This work is a piece of fiction. While it may be inspired by real events, cultures, and practices in human history, the story blends factual history with fictional characters, dramatizations, and creative interpretation.
It is not intended to promote, glorify, or encourage any illegal activities, substance use, or harmful behavior. All depictions of sensitive topics are included solely for narrative and historical context, and are not intended to be offensive or provocative.
For the effects of the story, all characters are to be considered above the age of majority.
Reader discretion is advised.
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╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗
Earth-5H1N3, Year 2001.
Stark lounged in the main living room of his Malibu mansion, a glass of cold mango juice in his hand—which he swirled as if it were whiskey on the rocks—a crown with light blue circuit patterns on his head, below the mansion, in his workshop, machinery operated alive, manufacturing and testing different variations of his armor. All the while, his eyes remained vacant in the blue Pacific Ocean.
Psionic energy was normally invisible, with a few exceptions, but after studying the runes and Script in the Destroyer Suit Aragorn had left in his care, he found a way to integrate this magitech into his crown.
After testing his crown with Seraph's and Spark's help, he noticed that psionic had various flavors but only two primordial essences. The Phoenic Force Nexus and the Psionic Nexus inside Aragorn. One with a warm palette and the other with cold tones, respectively.
He noticed that Spark and Seraph wielded both energies, with a propensity to lean on the cold tones of their father. A milky white of her flavor tinted Spark's psionic energy, and Seraph's was cerulean, like a tropical sea.
His thoughts revolved around this because four days ago, he had witnessed the entire view of his living room transform into cold tones after the ocean had turned inky black.
A wall so massive it could only be compared to the ocean it shielded against, that's how his mind processed it.
Stark was not new to the immensity of Aragorn—he knew about it better than most, and if he ever doubted it, he needed only to return to work on the Destroyer Suit to understand it—but it was different to observe from a distance than to witness the wall of psionic energy materialize in an instant, a few feet away from his balcony.
[Sir.]
"What's up, JARVIS?" Stark broke out of his daze and took a sip of his mango juice, his alcoholism reminding him of how much better the drink would taste with some liquor in it.
[Ms. Seraph sent a compendium of the newly introduced species.]
"Anything of interest for us?" he asked.
[The compendium was not detailed enough about possible applications.]
"Hmmm, knowing Seraph, she probably did that to keep us up to date, and, possibly, there's nothing remarkable that could serve our objectives," Stark mused out loud.
[Sir, I imagine His Majesty and Director Fury would have more complete data.]
"I don't doubt it, but they should be out after what Seraph said they were going to do," Stark said. "Do remind me to reach out to Doom once he is released."
[Noted, Sir. On that note, Ms. Potts should be here within 15 minutes. This might be a good time to finish your preparations.]
"Agh," Stark grunted. "How long was I spaced out?"
[67 minutes, Sir.]
Stark downed his mango juice in a gulp before climbing the stairs to his room.
He quickly undressed to his boxer briefs and equipped himself with two metal vambraces and two metal greaves. The protective armor settled automatically and tightened by itself before runes lit up for a moment.
He tapped his Link, the one Seraph had built for him, and a syrup of nanites dripped over the middle of his chest. The nanites reformed, and a blue-glowing arc reactor was formed. Rivulets connected the reactor to the greaves and vambrances, and the runes lit up once more along circuitry.
He dressed in a midnight blue three-piece suit over a black dress shirt and a dark green tie. Finally, he tapped his crown, and it flickered before fading into invisibility.
{A/N: He should be around this age ↓}
Summoning his armored suit was something that required the activation of a rune he had Seraph inscribe in him, but he still felt naked if he was not wearing some form of protection at all times, hence the vambraces, greaves, and crown. He called it ACUI, short for Armor for Civilian Use I.
Was he a paranoid man? Was the anxiety so crippling that even while being able to summon his armor in an instant, he felt the need to wear a form of armor at all times?
It was not a lie that he had been suffering from panic attacks and anxiety for the past year and some months, but is he at fault?
Ever since meeting Seraph, he had been introduced to a world of nightmares of cosmic proportions, literally. The fact that the world has been inches away from perishing more than four times—because Stark is aware of the other times Aragorn has acted behind cameras that the world ignores—did nothing but fuel his anxiety.
His 'solution' to the problem, alcohol, had been taken away, and while he didn't regret that, he changed his life so much that his other methods of uncoiling lost their meaning: sex and parties.
His technology and runes—recently pseudo Script too—became his sole focus, and somewhere along the way, his best friends got together, Pepper and Happy. His other friend, Rhodes, kept his distance from him as soon as it became public knowledge that Stark Industries was something of a sister company with The Light, Abner's company.
In other words, Seraph and the X-Men that guarded him became his only day-to-day companions he could rely on, and these same companions, with their fancy powers and divinity, were part of the source of his anxiety.
'It is not easy,' he thought to himself after confirming the activation sequence of the runes and protocols of his ACUI were completed.
He made his way to the kitchen and opened the fridge. He grabbed a glass bottle filled with a milky translucent liquid and was about to drink from the bottle until he saw a label that read 'Laura's' on the side of it. He returned it and reached further back to the unlabeled one, taking a swing at it.
The liquid was processed sap from the Arbor Mundi. It was both an energy drink, like coffee, and an electrolyte-rich drink.
When the clock hit 11:00, a portal opened in his living room, and Virginia Potts and Laura walked through.
"Tony, that's great, you're ready," Potts greeted him with a smile and walked to him to bear hug him. "I'm so glad you're okay."
Stark returned the hug hesitantly and said, "My house is shielded enough to withstand an apocalypse or two, Pepper. I was worried about you and Happy."
Pepper and Happy had been at the headquarters of Stark Industries, still in California but not near a waterfront.
"I'm glad you're alright, too, Little Monster," Stark said to Laura.
Laura, for her part, didn't raise her face from the holographic screen where her Fruit Ninja was playing. If one looked closely enough, the fruit juice was all suspiciously similar to a viscous strawberry juice.
