Award ReplyReport335The Last Hunter2/10/2023NewAdd bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks The Path of Thorns New View contentThe Last HunterHe/Him5/10/2023Add bookmark#45My mother was gone, my father was dead. It seemed inconceivable that the world itself did not mourn, that the sun did not veil itself, that stars did not fall out of their firmament out of sheer sorrow. Such thought however, I recognized as vanity. My parents for all their talents were not unique-their kind died all the time. I was not the first to be orphaned, I would not be the last. Despite that, a great pit had appeared where my heart would be, a melancholy that would exist I suspect for some time.
I was a young man now. As I approached my eighteenth year, our caravan set down its camp in the French countryside and I found myself affected by problems of an entirely different sort. One that not even Doom could stop, for all my power and skill.
Puberty.
Luckily, I was blessed with both indomitable willpower and a caustic tongue that seemed to have repelled most thinking to try their luck with the caravan pariah. I also had two surprising allies and one, particular idiot.
"Why is it, I feel as though you're thinking ill about me again?" Came a sardonic drawl as I spoke absently, my voice full of annoyance.
"Put that down Pietro, that's not a toy."
The future Quicksilver, dressed like one of our own just smiled in the face of my impeding wrath as he gently set down what looked like a hairless rat, preserved in alcohol as I added. "Have you anything better to do, besides invade my workshop?"
I had come a long way from scraps in the dumpster for my equipment. As I came of age and with my parents dead, their wagon had become my own. Converted into a portable laboratory and arcane center of power, with my mother's tools passing into my own hands as I studied them furiously and evened it with the sciences of my time.
A tall, slender cabinet from which Pietro had nabbed my specimen showcased an eclectic collection of magical artifacts and curiosities, mostly my mother's items as well as a few working creations of my own. From simple tomes to an odd little crystal prism, featuring my parents embraced in a waltz turned and reflected various colors, gears and clockwork putting out a simple tune. I had made that, out of a need to mourn and while I still felt no better, there was an easing of tension from the action and so it remained on display.
On another side, crammed full of books was a shelf with a number of subjects from chemistry to astronomy, expanded twice over and soon to be expanded again. All of the spines creased, read obsessively again and again.
My work desk was meticulously organized, looking like a mix of a watchmaker and a gunsmith. Various tools, some of which I had to create myself all in a row along with a journal in which I kept my ideas. Pietro, ignoring my question would skip forward, peeking over my shoulder at my latest idea, openly staring.
"Nice looking armor. Seems a bit imposing."
Sketched in my hand, was a cutaway and crude outline of very familiar armor, an iron mask and a cloak and hood. I slammed the journal shut, narrowing my eyes as I spoke.
"Its Latverian traditional armor. And-you're distracting me from something." I said flatly.
Pietro's eyes widened in shock as he gestured to himself. "Me?! Victor, you wound me!"
"Do not tempt me, plebian." I say flatly and all it garners is a laugh from Pietro as he shakes his head and smiles at me.
"Ah Victor, all thorns and no roses. You're right, I am distracting you! Please, should my sister ask? Will you tell her I withstood all your questions under pain of torture?"
I huffed out, turning back to my work as I took my tweezers and began to work on my latest inventive attempt.
"So long as you don't attempt to drag me out for whatever inane idea you have." I was perfectly content, staying indoors and working on my latest passion project. What looked like an odd-looking flashlight... Which to be fair, I was working off of as I adjusted the lens like so, before Pietro's sheepish laugh filled the air.
"Ah. A snag. Unfortunately Victor, I'm afraid I can't do that."
"I am not going to accompany you to the village to indulge in recreational poison and watch you fail to woo gullible women either, so get that out of your head." I said bluntly as Pietro made a noise like a strangled cat.
"I'll have you know I get plenty of women! I do!"
"With your speed, I find that a distinct impossibility. 'Fastest man alive' indeed." I retorted calmly as he let out another choking noise and I smirked, doing a mental tally.
Another victory for Doom.
And then something occurs to me, as I pause and glance at the calendar, blinking once before I let out a deep sigh. I set my tools down, no longer in the mood as I say bluntly.
"Its not a big celebration, is it?"
Pietro immediately stops acting offended, his expression troubled before he vanishes and appears by my side, daring to rest his hand on my shoulder as he speaks without any of the artifice he displayed before.
"Just Uncle Boris, mother and my sister and Valaria. We know you keep to yourself... Wanda and Valaria just wanted time to make your favorites together, that's all."
Well... That didn't sound too bad.
