Disclaimer: I do not own the rights for any of the preexisting characters. This novel is made merely for entertainment purposes.
A/N: Hey, it's me again. Your friendly neighborhood author! Just wanted to give you a heads up, after the birthday is over, I'll be speeding up a bit. I wanted to take my time to set the foundation for the story, even if I took my sweet time doing so, which feels weird to say seeing as this is merely chapter 10, but I do write a lot so, yeah. Stay tuned for that. Anyways, let me stop yapping, enjoy!
A/N 2: TL;DR: I fucked up with the difference in time zone, if you don't care about details like this, ignore this note and just skip to the start of the chapter, as it probably won't matter to you either way.
For those who pay attention to detail though. Hey it's me author from the future, I don't wanna waste your time so let me give it to you raw–pause–I fucked up. So I kind of forgot to check the difference in time zones between NY and Tibet (which should be close to Kamar-Taj in the world of Marvel). And as it turns out, there is a tiny time difference of around 10 fucking hours, so if Damian arrives at Kamar-Taj after school, at around 3-4 p.m. it should be 1-2 a.m. over there, being that they are 10 hours ahead. I will keep this in mind for future travels (or maybe I'll just ignore it completely like the MCU Strange movies do, for some reason), but forget about all the wrong references I made to the time of day during previous visits.
…
August 2nd, 2012. Somewhere in the Himalayas.
As the first rays of the early morning draped Kamar-Taj in its golden silks, the first light of the sun glinted against far-off snowcaps. In the Ancient One's chamber–open to the sweeping valleys–the air was still, perfumed by the faint aroma of Silver Needle tea cooling on a low lacquered table.
Before the Ancient One floated a disc of rippling light, a conjured reflection of the training grounds. A slightly tired Wong stood at his side, hands clasped behind his back, his composure tight, his eyes pinned to the image.
Inside that reflection, Damian moved like the maestro of an orchestra. Water spiraled in ribbons around him, perfectly mimicking the phenomena of flowing streams. Then, Fire coiled in counterpoint, not raging but dancing, passionate and defiant in spirit. Its flares bending in delicate arcs like petals opening to the sun. Afterwards, Wind braided itself through it all, forming sharp constructs before quickly recovering their free form patterns, dancing along Damian's hands.
No chants. No mudras. No codified postures of the mystic arts. The boy stood with his palms open, his motions improvised and unstructured, almost casual, yet the elements obeyed when he called upon them. Not out of forcefulness, but by way of a speech that he couldn't hear, even if he were to be standing right next to Damian.
The Ancient One's expression remained tranquil, but his thoughts sharpened. 'It really is no coincidence. He is truly having a dialogue.'
Wong exhaled through his nose, restraining his disbelief.
"He's not commanding them…" he said, his voice low, weighted with unease. "…They're answering him."
The Ancient One inclined his head. His eyes glowed faintly in the dimness as if reflecting an unseen truth. "Not answering, Wong. Speaking."
Wong hesitated, then lowered his voice further, a note of disbelief creeping in despite his discipline.
"That… that should not be possible. Not for a mortal. Not since-"
"Since Agamotto," the Ancient One finished with the calm weight of truth. "And before him, Dormammu. the Faltine. Those who do not merely shape the aspects… but hear them speak."
Wong's brows furrowed, his tone grave. "If what you say is true, Master… if the boy walks the same path as those beings, then should his heart ever falter–should he ever be tempted by corruption-"
The Ancient One finally turned his head, his expression unyielding but not unkind. "Then it will be our duty, Wong, to ensure that does not happen. That mistake must never be repeated."
Wong bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment, though his jaw was tight. "Even so… the risk-"
"There is no such risk," the Ancient One's tone did not sharpen, yet it left no room for doubt. His gaze returned to the reflection, to the boy who now wove flame and wind together like threads in an unseen loom.
"What drives corruption is the surrender of self. Mortals who cannot hear the aspects must embody them–become vessels–giving up control to borrow power. Damian does not borrow. He does not submit. He speaks. And they answer. They speak. And he answers."
The words lingered in the dim chamber like an invocation of inevitability. Wong allowed a slow exhale, though his eyes remained uneasy. "Even so, Master… the weight of what this means…"
The Ancient One's voice softened, not with weakness, but with something measured and immutable. "It means only this: his path will not be like any we have taught before."