"Not in danger," Laura replied.
Stark, used to her one- or three-worded answers, didn't mind it and turned back to Virginia Potts. "So, how did you end up with Beastie?"
"We hired her," she replied while hitting Stark on the shoulder for calling Laura a little monster.
"I'm pretty sure that's not legal," Stark pointed out. "She has the mental age of a child, the body of one shifting to pre-teenhood, and I think her telomeres' length indicated she was like 3 or 5 years old."
"I argued the same," Potts said with a sigh. "But Logan said that since she was already guarding you and had a room here, we might as well pay her."
"Are you sure he didn't mean adopt her?" Stark threw a glance at the little monster.
"Apparently, The Light already hired her." Potts unlocked her phone and tapped a few times before the contract appeared in Stark's mind through his crown.
"It's like those child actors' contracts," Stark said after skimming through it.
Potts nodded. After sharing a few deadpan glances, they set the matter aside and walked to Laura.
"Baxter?" Laura asked.
"Yes, the lobby, please," Potts said.
Laura tapped her P-Link, and a portal opened to the lobby of the Baxter Building.
The sight of two adults, one of them the renowned Tony Stark, and a child playing in a holographic display raised a few eyebrows, but they didn't let it bother them.
The portal closed, and Potts approached the reception desk. "We have an appointment with Ms. Storm."
"Of course, Ms. Potts and Mr. Stark, Ms. Storm awaits you," the receptionist replied amiably and respectfully.
They were led to a glass elevator that ascended from the outside of the building, giving its riders a 180-degree view of Manhattan.
Laura paused her game to take in the view, but quickly lost interest. Having free access to the Halo, its cities, and Krakoa has a way of dulling one to the magnificence of certain landscapes and sights.
Awaiting them, on the top floor, were Susan Storm and Ben Grimm. Susan wore a dark brown suit, her blonde hair draped over her shoulders. Ben Grimm wore brown slacks and a white dress shirt, no tie.
"Welcome, Mr. Stark, Ms. Potts," Susan greeted them.
While Stark was the majority holder and brains, Potts was the acting CEO.
"Hello, kiddo," Ben greeted Laura. "How's your old man?"
Laura paused her game and nodded in greeting before saying, "Blackops. Mutants."
"That's... I thought that had been left in the past," Ben commented.
"There was a sudden increase in mutant awakenings after so much foreign energy was dispersed in the atmosphere. Divinity included," Stark replied.
"The increase in global stress levels played a part in that," Potts added.
"So, opportunists are trying to grab 'resources'?" Susan asked with her brow furrowed. She gestured for the guests to take a seat, and she and Ben did the same.
Seeing the adults about to start their boring talk, Laura asked, "Torch?"
With a chuckle, Ben said, "The matchstick is three floors below this one. In the training room. Could you make him company?"
Laura nodded before tapping her P-Link and opening a portal.
Watching her walk through it and close it, Stark commented, "Poor bastard."
"What do you mean?" Susan asked.
"Laura doesn't hold back," Potts said with a twitching smile.
"But don't worry your precious head," Stark said with a rougish smile upon seeing Susan's concern. "Aragorn equipped her P-Link with assorted potions. So long as he is breathing, she will heal him. That's why I pity him."
"Hehehehe!" Ben burst into laughter.
Stiffling a chuckle, Stark looked away from Ben.
"Come on, Sue. You know Johnny and Laura are online pals, he'll be alright," Ben said while nudging Susan to get on the meeting.
"That's another matter altogether." Susan pinched the bridge of her nose in weariness. "My 20-year-old brother is online pals with," she paused and turned to Stark and Potts, "How old is Laura?"
"Short answer? About five years old," Stark replied with a shrug. "But she is about 11-13 years old if we go by the maturity of her physical appearance."
"Ah, right," Susan said after a second of hesitation. "She is one of the rescues, isn't she?"
"Aragorn and Seraph rescued her about a month ago," Potts replied.
"But Aragorn spent a year with her in an accelerated timeflow bubble," Stark added.
For a moment, as they considered the implications and tried to understand what it would be like for a child to have been raised in an environment such as the one that raised Laura, they didn't know what to say.
"What a bleak world," Ben Grimm commented with a heavy sigh and a distant gaze.
"Sometimes, it isn't hard to understand why the Old Man is such a misanthrope," Stark added.
"I think we'd better start with the meeting." To Potts, the world wasn't as bleak as they had portrayed, but she was in love, and the world looked filled with possibilities and to-be-written stories.
"I agree," Susan nodded. "So, you mentioned the possibility of a merger with one of your subsidiaries or for Storm Inc to take over a branch of Stark Industries."
"Those are some of the preliminary ideas; what we are here to determine," Potts said.
"The truth is that Stark Industries is overwhelmed, and it should have declared bankruptcy one apocalypse ago," Stark bluntly stated.
"That is hard to believe," Ben Grimm said while pulling out his smartphone. "You and N-tek control the new market of intelligent devices."
"Not to mention how Stark Industries and The Light were recently declared non-taxable companies due to the amount of charities you've run the past year," Susan Storm added.
"Well, I'm going to be honest here and speak frankly due to that P-Link hanging from your neck," Stark pointed at Susan's P-Link. "Aragorn, Seraph, and Spark have been stealing from the entire world and funneling these assets through Stark Industries and The Light, along with other companies and subsidiaries we control."
"... What?!" Susan and Ben exclaimed at the same time.
"After the first economic crisis, due to Spark and Seraph's interference, they realized they were steering the global markets so thoroughly that they might as well take control of the economy of the planet and guide the money to where it actually helps the greater good," Potts admitted with a complicated look, half shame, half pride.
"There's a reason organized crime has seen an all-time low since the times of the Roman Empire," Stark added. "Any money connected to illicit activities or not in effective use that could be found in a database has been managed by the AI Sisters."
"From what we know, the assets of some of those countries that fell were also repurposed by Aragorn and his daughters, oh, and Doom," Potts added.
