Internal thoughts/emphasis.
"Dialogue"
Emphasis
*Asterisk means environmental
— Page/scene break
[A/N] Hey people, consider this a low bar story ngl… writing it for fun/boredom/block, since I can't seem to write anything else atm (sorry TFORT ppl I'll come back don't worry), I've seen this concept (power specific) on this site before but the execution was just hard to read. So I'm giving it my own spin, hopefully bearable quality, turn off your brain and it'll be even better.
Some frontloading, this is an AU — MCU sorta as a base — but timeline is shifted, which means characterages are shifted around too, for better plot narrative of course, not that I've thought about one. Teleportation is from movie Jumper, with its weakness to electricity (in that it messes with nerves? Kinda a stupid weakness, but makes sense (getting shocked would mess with most powers)), and I'm also getting rid of the rip in space left behind, that's just dumb af, so just electricity — for now. Mutant's are a thing, I think, but likely later in the story — enjoy!
[A/N: END] Chapter length - 10,000 words, lmao.
12 Years ago — Earth-1218, Los Angeles, In & Out
On my fifth birthday I remember, quite vividly, being taken to my favorite burger place. Though in hindsight it was my dad's favorite burger place, it was just convenient that I was too young for it to matter.
I like'd burgers, I wasn't going to complain.
I even remember my dad's order, a double double, while my mom got a good ol' cheeseburger. The looks on their faces when I ordered a triple-triple was glorious, my mother was not happy about it, while my dad just laughed and patted me on the shoulder — You got that champ! Thats all you! He said with a cheer.
It was a beautiful moment in time.
We left the burger joint to catch a movie, my favorite at the time. Classic superhero stuff — Avengers: Endgame.
That stuff was crack to a little boy like me, and even more-so to my father who was a massive nerd. We gauntlet'd the entire series just days before in prep, discussed potential plot-lines and even fantasizing about what it'd be like to receive the Super-Soldier Serum or Extremis. The sheer excitement in the theater was palpable, couples, loners, nerds, families all lined up to watch Iron Man show the universe who is boss.
God, I remember bawling like a child after the fact — though to be fair so was my dad.
We were so caught up in tears and joy and melancholic sadness that nobody saw me wander into the street.
Before anybody knew it I was mere meters away from getting smushed by a truck, I remember the primal fear lacing through my little body, the confusion the panic.
Then the world around me shook. The air itself began to crackle, the asphalt beneath me warping under some unseen power.
I remember turning to look at my parents. I remember seeing their faces, the panic, the fear — it was heartbreaking.
Then I vanished.
1998 — Earth-6166b, Los Angeles, Near a rundown Theater
"Widow, do you have eyes on the target?"
A red-headed woman dressed in tight tactical gear crouched in the darkness of a seven-story building air vent. The low hum of the turbine behind her muffling the noise of her ear-piece.
Natasha Romanov, The Black Widow, pressed two fingers against her ear.
"Target spotted, commencing mission."
With a silent flourish the veteran assassin dove off the roof, her form melting into night sky above she whipped out a grappling hook, firing with pinpoint precision towards her targets building.
The man was a known-arms dealer, trafficker and overall scum of the earth. Busy resting with his feet up on the table, a cigar in his mouth and a fear-laden woman in his lap.
The sight disgusted Romanov, but it worked in her favor.
Her grappling hook snapped against the buildings roof, the sudden pivot point wrenching Romanov towards the building, her grappling hook wrr'd ripping her across the street with nearly blurring speeds.
Feet first Romanov drop-kicked straight into her targets office, sending glass shooting forwards as a scream and yell of surprise filled the room.
"W-WHAT THE—!" The man screamed, getting only two words and a stutter for his last.
A bullet slammed into his forehead, missing the woman by a hairsbreadth.
The entire assassination took place before the final piece of glass shattered to the floor.
"Shhhh…" Romanov whispered with her finger on her lips, she gave a soft smile to the frightened woman. To her credit, she quickly understood what was happening, the man after all, had it coming. It was only a matter of time before her prayers were answered.
She frantically nodded, holding her mouth shut to show she understood.
Romanov glanced around the alcohol and money laden office, not sparing a single glance to the man she had just ended.
She turned to the woman, "Where does he keep his documents."
The woman pointed to a painting of dogs player poker on the far wall.
"Thanks!" Romanov said with a polite nod, "Feel free to take as much as you want after I'm done." Which elected a relieved smile on the woman's face.
Romanov wasted no time, slicing through the painting with a flourish of her combat knife. The painting ripped away to reveal a heavy-duty safe, Romanov merely smiled. Childs play.
In less than a minute she had it opened, her ear pressed to its wall hearing the soft click of its lock. Softly she pulled it open. Stack on stacks of Benjamins lined the shelves, all complete ignored as Romanov spied a folder of paper.
She gave its contents a quick scan, her brows furrowing in angered confirmation.
Bastards.
She turned, gave a curt nod to the woman and leapt out of the window she came in.
—
"Package secured, heading to pick-up now." Romanov said into her ear-piece, walking into the shadows of an alleyway.
"Affirmative, good work."
The line cut off, as Romanov picked up her pre-stashed clothes, a dark brown trench coat, cap and sunglasses. Within moments she transformed from tactical spy to suspicious looking potential flasher.
Her steps rang out into the night, eyes finding her motorcycle, a blacked-out Suzuki Hayabusa. She couldn't help but let out a small smile at the sight, the work she did was gruesome, but the bike almost made it worth it.
The small moments of freedom within the chaos of her life—
*VVVMMBOOM!
A sudden explosion of air right behind her nearly made her yelp, her instincts twisted around, stun baton already in hand stabbing out at whatever was behind her.
She felt contact before she even registered what it was, the bright crackle of electricity flooding her would-be ambusher before Romanov's eyes suddenly widened in confused fear.
She wrenched her stun-baton back throwing the weapon to the side as if it was burning hot.
What have I done! She screamed internally.
It was a child. A god-forsaken child had somehow snuck up on her and she had fucking TASERED HIM!
"oh fuck oh fuck! Please be okay!" She frantically muttered as she approached the still twitching boy. She felt for his pulse while rolling him into recovery position in case he began to vomit.
Oh thank god…
He still had a pulse.
With delicate ease she lifted the child, carefully placing him onto her bike before kick-starting the beast to life. Its engine roared to life, and Romanov raced to the nearest hospital.
Her mind was a mess. How the hell did a child sneak up on me! …and what the hell was that explosion?!
— Three Days Later
Romanov, dressed in civilian clothes paced back and forth in a hospital lobby. She almost audibly sighed with relief when she spied the doctor overseeing the boy.
The woman wore clean white scrubs, with bright blonde hair tied into a neat bun and piercing blue eyes.