In the reflection, Damian now dispersed the gathered forces. The fire guttered into sparks that kissed the wind before vanishing. Water streamed away into the thirsty earth. The lightning vanished in sparks after leaving an explosion of black snow where a dummy once stood. The training ground was quiet once more. Save for the young man at its heart, breathing out a laugh too distant for them to hear.
There Damian glanced at his phone, muttered something under his breath, and began walking toward the stone steps leading back into the temple halls. His hands were relaxed at his sides, yet the three tomes; Energy, Space, and Time still orbited him in gentle arcs like planets around a sun.
Wong noticed and murmured, almost to himself, "Even when he walks away, the elements seem reluctant to let him go."
The Ancient One gave no answer, his eyes fixed on the fading figure in the reflection. Only when Damian disappeared into the corridors did he finally speak, a quiet echo that brushed the air like the whisper of fate. "And neither will destiny."
…
The chamber was as serene as the first time Damian had seen it. Open to the vast horizon of the valleys, the soft light of dawn painted the world in hues of gold. The Ancient One stood at the far end, facing the view, hands clasped behind his back, as though he had been expecting this moment.
Damian stepped inside quietly, the polished wood cool beneath his sneakers. The three tomes; Energy, Space, and Time hovered dutifully behind him, orbiting his frame like obedient satellites.
He cleared his throat lightly. "I'm done with the task, old man," he said, trying to be casual but failing to hide the faint edge of pride in his voice. "And, uh… I have to head back home. There are a few things I need to take care of."
The Ancient One did not turn immediately. Instead, he allowed the silence to linger for a heartbeat longer before speaking, his voice low and even. "You have done well."
Damian raised a brow, surprised at the rare compliment. Before he could respond, the Ancient One finally turned, his gaze calm yet unreadable. "If you must leave, then go. But…"
He extended his fingers ever so slightly. On the lacquered table to his right, a neat stack of books began to rise, each bound in deep tones of ebony with gold details. They floated toward Damian in a graceful arc, settling before him, suspended in the air.
Damian blinked. "Uh… I might have said to Drumm that I really love reading, but care to explain why my arms are about to be sore for the next week?"
The Ancient One allowed a faint smile at the exaggerated remark, then spoke with measured clarity. "These are copies of all the works you will need to progress from a novice to a more proper practitioner of the mystic arts. Mudras, chants, introductory tomes to incantations, sigils and spellcasting, as well as an initial discourse on relics. Study them with diligence. Master them not as tricks, but as a new language."
Damian reached out and touched the topmost book, feeling the weight of responsibility more than the weight of leather and said with a small smile. "Guess there goes my weekend."
The Ancient One ignored the joke, his tone turning just a shade more formal. "Once you are grounded in these principles, then–and only then–may you begin to explore the tomes that have bound themselves to you." His eyes flicked toward the three ancient volumes orbiting Damian. "Energy. Time. Space. They chose you. They will wait. But you will approach them with discipline, not with haste."
Damian nodded, a touch more serious now. "Understood."
The Ancient One inclined his head slightly, then continued, "You are welcome here whenever you wish to practice. These grounds are yours as much as any disciple's. And should questions arise…" his eyes softened just enough to make the words feel personal, "…you may seek counsel from Wong. Or from me."
For a moment, Damian simply stood there, the breeze of dawn curling around them like a whisper of incense smoke. Finally, he smirked faintly. "You know, for someone who likes being mysterious, you're… oddly supportive."
The Ancient One's lips curved in the faintest ghost of amusement. "Do not mistake support for complacency, Mr. Rossi. You walk a rare path. I intend to see that you do not walk it alone."
Damian met his gaze, gave a curt nod–one part gratitude, one part unspoken respect. Then turned toward the doorway, a stack of new knowledge between his hands. And the three tomes followed in silent procession, like shadows of a destiny he hasn't yet seen.
But before he could leave completely, he turned around and asked with a bit of awkwardness. "By the way… Are there any spells for dimensional storages in the books I have, it will be kinda awkward to walk around with these around all week otherwise." He said with a cheeky smile.
With the same expression as before, the Ancient One answered. "I do believe the 'Introduction to Incantations' touches upon that topic, even in a basic form. But the real tome of space around you might give you a surprise should that not suffice."
Giddy with relief at having found his first spatial storage option, he turned around and left in a rush while saying. "Got it, thanks old man! Your clairvoyance is really handy at times like these."