Each confession made the hearts of the Invisible Woman and the Thing shake.
"In conclusion, Stark Industries should have tapped out a long time ago, but, just like some of those Narco Countries, it has been kept afloat thanks to illicit capital," Stark said.
"W-Why are you telling us this?" Susan stammered.
"Stark Industries and most of Aragorn's companies have become so intertwined with the countries they operate in that in the not-so-distant future, either we take control of these countries—USA included—or the companies will have to become public property and be transferred/sold to the countries where they operate," Potts revealed.
"As you probably are aware, Aragorn is banking on Doom becoming the first Emperor of Mankind," Stark continued. "Certain private sectors will need to come under his control to centralize power once he claims the imperial chair. That's why most of Aragorn's companies focused on the most important economic sectors of a civilization.
"After gaining 70% to 96% control of these sectors, and once certain conditions are met, the plan is to transfer these companies to Doom and eventually so much of the world would be in his hands that even while facing opposition, the world will have to acknowledge his claim to the throne," Stark finished.
"In other words, we are trying to secure the branches of Stark Industries we care about the most under your company," Potts revealed.
"... You want Storm Inc to be your retirement home," Susan said with her eyes wide.
"My genius works best in research and development, and Pepper doesn't want to turn into some form of Minister of Economy once Doom ascends," Stark said.
'And, hopefully, I will be with Seraph by then, and my title would be something like prince of the Therions,' Stark, half-jokingly, thought to himself.
"Minister of Economy?" Ben asked.
"According to what Doom said, he will most likely assign those in power as his ministers to oversee the corresponding markets," Potts explained. "For example, The Spiral CO, Aragorn's mining company, would be considered the Ministry of Industry and Mineral Resources, and The Light Enterprises would be the Ministry of Energy and Environment. If I stay where I am, I would end up as the head of the Ministry of Science, Technology, and Development."
"This isn't happening soon. Why are you acting now?" Ben questioned.
"Because our companies are already managing a considerable percentage of these economic sectors," Stark replied. "Take a look at the situation in Re-Nazca," he tapped his Link, and a projection showing a map of South America appeared.
"After Aragorn took over what used to be Chile, he created a different form of economic enclave never seen before," the map showed the spread of Aragorn's companies' influence starting from the Arbor Mundi.
"Less than three years after its takeover, Re-Nazca has become the leading country in safety, happiness, natality, development, and more," Potts added. "The usual model of economic exploitation was dismissed as idiotic, and Aragorn created this new reality. Re-Nazca is now an example of what could be achieved through healthy capitalism."
"Of course, Re-Nazca has the resource that can only be extracted from within its lands, the Arbor Mundi, but still, it's a successful example of the model," Stark added. "Now, as you know, Re-Nazca's government is being guided by Aragorn's will. Effectively speaking, Re-Nazca is being managed privately by Aragorn's companies, and the same is happening throughout several third-world countries that collapsed, or would have collapsed, after the previous apocalypses."
"And, the workload is becoming impossible to manage," Potts added. "Instead of being the CEO of Stark Industries and N-Tek, I feel like the president of Latin America, New Zealand, the Czech Republic, and Slovakia."
"Not to mention the countries whose territories we are currently handling as placeholders because our branches were the only thing that survived their collapse," Stark said. "If it were not for JARVIS, Seraph, and Spark, we would have already died to exhaustion."
"... In other words, we need help," Potts summarized.
Susan and Ben, this time, truly didn't know how to continue with the conversation.
While they were having an existential crisis after realizing that AI was running the planet, three floors below them, Johnny Storm was having his own crisis.
"Who the fuck thought it was a good idea to give this rabid cat teleportation?!" Johnny shouted while flying like a comet around the training room.
The training room had been a new addition to the Baxter Tower, a gift from Yelena, really. It was installed after the tower had been reformed by Jean Grey's wish.
Space was warped to fit about 17 Manhattans, and there was even a slight time flow distortion to allow for one and a quarter hours experienced inside to be equivalent to one hour outside.
Normally, Aragorn would not allow tech involving space-time to be easily accessible outside Halo or Krakoa, but after Susan shared the news that Reed Richards had been kicked out, he felt emboldened to allow them a few more privileges.
And Yelena might have felt a bit guilty about what happened between her and Johnny, so maybe she was trying to buy her pardon with material gifts.
Aragorn had pointed out how he had seen a similar dynamic between sugar daddies and sugar babies. Yelena did not feel offended by the comparison at all. In fact, she took a habit of spying on these types of couples to learn from the true masters.
Her latest 'gift' was a work in progress; she was attempting to convince Irina to join her in bed with Johnny.
Anyway, due to the powerlessness he experienced, Johnny had taken to the training room as his raison d'etre and he may or may not have missed a few of his scheduled gaming sessions with Laura the past week.
Laura was a little girl who was in touch with her feelings. If she was mad, she didn't hide it; if she was sad, she expressed her pain; if she was happy, she shared her joy. The only problem was that 80% of her emotional expressions included a form of stabbing and/or slashing.
She was definitely upset, so after portaling in, she attempted to stab Johnny. She was worried about his lack of response for days, so she expressed this worry by trying to cut through his knees after he miraculously escaped her ambush. She was overjoyed at seeing him in good health, so she teleported after him and ran in the air while pursuing him with her enchanted claws out.
"My girl, this raging wolverine will end us!"
With his body wreathed in the living flames of his symbiotic conflagration, Johnny tried to make use of his mobility to escape the reach of those enchanted adamantium blades.
He had already been nicked by one of the blades, and he certainly was not eager to explore the joys of torturous pain again.
"She-beast, what the hell is wrong with those claws?!" Johnny cursed while twisting his body to escape the teleporting wolverine.
His body was not twirling, and banking left, or right to avoid Laura, no, it was something more chaotic, something that almost looked as if he were a kite that lost its tail and the wind was twisting under its will.
Johnny did not lack flight practice; in fact, due to his background and piloting skills, Johnny was quite adept at flight and three-dimensional displacement.