"You must be Miss Rushman?" She asked with a polite hand.
Rushman returned with a smile, "Yes, and you're Doctor Stacy? Thank you for your help, how's the kid?"
Doctor Stacy grinned as she felt the concern from the rather beautiful red-headed woman.
"Just doing my job Miss Rushman. Regarding… David, the boy awoke a day ago… he's fine physically, albeit still a little weak from the accident, but unfortunately quite confused."
Rushman tilted her head in concern, "Confused?"
Doctor Stacy nodded her head curtly, "Yes, it seems he's unable to remember who his parents are—or, at least, what their real names are."
"What?" Rushman couldn't help but mutter.
"The Boy, David, claims that his parents are name Richard Riceburn and Mary Riceburn… but according to the state, and federal departments, no such people exist. We even ran his finger prints and… unfortunately he wasn't in the system."
Rushman was baffled, her mind returning to the moment she found him. The explosion of air, how he'd snuck up on her—a trained-hyper lethal rated assassin.
Did he just? Appear?
Rushman shook the thoughts out of her head. It didn't matter how, it mattered that he was here now. A small child alone in the world, without a parents.
A child I fucking tased…
The circumstance sent a sad shiver down her spine, the reminiscences hitting a little too close to home.
"Whats going to happen to him?" She couldn't help but ask.
The Doctor gave Rushman an appreciative yet sad smile, "We'll ensure he's in full-health before discharge, then we are required by law to turn him over to the state who'll have better chances of finding his parents. If not, he'll likely become a ward of the state, and then either foster-care or a group home." She explained.
Rushman winced, the weight of her past stabbing her heart. She knew what it was like to try to live a life after being ripped from your family, even if her circumstances were a little more brutal.
I… I can't adopt him. It'd put him in the sights of the Red Room, not to mention I'm a bloody shield agent.
But I can visit, who knows, maybe he'll be fostered by a loving family.
Rushman sighed, "Thank you for all your help Doctor, truly."
Doctor Stacy stepped towards her placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "He's going to be okay, I understand how you feel, it's not the best but we have systems in place to ensure he is taken care of. I won't lie and say I'm not worried, as a mother myself — I couldn't imagine my daughter being alone like he is."
Rushman patted her hand, "I'll be sure to visit him."
"I'm sure he'll appreciate that Miss Rushman."
Twelve Years Later, 2010 — Hope Haven Group Home, San Francisco.
Two people walked along the busy sloped streets of San Francisco, the sun shined high above, not a cloud in the sky.
"So today's the day the kid's finally free huh?" A brunette haired man said as he leaned back into his shoulders.
Romanov smiled at his words, "Time really does fly, even your kids are growing by the day, Clint."
Clint grinned, but then his eyes squinted, "It honestly frightens me Nat, I swear before I know it they'll be leaving the nest, off to face this grim-world all on their own." He sighed with melancholy at a future that had yet to come.
Nat groaned, remembering the outcome of a conversation she had with David a few weeks ago.
New York! Why on Earth would he pick New York of all places! Why did ESU have to give him a full-ride! I told him I'd pay for anything he wanted why couldn't he picked somewhere quiet and out of the way…
Clint seeing Nat's face scowl chuckled, elbowing her out of her ruminations. "Hey, at least he'll be closer to us in New York."
Nat scoffed, "Closer to danger more-like it. Place is a cess-pit, it's only a matter of time something big happens. Stark has setup shop there, and we both know that rich-boy loves trouble." She bemoans, "I can't believe Fury is making me watch him."
Clint just chuckles, "Well that's because your his type."
Nat smiles ruefully, "Oh the woes of being beautiful, you could never understand." She says with an exaggerated hair flip.
Clint scoffs, offended, "I'll have you know my wife thinks I'm very handsome."
The two eventually arrive at a two-story home with a small yet well-tended to garden out front. Between a small handful of sobbing children, a tall well-built young man stands. His hair is deep brown, reaching his ears in a mullet-esque look with a pair of ocean-blue eyes that seem to look deeper than you'd wish for. David turns to the approaching pair, a charming smile gracing his lips.
"Nat, Uncle Clint — here to take me away from these little gremlins?" He says with a playful smirk.
The kids around him erupt in a chorus of fury. "Gremlin? GREMLIN? YOUR A GREMLIN!" They say between tears.
Clint just shakes his head ruefully, "Uncle?" He mutters in disbelief turning to a smirking Nat, "I'm not that old am I?"
She chuckles, emerald eyes glancing up at his hair, "You're graying."
"What!?" Clint exclaims.
"Kidding~" She snickers while walking away.
David smiles at the two, fully aware of the damage he did to Clint, or — Hawkeye, I should say.
He knew of course, despite the two of them doing a damn good job at hiding their occupations; they were a pair of assassins.
Infamous across the globe, and agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.
He had, after all, accidentally teleported his way in the Marvel Universe. Even to this day David couldn't quite belie what he had done. The memory was laced with a painful memory that had begun to fade with time.
It was only a few days later that he realized he had powers. The power to teleport, Jumping he called it — and rest assured, the first thing he tried to do was Jump home.
He had snuck out of the his temporary home into the back yard, and focused with all his being to go home.
The world around him began to shake, the sheer force of it all cracked the ground around him — until blood began to seep from his nose, and he passed out.
At first he thought he was just too weak, not skilled enough to make the Jump.
And so he practiced, in secret, sneaking out night after night to try and hone his skills.
His Jumps were at first, loud. An audible disturbance in the air around him, the before and after easily shaking nearby books off shelves and ripping flowers from the ground.
The mental pressure and concentration of each Jump eased with practice, as he tried further and further Jumps, all in the cover at night.
There were moments where he was almost caught, and admittedly at times he wanted to brag. To tell his friends of his powers — because, who wouldn't? He was young, dumb and in need of some attention.
But ironically enough, it was the memories of all the super-hero movies he watched with his dad that gave him restraint. The secret identity and chaos that came when people found out you had powers.
It was during this time he made another, vividly disturbing discovery that only nailed down that thought.
He was trying to make friends with the few boys in the group home, the first of his attempts. And, feeling the anxiety of coming out of his shell he fell back on what he knew best. Superheros.
So he asked a simple question, "So who are your favorite superheros?"
Some said Batman, or superman — but one boy, one boy said, "Gah! I only like real superheroes, like Captain America!"
And that confused young David, "What do you mean real? Aren't they all superheroes?"
The boy looked at him weird, "Dude, like, Batman is a comic book character duh?"
"And Captain America isn't?"
Then all of the boys looked at him weird.
David found it hard to make friends.
—
The revelation of Captain America being real almost sent David into a giddy depressive spiral. As he slowly realized he had not only Jumped across universes, but he was in the Marvel Universe!