As he crossed the threshold, the Ancient One returned his eyes to the endless valley beyond, his voice barely audible to the wind. "You are welcome, child. Since you seek to protect. Let us hope you learn what must be sacrificed to do so."
…
Back in his home, Damian checked his phone again, seeing as it was barely a quarter past six, he carefully arranged all the leather bound tomes in a bag in his closet. And after some 'convincing', he managed to put the three tomes bound to him in the bag too, promising that he will pick them up again as soon as he can, even if he wasn't sure the books could understand him.
Yet they seemed to be able to as they reluctantly complied.
With that out of the way, he changed his clothes for a set of black sweatpants, dark gray hoodie with a pair of black gloves and brandless sneakers with a black ski mask that only left a small slit for his eyes and a pair of sunglasses to top it all off.
This was his usual get up while training around the city, as he wasn't dumb enough to let anyone see his face as he suddenly materialized out of thin air.
Even then, he made sure to jump in between alleys and blind spots freed of cameras, he had that luxury as he had practically marked 80% of New York already. The remaining 20% being either places with suspicious activity of the government kind or places with heavy electronic surveillance, but he will try to cover even those starting from today. From a safe distance, of course.
As he hopped around while juggling spheres of elements as he was still quite marveled at the simple yet incredible application of Ecocentric magic, Damian came across the start of what should have been a grueling scene.
A man was holding a woman against the wall of this alleyway, muffling her screams with his mouth as he dished out the usual dipshit threats of "Shut up or I'll kill you, no one will hear you here, blah, blah, blah."
And Damian wasn't having none of it, without saying a single word, he left the elemental spheres in place as he didn't have a need for them to deal with this scumbag, nor did he want to startle the woman into racially profiling him as a 'filthy and dangerous mutant'.
Then he rushed at the man, his steps too light to be heard by the untrained ear, even less for this seemingly inebriated bastard. Once he got behind the man, he grabbed him by the hair as he kicked the back of his knee, making him kneel as he hit him once from the back and sent him to the ground, purposely leaving him conscious.
Turning to look at the woman, he intentionally faked a much deeper voice than his own. "Call the police, don't worry about him, I'll hold him down."
With a grateful "thank you," from the woman, she took off towards the main street as she pulled out her phone.
Now left alone with the man, he turned to look at him as any semblance of humanity left his body. "So you like raping women in broad daylight, huh?" He said as the man got up, charging at him in order to hit him back.
Finding his clumsiness hilarious, he sidestepped as he connected a hook straight to the man's liver, this time with enough force to take the air out of his lungs and make him kneel on his own. "You like overpowering the weak, huh?" He said as he stomped down on the man's knee with enough force to cripple his leg.
The man screamed in agony, confused at the sudden turn of events. But his screams only reminded Damian of who would have been screaming for help if he didn't happen to teleport here.
"What happened, didn't you like to make others scream in pain? Never thought one day you'd be the one screaming like a little bitch?" After saying such, Damian grabbed the man in an armbar, slowly increasing the pressure and likewise making the man slowly feel the pain.
"S-STOP! PLEASE! I'M SORRY!!" The man screamed in suffering.
Momentarily stopping, the man was given false hope as he heard chilling words. "Mm, did you ever stop when your victims asked you to?"
Those were the last words spoken before a snap was heard as the man's arm broke at the elbow. "AGH! IT HURTS! AHH!" Was all he could say while rolling in the ground.
Now standing on his feet, Damian looked coldly at the man as he spoke. "You're a really lucky fella, you know? I believe in rehabilitation for most criminals, as one day I will cure the deviancies of the human mind so you all can repent properly. So congratulations, you won't be having your skull bashed in." He said with a tone that dripped in mock happiness and sarcasm.
Once he said that, Damian grabbed the grown man and picked him up by his collar, as if he was as light as a feather, before stating his last words. "I sincerely hope you repent after this. Because there are not third chances in life. Next time you pull shit like this, I will find you, and when I do, you'll beg me to kill you."
Those were the last words the man heard before everything went black, as Damian knocked him out cold, throwing him to the ground and teleporting to a different location as the police sirens were starting to get close. And as if nothing happened, he resumed his practice.
[That was…] Commented Eva.
'Cruel?' He asked for her sincere opinion.
[Not enough, I would've crushed his balls, we can always heal him at a later date.] She said.