The problem was that Laura could teleport, and Aragorn thought it was a good idea to give her the ability to create temporary footholds in the air. Then there were her reflexes, instincts, training, and experience.
If, while landbound, she was considered the perfect killing machine by her creators, now that she was not confined by gravity, she was something else.
"Runes," Laura replied before vanishing and appearing below the falling Johnny with her claws ready to spear him through.
"Runes of eternal damnation, perhaps?!" Johnny snapped.
"Pain," Laura helpfully commented.
"... You know what? I'll trust your regeneration factor!" Johnny declared. "Let's go supernova!"
Johnny didn't know the melting point of Adamantium, but he figured that if atomized by an excess of kinetic energy, the metal would eventually have to give in, or something; he expected.
The aura of flames pulsed with violence as his body inevitably approached the extended claws of the wolverine. The core, his body, was tinted with sparse brushes of yellow and blue, before these brushes became tongues of blue and light yellow flames.
The blues and yellow rapidly grew to the outer edges of the flaming aura, and then the core gained another color: white.
The white pulsed, and when Johnny stopped being a source of light and became a source of starry shine, his flaming coat exploded, and the temperature skyrocketed to solar numbers.
Laura teleported to the farthest edge of the training ground and came to a pause.
Her eyes were milky, as they had been cooked, and blind; her skin, the side that was facing Johnny, was carbonized and falling apart; her hair was gone, eyebrows and eyelashes included; and her lips were cracked with blood and charcoal. All of this from the momentary exposure to the flash.
Her regeneration kicked in, and she returned to her pristine condition.
The only evidence of her previous condition was that her clothing was reduced to a training top and shorts woven from unstable molecule fabric Aragorn had gifted her as tactical underwear. The pieces of her leather jacket and jeans were falling off like burnt paper.
The flash of Johnny's supernova state was fastly approaching, and Laura had little to no time to waste.
She lifted her right foot and placed it perpendicular to the floor. She created a foothold and then crouched like a predator before jumping forward.
Not only did she jump with her muscles, but she also jumped through space and reappeared just a few feet in front of her starting position. Immediately after, she jumped through space again, and again, and again.
Her style of teleportation was the type that didn't bleed out the momentum, so by stacking teleportation after teleportation in a straight line, she was pumping kinetic energy into her attack and gaining speed exponentially.
From a distance, Johnny was blooming like a solar corona, and Laura was sharpening as she shot to the nascent star.
From a clawed mutant, to a blade, to a spearhead, to an arrowhead, to a needle, all of her momentum and mass were thinning to the singular point at the tip of her overextended enchanted claws.
The breathable air caught fire, and the atmosphere was ionized before it was all swallowed by the white corona. The needle thinned into a single line, and it penetrated the blooming white flower.
Her skin evaporated upon contact; her muscles followed after. Her regeneration worked overtime, her organs exploded into a mist that soon was ionized, and then, it was only an Adamantium skeleton moving incredibly fast, sicced on Johnny's center of mass.
Turns out that in Johnny's library of knowledge, there was no book on the melting point of Adamantium; if there were, he would have known that once solidified, Adamantium is almost impossible to melt.
The heavy skeleton punctured Johnny's core, and both crashed down and collapsed onto the melting floor.
"AGHH! You're killing me!" Johnny groaned. His molars almost cracked against each other as he pulled the claws out of his gut and covered the hemorrhage with his shaking hands.
The skeleton was so heavy that he couldn't drag himself out from under it.
From the skeleton's bone marrow, blood vessels, and muscles began to regenerate, and the previously empty rib cage and unstable molecular fabric clothing were filled with Laura.
About five minutes later, after Johnny had figured out how to use his living flame to make a construct to stop his bleeding, Laura was back as good as new. She blinked her eyes sleepily and grogily and felt the blood-wet, warm softness below her.
"I won," she declared proudly.
Any other day, Johnny was childish enough to point out that he could have buried her under a ton of concrete in the time it took her to regenerate, but after losing so much blood, he only said, "Heal me."
Laura smiled triumphantly before tapping her P-Link and uncorking a few vials. He made Johnny drink two and splashed three over the wounds. Seconds later, Johnny was just as healthy as Laura.
"I was training," Johnny said to the unblinking eyes of the she-beast. "I lost track of time."
"Afraid," Laura said.
"You were afraid for my life, or are you saying that I'm training like crazy because I'm afraid of the world?" Johnny asked.
"Nn," Laura nodded.
Johnny thought deeply and realized that "I think everyone is afraid after what happened."
Laura recalled the weakest member of her pack, Stark, and nodded in agreement again.
Johnny raised his head and looked around. Everything was melting, and the air vents, as they pumped air in, fanned the flames. The air was thinning, and he was hoping with all of his being that Yelena included either some form of automatic repair system with the training room, or that it came with a lifetime warranty.
"I think I'm gonna pass out," Johnny said as he half-choked. The oxygen burned was a considerable percentage, and the flames kindling the training room kept burning more and more of the vital gas.
Laura tapped her P-Link, and a 'mundane' forcefield surrounded them. She pulled out a pair of bracelets, which she handed to Johnny, a comfortable sofa, some cold drinks, and a few fast-food dishes she bought in the mermaid city in Halo, and then opened a small portal, like a window, to the outside, specifically to the Swiss Alps.
Finally, from her P-Link, the main menu of some multiplayer shooter was displayed, and she chose Player 1, and then gestured with her claws for him to sit before retracting them.
Johnny chuckled and put on the bracelets; they were the controls for the game.
━━━━━━━ ● ━━━━━━━
While the Fantastic Three were moving on with their lives, and Stark and Potts were planning their retirement lives, Reed Richards was riding the main elevator of Oscorp.
Unlike his usual casualness, he was wearing a fitted suit, carrying a business suitcase, with black square glasses. His beard was shaven, his hair was styled, and his eyes were focused.
Some say that being born intelligent or attractive is half the fight; in truth, whether smart or beautiful, what matters is power. This, in turn, could be paradoxical.