"I was also going to take you to the local bar." My expression turned flat as I stared and he only chuckled.
"What? It's a man tradition! Two friends, going out, having fun!"
He then muttered something too swiftly for me to catch, before adding again superfluously. "It'll be fun!"
He looked at me hopefully as he added. "By the time we get back, dinner should be ready and I will have accomplished my duty, AND we'd have snuck your first drink! A solution for everyone!" He beamed as if he was the sun itself and I rolled my eyes. Despite that, I couldn't help but smile as I shook my head and looked amused.
"Just a drink."
I must admit, the bar itself wasn't the worst place I had ever found myself in. In fact, I might need to apologize to Pietro for doubting him, despite prior reasons to do so.
The old, wooden door creaked gently behind me as I crossed the threshold. Immediately, the scent of centuries-old oak mingled with the faint aroma of slow-cooked, hearty French cuisine. The warm, golden firelight within enveloped me and Pietro, casting a soft glow on the well-worn wooden beams above as we discarded our traveling hooded cloaks on pegs for just such a thing-a faded blue, my own a dark green.
To my left, the centerpiece of the establishment, a massive oak bar, stretched along one wall. Its dark, polished surface gleamed under the gentle illumination of wrought iron lanterns. Behind the bar, shelves lined with an impressive array of wine bottles told tales of local vineyards and vintages. A point of pride it seemed for the owner, as he wiped down the counter and glanced up as he smiled our way.
"Eh? Ehhhhhh?" Pietro, the smug shit he was would only grin as he dared to elbow me in the arm gently as I sighed out and spoke. "Its a nice place, you've made your point."
He let out a little cheer as we approached, before he called out to the bartender. "Sir! A drink for my friend, who turns eighteen today!"
The bartender raised an eyebrow and then chortled. "Well, with such an occasion, how could I resist? On the house." He took a bottle, poured out two drinks and set them before us as he added smugly.
"If you don't ask for seconds, I shall be most surprised."
I swirled my drink, took a sniff and tried to look as if I knew what I was doing. One wine was the same as any other, to my mind and not till I took a sip did I realize how wrong I was. It was incredibly delicious, my eyes widening and with a small smile myself, I looked to the bartender and spoke sincerely.
"As appreciated as your gift is, I must insist on some payment. This is too good to take without recompense." On cue, his radio suddenly flared up and as he scowled and whacked it, I added. "Perhaps I might fix that for you?"
"You're a repairman?" Asked the bartender curiously and Pietro laughed, clapping my shoulder.
"Victor here is anything he puts his mind to! He can not only repair your radio, but if he is so inclined, even make it tap dance!"
"Just repairing will do." I said with a sigh, reaching for my tools as the bartender chuckles. "Well, I accept! I have sentimental value for this one. Who are you boys?"
"Ah, I'm Pietro! This is Victor, we're from the caravan outside of town!"
His expression turned guarded, but he nodded and was polite as he spoke. "Alfric Colbert. Wine lover-so much, I opened my own bar!"
As they chatted like old friends, I was already popping open the back of the radio as I scrutinized the innards carefully. I was already finding my happy place, tinkering as I began to adjust here and there, my arcane power melding with my technological know-how as I worked swiftly. I was no boy anymore, struggling to understand my abilities and I found myself smiling before suddenly interrupted.
"You're not from around here."
I glanced up to the side, wondering who dared speak to me only to see a child, seven years old at most and dark of hair. She looked similar enough to the bartender to be either his daughter or niece, as she looked at me openly.
"I'm not." I said curtly, going back to work and hoping it'd shut her up.
"I'm Marie. Marie-Ange. Uncle Al is looking after me. But I know it's actually something else."
"I don't care." I said without looking, before soldering a new wire. Old one was corroded, and maybe a tweak or two here... Something to increase its range....
Unfortunately, the child continued to speak as she added. "You're nicer than I thought you'd be. Even with the armor."
I froze. I slowly, turned to look at her in confusion, as she looked back and smiled without fear.
".... Have we met?" I asked and she shook her head. "No... Doom, right? Or do you prefer Victor?"
My shock was visible. I had NEVER mentioned the name of Doom outside my thoughts, and I stared at her with renewed scrutiny as she smiled sadly.
"If I don't go outside, someone is going to be hurt. I will too, but you'll help me, right? I hope you will."
"Wait-!" I cry out, but she gets off her stool and runs for the door, soon gone. Alfric glances up from his conversation, looking confused and uncomfortable.
"Ah, apologies. You were talking to my niece-excitable girl, loves to lie about things... My brother is at his wits end, so I thought some of the countryside would be good for her. He's a big shot, you know!"