His small brain nearly exploded trying to understand the implications.
He of course, verified it for himself, almost gawking when the librarian handing him a history book when he asked for information about Captain America.
That led him on a wild goose chase where he found out Mutants existed, which, he knew next to nothing about since his dad only showed him one mutant movie — when he was 4.
He wondered if he was a mutant, but then concluded that it wouldn't change anything. Powers were, after all, powers regardless.
His tiny brain almost exploded again when the woman who had brought him to the hospital visited him.
Red-hair, emerald eyes, and a face eerily reminiscent of one hyper-lethal assassin. He wasn't sure immediately however, as her name was Natalie Rushman. But after years of her visiting, and innocent probing of what she did for a living — random injuries she'd arrive with, and her friend, Clint Brady, David was sure of it.
At first, he was immediately defensive, did she know about my powers? It was just so coincidental, yet, as the years passed, and she continued to visit — bring him out to eat, and genuinely care for him, David quickly found himself dismissing his defensiveness.
He never told her about his powers, but he didn't hold himself back from allowing her to care for him.
He was after all, pretty fucking depressed; years ticked by, and he was never able to Jump home.
2008 was an interesting year, since at the start of it news of a billionaire going missing reached his little ears.
Tony Stark, CEO & Owner of Stark Industries, missing.
David could hardly believe his ears, it was happening. Tony Stark was going to become Iron Man.
And he did, the events, while kept under the rug and not fully revealed — followed through. News of his escape, of Stark Industries turning away from weapon manufacturing, of a massive explosion at their headquarters, and then the subsequent reveal.
The press conference was plastered everywhere, the similar looking but not quite, "I am, Iron Man."
It ignited a fire in David, like it did for most kids his age. It had begun, another Superhero had appeared, the events were happening — Endgame approaching.
—
The Hulk appeared soon after, his battle against the abomination causing massive damage in Harlem — Iron Man himself appeared to help, which David did NOT remember happening, which was the moment he really realized it wasn't the universe he had seen before.
This was a wake up call for him, as he had, in all of his childish genius — begun devising a plan to defeat Thanos, only to be slapped in the face with the cold reality that this wasn't the movie world he watched.
Similar… but not quite.
And of course, all too real.
Would Thanos even arrive? Does he even exist?
These were unknowns, and David's dad always told him not to focus on things out of his control, to focus on the things he could control.
Himself.
And so with fire in his eyes David began to study, with Iron Man as his goal he did his best to become as smart as he could be.
Unfortunately, he realized quite soon he wasn't a genius. Smart, yes — but far from the mind-boggling intelligence of Tony Stark, or maybe even Spider Man… yet he didn't let that hamper him.
Effort would be his equalizer, the compounding factor for his eventual full-ride scholarship.
While practicing his powers he realized that it could be more than just his mind holding him back from Jumping home, or even just better, so he began to exercise.
At times he wished he had the Super-Soldier Serum, he'd even tried to research it himself, only to find that it was truly beyond his understanding. Mad genius, and stupid luck with a hint of Infinity Stone.
And so he thought about stealing it, he could, Jump after all.
Yet the cold reality slammed into him quite quick.
Not only was he a child, he was still human. A stray bullet, a simple stupid mistake — or, as he found, electricity could lead to his untimely death.
He found the electricity weakness in a thunderstorm, the electrostatic discharge of nearby lightning sent unnerving queasiness shuddering through his stomach when he Jumped.
When he tried to understand why further on, he ended up testing a Jump while shocking himself with a prank toy a his friend had loaned him.
The Jump went through, but not before slamming him to the dirt afterwards. Stealing air from his lungs and his dinner from his stomach.
The event actually cleared David's mind.
He was weak, and a simple toy could screw with his powers.
Trying to infiltrate Hydra, which, nobody even knew still existed currently, was just dumb.
And so he reigned in his ambitions, and focused on what he could do.
Train, study, and refine.
He began daily laps up and down San Francisco's sloped streets, finding shortcuts through the city between school and his group home. Ledges became foot holds, pipes—faster ladders. His balance improved with every lap, his parkour routes sculpting his tendons.
Late night study sessions led to rising test scores as he began reading and practicing with uncanny fervor. His teachers were surprised, but happy to entertain his after class questioning.
He'd end his days with silent Jump's to empty warehouses, using the privacy to practice increasingly complex maneuvers.
He began intertwining his Jumps with flips, Jumping mid air and landing on a ledge like a bootleg Batman. His Jumps became silent, and then Burst Jumps — chaining five jumps in less a second, which somehow multiplied the kinetic force of his Jumps into a powerful burst of force.
An offensive move he made sure to practice diligently.
Then he practiced Jumping while holding objects. He found that it was actually easier to Jump with a moving object then it was a stationary object, not that he had a motorcycle or car to test it with.
His max Jump weight increased as he grew stronger and practiced, from moving a backpack, to shifting a dumpster.
Things that were rooted in the ground, like tree's or small buildings he felt possible, but likely painful.
Not to mention rather overt.
Throughout all of his practice, he would end his days with practicing Jumps while shocking himself.
It was sadistic, grueling, and usually ending with bloodied stinging scrapes he had to hide or lie to his group home and Nat.
But it paid off.
At fifteen David was lean, with visibly coiled muscles and a conditioned gaze. His deep brown hair reached his ears and eyes, his face had sharpened with his training, giving him a ruggedly charming look.
Not to mention his eyes.
It was like all the self-shock therapy he was doing had deepened their luster into an electric blue radiance, almost hypnotic in a way.
Though at the moment his eyes were scowled, glaring a a stolen taser in his hand.
Even after the years of tasing himself, the feeling was never fun. But he was reaching the limits of what he could do without potentially stopping his heart.
The taser ignited into a blindingly bright glow, its roar crackling against the rusting warehouse walls.
Fuck.
David plunged the tasers' prongs into his thigh, the shocking pain immediately streaked across his body, forcing his muscles and nerves to twist and turn under his skin.
With gritted teeth David Jumped, his body roaring against his mind as the world around them visibly shimmered, twirling around him as if trying to rip apart space itself.
The air snapped, David vanished — appearing at the other end of the warehouse heaving heavy breaths on his knees. A exhausted victorious smile on his face.
— POV 1st, 2015
"Are you sure you want to move to New York, I mean, the pacific north west is obviously better." Nat pleaded as we left JFK International airport.
I hummed, a smile on my lips at her attempts to keep me away from the hot-bed of the superheroing world, "I already signed the acceptance letter Nat, got my dorm assignment and everything. Plus y'know I can't afford not using my full-ride, I already needed to take a small loan just to afford my textbooks." I said with a sigh.
Nat clicked her tongue with a groan, "Because you wouldn't let me pay for it!" She muttered with rage.