Feeling a shiver run through his spine, he answered. 'I could have done more, but I don't wanna go overboard. That was a precaution in order for him to not be able to go around doing this shit again in the short term. As I can't really track him like I threatened to.'
[For now.] Eva added.
'Yeah, for now. Once our powers reach a certain threshold and we can cure ailments of the mind like Jean Grey and Emma Frost can, we can truly try to rehabilitate people like him.'
Being met with Eva's measured silence, he chose to go back to practicing as he kept alternating between telekinesis, telepathy and Ecocentric manipulation, sometimes combining two or more disciplines to up the difficulty.
After two hours of this practice and without encountering any more unsavory situations, he teleported back home and after putting his edgy getup on the washing machine, he spent the next hour and a half, almost two, practicing the 'Hercules Method'. Feeling amazed at how rapidly his body reacted to this training.
Stopping himself once the clock ticked at 9 o'clock, he answered some texts from friends before hopping on the shower. As he dried himself, he put on his past lives habitual comfy 'house fit', which consisted of a pair of boxers and shorts, and got to cooking. Tonight they were having seared scallops and pancetta with a side of prosciutto and arugula. Keeping both high protein and good taste on the menu.
As he finished cooking, the clock marked a quarter past ten, still no signs of Natasha, and as he waited for 10 more minutes, he got a text from her saying: "Hey, I'll be home late, eat without me. Sorry."
So after sighing to himself, he answered: "Got it. I prepared dinner already, I'll leave it in the fridge. Take care, love you."
"Well, seems it's just the two of us tonight, partner." He said as he started to dig in.
[Too bad, guess my favorite drama show will have to wait.] Answered Eva with sarcasm.
"Ey, you shouldn't otherize an innocent man's suffering like that, it's bad taste." Damian answered with equal sarcasm.
[Thank god innocent men aren't fucking their aunts then.] She threw a jab at him.
"Ugh, touché." Was the only thing he could answer.
Some more bickering later, he cleaned the dishes before going to his room, where he stayed reading the books the Ancient One had given him until midnight, and yet he heard no signals of someone entering the house.
Putting the book back in the bag, he laid down as he pondered. 'Man, sometimes I wish I had absorbed the Bat instead of Grayson. I don't need to sleep as much as I used to, but I could really use some extra hours of the day.'
[Good thing that you can always catch him like a pokemon whenever you want.] Commented Eva.
'Yeah, how about we do that now? I could use some more detective skills before hopping worlds.'
And so, after a brief 'fishing' session, Damian caught the data set of the Bat and threw him into his central garden as he was too lazy to do the priming right now and went to sleep.
…
August 13, 2012. Somewhere in Bayside, Queens.
The last days have been quite complex for Damian, after the moment he had with Natasha, she has been avoiding him like the plague ever since. Gone to who knows where on a mission for the last two weeks.
Their relationship seemingly going back to square one. Something he struggled to come to terms with. But he tried to reason internally–maybe that is for the best.
So he tried his best to act like nothing happened. Tried to act unbothered, calm and collected. Calm. And. Collected.
In the meantime, he has been devouring mystical tomes as if they were straight meth.
Before his first week ended, he already completed the basics. Taking even the old man by surprise. Since then, he has been hollin' himself down in the library of Kamar-Taj when he is not hanging around the gang. Celebrating birthday's like Miles or Peter's. Hanging out with MJ. Helping Gwen with some science projects.
Anything to distract his mind from the glaring problems back home, a certified Damian classic. And still, this proved remarkably difficult, as after absorbing the intelligence of Mr. Terrific, Damian was reading and learning as fast as a college student could shotgun a can of beer.
So aside from dabbling in more advanced mystical arts knowledge, he speedran the whole content for his last year of high school and had already started to read on college level books, dipping his toe in physics, biology, math, chemistry, etc.
That aside, he could already start reading the tomes of energy, space and time that followed him from the New York Sanctum's library, but comprehending them truly presented a challenge beyond what he expected, as he hadn't even made his way half-through to any of the tomes yet.
At least the problem didn't seem to be about reading comprehension itself. It just took time for a human brain to comprehend the ways in which these forces functioned in the real world, even for someone of his level of intellect. It also didn't help that he tries to be more analytical with his applications of magic rather than to blindly rely on his talent.
Even then, the gains proved spectacular. He has become much more adept at understanding the intent from the aspects, his control of energies became much more efficient and smooth with the mystical arts, and that translated partially to his general control of energy.
