"Aron, are you in finance?"
"Well... let's say I work in international credit. Mostly with foreign markets. Local institutions don't recognize it."
"Young and ambitious, I like that."
The evening passed in a relaxed mood.
Over dinner at the Parkers', Aron successfully met Peter Parker's whole family and two of his friends: Ned and Gwen.
Especially Gwen.
Because, according to his knowledge... Ned means he's in the MCU version of Spider-Man, the third iteration, Tom Holland's version.
And in that version, there is no Gwen Stacy.
The main love interest is MJ, Michelle Jones.
But Gwen is here now. And not as some random character.
"This clearly isn't the Gwen from her Spider-Verse..."
Aron was cautious inside.
In Marvel, nothing is simple. Multiverses, variants, timelines—anything is possible. Who knows who'll wear the mask in the end?
—
Soon.
Dinner was over.
For Aron, it was the most relaxed day since he arrived in this world.
Before he left, he exchanged contacts with everyone and thanked May for the hospitality.
He returned home.
"You know... if this Marvel world didn't have all that horror, it would be a pretty pleasant place to live."
He lay on the sofa, satisfied, staring at the ceiling.
No Thanos.
No Chitauri.
No crazy gods, robots, or collapsing reality.
Actually, if there's no apocalypse, the Marvel world is a great place to retire.
The neighbors are friendly, the street is quiet.
"The only problem is... a serious lack of entertainment."
Aron pulled out his phone.
The Marvel world has a serious technological dissonance. On one hand: Tony Stark, artificial intelligence, nanotech, miniature nuclear fusion.
On the other hand?
People still use phones with sliding screens.
Or phones with bezels thicker than an aircraft carrier's supports.
The gap between military and civilian tech here is like the Grand Canyon.
And when it comes to the entertainment industry?
A straight disaster.
A few games that aren't even close to those from Aron's previous world. Not a single mega-hit franchise. Not a single serious MMO. And VR? Not even a trace.
"You've got holograms but no VR goggles. Ridiculous."
People here simply didn't know how to dream.
If it were up to him, he'd build them a whole world of sandbox games, mobile titles, interactive AI visuals...
But for now, he had to settle for what existed.
He unlocked his phone and opened the only semi-decent game: Superleague Celebrity Clash.
Cross-universe MOBA. Marvel vs. DC. Hulking Arena. A classic clone between League of Legends and Arena of Valor.
"Batman mid! If you're not playing rotation, give him up now! Check your stats!"
He logged in.
And immediately dove into a heated, friendly, ultra-toxic exchange with his team.
"You lost the file! And you're still asking for the location?!"
Aron looked at his in-game username. It read: [FloridaDon'tFeedIdlers].
"If you rotate without pinging again, you'll see what five arrows per second means!"
In the middle of a heated online match argument, Aron had already locked in Batman for his slot. Fifth floor, standard lane. No one wanted to give in.
Result?
Of course, a loss.
"You picked Batman again?!"
"Do you even know what Bat Arrows are, bro?!"
At the end of the match, [FloridaDon'tFeedIdlers] started writing essays in global chat.
Aron's expression grew darker and darker.
Second match. Same lobby.
Same name. Same teammate. And same result. Another loss.
"Batman! Again!"
"And you wonder why we're sinking?!"
"Bro, if you're such a Bat-fan, go watch the animation! You don't have to ruin our matches!"
Aron was already at the edge. His face was cold as steel.
"[FloridaDon'tFeedIdlers], huh? Alright. Stay online and wait…"
He pulled out the magical book he had borrowed earlier from Kamar-Taj.
Flipping through it.
"Too bad I don't have a spell for a slap over Wi-Fi yet…"
"But… we can try something else."
—
Kamar-Taj.
Wong raised an eyebrow when he heard the story.
"So… you're doing all this because of a rage quit in a game?"
Aron didn't answer. He just stared at the book.
Wong sighed and handed him the appropriate tome.
"I don't understand your priorities, but... here. Find his location."
With location magic and the demon already bound to his energy, he quickly found the target.
Florida.
A small town.
User: FloridaDon'tFeedIdlers.
"I'm coming for you personally."
He opened a portal. Snapped his fingers. And stepped through it.
—
On the other side.
In a room full of posters and mess, a thirteen-year-old kid sat slouched in a chair, playing on his phone and spewing poison over voice chat.
"Oh, look! Superman falls like a sack of potatoes!"
"Haha, Iron Man as ADC? Man, go play Flappy Bird!"
Clicking keyboard, mocking, loud laughter.
And then...
Silence.
Because when he turned around, he saw someone in the room.
Unknown. Dark. Too big.
He stood quietly, but the room turned cold.
"Who… who are you?!"
His voice trembled.
Aron leaned forward. A demonic version of Batman's mask formed on his face, distorted, terrifying, with eyes glowing blood red.
"What do you think?"
"You… you're… Batman?!"
"Exactly."
Clap of hands.
Step forward.
The kid screamed.
"Help! Batman's hitting me! BATMAN IS BEATING PEOPLE!"
The scream echoed down the street.
—
Moral?
Kids don't understand the line between fun and consequences.
And Aron?
Aron wasn't reasonable.
He was playing.
And he wasn't joking.