I chuckled, "I love you like an older sister Nat, but I can't let you sugar-daddy me — I'm a man y'know? I gotta face the world on my own!" I smacked my chest, taking a knightly aura.
Nat stared at me with half-lidded eyes, "Uh huh, sure, what ever you say, lil bro." She said sarcastically, but a small smirk at the edge of her lips betrayed how she felt about it.
We'd truly become close over the years, and I truly looked at her like an older sibling, despite never had one.
And Clint… well Clint was the chill uncle, always down to clown — as long as it wasn't clowning him.
Just as I was about to hail a taxi Nat grab my arm and wrenched it down. I turned to her in confusion, "What are you doing?"
She tsk'd at me, "Now now, no little brother of mine is getting around like some sort of plebeian."
"Plebeian? Your majesty what on earth are you talking about?" I said with sarcastic peasantry.
Nat just smirked, pointing a lazy finger towards a lonesome motorcycle.
My eyes widened, my mouth gaping like a fish, "w-wha? No way, Nat you didn't'…"
She scoffed, "Have some faith in me will you, why else did we teach you how to ride? And before you start throwing a fit I didn't pay on my own, Clint went 50/50 with me so you can't deny it — which meant that the old goat also had a say about the bike we'd buy… "
The two us approached the all-silver motorcycle, and I had to hold myself back from skipping to the thing. It was mostly brushed silver, with a low aggressive shark-like form, contoured for the wind.
Its engine block was a thing of monstrous beauty, large, laced with mastercrafted pipes and a thick, blacked out intake hugging its undercarriage. The fuel tank was sleek, textured silver that had echoes of Damascus along its surface, tapering outwards into dual intakes at its front, before narrowing into a crimson leather seat that lifted at its end slightly.
Nat just sighed as she watched me feel the throttle, "I wanted to go full sport, but Clint was all, 'Bobber this, adventure bike that blah blah blah' I swear, him and Tony have no taste for the finer—"
"Tony?" I asked innocently.
Nat's brow twitched, "A work friend — anyways~ I present to you the Arch Method 143; New company owned by a friend of a friend of a friend. Clint had been eying them for a while, and when we went to see the bike in person I had to admit, it's pretty."
I let out a whistle, "You're not wrong…" I turned to her with a soft smile, warmth blossoming in my chest. "Thank you Nat, really — you're the best older sister a man could ask for."
Nat rolled her eyes, her tongue poking her cheek, "And don't you forget it!"
I laughed as we hugged, before she suddenly pushed me back, pulling my shoulders down to until we met eye to eye. "Now listen to me you debonair—" She started with a pointed finger.
"Debonair?" I interrupted with an offended smile, before she wagged her finger at me, threateningly.
"Yes, you can't fool me, do you see this?" She asked, suddenly pointing at her face.
I looked at her dumbly, "Your very beautiful face, as you always remind me of?"
She grinned, "Exactly! So I know exactly what you're capable of, since I'm a—very beautiful face—as you've so clearly recognized."
I rolled my eyes, letting her continue, "Which means, I do not want to hear about any little Riceburns running around anytime soon—"
"Bruh"
She snapped her fingers, "Nor, do I want to find you in the company of any woman underserving of your stature, using this lovely bike to enthrall them into your grasp."
"My grasp? You mean before your approval?" I said with a snort.
"I'm happy you understand!" She smiled, her gaze then softened, "Be safe David, you know you can always call me, and promise me to stay safe, don't do anything I wouldn't okay?"
I couldn't help but grin, "I promise." Anything you wouldn't do huh? I guess I can do anything I fucking want!
Nat narrowed her eyes at me, "Why do I feel like you're messing with me."
"Me? Messing with you? Why I would never—ah, I should go, before um—that late night New York traffic hits!" With frantic grace I swung myself onto the bike, keys already in the ignition. I twisted the keys, pulled in the clutch and switched the bad boy alive — a low, beastial roar purr'd out to life. My smile widening until my cheeks hurt. I wrapped my duffle-bag of clothes and books, the meager extent of my belongings around my back, before finally sliding a blacked-out helmet over my head.
I met Nat's amused eyes, "Stay safe Nat! Love ya!" I quickly said, flipping the visor down and ripping the throttle. The bike growled out, before the I shot forwards in a screaming blur.
I checked the side mirrors, seeing Nat with crossed her arms, a rather bloodthirsty smile on her lips as she watched me drive away. She gave me a single wave of goodbye, before it clenched into a tight fist, sending a shiver down my spine.
Sometimes I forget she's a hyper-lethal assassin.
—
I arrived at the Campus later than I anticipated, having taken a couple detours around the city as I enjoyed the gift from Nat & Clint.
I arrive at the gates of the campus, finding the student/staff parking along the street, and shut off my bike.
Empire State University was situated in lower Manhattan. The campus taking up about four blocks and built around a large grass courtyard with a grand fountain in its center. Cobbled walkways stretched out from the fountain in desire-paths to seven large buildings flanking the courtyards edges — to my right, two glass cubes, state-of-the-art labs, still humming with activity despite the late night. Physics and sciences students hard at work skimming through data.
On my left was a large brick-built gothic dormitory, its walls blackened with age. Further along was a similar but more adorned, Arts building. Each of its many floors were lined with statuettes and carved mural-work.
Tucked away in the distant corner behind it, was the gymnasium, concrete, brutal and complete with an underground running track.
At the far end sat the largest of the buildings, built in romanesque style, with thick marble pillars, a massive Library — the Empire State Library. One of the largest in the country, and also doubling as the humanities/law building.
The campus was compact, but its immediate scale was impressive, despite the nearby towering skyscrapers the place felt more weighty, purposeful.
I found my dorm on the top floor, which was a score — though unfortunately I had to share a room, as this was New York after all.
The room itself was bigger than I expected, with two full singles on either side beside a closet and nightstand. A small divider blocked the beds from seeing one another, stacked with small shelves and a small widow.
Two large desks flanked the immediate corners, long bars of light stretching over the dark oak-wood grain.
Seated at one of those desks was my roomate.
He was hunched over a law book, face scrunched in confusion at the esoteric words. His hair was curly brown, lighter than mine and cut shorter too, with an aristocratic face that screamed rich-boy.
He turned as I entered, scrunched confusion leaving his face in an instant quickly replaced by a charming smile, the kind that had done it a million times before.
"Hey! Nice to meet you Roomie—I'm Harry, Harry Potter."
*Record Scratch![A/N: Jk bro.]
"Hey! Nice to meet you Roomie—I'm Harry, Harry Osborn." He said while standing up to shake my hand.
I dropped my luggage to the floor and returned the gesture, "Likewise, I'm David Riceburn. You move in today?" I asked, moving to the left side of the room to unload my luggage.