His awareness of space likewise boomed forwards, he had developed an uncanny sense of spatial awareness by way of feeling the thin layers of mystical energy on his surroundings. Even without the enhancements of Eva's 100% mode, he could perceive the surrounding 100 metre radius (For the US crowd at the back, the conversion for yards is 1 metre = 1.1 yard), and take that up to 250 m if he tried hard enough, although processing all the information at once proved a bit too cumbersome for battle.
So, stealing a page from Jack Thayne's book, he developed his own perception sphere and imitated the screenshot mechanism of Jake, being able to 'take a snapshot' of everything in a radius of 500 metres without getting sensory overload.
The only thing giving him a slight headache was the aspect of time, as while he did progress in the mystical usage of time, the inner workings of such still eluded him, not due to insufficient brain power. But because the human mind was not designed to understand time in the way it actually functions.
Still, he had made progress in utilizing spells that could slow down or accelerate time in a small area to a degree, but his own scientific application of the time-dilation bubble proved more effective than his current usage of the aspect of time, mostly due to him having perfected the ability with his newfound brain power and his conversely lack of mastery of the aspect, as talented as he naturally was.
Another piece of good news was that he was progressing smoothly on the hercules method, and as a side effect all the minor imperfections and blemishes in his body had disappeared, giving him an appearance that looked more perfect the more you stared at him.
Which was not all that great for someone that prefers to not be the center of attention all the time. Suffering from success they say.
Oh and he also finished absorbing the modified data set of Batman. Which after some editing was brought down to Bruce intelligence, his combat skills and knowledge on technology. However, he also found out through this absorption that he couldn't 'stack attributes'.
To put it in simple game-like terms, he couldn't absorb two similar attributes of the same tier and expect an upgrade to his own attributes. It wasn't a 1 + 1 = 2 situation. What absorbing Wayne's intelligence did was supplement the parts of his brain where Bruce had Mr. Terrific, Grayson and Damian beat in, like his detective skills. So while he didn't double his INT stat so to say, his intelligence covered broader areas now.
Which made sense, otherwise he could just fish the same three data sets over and over again and infinitely enhance himself otherwise. Anyways, there was also the data set from Ichiro Inuyashiki, an old man from an anime where he got transformed into a robot.
Why choose this data set you might wonder? That's because the old man gained some insane abilities after becoming a robot, which includes but is not limited to: A robotic body that does not age, is immune to biological diseases, can repair itself as long as it's not completely destroyed at once and works solely on water, while also capable of continuously evolving as long as superior technology analyzed.
Superhuman strength at street hero level, almost nuclear level super durability, superhuman sight and hearing. A brain that functions as a supercomputer and technokinesis on roids, meaning he can connect with any technological device no matter the distance and use them as an extension of himself, shit he can hijack a goddamn satellite orbiting at the other side of the planet.
And that's not even all, for some reason, Ichiro's technokinesis comes attached to weaker telekinesis and empathetic powers, as it was shown he was capable of bringing down a literal satellite that had no propulsion of its own as well as being able to hear calls for help all over earth from literal space. Also, he for some reason gained healing properties that can cure any physical issues within a living organism as long as it's not dead, and I mean anything; cancer, broken bones, birth defects, brain damage, poisoning, burning, you name it. Damian's speculation, from his memories of the show, is that this ability is directly tied to the telekinesis that is strongly implied throughout the show.
Sadly, he is unable to access most of these powers yet as his physiology is quite literally the opposite of a robot's, so his progress of assimilation is currently at 39% in spite of having primed the data set for absorption and this being the 5th day of the process. But not all was bad, as he could use the technokinesis and cover the whole city of New York with it. And while 20% of his body had turned into that of a robot, he could switch between the organic and inorganic versions of his body seamlessly. Which was bullshit if you asked him, but Eva and Damian theorized that since the energy coming from his powers can turn into anything, it can likewise transform his body into any set of data he has incorporated.
He also was currently absorbing the data set of the stand D4C, but the progress was slow. Again due to how foreign a stand was to his own physiology. Currently, he had around 50% assimilated, so while he couldn't quite dimension travel with this one yet, it was no problem to travel across continents as he had done to go back and forth between Kamar-Taj already. On the bright side, he found out his version of D4C was much stronger than the normal one after some testing. It wasn't quite Requiem level yet, but in the future it will be.