"Right. She was no trouble however." I say, oddly compelled to defend her before finishing my work and handing it over. "Done."
He stared, and turned it on... In crisp, clear sound, an oldie began to play as he laughed aloud.
"Jeepers! Creepers! Where'd you get those peepers!"
"See? See?" Pietro said as they laughed like old friends. My heart wasn't in it though, as I stared at the radio. The song continued to play, as outside darkness began to loom. The words of the girl continued to play through my mind, before I finally growled and got up, running for the door.
I ignored Pietro's confused queries, bursting out as I looked back and forth before seeing a basket. One of those woven ones, with spilled groceries as the sounds of some growling creature is heard from a dark alley and holding up a screwdriver still in my hand, I call forth light.
On the cobblestones, unconscious was a villager woman-knocked out cold and little Marie-Ange, being choked against the wall by a tall creature. Sinister looking, clad in a trench coat with a floppy hat on the ground. Pale skinned, glowing red eyes and fangs as he was frozen in the act of midbite, looking annoyed at being caught.
"Merde." He said aloud.
"Indeed." I drawled in English.
And then I blasted it in the face with a modified ray pistol.Last edited: 5/10/2023 Award ReplyReport338The Last Hunter5/10/2023NewAdd bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks The Daywalker Cometh New View contentThe Last HunterHe/Him11/10/2023Add bookmark#54The vampire screamed. Necrotic flesh charred and refused to heal, the creature looking on in shock as its eyes flicked up to my current weapon.
So the thing about being an Artificer is that spell creation and inventions are more intuitive, drawing upon the knowledge and skillset that the Artificer had with varying degrees of success, depending on those factors. Which is great, because I certainly didn't feel as smart as Doctor Doom might have been. Sure, I could talk about quadratic equations and varying topics of natural science, physics, etc with the best of them, but it was more like when you suddenly realized something. A memory, a word on the tip of your tongue suddenly unleashed and voila.
It also came in handy for some of my more exotic weaponry, like the pistol I was currently packing. No longer would I be limited to a single gauntlet, made from scraps. Instead, I was using better scraps now, visualizing the end product and creating it into something entirely new. I could also thank the Dungeon Masters Guide for this as well.
A 'laser pistol' was a futuristic firearm, a handgun that dealt 3d6 radiant damage with every shot. With this as my framework, assembling the actual weapon was just a matter of tools, time and machine parts. It wouldn't win any prizes, ugly as it was but it did the job. Add in my little addition that ensured it'd never run out of ammo, and I essentially had the best weapon possible to deal with creatures like these.
So I fired again, the creature howling as it tried to run away, leaping to the rooftop and running into a wine bottle, smashing right into its eyes. Its arms scrabbled at thin air as it fell off the roof with a scream and crashed into the cobblestones. Down below, I was waiting as I unloaded blast after blast into the creature's neck till it stopped twitching and split the head from the body, before glancing up and then to my right.
"As always Pietro, your timing is impeccable."
"Such a waste of a good bottle." Sighed the mutant, already on the ground as he looked mournfully at the body before crouching and poking the body.
".... Is this what I think it is?"
"A vampire, yes." I said impatiently as I added. "A Spawn, almost certainly. It demonstrated a lack of fine motor skills and when confronted with the likes of us both, could only use the meanest of its innate abilities. I've been wanting a collection of their teeth for some time now."
"But vampire's aren't supposed to be real." Said Pietro patiently as he continued to poke the corpse and around that point, the little girl spoke brightly, as she looked to us both.
"For a figment of imagination, they seem to be doing alright. Thank you! I was sure you'd come out, but I don't mind saying I was a little frightened."
"You were under the protection of Victor Von Doom." I said casually before adding. "There is nothing that can touch you then."
"You're calling yourself Doom?" Pietro said blankly, before slowly smiling as he dared to lean in and poke my cheek, which I batted away irritably as he laughed.
"Ok, first... Wow. Second, really?"
"Names are important." I said, resigned to an explanation as I spoke on. "To use one's real name in magic is not exactly the smartest thing to do. It acts as something of a homing beacon, as well as bypassing layers of defense. It's also something of a mnemonic device..." My voice trailed off, seeing the blank look on his face before I rolled my eyes.
"I just think it's cool."
"I think it's cool." Said Marie-Ange loyally as Pietro chuckled and spoke. "Well, we do have to go. You should all be safe by now."
"And if not, I'll return and deal with it." I remarked.
I received a beaming smile for that.
