Ugh, if only I’d known back then what that little urge to clear my head would lead to.
Or about the interesting conversations that took place around the same time among my relatives.
Gloris Taylor, earlier.
“Yes, of course.
You already know what kind of problems I’m dealing with, but I’m doing everything I can, it’s just that my brothers, and whoever’s backing them, keep getting in the way.
And on top of that, my late brother’s actual heir showed up today, and he seems fairly determined,” Gloris said over the phone, not sounding entirely pleased, even a little tense, though trying to keep a polite tone.
“That’s actually a solvable problem.
You can leave that to my people.
He’s already got no real involvement in the company’s affairs as it is, and if he weren’t sticking his nose in, we could’ve just ignored him entirely,” a calm, elderly voice answered.
“You’re planning to…” Ms.
Taylor had expected her partner would take care of the “problem” — but not quite that radically!
The kid could’ve just been scared off a little, but judging by the phrasing, and knowing this man’s general dislike of jokes…
“Yes.
But not right away, we’ll wait a few days, so the situation doesn’t get connected back to our meeting.
Ideally, it’d be nice if over the next few days he also went and visited some of…
the competition.
That would make for a more interesting picture.
Can you arrange that?” the gray-haired old man asked his conversation partner coldly.
“I…
yes, I’ll try.
And knowing my younger brother, he’ll probably invite him back for a second talk anyway,” the woman said, composing herself and making her choice.
Elsewhere, at the warehouses, a very similar conversation was unfolding, though with far less finesse — weaving clever words wasn’t really Francis’s strong suit, and his conversation partner wasn’t some slow, hint-dropping old man either, but a hulking brute of a man, used to just barreling straight ahead.
Someone who was very interested in the entire company, not just some scrap of it.
Meanwhile, Russell Taylor.
“Yes, Major.
I think it’s worth making contact.
The kid deserves to know the truth.
Yeah…
I already handed him the documents and reports, nothing too sensitive, but we’ll be able to judge more from how he reacts.
And…
I’d like to…” “Ask me to keep an eye on him?” came the question from the other end, with a hint of amusement.
“Yeah…
I know it’s not exactly your department, and it’s not police work, but I’ve already lost my brother, and I’m scared of losing my nephew too,” Russell admitted to the person on the other end, his expression a strange mix of pain, a flicker of fear, and quiet confidence in his own decisions.
“Alright, I’ll see what I can do.
Talk soon,” the call ended from the other side.
“You know, in a normal civilian conversation, ‘goodbye’ usually works just fine,” the man sighed at the phone, already emitting its short dial-tone beeps, a man whose last several months had been made up almost entirely of one blow after another.
Back to Lucian Taylor.
A teenager who’s not great at reading people.
As for me, the walk around the city really did help me calm down and look at the situation from a different angle.
Sure, that last meeting hadn’t gone great, but the other two had gone well.
And honestly — handing me important paperwork and directly saying we’d continue the conversation later, that’s a positive sign too (though it does depend on what’s actually in that paperwork…
I’m honestly dying to look, but not exactly something to do out on the street, right?), and as for how Uncle Russell received me — maybe he’s just a difficult person?
Once I’d calmed down, I kept walking, in a much better mood now.
And honestly, seriously.
I’ve got an inheritance, and it’s a whole company!
I’m far from the dumbest person around…
well, academically speaking, not a genius exactly, but I’ve also got a special power now.
Life isn’t nearly as bad as it seemed just a week ago.
Or rather, as it appeared to be!
I’ve even got a job right now, and how many people my age can say the same?
And not some cashier gig either, a genuinely respectable one, in a field that’s actively growing and about to start bringing in some real income.
Yeah, sure, problems of universe-ending proportions are looming ahead, and I’m not even exaggerating, but…
there’s still time, and honestly, quite a bit of it, considering the Iron Man canon’s only just kicking off, which gives me plenty of runway.
With that much time, plus my power, maybe even the future problems won’t end up being quite so terrifying?
“Don’t move, kid, and don’t even think about screaming,” a gravelly male voice cut through my thoughts from right behind me, and my sunny mood shattered instantly against the feeling of something sharp and cold pressed against my back, clearly felt even through my shirt and jacket, while the attacker’s other hand clamped over my mouth to keep me from crying out…
not that it mattered, since I’d lost my voice entirely out of pure fear.
My heart instantly kicked into a gallop.
I guess this was supposed to be the moment I showed off how badass and capable I was, but nothing seemed to be in a hurry to show up.
No “Zone” activating, the enemy didn’t slow down, my body didn’t start moving on some unknown reflex, there was just fear and confusion.
And a desperate desire to live.
Damn it!
Damn it!
Damn it!
Some great overpowered hero I turned out to be.
And where are all those rosy dreams and powers now?
Here’s your critical situation, and I can’t do a single thing about it, feeling my legs shake.
“Now I’m gonna take my hand off, and you don’t make a sound!
Your screaming might make things harder for me, but remember, I’ll still get you stabbed before I run,” the creep smirked smugly.
And contrary to what I expected, once he took his hand away, he didn’t grab the folder of documents and knock me out — no, he started going through my pockets!
F—!
Damn it!
A plain old mugger.
The guy who, five minutes ago, was busy planning how he’d someday fend off Thanos, was getting robbed by an ordinary street mugger.
Easily, brazenly, with zero fear of pushback.
And there really wasn’t going to be any pushback, I was too terrified for my own life!
I was frozen solid, feeling him press the knife in harder the moment he took his hand off my mouth…
like he really was ready to stab me right then.
And honestly, he probably was.
F—!
F—!
How did it come to this?
Was I really just…
wrong, deluding myself into thinking I was some Main Character, practically immortal, practically all-powerful, just needing to wait a little longer?