Beauty and intelligence can be a form of power. By this logic, being born intelligent or beautiful should be a form of power, but the text implies otherwise.
Power here refers to the type of power that allows someone to make mistakes and recover from them, the type that allows someone to trample over the rights of others, to enforce, whether voluntarily or forcibly, their will over others.
Until a few years ago, according to human civilization, money equaled real power.
Naturally, under the cloak of shadows, the world was run by the real power; mutants, sorcerers, mutates, Eternals, Inhumans, among others.
This dynamic, the one the public perceived, changed with the reveal of omega-level mutants and powerhouses, with Aragorn and Jean Grey spearheading the movement.
Reed Richards was intelligent beyond measure, and he was attractive. Additionally, he was a mutate. Factually, he was one of the few blessed individuals.
If there was something he was lacking, and that he acknowledged, it was financial power.
For years, Storm Inc was his financial power, but we know how that ended.
After finding himself in the metaphorical streets, Reed Richards had to restart his life.
Like a man coming out of a complicated relationship, his first breath was marked by a sense of freedom and relief.
Soon, though, reality reminded him that he needed to move, that he could remain still. And it did so in such a spectacular way.
He was enjoying a hot dog while watching the sunrise when suddenly the ocean turned black. The next thing he knew was that he was being protected by a force he immediately identified as the product of psionic energy.
Like a flashback, images of Aragorna and the threat he represented flashed through his mind.
That was what drove him to make a call to a certain contact he had dismissed long ago, Norman Osborn.
↓Part 2━━━━━━━ ● ━━━━━━━Part 2↓
"How interesting. I had thought my secretary was self-sabotaging her career when she said that the smartest man on the planet had scheduled an appointment with me. Not to say this is not a pleasant surprise, but last time we met we didn't part under the most amiable of circumstances, did we?"
"I don't recall ever participating in a competition to determine who was the smartest. Mr. Osborn."
"But weren't Otto Octavius, Doom, Stark, Bruce Banner, and Pym in that conference 5 years ago in Greenwich? I must also mention that I was present. My memory is not failing me when I say that you wiped the floor with us."
"But so many others were absent. Samuel Sterns, Adam Brashear, Helon Cho, Selvig, and... Abner, now Aragorn."
"... Ah, how could we forget the legacy of the man who kick-started a new era for humanity in less than three years? Or his gift after fusing with Lord Alduin. Impossible! Sacrilege!"
"A fan?"
"Is that displeasure I sense? How curious... I consider myself a genius who leans more toward business than toward the complexities of the side of innovation, which you tread."
"What's this about, Mr. Osborn?"
"What Abner, The Light, N-Tek, and his other enterprises have accomplished in the past three or so years is what I call the modern industrial revolution."
"... When the primitive machinery began to replace the common man, how many perished? When the industries began to measure their workers against machines, how many social guarantees were lost and forgotten?
"Just as it was during the Industrial Revolution... How many have died due to his meddling? The energy sector was the first to collapse. His batteries and solar panels wrecked the market and destroyed any hope for fossil fuels.
"Before the oil companies, who had the initial investment of digging equipment, could branch out into mining, the Spiral CO had already swallowed the market with the innovative drilling technology Abner developed.
"Millions lost their jobs from one month to another. The people were divided between those who supported the new green energies and those who claimed that those who worked in fossil fuels were also humans.
"So, I find it difficult to side with the man who recklessly destroyed our way of life for the simple reason that he hated how 'dirty' the planet was."
"... HAHAHAHA! You've changed, Richards!"
"..."
"Hahahahaha! Don't look at me like that. Hahahaha! You were always so much more interested in the world inside your head, the world in which only you resided, than in the world in which all of us resided.
"I told you, didn't I? I'm a genius who leans towards the outside world. I can assure you that what I see is different. So many opportunities created, so many new industries, so many more branching paths.
"It wasn't only the fossil fuel industries that he wrecked. Hahahahaha! Have you seen what happened to the healthcare market? Now, if it's not due to trauma or certain diseases, you won't find a patient in a hospital.
"So many incurable diseases that he—through his companies, and even Krakoa, from what I've discovered—rid the world of. From the common ones like diabetes, to rare genetic diseases like retroviral hyperplasia.
"Then we have that ringworld decorating our night sky. Can that brain of yours even compute how a single man could create that? Can you imagine all that he left for humanity in Halo?
"That man, based on what these Duskari have shared, singlehandedly established first contact on behalf of the planet. He was simply impossible, Richards. So, yeah, I'm a fan.
"Thanks to my forward thinking, insights, and genius, Oscorp, through our subsidiaries, was one of the first companies to join Abner when he started to revolutionize healthcare. Hence, he's only brought benefits to my doorstep. What I find most curious is why you hate so fiercely the deadman?"
"To the world, Abner was nothing but a miracle... As you said, the contributions he brought to the world, humanity as a whole, by his lonesome can't be quantified. But... Humans are not uncorruptible, are they?
"Can you imagine the type of havoc a 'human' like him could wreak? All he would have had to do was pull hard enough, and an asteroid would recreate the mass extinction from 65 million years ago.
"And, the things I saw him do... The things I know about him that I can't share even now... Mr. Osborn, think about the maximum theoretical damage that someone like you or me could cause. Let's say that all conditions and variables fall in place to allow for an evil version of us to try to end the world.
"At best, maybe, we could end Earth, but throughout the world-ending enterprise, humanity would have the kindling of hope in their hearts that they could stop us, no?
"If a human, one of my kind, could do it, that means I could stand up to them, or someone else, and bring about an end to our supposed reign of terror, that's what they would think, hope for, no?
"I was never able to get that sense from Aragorn Abner. If Abner could do it, maybe, if the conditions are right, I could do it, maybe, that's the thought he elicited in me.