"Only you, Victor." The voice of Valeria was fond and was as grown up as her nowadays as she put her hands on her hips. A young woman now, I tried not to focus on how the gesture drew my eyes and failed if her lazy smirk was any guide.
She was around my age now too. Dressed in the traditional garb of our people, long colorful skirt and head scarf. Her hair was black and straight, framing a wicked smile and dark eyes that looked at me knowingly as we helped each other set the table outside our wagons. Despite her smugness, I found it difficult to be annoyed by it as another voice spoke out.
"I personally blame Pietro. You were supposed to keep Victor busy, not draw him into vampire hunting."
Wanda on the other hand had gone completely opposite, eschewing our tribes fashion for something a bit more modern to the private despair of Aunty Magda. Her hair was cut short in a bobcut, with red dye tinging the ends of it. Her lips were black with lipstick, her ears had crosses for earrings and dressed in a red, leather longcoat and pants, she was the epitome of gothic fashion though the coat I thought was a touch on the nose.
As she brought in a large pot, she said with the same, sardonic drawl. "Not exactly the distraction we had in mind." Her hand slapped down, Pietro reared back, his expression comically hurt as he rubbed his palm. The act prompted a smile from Wanda, small as it was as it did from me. If Pietro wanted to avoid it, he certainly had the power as he laughed.
"I just wanted to get him a drink! And maybe, meet some gi-"
His head blurred as he avoided the fork I threw, snatching it midair as I turned red and growled.
"Shut up Pietro."
"Yeah, Victor doesn't need those-er, women." Wanda said swiftly, as aunty Magda stepped past and smiled, another container in hand. "Good girl. Now call on Uncle Boris, we're all ready to begin." Wanda smiled, scurried off to find him as Magda leaned in and kissed my forehead.
"Happy birthday Victor."
I smiled back, despite myself. Magda and her children had been a welcome balm with the loss of my parents in the caravan. A matronly woman with a streak of white in her otherwise dark hair, she had done her best to make sure I was happy and eating, in a time where Valeria and Uncle Boris had also conspired to ensure it. In the end, I had thought of her as family in turn hence our little dinner tonight.
It was delicious, to be sure. Uncle Boris, bald and white-haired would chuckle as he spoke proudly.
"All of it was made by Valeria and Wanda! Magda and I tried to help, but they insisted-"
"-Just showing our appreciation." Valeria interrupted, before adding as she leaned forward. "We do have something else. But after dinner." My curiosity was piqued as I glanced at Pietro who shrugged, already on his fifth bowl. Wanda, nose wrinkled at her brother's manners glanced at me as she smiled wryly. "Trust me, you'll love it. It's a gift from all of us."
I nodded, slowly and thought about what it could be. Some new parts? Clothing? Or maybe... I admit, I might have thought about it which was why I was currently just focusing on my food and sternly put a stop to that line of thought. When the time came, my curiosity could not be stopped as I waited and Uncle Boris paused, then brought out a folder and a pen.
We all stared as he spoke gently, quietly. ".... Victor. You have always been a smart boy... Too smart for our caravan." My breath caught as he continued. "You could be so much more, be anything if you were to actually have the opportunity. With that in mind, Magda and I both have been saving up, to add to your fathers funds for this day-and of course, aided by Valeria, Wanda and Pietro."
My eyes flicked to the three, Pietro grinning as he toasted me with Wanda smiling in a small way, Valeria all but bursting with excitement. Slowly, I opened up the folder and my breath caught.
A familiar seal was emblazoned on the paper, some kind of legal contract as I flicked through it, eyes widening in shock as Wanda chuckled. "Happy birthday Victor."
"How did you-?!" I said looking up, holding it as my stomach did odd little flip-flops. "This is Hegeman State University! The best school to be found in the United States!"
"For that, your parents can be thanked. We simply continued to fulfill their wishes." Magda said as she squeezed my shoulder, her voice turning emphatic as she added.
"They too, would be very proud."
"You won't be alone either." Said Wanda as I glanced up and she smiled slightly. "Pietro and I are going to a family friends' school for people like us. We won't be no more than a drive away. Or a jog for this one." She elbowed her brother in the rib, who made a face as she looked away. Valeria looked troubled, and I stared before I spoke.
"But what about-"
"I'll be here." Valeria interrupted as she smiled, sad as it was before adding. "Father needs help and Aunt Magda will be lonely otherwise. We'll still keep in contact. You have to promise to write-will you?"
"Every week." I said hoarsely, affected by emotion as Pietro let out a groan. "You're supposed to say 'every day'! Gods Victor, you're hopeless."