And now here I am, too scared to even breathe too deeply…
My thoughts were cut off by a strange sound, followed by something splattering across me, and a crash behind me.
Almost in a daze, I raise my hand to the left side of my head, where the mugger had recently been standing just beside, and where something had just whipped past.
I run my hand over the spot and look at it…
crimson.
A deep red color, mixed with some pale, mushy substance, and fragments of something…
bone?
Slowly, like in slow motion, I turn around and see the mugger, a quarter of his skull blown clean off…
and his blood and brain matter now splattered all over me.
“Bleeergh!” — for some reason, every hero, every transmigrator and reincarnator in every book always claims they felt nothing after killing someone.
Either they’re all lying, or something’s wrong with me, but I threw up at the sight of a man who’d been alive just a moment ago, at what he’d become, and the realization of exactly what had just splattered me.
And I didn’t even kill him!
Footsteps sounded behind me and HE stepped into the alley.
A tall man with black hair, dressed entirely in black — boots, a coat, body armor clearly visible under the open coat, except with a white skull printed on it.
The Punisher!
One look at that grim, chillingly cold, almost frozen-mask of a face was enough to make me flinch back against the wall with a terrified squeak and slide down it, tears streaming down my face.
Remembering how effortlessly he’d just killed a mugger I couldn’t have handled myself, and terrified of ending up in his place.
And it didn’t even occur to me, in that moment, that the Punisher doesn’t touch innocent people.
I genuinely couldn’t think rationally right then.
Meanwhile, the Punisher walked over to the body, quickly bent down, fished the mugger’s phone out of his pocket, then walked off, unhurried, toward the exit of the alley, doing something with the phone as he went.
Maybe looking for the guy’s associates, or something else entirely?
Not that it’s any of my business!
Only a full minute after he disappeared did I manage to pull myself together (after emptying my stomach one more time, the moment my eyes landed on the body again), and I bolted for home, thankful that the darkness settling over New York helped hide some of the details that would’ve otherwise looked pretty out of place on a normal civilian.
I don’t even remember how I got home, I just remember my legs aching and my heart trying to pound its way out of my chest, like some hunted animal.
Stumbling into the bathroom, I threw my clothes straight into the laundry and headed into the shower, desperate to wash off someone else’s blood and bits of brain matter as fast as possible.
To wash away the very reminder that I’d been there.
To wash away my own weakness.
But standing under the hot water, my thoughts kept dragging me back to that moment.
To that feeling of helplessness.
Of powerlessness.
Of fear.
Disgusting!
I was disgusted with myself.
Some hero?
Future decider of fates?
A cocky little brat!
Someone who’d nearly gotten squashed like a fly by someone who wouldn’t even register as a real threat to actual heroes, or even to just properly trained people.
My whole path nearly ended because of one pathetic mugger.
Pathetic…
though clearly less pathetic than me!
“Damn it!
Damn it!
Damn it!” I hit the bathroom tile a few times, venting, only managing to scrape up my knuckles and leave an ache in my chest.
Such a coward, so pathetic…
this can’t keep going on!
I don’t want this anymore…
like this!
“Iron Will, huh?” I summoned Helltaker’s card, a powerful grown man whose calm expression on the card felt like the complete opposite of me.
“Alright.
Yeah…
to hell with the fear, that’s exactly what I need.
And if I disappear, and he takes my place instead, well, then maybe that’s for the best…
a coward like this probably shouldn’t even exist!” After which I confirmed the card’s assimilation, watching it start off at a pathetic six percent, even though we were both human.
And…
nothing!
The trembling, the fear, the self-loathing and disgust, none of it went away.
The anger didn’t fade either.
Nothing changed.
Why?
Am I really so worthless that not even this can fix me?
“F—!
F—!
Why?” A few more hits against the wall…
somehow less painful than before, and I sink to my knees, all the fight drained out of me, leaving just emptiness and a wave of hopelessness washing over me.
I don’t know how long I sat there in the shower, staring at nothing, but at some point I snapped out of it.
“Alright, fine, let’s say I really am this…
useless.
Stupid to rely on some card alone.
Time to actually start moving myself, I think I should order some training equipment.
Get my build shifted from basketball player to something more practical, sign up for martial arts, assimilate the Ax-Man card…
and screw waiting for the end of the month, I’m way too defenseless right now — I’ll buy the remaining ten pulls.
And relying purely on the gacha too…
not exactly a great plan either.
Too slow, too random.
Guess I’ll be looking for my own paths to get stronger.
I mean, come on, this is Marvel!
Every third person’s got a super-soldier serum, all I need to do is figure out which of the applicable canon events are at what stage, and where I can ‘borrow’ what I need from.
And other perks too — the X-gene, a super-suit, hell, even Venom!” I say, pulling myself up off the floor.
Damn…
so much to do and absolutely no time.
And there’s one more thing I need to finally take care of.
Getting dressed in clean clothes, I headed for the phone.
I need to apologize to the people closest to me — I don’t want to die without at least telling my grandparents “I’m sorry for being such an idiot…
and for everything I said without thinking.” And it’s about time I learned to cook, too — why else would I have that recipe book?
If I can’t even handle something that small, there’s no point aiming for anything bigger.
Oh!
And I need to haul those boxes of junk out of the basement and up to the attic, I can set up the training equipment in one of the empty rooms — plenty of space in a two-story near-mansion like this, and there’s nothing to hide there anyway, my stats right now are pretty average, human-level, maybe even below, basketball and powerlifting really are two different things.
But drilling energy strikes and the actual Jo-Lan style definitely can’t be out in the open.
So, time to clear out and set up the basement instead.
But first…
“Hello, Grandma, it’s Lucian…” — let’s start with the hard conversation.