Why was he so sure? Because after his vessel kept expanding, he had a surplus of energy lying around as the nexus portal was open at around 12-16% capacity at all times now. And he used that surplus energy to try and nurture his acquired capabilities, something that proved to be feasible, if really slow due to said abilities not being contained in an isolated capsule but rather being in unfiltered contact with the world constantly, or being used equally frequently–which causes some of his energy to be wasted in the process. Some of his abilities were even changing in real time on their own too.
Leaving all the convoluted matters aside, he was getting infinitely close to having all his requisites for the start of his dimensional traveling. The only thing left to do was for Damian to fish out the formula for the unstable particle suits and he would be ready to go.
That and staying for his birthday party, as all his friends insisted on throwing a little party at his house in order to celebrate his 18 birthday, a concept that felt really foreign to him as while this life's Damian had celebrated every year, matter of fact that's how he met Natasha at his 14 birthday (As weird as it sounds now in retrospective), but the Damian that had lived longer had never celebrated any of such occasions, as life often felt more like a task to overcome than something to enjoy back then.
…
*Beep* *Beep* *Beep*
As the alarm on his phone marked the end of his daily 2 hour training session for the evening, Damian got up after finishing the last set of L sit presses into hand stand. Grabbing a towel he made his way to the bathroom as he kept multitasking his technokinesis to monitor the surrounding neighborhoods for any suspicious activity, it seemed the slight paranoia he left from Batman's set was working wonders.
After a bath that got momentarily interrupted by an armed robbery close to one of his marked alleyways four blocks away, he got to outfitting himself for the occasion. Choosing a pair of plain–and tailored by himself–Levi's skate jeans in black, a plain white tee tucked in, flowy–short sleeved–black shirt and a pair of shoes that looked suspiciously similar to the Bior B22's. To top it all off, a silver watch from his father's personal collection.
Standing in front of the mirror, he ran his fingers through his hair, which thankfully was growing longer, yet neatly trimmed and layered courtesy of his own, to see if he had that shit on.
Smirking to the mirror he started. 'Aha. Jarvis, calculate my aura.'
[...Ew.] Was the calculation he got in response.
'Yeh, that was fucking horrific, but I do look clean tho.' He said while laughing.
[Yeah, cleanly cosplaying like a man out of time.] Said Eva, not pulling any punches.
'That's 'cus I am, technically, anyway.' He turned around and started to walk to the kitchen, as he had just enough time to prepare a sumptuous feast for his guests.
'I'm doing what I can with what I have, so how about you try to be nice to the birthday boy? I don't have the luxury of having a textile fabric since I haven't gotten to setting up the start of Rossi Industries yet, but once I come back and finish absorbing Ichiro's data set, the predatory capitalism that will hit the oh-so-great free market will have those billionaire scum pissing and shitting themselves.'
[Hey, at least the people working for you won't be robbed blind of the surplus value they produce.] She said to him as he walked down the stairs.
'Fair enough, not like I'll have many employees for now, not at least until we do that…' Unwilling to finish his thoughts, Damian took a seat and started to direct the kitchen utensils like a maestro at work, now using real telekinesis to move objects around instead of his so called proto-kinesis, which wasn't anything more than him using invisible energy constructs to move shit around, confirming that Ichiro indeed had some degree of telekinesis.
[We gotta test it at some point, you know? If that is possible, it would save a huge amount of work for us.] Eva said to him, trying to nudge him into doing what he has been avoiding while trying not to come off as too abrasive about it.
As he finished making three bowls with three different types of salsa, he answered begrudgingly. 'Haa, I know… But still, I'm… scared of the implications, what if we fuck up big time? I'm fine experimenting on myself, but these are potentially real people we are talking about.'
What Damian and Eva were arguing about is the fact that Damian's powers held infinite applications, as far as their imagination allowed, with their limitations of course. And one of those applications was to 'summon' the people he once called characters to his world.
How can they do this you ask? Simply put, they both weren't sure, yet. As they have never tried to do this, they were not positive on how this hypothetical summon would happen. If they tried, they might just 'fish out' a set of data that would become a living being, which had a lot of ethical implications like if a data set comes alive, are they even a 'real' person? Are they a clone? An entirely new being with programmed memories and appearance? If they are the real one, is it okay to rip them out of their home worlds on a whim? If they were a dead character, is it okay to bring them back without knowing if that's what they want? The implications were as many as you might think there were, and that's only for one possible version of the summon process.