"I always knew that if Abner turned evil, if he truly wanted to end it all, if he cared not for consequences and only looked out for himself, he could end it All. I have absolutely no doubts. No mutant, Inhuman, Duskari, or deity, ever evoked that sense of hopelessness in me, and tell me it wasn't so for you, Mr. Osborn; you crossed paths once, didn't you?"
"Richards... Wasn't Stark the one with the paranoia and panic-driven decisions? That was the unofficial reason he passed his seat to Virginia Potts, no? For such a smart man, your vision can be so narrow; however, I agree with your sentiment.
"When I met him, I was in a charity gala with my wife, and we crossed paths briefly. The moment our eyes met, I felt like a god was judging me. When we shook hands, I felt like the god found me unworthy and dismissed me.
"He released our handshake and extended his hand to my wife. The unnatural cold sweat of fright trickling down my back was what brought me back to my senses. My wife was feeble; she had been suffering from glioblastoma, and the only reason she was accompanying me that night was that she claimed it would be her last gala before she passed away.
"We had tried everything, burned through tens of millions, and it was unoperable, untreatable, lethal, hopeless. Hence, I evaluated that she couldn't withstand whatever it was that had me shaking like a newborn fawn.
"Contrary to my expectations, he smiled at her and said, 'Such a beautiful soul standing next to such a blackened man.' He gently shook her hand and went away just like that. Worried at my wife's stillness, I grabbed her shoulders softly and nudged her gently.
"She gave me a soft, relieved smile and said that she was alright. The week following our meeting, the doctors discovered she was as healthy as she could be. We thought it was a miracle, but through my contracts with the military, I later discovered that one of Abner's mutations was absolute biokinesis.
Maybe calling myself a fan is not enough, Richards. I almost worship the man. When the news of his passing, or fusion with Lord Alduin, reached my wife, she cried—my son too.
"Alas, don't look at me like that. Even if your opinion of Abner contrasts so greatly with mine, I'm a businessman at my core. I told you, a genius of business. I would not throw away the opportunity to employ a brain like yours simply because of this.
"Do you know how many in the world hate Abner? Just think of the countless people who lost their jobs due to him; that should give you a good starting number.
"I'm glad you can be objective, Mr. Osborn."
"Business is all about objectiveness over moral conundrums. So, let's start. You mentioned that you designed and built the weapon that took Hades and Odin out, the SIEVE, right?"
"It is my personal creation. They wielded it, but I was the blacksmith who created the metaphorical sword."
"Now, I also know that it was built with the resources of Storm Inc. I want to make it clear now that I would rather we spare ourselves the future inconvenience. If you siphon, borrow, repurpose—or whatever other smart wording you want you use—funds from my company, I will not spare you like Susan Storm did, Richards.
"I may have found a new deity to worship, but just like crusaders were monsters serving their god, I'm still the same ruthless businessman serving the doctrines of my deity. My family, children, the Abner family, and Aragorn and its adjacents, they are all off-limits, is that clear?"
"... I never intended to antagonize you or them. I only desire for us, mortals, to have the means to defend our pride from the tyranny of those above our station. Oscorp, as one of the few remaining holding contracts with the military outside of the Abner influence, is the perfect nest for my creations to be born, nurtured, and later distributed to the hands worthy of my self-defense weaponry and creations."
"... Ha! Good, at least you have the balls to say half-truths to my face. I like this new you, Richards. While I don't appreciate the dishonesty, I already said my piece. Death would be the least of your concerns if you cross me, Richards. Hahahahah!
"Welcome to Oscorp, Richards. The headseat of my R&D department is yours."
"It's a pleasure and an honor, Mr. Osborn."
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Wakanda, Birnin Zana.
While most of the world had been hit by the apocalyptic combo of events of the past years, Wakanda remained one of the few less affected areas. This was not to say that it had not changed greatly since Aragorn visited to make a deal with—then-princess—Queen Shuri.
The most visible change, unironically, was that the light-warping facet of the dome protecting the city was removed, so Birnin Zana was bare to the covetous eyes of the greater world.
Most of its farmland—the ones located abovethe surface—perished during the irradiation back during the rampage of the Goblin Force. Contrary to most of the world, Wakanda still counted on considerable subterranean crops.
Recently, after Jean Grey's wish, the affected farmland returned to its business as usual. However, while the rest of the world had to sustain itself with the sap sold by Re-Nazca, Wakanda had not. So, not that much changed for them.
Recently, though, as their popularity peaked—especially after Wakanda was involved in the defense of the planet during the first divine incursion—Wakanda has been forced to speedily join hands with the rest of the world.
Initially, Suri's plan to reintegration with the world relied heavily on the precious resource of vibranium; however, with the multiple economic crises that have destroyed the world's economy, as the Roxxon Corporation did to the environment before the Light pushed them out of the energy business, the number of countries able to purchase vibranium or any of its resulting products has decreased to one, Re-Nazca.
Shuri was not as stupid as to arm the world with vibranium, but she planned to sell a few micrograms of the metal here and there and call it a generous deal.
So, with that option completely thwarted, Shuri thought she needed another plan to connect Wakanda to the rest of humanity.
It came as a surprise when she discovered that she had underestimated the impact of Wakanda's participation in protecting the planet.
Whether due to interest, gratitude, a good impression, or simply because Re-Nazca refused profusely to become the banker of the world, many countries approached Wakanda to take loans or ask for financial support.
Within the short time of a week since the divine incursion, Wakanda had become something of a world financial center.
The winds of change blowing Wakanda's way were something its queen was grateful for; however, the xenophobia ingrained in the Wakandans' blood for innumerable generations was not something that would clear away just because the world needed Wakanda.
When a country's representative visited, it was all arranged in a manner to minimize contact with the more traditional Wakandans.
The changes brought to Wakanda by the constant transformation of the world were not why Aragorn was here today.
"Hello, Bast," Aragorn greeted the black panther after teleporting to her realm.
This was the Necropolis, the realm of the Black Panthers who had passed away.
The Necropolis was one of those rare realms that could be accessed physically, without the need to warp the space-time mesh or follow complicated rituals. This didn't mean that it was easily accessible.