"I can't write every day, I'll be busy!" I retorted as I laughed helplessly, deliriously happy. Staring at them all, I bowed my head to their surprise.
"Thank you! Thank you all! I swear, I'll make you all proud!"
Valeria immediately hugged me.
Wanda and Aunt Magda followed after, as did Boris and Pietro before he suddenly vanished and appeared, joining the group hug.
"Silly boy." Uncle Boris said affectionately. "You already have." Valeria suddenly whispered in my ear.
"Stay awake tonight."
I don't think anyone heard us, but it certainly sent something of a thrill down my spine which I hoped no one else noticed.
Puberty. Not even once.
I admit, I dozed off and was woken up by the lightest touch on my shoulder. My eyes flickered and blinked as I saw Valeria smiling, mischievously as she winked and teased lightly.
"Mm, couldn't stay up? I'm hurt."
"My body is a machine." I grumbled, rubbing my eyes as I added. "A well-oiled, perfect machine that requires its sleep."
She rolled her eyes. "Alright Mr. Million-Dollar Man, get up. I promise, you'll love this one."
I got dressed, then staggered out into the night. It was dark, the caravan was set up by a small lake and Valeria led me out, as we hiked down the path till the lights of the wagon were out of sight. As I glanced around, I couldn't help but think about the vampire spawn from earlier. Was it alone? Did it have a master? Where did it sleep, when the sun came up? These and many questions filled my head before I stumbled and almost tripped over what appeared to be a boot.
"....Valeria, I think you lost a... Footwear."
My mouth went dry. Before me, on the path leading to the lake was another boot. And further on, an entire skirt as I muttered aloud.
"Oh shit."
"Victor, are you coming?" Valeria's voice was smug, with the few underpinnings of shyness before I breathed out and thought for a few moments, before finally huffing out.
"Dammit." I ran after her. I paused by the lake side, watched as she undid her hair scarf like some siren out of myth, sitting by the water with her feet kicking gently in it.
Slowly, I moved to remove my own shirt and was blindsided as Valeria screamed.
"Victor, watch out!"
I was slammed into the ground, eating dirt as a heavy, cold weight pinned me as a dark voice chuckled.
"You killed my brother. When I'm done with you, your woman is next." I screamed in rage, the spawn laughing before suddenly choking.
Through his chest, a wooden arrow would have pierced through before a blur rushed out of the darkness. It grabbed him by the face, pushed forward and slammed him down into the earth, the vampire spawn screaming as I got a good look at my rescuer.
A dark-skinned man, dressed in leather with stakes along a belt and a sword at his hip. A crossbow in his hands would be smashed down against the creature's jaw, teeth scattering on the ground as he growled.
"Caught you, motherfucker."
He then proceeded to stab a stake through the spawn's shoulder, causing it to scream before he sighed out and glanced up at me and Valeria-who at this point, was using my cloak to hide herself as he raised an eyebrow.
"Son, don't you know it's dangerous to wander around at night? No telling what weirdo's you'll run into." Award ReplyReport335The Last Hunter11/10/2023NewAdd bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Think About the Future New View contentThe Last HunterHe/Him10/1/2024Add bookmark#62Half-naked, half-covered in mud and with my.... Friend wrapped in my cloak, it was not how I imagined meeting Blade for the first time.
His expression was all-too amused, matched only by the rising fury I was very carefully not looking at in Valeria's direction and the screaming, choking cries of the spawn whenever it tried to wriggle out. Blade himself just grinned and stomped on the stake again, incredibly uncaring about how he was essentially stepping on an undead super-predator.
He looked a lot like Wesley Snipes, to my surprise. Younger, his hair in something of a reduced afro. Rather than the black leather jacket, the man was wearing what I swore was stolen from the set of Captain Blood, a dark green psuedo-pirate coat and a white shirt, both unbuttoned despite the cool air to reveal pecs that you could grind cheese on. There was none of the advanced weapons from either the movies or the Spiderman cartoon I vaguely recalled him appearing in. Instead, there was simply a bowie knife strapped to his leg, a bandolier of stakes and finally, the crossbow he had to his back as behind dark, green framed shades his eyes seemed to focus on me intensely.
I finally nodded in response. "Thank you. We appreciate your help-"
"Ah-ah-ah-ah." He wagged his finger and smirked. "This meeting ain't exactly charity. Truth be told, if you're who I think you are honkey boy? You got something I want bad."