On the other hand, if he actually opened a portal and offered the once character a second chance at life working for Damian, what circumstances are there for the summon to accept the offer? If they are a version that was supposed to die for any reason, is it okay to take advantage of their desperation to offer this seemingly irresistible deal? What stops them from betraying him once they jump to this side? Or to betray him down the line if they don't agree with his actions?
The only salvageable point was that he was already working on the betrayal part, as he was studying how to establish soul contracts by way of the mystical arts, as well as having a couple more options opened to him once he hopped worlds, like creating a modified summoning jutsu contract for example.
Yet the rest of the questions remained and as he pondered them time flew by. Turning a stove off as one of his dishes was ready to be served, he noticed through a camera a couple blocks away that a familiar face had gotten off the Bayside station.
Dressed for the occasion, Mary Jane had what looked like a cropped leather jacket on top of a deep burgundy bodysuit, faux leather pants and heeled boots. For the accessory game she had a sleek black belt and a small crossbody bag. A thin necklace, small hoop earrings and a chain bracelet, all in a gold tone. Last but not least, she had a bit more makeup, contrasting her usual almost natural day-to-day look.
All put together, she looked much more beautiful than usual, enough to get a 'Goddamn,' from Damian and a whistle from Eva. Then, Damian went "Goddammit." As he watched two guys catcalling her from behind after she walked for a bit.
And this would not be bad enough to make him curse if not for the fact that the two men looked to be drunk, and as someone that knew how disgusting some of his peers can get sober, let alone intoxicated. Seeing them speed up their walk with expressions that screamed filthy thoughts as they hollered at her gave him a really bad feeling.
…
As she got off the station, Mary Jane did another check on herself with her phone camera, looking for anything out of place. She had put quite the effort to dress perfectly for the occasion, as she got dressed well enough for a birthday party, but casual enough to not give off the vibe that she tried too hard to look good.
'If this doesn't get that dumbass to give me a second glance, I'll fuck him up!' She thought seeing how good the fit looked on her. She doesn't know why or since when, but at some point she had started to want him to look at her for more than a fraction of a second like he usually did.
She didn't get it, but there was something about the current Damian that made her unable to look away. At some point, the nerdy and overly friendly guy from middle school had changed so much in the time they grew apart.
The guy she met two months ago was so different. He didn't know it, but since reconnecting, she has always been watching him. First it was curiosity at how life has been for him after so many years, mixed with worry about his mental state since his parents had tragically passed away. And at least for him, Damian's parents really loved him and vice versa. Something she wondered from time to time how it felt.
Then it became something more, an interest in how much he had changed. After getting to know him again, Damian had become much more mature and less naive, he had almost this aura of confidence, like nothing you could throw at him would face him. And this sense of aloofness–not arrogance–but during their banter sometimes it felt like she was talking with a big brother instead of a peer. Yet, once she bypassed all that, he remained the same guy at the core: Friendly. Caring. Goofy and accommodating.
And all that was without looking at his external changes. Because oh boy, not only had he gotten taller, almost as tall as the meathead of Flash, and much more 'broad' in the right places. Then you had to factor in that he had always been above average in looks, yet now he looked like a goddamn model, he was so pretty she had to catch herself from staring at him too much, something that had never happened to her before. Normally it was the other way around, yet there was the problem.
She didn't mean to brag, but if anything, she had only gotten prettier since middle school. Yet that didn't seem to matter to him whatsoever. He never looked at her inappropriately like most men do, even when she purposely tried to get him to do it. Even when they had their flirty back and forths, he never seemed to take what they said seriously, which at first was totally fine, since it was only that, banter.
But at some point, that started to irritate her. No matter what she said he always ended the convo before the vibes could get anywhere. She really felt like she could literally flash him and he would just laugh it off, a notion that made her want to make him look even more. Was she not pretty enough? That can't be it, she literally has to turn down some guy's horrible attempts at flirting every other day.
She seriously wondered what was wrong with him. And to make matters worse, his receptions have become even colder, he has toned down the flirt part of the banter almost entirely, and that to her woman senses smelled fishy. It smelled like another woman. And tonight she'll find out if that was really the case since if there was a woman in Damian's life, she had to attend his birthday party, right?