Harry, clearly happy to be doing anything but reading his book sighed as he shook his head, "Nah I've been here for a few days, bored out of my mind, moved-in as fast as I could. Anywhere away from my Father is good enough for me. You from New York?"
I scoffed a smile, "West Coast baby~ Just landed from San Fran."
Harry chuckled, "Warmer, hotter beaches, even hotter women — family live there?"
I shook my head, "Nah, all I got is my older sister, but she lives here."
Harry hummed, but didn't bother to pry further, as he didn't like others to as well.
"I see, what you majoring in? I'm slogging through Law myself, god save my soul…"
"I'm going for Physics, unless it kills me, then I don't know — maybe biochemistry?"
"Thats trading one hell for another, we should just switch to art."
"Can you draw?"
"No, you?"
"Hell no, not even with a gun to my head."
Harry grinned, "I think we'll get along just fine, eat dinner yet?"
I shook my head, glancing at my watch, the digital numbers reading 21:41.
"Is the dinning hall still open?"
Harry waved his hand dismissively, "I'll do you one better, best pizza place in the city, and I introduce you to more friends?"
I shrugged, "Sure."
—
The two of us arrived outside of a grimy looking pizza place. Harry wore a light blue dress shirt, black pants and leather loafers — somehow not giving off punch me vibes, his good looks covering for his old-money fashion sense.
I went with a black half-turtleneck and heavy grey sweats, both gifts from Nat, who had gifted me a total of five fucking turtlenecks. I mean, I like turtlenecks, but five is a little excessive — come to think of it, she was even wearing a turtleneck at the airport!
I digress, for those curious, I wore athletic style vans, black, with the white stripe and soles.
Despite the grimy looking exterior of the pizzeria, the inside was practically bustling at the seems, the scent of godly crust filling my nose immediately. I patted Harry on the shoulder, "I can already tell this was a good idea."
The future-ex law student smirked, "Let it be known I have many of those~" then led me to a large corner table with half stool & half couch seating, the latter of which was already fully claimed by four starkly different girls.
A brunette with sharp looks and curly hair and brown eyes, olive skin wearing a black dress.
A bright-haired blonde with baby-blue eyes and her hair tied back in a ponytail wearing a black turtleneck.
A red-head with a bun wearing a black tank-top and jeans.
And finally the starkest of them all — quite literally, because she had silver hair! And it looks natural!?
David was almost immediately jealous, clearly she must be some sort of superhero in disguise, such things were never coincidences after all. She was beautiful, nearing Nat levels of danger with cat-like eyes above dark-crimson pursed lips.
Sitting across from them were two guys, embarrassingly mundane compared to their counterparts, a brunette wearing a flannel shirt and jeans, beside a rather nervous looking black-haired, bowl cut south-asian guy in a hoodie.
Harry approached with a charming grin, waving over to the girls as he approached.
The curly haired-brunette visibly brightened as she sighted Harry, while the Blonde and Red-head smiled back. The silver-haired girl showed no reaction, actually — she did, but failed to hide it from me.
Years of hanging around Nat had taught me to know when somebody was observing you. More than mere surface glance, but a deep scan of your entire being.
Every time I'd have to make up a lie about how I got my scrapes from Jump training she'd hit me with the look.
I shiver even thinking about it.
"Heya pretty ladies, Peter and uh—" Harry beamed, pulling up before pausing at the guy in the hoodie. Peter, who I almost failed to hide a reaction towards waved back at Harry, introducing his friend. "This is my roomate Ned, thought I'd bring him along, looks like you did too."
"Hello!" Ned exclaimed from behind, raising a curt hand.
"Well, roomate meet roomate—" He said turning to me.
I stepped forth with a smile Nat would scream 'Debonair!' Ironically enough, years of her teasing me about my looks all the while gloating about her own, built a quiet confidence about my appearance.
I'm sure she knew what she was doing, since Clint had teased her openly about it a couple times, only to be called old after the fact.
Brutal.
"Howdy folks, David, thanks for having me." I introduced.
The reactions were mostly polite, though the Silver-haired beauty's eyes narrowed at me, failing to hide the small smirk at the edge of her lips.
YES! I screamed internally, keeping my features cool. Thank you Nat for all the years of poker face training~
Harry quickly took a seat at the edge of the table closest to the Red-head and the brunette. Harry was to his right, and Ned, which left me at the opposite end. Harry asked them to move over, but I stopped him — since I was totally fine with it.
I sat down next to Ned, and introduced myself with a handshake.
"David."
"Ned, nice to meet you."
I turned away from him to meet a pair of bright, almost jade eyes staring right at me. I couldn't help but swallow some spit, my lips suddenly feeling kinda dry I pushed forwards an honestly nervous smile.
KEEP IT TOGETHER SOLDIER!
"And you must be another roomie?" I say with a soft smile, reaching out for a handshake.
The silver-haired beauty smirks, returning my gesture, her lips curling upwards as our fingers touch.
"Very observant of you," She says, "Oh? Do you moisturize?" She asks with slight surprise.
"My older sister makes me…" I say kinda embarrassed and scratching my cheek.
She waves away the thought, "Oh don't be embarrassed, we love a man that takes care of his skin~ Don't we!" She practically purrs at me before nudging the red-head beside her. THANK YOU NAT!
"Ow, Felicia! Oh—hiii! I'm Mary Jane, but please, call me MJ, you're Harry's roomate? David right?"
"Yes and yes, just moved in today."
"From?" Felica asks, though her tone is interrogative.
"San Fran, gotta say, not excited for the colder waters."
MJ groaned, "I know right?! Oh we should totally go on a trip to the beach before it gets any colder, even if the water iscolder here—Jones beach is still really pretty!"
Felicia just rolled her eyes as we heard Ned & Peter beside me gulp at the thought of them at the beach.
I chuckled, "I'd be down, I take it you're from around here?"
MJ tilts her head and tapped her cheek, "Sorta, born here, the moved to Philly, then moved back a couple years ago — and grew up with Tiger, Harry, baby-blue Gwen, and Liz over here." She explains pointing at rest of the table. Harry doesn't even notice, too busy regaling Gwen and Liz about his summer vacation in the Bahamas.
"What about you?" I suddenly ask Felicia, and though her eyes narrow dangerously at me for a moment they return to their cat-like bored state.
"Queens, like the rest of them, but I went to a different high-school met Gwen at a few events, and we agreed to be roommates when we found out we were both going to ESU."
"Events?"
"Gymnastics." She said curtly.
MJ rolled her eyes, "Don't let her fool you, she's also a black belt in like—three different martial arts!"
This elected another gulp of surprise from two beside me, which just made me chuckle.