I went tense. Valeria spoke up, and I finally glanced her direction and was struck dumb. In just my green cloak and hood, brief glimpses of skin shown beneath, it hit the unga-bunga side of my brain like a Hulk punch and her glare in particular was doing things I really, really wanted to hide when talking with the nice vampire hunter.
"We're not pawns for you, vampire hunter. Your aid is gracious, but if you think either of us would not have gotten out alive, you are much mistaken."
Blade grinned and I could see the hint of fangs as he nodded approvingly.
"Girls got bite. I dig it."
"What exactly do you want from me?" I asked and Blade hummed in thought, the spawn beneath attempting to move before Blade suddenly smashed his heel into its forehead and knocked it out. In the utmost, serious voice he looked at me and spoke.
"I wanna know how you killed that spawn in the village. And I want it for myself."
I scowled. I rose to my full height (admittedly, not very much at this point) as I spoke with scorn. "Toys. You want my toys? You save my life, the life of my friend and demand toys?!" I grinned back, eyes gleaming as I speak.
"Sir, you insult me."
Blade seemed taken aback, before suddenly laughing as he flicked his shades down and stared at me. With a grin of his own to match, he hummed in thought.
"Well then. What would you recommend, Mr..."
"Victor." I said as I looked around and paused. Valeria, a smile on her face offered my pants as I took them with as much dignity as I could muster, adding aloud.
"Victor Von Doom."
Hey, it had to start somewhere.
In the end, we took him back to the caravan. With a plus one, Blade wrapping up the spawn in silver and garlic woven rope as he made sure to bump his head on every rock on the road. His expression was neutral, up to the point he came to my wagon and then he looked stunned for the first time. His shades slipped off, his eyes flicked back and forth over the designs, ideas and more before he whistled low.
"You some kinda wizard, Victor?"
I scoffed, rummaging for my tools as I spoke offhand. "A wizard conducts himself with the immaterial. A scientist, with much the same. If you imagine the universe as one, massive clock then you may consider the disciplines as the cogs that turn them. Whether they are aware of them or not. As it is, both magic and science are simply the same in my eyes. The toy."
I set my pistol down, sneering. "A simple laser pistol. As progress marches on, you'll find them in the hands of even the most lowly of thugs. As it is, I can't even claim true credit for this achievement. HYDRA beat me to it, after all." Blade nodded, pausing as Valeria came in with tea and dressed fully now as I was as she gave him a mug and then myself as she took a seat. Nodding my thanks, I took a sip and swirled my cup briefly before I looked at Blade.
"What I can claim credit for is my infinity ammo pack. A self-replicating thing that draws upon the arcane currents of the world and the user, allowing one to essentially never require reloading. I can easily install it upon that crossbow of yours for example."
Blade immediately looked interested before I scoffed. "Of course, such things are not what you're here for. I promised something worth the life of myself and my friend. You'll get it."
I turned to my bench, draw up some papers and spoke. "Valeria, could you please take our guests measurements?"
"Of course." She sounded more pleased than I expected, as she took my ruler and Blade, bemused began stretching as I spoke idly. "How exactly do you fight? Do you take a lot of beatings?"
Blade snorted. "In this line of work? Yeah. I'm working on a handicap most of the time, even with my... Gifts. Vampires are mean little mosquitos."
"So we'll start with the coat then." I said offhand, as Blade blinked in confusion. I ignored it, continuing on as I sketched out more and more designs, using my meta-knowledge of the future as well as my prior life.
"You use a sword?"
"Well, I know some-still working on that, its damned hard to find a blade that'll hold up to a vampire, much less harm it."
"European or Asian styles?" I asked, Valeria growing curious as she peeked over my shoulder. Blade did likewise, removing his shades as I began making notations as to additions he might need. Slowly, his head tilted to the side as he spoke.
".... Huh."
I turned to him in my seat, casually as I added. "Of course, this will take some time. How long do you have?"
Blade was quiet. His eyes, focused on the ideas I had on paper, some of them concepts I knew he'd someday incorporate into his fighting style, others that just made sense to me. He looked at me, incredibly serious now as he spoke.
"Honkey, for a suit this fly, I'll start building a log-house right now." Valeria preened as she spoke proudly.
"Victor has always been very clever."
"Victor also is going to work now. Valeria, Blade can use my bunk. I'll start work now. Could you-?"
"Oh, of course." She smiled sweetly, completely at ease. So, there was no reason why I suddenly felt a very cold chill run down my spine or notice Blade leaning out of the way as Valeria spoke.
"I'll leave you to your work."