As she dabbled on her scarily accurate intuition driven scenarios, she heard. "Hey, red!" it was a man, hollering behind her, his words slurred, dripping with the stench of cheap whiskey. "Where you goin' dressed like that? Huh? You lookin' for company?"
Mary Jane stiffened for a second, pretending not to hear as she tightened her grip on the bag slung at her side. 'Keep walking, Mary Jane. Just keep walking.' She said to herself.
The sound of their shoes scraping the pavement behind her made her heart pick up. She glanced at her phone screen, using the black glass as a makeshift mirror–two silhouettes trailing closer than before.
"C'mon, sweetheart, don't be shy! We just wanna talk." The second one laughed, a nasty, guttural sound that raised every hair on her body. "Lookin' all fine like that… ya askin' for attention, baby."
'God, no. Not tonight. Not here.' She walked faster, the heels of her boots clicking like a metronome counting down. Her pulse thudded in her ears. 'One more block. Damian's street is one more block.'
Behind her, the voices grew louder. Closer. "Ya deaf or somethin'?!" The first one barked.
The other chuckled darkly. "Maybe she likes the chase."
And that was the last straw. Her pace broke into a brisk walk, almost a jog, but the rhythmic thud of their shoes followed. She turned the corner and nearly gasped when a rough hand reached for her arm-
And froze mid-grab. Because someone else's hand was there first.
It clamped around the drunk's wrist with an unyielding grip, stopping him cold. The man yelped in surprise, his face twisting as he tried to yank free–only to find his wrist locked like it had been caught in a steel vice.
Mary Jane's eyes widened at seeing the face that came to her mind increasingly often these days.
From her perspective he stood there, tall and calm, his other hand tucked casually in his pocket as if this wasn't even effort. His eyes–damn, his eyes–were like molten emeralds under the streetlight, sharp and cold in a way she had never seen before. For the first time, she didn't see the laid back Damian who joked around in class when he wasn't dozing off, looking at the window. This was someone else entirely.
He tilted his head slightly, his voice low, measured, carrying a weight that made the night itself feel heavier. "She has a date already, dipshit."
The drunk blinked. "Wh-What?"
Damian leaned in, secretly manipulating gravity for the pressure to feel all the more real, his tone still calm. Too calm. And that made it worse.
"So fuck off," he said, every word deliberate, devoid of emotion. Then his voice dropped, showing emotion for the first time, albeit not a good one. "…while I'm being nice."
The second guy stopped short, all color draining from his face when Damian finally looked at him as he extended the augmented gravity to him too. And just looked. No words, no threats. Just that stare intense 'Bat-like' stare that asked him to disobey his words and see what happens. Asking him to fuck around and find out.
The man whose wrist Damian held whimpered and stumbled back when Damian let go as gravity returned to normal, making him fall on his ass, wrist red from the grip. Without another word, the two bolted down the street like the cowards they were.
Then there was silence. 'Tsk. How much of a bitch can you be? 'Brave' enough to harass a woman but running away as soon as it looks bleak. Remember me to track them later, Eva.' He said in his head.
[Got it.] She simply said.
Mary Jane stood frozen for a heartbeat, her heart slamming against her ribs. 'What the hell was that?' She opened her mouth, closed it, then finally managed. "...You-you just-Damian, how did you-"
He looked at her, the sharpness in his eyes vanishing completely, as if it was merely a mirage, replaced by that familiar smirk. Like a mask sliding back on. "What? I was in the neighborhood."
She blinked at him. "…The neighborhood? You live like three blocks away from here."
"Yeah, I was going to the mini mart to buy some ice cream, but I forgot my wallet so I was going back when I heard some dogs barking." he quipped, hands sliding into his pockets as if nothing happened. Then he glanced her over once and once only, nodding approvingly. "Nice outfit, by the way."
Her cheeks warmed despite herself. 'Goddammit, Watson, pull it together.' "…Thanks." She muttered, falling into step beside him as he started walking toward his house.
Damian glanced sideways at her, his voice trying to remain casual, yet there was a sternness buried in the softness. "Next time you come, text me before you leave the station, or simply ask for a ride. Saves me the trouble of catching up."
Mary Jane didn't reply, because the only thing she could think was how lucky she was for him to randomly be there. And how different he looked for that one moment when those guys tried to touch her.
Something about this Damian Rossi wasn't just different anymore. It was dangerous. And for reasons she didn't want to unpack just yet, that thought didn't scare her half as much as it should have.