"Impressive, I don't have any belts but my older sister did beat the shit outta of me here and there, with love of course."
The girls grin viciously, "Your sister sounds like my kinda girl~" Felicia softly chuckles.
"Oh I don't know about that, she can be seriously frightening — I swear she's secretly a trained mercenary or something." I say with a sarcastic whisper, looking around me just in case Nat was listening.
MJ laughed at me while Felicia lightly chuckled. "Exactly!" They both say enthusiastically.
—
The night passed by fairly quickly, with me chatting away with Felicia and Mj & Ned and Peter, with occasional interlap with Gwen, Liz and Harry.
I was slowly figuring out the dynamic between the group. Excluding Ned and Felicia, who were new bloods like me. It was clear as day Liz, the curly haired brunette was into Harry, but when I probed, I found that it wasn't a thing. So unrequited. Harry, godless his soul was clearly into Gwen, or MJ, and his eyes told me that Felicia was also potentially on the list. My guy needed to reel it in, Jesus.
To his dismay however, it seems Gwen isn't into Harry, and potentially into Peter, who is, I suspect, without a doubt in my mind, into MJ, who might also be into Peter, but also maybe Harry.
What kinda cluster fuck had I found myself in.
Regardless I ignored it, and focused practically all my attention on Felicia, completely ignoring the fact that freaking Spider Man! Was sitting just two stools down from me.
I was also quite sure he had already been bitten, as Ned had knocked a fork off the table and the guy had caught it without even glancing at it.
How cool!
Though not as cool as the attention I was receiving from Felicia.
Oh, come on! Can you blame me? Freedom finally from a group-home surrounding by fellow depressed kids, all waiting for either adoption or adult hood, and more like family than anything else. Not to mention under constant supervision.
I'm finally free! And having been hounded by Nat my whole life I can't help but relish in the attention of a beautiful girl such as Felicia. Even if Peter Parker was right there.
We left the pizza place with satisfied stomachs, Harry was lying when he said best pizza place in the city, which nets him positive karma in my book.
With purposely spaced steps I found myself walking side-by-side with Felicia as we all made our ways back to the ESU campus.
"So, you're studying Law huh? Any reason, other than justice against evil and all that?"
Felicia scoffed, cleaning her nails against her leather jacket, "Justice against my evils perhaps." She said, blowing at her fingers.
"I can respect that." I said honestly.
She quirked a brow at me, a slight smirk on her lips, "You can?"
I nodded, meeting her half-glance, "Yeah, the law is black and white, but life is lived in color." I said wisely, though my mind was on Nat.
My loving older sister, who probably has a kill-count in or above triple digits. The dichotomy was not lost on me, and despite it all I would never judge her for it.
Felicia hummed, her lips pursing into a smile, "Lived in color~ Did you make that up on the spot?" She chided me, leaning a shoulder against mine as if to shove me for my wiseness.
"What can I say, I'm wise and humble." I said sarcastically, twisting right as her shoulder touched me, forcing us to roll against our backs until we suddenly found ourselves walking backwards.
Felicia let out a startled hum, until easily following my actions and walking backwards with me with a chuckle.
"Wanna ditch?" I asked with a grin.
Felicia narrowed her eyes at me, glancing at my lips before rolling them and then smiling.
"Keep up~" She purred before suddenly bolting away.
I internally fist pumped glancing back at the group walking away in the distance, oblivious of our departure.
— POV 3rd
Felicia sprinted forwards, her heels doing little to hamper her agility. A rush of air suddenly brushed her back and she almost yelped as David tapped her shoulder, his voice a whisper in the wind.
"Tag." He whispered before sprinting past her and leaping onto a nearby ledge with surprising deft.
Felicia's eyebrow twitched, a childish smile on her lips, "tag?" She muttered in disbelief yet her eyes suddenly narrowed and she shot forwards and leapt off a trashcan before flipping into a perfect landing on the ledge.
In heels no less~
She brushed her nails with a smirk as she saw David's surprised look. Her eyes unable able to pry themselves away from his electric-blue eyes.
"You better start running, kitten~" Felicia purr'd dangerously, striding towards him, her heels clicking against the stone below.
David rose a brow, a grin on his lips, "Keep up." He challenged, before twisting around and sprinted away.
Felicia scoffed then chased after him, eyes scanning his steps narrowing as they approached the end of the ledge. Yet, to her surprised David didn't drop down but instead jumped, clearing the small alley in a single move and latched onto a fire-escape, before flipping himself over and landing with a quiet slam.
He turned, a nearby escape-light hitting his face from the side, illuminating his smirk.
"Come on, I hear the stars are nice tonight."
Felicia grinned, revealing pearly white teeth and sharp fangs for the time. "Oh you're speaking my language, kitten~!" She laughed while leaping forwards. Her hands latched onto a nearby streetlamp, twirling herself around in a full-circle before spinning forwards and landing in a perfect hand-stand on the railing. Her legs dropped forwards like scissors, heels missing Davids' face by barely an inch.
She smirked at his now utterly stunned face, striding forwards until her lips was just a breath away from his.
With a soft, tantalizing finger she tapped his chest, feeling his pecs, she trailed down smirking even more as she felt his abs.
"Tag~"
— POV David, blessed brother of Natasha, luckiest man on Earth, Jumper.
What might've been the best night of my life since my first ever Jump went by in a haze.
The two of us raced across the city back to ESU like Batman and Cat-woman — I mean fuck, what are the chances the first girl I meet is a parkour god?!
Truly, whatever superhero world fuckery is happening I hope it keeps happening! (A/N: We will remember that.)
Felicia was amazing, tantalizing and playful. Her acrobatic ability only made her more attractive my the flip, the sheer grace of her movements, in fucking heels, blew me away.
I had been training all my life damn-near, and she was clearly better than me.
It was humbling, and hot as hell.
By the time we reach campus, both of us sliding down a pipe and landing at the entrance of an alley in a quiet flourish. Our chests were heaving, sweat had built on both of our faces, regret at wearing a turtleneck washing over me.
Felicia suddenly turned with a predatory smile on her face, her fangs digging into her lips as she sauntered towards me.
I couldn't tell if it was the physical exertion or arousal that made my heart thunder, but seeing her sweaty in a tight-long sleeve and leather jacket sent a hot wave down my spine.
She stopped just before our bodies touched before her hand suddenly snaked around my neck, her nails digging into my skin and yanked me down to her lips.
Our lips met in a bloom of heat, my hands wrapping around her waist without even thinking about it, I pulled her deeper. I felt her fangs bite my lip, her tongue tasting the blood and making her kiss deeper.
Time faded away, I couldn't tell ya how long it was, but it felt like forever.
When we broke a strand of saliva bridge our lips, which she quickly lapped up with her tongue, licking her lips. "See you tomorrow, kitten." She said, and gently pushed away from me, her hips swaying as she headed towards campus.