That done, she turned and left my workshop. The air grew easier, Blade was looking incredibly amused now as he laughed and clapped my shoulder.
"I think I'm gonna enjoy it here."
I wasn't joking when I said I was working all night long. But my mind was alight, guided by visions of the future and the arcane, translated piecemeal into the process of flashes of inspiration that was my Artificer abilities. What further made some of this possible as well was the nature of the setting I was in. Marvel was as much a place of high fantasy and science, where Dracula was real, where Loki the Trickster God was an enemy of the Avengers. Which meant I had a blueprint upon which I would manifest my work.
The first step was the coat. Black leather, partially because it was cool, and it was how I remembered Blade. But also, because leather is extremely pliable to work with. In that respect, my mother's books would lead the way.
I set my friends rushing for ingredients, alchemically important as I treated each portion of the coat in a liquid that had me take each part piecemeal, treating it in the final solution as I worked on other things.
The crossbow bolts. Blade had been using them sans the boltheads, trusting to them to act as stakes of a sort. Clever enough, but inefficient. To that end, I already knew what I'd be making as I began also to create glass, working on more alchemical treatments as soon the area around my cabin became nigh-unbearable to be anywhere near.
And so, time went on and I lost myself in the work. I barely remember much of eating or sleeping. I must have, because at times I'd find myself waking up or an empty plate with crumbs being removed and replaced. Until finally, I was done and with bleary eyes I peered at the final creation and smiled before someone spoke behind me.
"Victor."
"Eh?!" I turned, surprised and blinked to see Valeria-looking worried, staring at me as she stepped forward and ran her hands along my face. As the faint brush of fuzz was fixed, my surprise must have been evident as she looked at me before she spoke. "Victor, it's been a month. Are you here again?"
I swayed, my vision blurred as all the inspiration, no longer needed sputtered and died as I nodded. "Y-yes, I... I think I am. Has it really-?"
"It has." She said firmly, frowning as she shook her head. "Wanda was right. I should have spoken up. Come on."
She pulled me up, striding over to the cot set up which I had taken for expediency as she laid me out. Rather than leave however as she did, she seemed to turn a little more red but turned off the light.
I laid there, confused and then heard the faint whisper of cloth on skin, followed by the warm feel of her as she laid next to me and brought my head close to her heart. I could hear her beat, feel the faint tremble in her body as she finally whispered.
"Don't ever scare me like that again."
I was quiet.
I don't make promises I can't keep, and despite my thoughts, whatever was going on now? Exhaustion took a toll and then I fell asleep.
Where I fell into entirely, all-too familiar nightmares.
"MOTHER! FATHER!" I screamed, with the voice of a child. The portal before me shuddered and collapsed, my mother's smile the last thing I saw before it was gone forever. My father perished, never the same way twice. Sometimes gunned down among a crowd, others lined up against a wall and shot by faceless soldiers. Sometimes, he died in entirely original ways, my imagination was creative in that respect.
The nightmare took a different turn tonight though. I found myself lost in the mountains. Snow laid upon the world thick and up to my knees, the wind howled and felt like frigid knives, but it was nothing compared to the fear I suddenly felt, seeing a glow in the distance. Almost hypnotically, I started marching forward.
The glow became firelight, emitting from a cavern that was covered with a curtain of odd emblems, like a bead curtain. Bones and stones, engraved like little works of art from which behind, the glow was all the brighter. Heat washed from the front and I felt myself sweat for reasons not entirely the heat. I was afraid of what I'd find there, but nevertheless I stepped forward. I couldn't quite say why, nor what compelled me... At least, initially.
Aunt Magda was weeping, kneeling by the side of my path as she extended hands towards me.
Despite wanting to stop, to assure her, the dream me simply walked on by, ignoring the woman who had been as good as a second mother to me.
Next along the path was Uncle Boris, mournful and sad. He said not a word, only stared at me and as I stepped past, he began to struggle to follow. Dream me made no attempt to help him either, moving on alone.
One by one, the connections I made likewise faded. Pietro with a grim look, weeping Wanda... Valeria.
I dared not look at the expression she was making, but I did anyway. Her face was set in a rictus of intense sorrow, suppressing tears as she just stared at me. Before she turned and left, vanishing into the darkness as for the first time I tried to move, to act. This was MY dream. I would make it do what I want!
I was stopped by an iron hand. I froze, terrified again as a voice cruel and cold rumbled behind me.
"Dread it. Run from it."