To Aragorn, though, it was as accessible as any other realm he had laid eyes upon.
His flaming form glanced around, noting the multiple soul-presences keeping a respectful distance from the goddess.
"Aragorn," Bast greeted. The stiffness and guarded consideration she had for him had been reduced after getting to know him better. "What brings you to my realm?"
"Ever since the shadowy guy's bad habit of eating deities was revealed, the invading deities have been behaving." Aragorn squatted next to Bast and carefully petted her black fur. The divine large cat purred despite herself.
"I noticed the presence of the Ennead was reduced considerably, so I was checking up and making sure you were not attacked by it," Aragorn added.
"Nephthys and Set sensed something foreign and old through their domains, an unrest, so they retired momentarily to the Celestial Heliopolis," Bast answered.
"Will they return? I don't believe there's much for the Ennead to gain from staying on Earth until the commandment of the Celestials is reestablished." From Aragorn's point of view, given how much humanity had changed and his presence on the planet, he doubted any deity would gain much from spreading their faith within humanity; more so because eventually they would have to evacuate from Earth.
"... I asked them to return to fight with us," Bast revealed. "But only Set gave me his word. It is as you say, with a calm mind, they were able to understand that the moment Odin's stupidity failed, realistically, there was nothing to gain from Earth; and just because we are on friendly terms does not mean you would extend that favor to them."
Aragorn nodded. He spent a few scant minutes with Bast before teleporting to New York.
He phased out of the material plane and warped light around his flaming body to disappear.
He floated along the wind like autumn leaves, his body weightless, no resistance with the air, his eyes lost in the stars above the night sky. The light pollution of the Big Apple was no barrier for his eyes.
His psionic field stretched and deformed, taking the shape of countless tendrils expanding and flying beyond the horizon and sinking deep into the ground.
A bus crashed into his form, but he simply phased through.
He sensed one of his psionic tendrils being poked, and he established a connection with the poking one.
'Playboy, what do you want?'
'Old Man, you just gave me nightmares. Can you understand my plight at seeing a tendril monster explode into action in the middle of New York?'
'Still panicky? I won't allow you to see my daughter like that.'
'Unfair! And my panic attacks have nothing to do with seeing Seraph. I feel safer with her around.'
'Yeah, but does my daughter feel safer around you? Who will protect her when you're having a panic attack at any minor inconvenience?'
'I know you're old, but please get on with the times, Old Man. Women no longer seek a strong alpha to protect them. The sensitive and emotional type is the new alpha. She can be my protector.'
'Anthony Fushiguro, are you gonna summon my daughter at any minor inconvenience? Maybe, with how you're doing, you should file for disability.'
'I don't know who that Fushiguro is, but I'll have you know that even JARVIS complimented my progress this morning. I'm getting better, so stop making fun of the disabled!'
'I'm mocking you and you alone.'
'I tell Seraph!'
'Please, Aniki, give me patience.'
'Hey!'
'Stop bitching. Anyway, I'm looking for deities, don't mind the psionic probes, or tendrils as you call them.'
'Which poor bastard are you hunting? Did you recover enough to take on deities, Old Man? That's good.'
'No bastard in specific. All deities, as far as I have confirmed, have evacuated from the planet. And yes, I've recovered enough.'
'Huh? What happ—Ah! Is this because that guy in the shadows began to ingest deities?'
'Precisely. By the way, what are you doing in New York?'
'Doom informed me that soon he would be taking over certain sectors of the global economy. I'm with Pepps planning the future of the branches of Stark Industries that we plan to outsource to Susan Storm.'
'Ah, right. That is happening relatively soon, in possibly three years.'
'Correct, it could happen sooner, depending on the result of the war. Anyway, Old Man, it's good that you're healing. I have to go, I heard that Bestie blew up a training room, or so claims Johnny.'
Aragorn disconnected the channel and continued probing the planet, trying to find any trace of the shadowy guy or any deity. He found none.
Tired of the futility of the exercise, he decided to relax and find something else to waste his time with.
It was late on a Friday night, and the night vibe had a scent of bad decisions and crime.
He reentered the material plane and cast a psionic shell over his flaming body and transformed into 'Lucy.' Full lips, silver white hair tied up in a high ponytail, clear gray eyes, an upturned celestial nose, and small, round ears, all packed in healthy white skin, almost albino, but with some brushes of melanin.
She wore a black branded sports bra and black leggings, sporting bright orange running kicks. An unzippered orange workout jacket sealed the outfit.
Based on the time, the place, and the occasion, one would wrongly assume that a pretty thing like her lost her way into one of the insecure neighborhoods in the middle of a night run.
"Hey, Darling!" A man wolfed out from across the street. "How about I help you with that cardio, huh?"
The man laughed outloud along with his gang, fistbumping a few of his pals.
Aragorn spared them a glance, their souls as visible to her as the stars above and below. She smiled, almost teasingly, and shouted back, "Hey, Brandon! Didn't you promise Makayla you would be home by 11 o'clock?"
All chatter died down immediately in the gang. Brandon was his name, and Makayla was his baby's mother.
Frightened, they watched her jog away as if nothing had happened.
'While smudged here and there, not darkened souls,' Aragorn thought to herself.
She made a left on the corner and kept her jogging pace for two blocks more before she took a right. Along the way, the catcalling didn't get better. Aragorn would repeat what she did with Brandon; she would take a glance, judge their souls, and if they passed, she would freak them out by revealing personal information or mentioning something only they knew.
30 minutes into her game, she found her first victim of the night. Contrary to what she was fishing for, it was a woman.
She was a Latina of wide hips and a decent bust. She dressed, making good use of her body proportions, and walked with the gait of an ambush predator.
"Hey, lady," the woman called out.
Aragorn removed the headphones she had created of psionic energy and asked, "Yes, chica?"
The woman was pleasantly surprised by the use of her native language and said in a guarded tone, "This is the type of place you should be around, chica. There are some crazy batos around these blocks."