"Tag~!" She suddenly chimed with tilt of her head, before chuckling to herself and leaving me behind.
I stood there for a hot minute, long enough for her to vanish into the dorms, stunned, a stupid grin on my face. My heart pounding in my chest and a warm heart radiating on my lips.
"David?!" A sudden voice exclaimed, and I turned to see Harry, Peter and Ned without the girls staring at me in surprise.
"How the hell did you get here before us?" His new roomate exclaimed.
Peter squinted at me beside him, "Is your lip bleeding?" and Ned added, "Why are you standing in front of an alley?"
I chuckled, scratching my cheek with tongue in cheek, "Ah y'know, just examining the city. New York's infamous alleys!"
They looked at me dumb, before Harry, godless his heart Osborn, eyes' widened into saucers, "You bastard! Is that lipstick on your lips — oh oh oh! You motherfu—"
—
My first week of classes passed in an exciting flurry. I decided to major in physics in an attempt to further my understanding of my Jumping abilities. Which unfortunately meant math heavy classes, and stupidly long equations. I hypothesized, without any real basis to be honest, that my Jumping abilities worked via either tearing a hole in space between me and my destination, or maybe folding space, perhaps both?
That was what I was hoping to find out.
It was nice that I had plenty of overlap with the friends I made on my first day. Chem with Gwen and Peter. CS with Peter & Ned, and writing with Harry, Felicia and everyone else. MJ was the person who I saw least, since she was going for Art. To the dismay of Peter, who was taking the polar opposite: Computer Science & Biochemistry.
Felicia, I saw little during the day outside of lunches and short meetups between classes, but I had asked her out on a date at the end of the week so all was well.
Our relationship was… nice. To say the least, but neither of us had bothered to label it — not having gone far enough for it to warrant such things — and too busy adjusting to our class loads to think further about it. Not that it stopped us from making out, she was pretty voracious to be honest, not that I mind.
When Friday finally came, the day before our date — I finally began the first risky step of my plans.
Despite the interlude of me fawning for Felicia, I hadn't lost sight of my pursuit of strength. Of safety within a world of superheroes, mutants and aliens.
We must stay focused!
To that end, I was finally going to acquire some gear. Weapons, likely from nearby thugs — and hopefully cash too.
I had a couple knives here and there, gifted by Clint, and even a bow + arrows he had made personally, all of which Nat berated him for.
'What the hell is a twelve year old going to do with a fucking combat knife you F!#!%*!' she'd said.
Thank you uncle Clint, the goat.
Even more-so the man gave him advice and pointers, checking in on his skills over the years, culminating in a weekend hunting trip.
Another great memory, one that netted a wild-boar, and his stamp of archer approval.
I was no Hawkeye, but Clint once told me I was, 'A damn good shot!'
My outfit was criminal. No quite literally, a black balaclava that showed only my eyes, a black turtleneck, cargo pants and combat boots.
An outfit that screamed, I'm not a good guy!
Two knives were strapped to my thighs, a quiver of ten arrows on my back, and my bow in my hands.
It was the dark of night, and I stood crouched on a nearby ledge — waiting.
— POV 3rd
The Bootleggin Boy's were a gang that controlled a minor part of western Manhattan. Their small piece of paradise straddling the outskirts of Hell's Kitchen, any further in and they'd be devoured by the true forces that ruled the underworld.
They did bottom-of-barrel-work, simple honest — organ harvesting.
A little trafficking here and there and perhaps the odd hit, but the money was in the heart of their operations. The lifeblood that kept money flowing and their urges satisfied.
Knuckle-kneader Kramer watched his boss's goons arrive like usual, his thumb rolling over the brass on his knuckles, in boredom.
The dark alleyway framed their silhouettes with shadows, hiding even more men armed to the teeth with knives and petty pistols. They had sent quiet signals that had reached him long before body-sized duffle-bag had even appeared in his grizzly sight.
Another body, another fat stack o' cash. He thought grimly.
His fellow 'big gun' Mess-your-mouth-Mikey sighed with overt boredom. The sight of their grim work doing little to ease the mundane routine.
"Hey, ya hear about the attack on Jim's crew?" He asked with a yawn.
Kramer snorted, "That they got put in the dirt by a blood-red demon?" He waved a knuckle-duster dismissively, "Those crack-heads probably just took too much and killed each other, wouldn't be the first time."
Mikey grunted, "I don't know man, the guys who made it out seemed pretty fucked up, their eyes man, their eyes screamed like they'd seen something — terrifying."
Kramer rolled his eyes, "Cowards, more like it." Red-blooded demon — fucking massive green monsters rampaging through Harlem, and now a demon? I gotta get the fuck out of New York before Aliens invade or some stupid shit!
The goons arrived with exhausted breaths, the duffle-bag squirming and straining between them.
Mikey stepped forwards, zipping the bag open with a harsh pull.
Beneath the weak light above them pale skin could be seen frantically shifting within the bag.
Mikey zipped the bag back up, giving Kramer a nod.
"Good work, take her to the block—" He began to say, until his head suddenly whipped backwards as if he'd been shot by a bullet.
The goons yelped, dropping the duffle-bag in surprise. The bag let out a muffled groan, as chaos began breaking lose around it.
Mikey stared in disbelief at Kramer's slumping body, his mind slowly catching up to what had hit him.
An arrow?!
"Get down! There's a fucker ARC—" THHHK!
Mikey's head snapped, his body quickly toppling over as he died.
The goons looked up, utter terror filling their eyes. Until Goon 1 screamed, pointing a finger at his friend. "Behind you!" He warned, far too late as he friend's neck was slashed apart.
Disturbingly, Goon 2 without knowing he was dying also pointed out, "Behind you!" He gurgled out, before slumping to the floor.
Goon 1 blinked, and the man behind his friend was gone, as if he hadn't even been there. A hallucination?
He thought, as he fell to the floor, throat pouring out with blood.
The alleyway erupted in screams, a dozen men armed to the teeth charged towards—nobody.
The culprit was gone, what the fuck?! He was right there!
"UAHG!" Someone suddenly screamed from behind them. Their eyes flooded with fear as they saw their accomplices slump to the floor with arrows in their necks.
For a moment they saw the culprit, a man covered head-to-toe in black stringing a bow around his back. He pulled out a knife, taking a stance just as the remaining goons began charging towards him.
Then he fucking vanished, and another man screamed out from behind, throat slashed wide open.
Confusion filled their rapidly dwindling ranks as an arrow suddenly pierced someone's head from ABOVE?!
Before the last man finally understood what was happening, that he was fighting a teleporter, an arrow had found its way into his chest. His heart quivering against he cold steel-head. Eyes burning the final image of the man in black, storing away his bow.
