessary bills for the month, with more than enough to pay my employees.
So, all in all, everything had gone very well for our first job.
Our next few over the course of the month were very similar. Relatively local protection jobs, bodyguarding, that sort of thing. And none of them were as eventful as the F.E.A.S.T. job. No attacks by supervillains, wannabe or otherwise, so no fighting was necessary at all. I didn't even need to go on all five of the jobs we'd taken.
Maverick Solutions was off to a good start, if a low-key one.
At least, until the final week of January, when I sat down at my desk to read my email, and found one at the very top of my inbox.
From: Wilson Fisk Charitable Foundation
Subject: January 30th Marlene Vistain Memorial Hospital Charity Gala Security Contract
I very nearly spit out my tea all over my monitor.
"Well. Fuck