"Uhmm, is that so?" Lucy asked, her voice communicating concern, and her eyes darting around.
"Yes, how did you end up here?" the woman questioned.
"I was using this new running app to plot my routes." Lucy brought her smartphone out from her jacket's pocket and showed it to teh woman.
"You have to be careful with these things. Most of these apps don't consider territories and dangerous streets. How about ordering an Uber?"
"That's... It might be for the best," Lucy agreed. "What about you?"
"I'm on my way home from work, just passing through. My usual route normally does't cross through here, but there was a house where I was babysitting a few blocks that way," she pointed behind her.
"How about this? I can give a ride to repay you for your kind advice," Lucy said.
"... Alright, you got it, chica," the woman said and smiled. "My name is Carmen, nice to meet you."
"I'm Lucy, the pleasure is mine."
Lucy ordered an Uber from the psionic construct posing as a smartphone, and her ride arrived shortly after. It was also a psionic construct. Both women got in the car, and they chatted as the psionic construct drove through the populated streets of the city that never sleeps.
Lucy dropped Carmen at the doorstep of her apartment building and then drove away after exchanging contacts. The psionic construct drove her to the nearest police station, and she entered with all the cadence of a regular.
"Look who we have here!" A policeman, a bald man with a greying beard, called out. "Hahaha! Who had Lucy coming to file a report today?"
"Good night to you, too, Mr. Simmons," Lucy greeted, her eyes rolling along her flat smile.
"Oh, shit, Lucy. Couldn't you wait until tomorrow?" A young man, possibly a recent addition to the force, said in a disappointed voice while pulling out twenty bucks and handing them over to Simmons.
"Is that what a police officer should be saying to a concerned citizen like little me, Ryan?" Lucy asked with a teasing smile.
"Lucy, you should really join the force. Your calling is for justice, not math!" a man shouted from beyond the reception desk.
"Hey, Martin, good night to you as well!" Lucy shouted back. "And I'll have you know that my students beg to differ."
"Ms. Lucy, I should have known it was you when I heard my men clattering about," a man of blonde hair said after entering the room.
"Captain Stacy, are you burning the midnight oil? I doubt your wife will be happy to spend a Friday night by her lonesome." Lucy smiled.
"She is having a 'ladies' night with my Gwen, and it was convenient for me too because I needed to file the paperwork for some of the cases we closed this week." George Stacy shrugged. "So, what's it gonna be? Rapist? Serial killer? Pedophile? Corruption, or plain old murder for tonight?"
"Serial killer, this time," Lucy said.
"Another?" Ryan murmured.
"Right," George Stacy said while pinching the bridge of his nose. "And, please, tell me how you, the ordinary math teacher, stumbled upon this serial killer and discovered enough evidence to make a concerned citizen's report."
"You won't believe me, Captain Stacy." Lucy made an expression of pure exaggerated drama. "I was doing my usual night run—"
"Ten bucks she was running through the gangs' turf," Simmons said.
"Ten it was through the red light district!" Martin shouted from another room. Laughter echoed throughout the precinct from the many curious listeners.
"—When this chica came onto me. As you know, I'm attracted to those Latinas with wide hips—"
"Wasn't it buff 'chocolate' men last week?"
"I think it was aryan europeans, no?"
"Yeah, I think you're right. The week before that was the chocolate men, and before that it was arabs."
"—so I take up her offer to visit her place and share a cup of tea," Lucy continued, unbothered with her story. "After we exchanged a few moves of horizontal lucha libre in her bed, I went to the toilet. That's when it hit me, this pungent smell of iron rust.
"Being the curious cat that I am, I decided to inspect. I noticed the bathtub was hidden behind the curtain, so I pulled it open, and that's when I discovered it." She pulled out her fake phone and showed them a picture of a bloodied corpse that was titled 'Probable Cause' in bold red letters.
"..."
"..."
"... Okay, and tell me how you reached the conclusion that this chica was a serial killer," George ordered while instructing a few police officers to get ready to make an arrest.
"While Carmen Rodriguez, the chica in question, was passed out due to my—"
"Expertise in bed?"
"Insatiable stamina?"
"Indomitable libido?"
One after the other, as the police officers got ready to leave to make the arrest, they completed her story with the excuses she had given before.
"—contortionist style of horizontal tango, I took the liberty to inspect her residence. I found a hidden space in her walking closet with a box containing a few trophies. From what I could tell, the trophies were... foreskin."
"...!"
"...!"
"...!"
"...!"
"...!"
"...!"
"...!"
"...!"
"Based on what I know of that public case from five months ago, it falls with the modus operandi of the Skinner, no?" Lucy asked the shellshocked men.
Lucy was ordered to remain in the station, and about three hours later, Captain Stacy returned to drive her home.
"My superiors think that you are some hidden asset I keep to bolster my arrest, Lucy," George Stacy commented.
"Just a concerned citizen, that is all," Lucy replied with a smile.
George Stacy was used to this, so he simply let out a heavy sigh and drove.
Lucy's house was not an overly affluent residence, but also not a crib. It was the appropriate residence for one who labored as a math teacher.
She stepped inside after bidding goodbye to the Captain, and then she disappeared like a mirage.
Floating freely above the cold skies of New York, Aragorn, back into his flaming form, observed as they processed Carmen Rodriguez.
Ever since returning from Earth-199999, Aragorn created this persona, Lucy, to blend in with society and to keep track of certain mortals of interest. Additionally, he discovered a certain joy in role-playing as Lucy.
Seeing the blackened souls of scum get what they deserve had a way of kindling a spark of joy in his heart.
Chuckling to himself, he teleported to the Barrens. He wanted to see how much progress the Imperium made in conquering the hostile space of the Barren Lands.
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{A/N:
Please check out my P@treon account! There are already 10 chapters ahead for premium members, which is at least 100,000 words. Premium members also gain access to a new chapter every week.
[email protected]/ExistentialVoid
Free Members get access to all free chapters, and I upload free chapters about 12 hours earlier on P@atreon.}
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