David walked down suddenly quiet alley way, the silence giving way to the frantic muffled moans coming from the duffle-bag.
With quiet steps he trudged through the body-strewn alley, before kneeling down and unzipping the bag. His eyes narrowed with a grimace as he saw the woman within.
He lifted her into his arms before vanishing from the alley and appearing in the street. With a flourish of his knife he removed her bindings before vanishing once more back into the alley.
The moment her hands came free the woman ripped off the bag covering her head, her hands frantically untying the gag around her mouth.
With heavy breaths she sucked in air, only to quickly realize she was on the street.
Alone.
— POV 1st
I didn't immediately Jump back to the hell-hole of an alley way, appearing instead on a nearby roof. The moment my feet touched the ground I ripped my balaclava off and promptly began vomiting out my dinner.
My chest heaved as the images of the men I killed flashed through my mind, before the image of the woman bound in the bag washed over me.
I wasn't planning on killing them.
I thought they were just your average gang or some shit. Whatever that meant.
But the moment I saw skin in that duffle-bag something in me snapped.
I don't regret it in the slightly, only the putrid aftertaste of the act.
Would Nat be proud?
I hope not.
—
As you can imagine, hopefully not very vividly, the inside of their establishment was even worse.
To keep it curt: Meat Hooks.
And that's all I'll say.
I hope they burn in hell.
My grim-work concluded with a fat man in a suit, firing an assault rifle at nothing. He died before he could even monologue. His safe was locked, though it didn't perturb me as I Jumped it into the sky with me and dropped it.
It exploded like a piñata filled with money, the best kinda piñata, in my opinion.
Two-hundred and Fifty thousand dollars of cold hard cash, potentially traceable—so I'll have to figure that out, but fat stacks nonetheless.
I also found a ledger of clients their boss kept, with names and addresses of local rival gangs and their grim operations.
The oddest thing however was a letter from a rival gang, whose boss was apparently the brother of the one I just killed.
'Brother, be careful, we don't know who, or more likely in this case, what — is hitting the gangs around us, but trust me. They're real, I saw them. Red-Blooded Demon.'
— TTT
Red-blooded Demon? What on Earth? A mutant perhaps? A fellow vigilante it seems, oh! This could totally be my first superhero meetup!
How exciting.
—
To my utter surprise I didn't have nightmares that night, only dreams of things I'd buy with the stole. I'd never been so rich in my life — and it happened over night, in less than an hour.
Who says fighting-crime doesn't pay?
…anyone?
Regardless, I slept easy knowing a cardboard box of cash was under my mattress.
To my delight, Harry slept like a rock. Eye-mask and earplugs, silk pajamas and sheets. I couldn't Jumped into here and he probably wouldn't have noticed. It made hiding my fat stacks a whole lot easier.
Which reminds me to start looking for a place of my own. I don't mind the dorm for now since it's close to class and friends, but I can't just keep hiding cash under my bed.
It's just not classy.
My day went by normally, a few laps around the campus, a stop at the campus gym — a godsend after years of body-weight training.
I even enrolled myself in a martial arts class, going for a practical mix of Kick-boxing, Muay-thai, BJJ, Judo and TKD for the extra-flair.
I was getting stronger and deadlier by the day, and just that thought alone kept me going.
Clint would be proud.
By the time 5:00pm rolled around, I was freshly showered and dressed up all fancy. And by that I mean a white sweater and dark jeans, some vanilla-bourbon scented perfume (courtesy of Nat) and a stupid grin on my face.
Harry, ever the timely one, arrived back at the Dorm right before I was about to leave left, his eyes narrowing at me suspiciously,
"And where are you going all dressed up—" His nose twitched, "Is that Vincent Van Vanilla Bourbon?"
I quirked my brow at him, "You should go into cosmetics not Law."
He shrugged, unloading his bag at his desk, "The woes of being rich, have fun on your date."
"Thanks."
I left my dorm with light steps, arriving at campus gates surprised to see Felica already waiting for me. She worse a long all-back low-cut sweater that reached her mid-thigh. Her silver-hair hung freely in soft waves, curling at their ends ever-so slightly. And of course, tall-white heels.
"Well, well, well look who decided to show up~?" She whispered playfully.
I rolled my eyes with a smile, tapping my watch, "Not my fault the pretty lady decided to arrive ten minutes early."
Felicia grinned, sauntering over before pouting at me, "And let you beat me here? As if~" She wrapped her arms around neck and pulled me into a kiss.
Which I happily returned.
"Are we walking or taking a cab?" She asked pulling away. I scoffed with a shit-eating grin.
"What are we? Plebeians?" I couldn't help but say, dangling my keys at her like she was some cat.
Felicia's brow twitched, a sly smirk on her lips, emerald eyes locked onto my keys, "Plebeians?"
I chuckled, turning away from her and pointing towards my motorcycle.
Now, I won't lie and say I didn't move my bike ahead of time, fully knowing that when the sun began to set the street lamp above would turn on and frame it in a ray of soft golden luster, in all of its picture perfect glory.
Because that's exactly what I did!
Felicia's eyes narrowed at the silver bike dangerously, she rolled her tongue in a soft purr, "Oh, mama like~"
"Thought you would~" I said cooly, but internally I was fist-pumping like a mad man. THANK YOU NAT & CLINT! GODBLESS YOU!
I swung myself over the bike with smug grace, my head tilting towards Felicia, glancing at her from the edge of my eyes, "Shall we?"
—
[A/N: LMK what you think! He's op ngl, especially against normal humans, so we'll see how he fairs against other enhanced/mutants/other marvel b.s.
Focusing on establishing character relationships so he's not the loner-orphan stereotype, hope ya'll like Nat.
Regarding his Plot knowledge, he remembers the major events — stuff like the battle of New York, wakanda, and Thanos, as well as things in-between. He's seen one X-man movie, avengers movies up until endgame — but remember that he was like, 4-5 years old when he saw the movies, so his memory isn't perfect. Which helps me balance the power scaling early on and he doesn't immediately teleport into finding the SSS or sm shit. It'll happen, but give it time — I'm trying to balance an OP ass power.
One does not simply walk into Stark Tower and steal his tech y'know, Jarvis is a thing, and Tony is a fucking genius. Extremis is also a thing, AIM is still on-going, as IM3 was post Battle4NY — so we'll see how that goes.
In terms of the Hell's kitchen plot-line, there's a big bad, I'm sure y'all know who, considering who's already on their tail. Considering bringing in skull boy too, but I'm not entirely well versed in their lore.
Hope y'all enjoyed the fat chapter.]
[A/N P.S: yes I know some of the plot elements are similar to my other book, again — to be clear, idgaf.]