The hand turned painful, throwing me backward as I was slammed onto a stone altar, staring at the being before me. An armored figure, hooded and cloaked in green. His visage was unseen, a mere shadow from which glowing eyes pierced me to the quick as it reached into a forge, drawing out a very, very familiar mask. Still hot, glowing orange and white as the thing sneered.
"Destiny still arrives."
He slammed the mask on my face and we screamed in pain as I felt my flesh char and burn away.
"Victor? VICTOR?!"
I woke up in a sweat and a sore throat, Valeria looking at me worriedly before I turned my eyes to her and she looked sorrowful. Without a word, she reached for me and hugged me firmly. I closed my eyes, focusing on her heartbeat as my own continued to skip a beat, still fearful before she spoke quietly.
"Victor? Will you promise me something?" I was silent and a few moments later, Valeria spoke again.
"If you ever need to speak, I promise... I'll be here. Promise me you'll speak to me too."
I didn't answer.
I don't make promises I can't keep, and after a while of her stroking my hair, murmuring quietly I fell asleep again.
I opened the briefcase. Blades eyebrows shot up into his hairline as he slipped off his shades, staring at the following. From the twenty crossbow bolts with glass heads and an odd, glowing liquid to the black leather coat, as well as a belt of six grenades emblazoned with holy emblems and finally, the sword itself... The only thing to garner confusion as it appeared to be a simple handle without a blade, made in the style of the Japanese as he stared at them all and then, at a pistol as he looked much more interested.
"Alright Victor, surprise and delight me. You've been blue balling me for a month, about time I've had some release." I sniffed, aware of my audience as Pietro sipped his beer and Wanda looked intrigued as she peered at the sword handle. Out of all my circle of friends, Valeria looked quite serene but beneath her poker face, I could feel her worry like a tangible thing. Such issues would have to be done for later, as I spoke.
"We'll start with the coat. Much of what you see before you have been accomplished with Alchemy-the arcane art of elements and effects. Up to and including your coat. Put it on." Blade all but leaped at the chance, tugging it on as he grinned and looked it over, nodding once before I took out a knife and approached.
"Every material at its inception has been soaked and infused with a protective liquid, for both resistances and other qualities." I slashed down as hard as I could, Blade jerking back before blinking in awe. I had used a survival knife, and the leather didn't have so much as a nick as I added.
"Blade proof. As much as I could with my materials." I stabbed forward, Blade letting it happen as not even a dent showed up as I continued. "It also breathes far better which I figured you'd find useful, wearing it often as you will. I've put that thing under a cow puncher machine, it hasn't pierced it at all. Enough kinetic force however via blunt weaponry will still hurt, so my advice is to avoid as much as you can." I paused and added. "It's also fireproof. Call it a hunch."
I went back to the briefcase, setting the knife down as I held up the crossbow bolts. Blade squinted, staring as he spoke. "Hell kinda glow is that? More alchemy?"
I grinned and spoke with relish. "AMO technology. Derived from tracer rounds and my own prodigious intellect, to give you essentially sunlight in a bolt head." I frowned as he froze, and I added. "I wanted to make them bullets, but unfortunately I don't have the knowledge nor the proper equipment for it. They'll keep forever thankfully. And the glass bolthead on impact will break into the skin, releasing the liquid into their bodies. The formula can be replicated and I've left a copy of this work in the case."
"What's AMO?" Said Pietro blankly as Blade continued to all but burn the bolts into his retina's like they were going to vanish as I felt a misstep. Oops.
That wasn't around just yet, especially not to the quality even my crude boltheads followed. In turn, I smirked and raised my head as I said simply. "A new field of science, derived from some ideas others have done. I simply took it and went further beyond anyone else."
Wanda scoffed, but smiled as she said simply. "I think he likes it."
"There's more." I remarked back as Blade spoke up, looking at me as he spoke hotly. "More?!"
I laughed and continued my spiel, gesturing towards the grenades as I tapped them. "Silver shrapnel, alongside oak splinters as well as peachwood. They're designed for arcane enemies, but you'll find them to be suited for whatever else strikes your fancy." I twisted the top of one of them, revealing the payload as I added. "I designed them for field use-you may pour whatever is at hand or is required, creating a grenade for whatever you fight. Be that old nails, pebbles or what have you. Simply press the button and four seconds later, it will detonate. I wasn't able to make timed variants without more resources, so these will have to do."
I took the pistol, grinning as I added. "THIS one I particularly like. I designed it with your prey in mind, creatures with senses beyond human and derived from of all things, the science of a dog whistle. Point and pull the trigger-you can charge it from any electrical outlet and you'll have enough for five minutes sustained time." I put it down and then Blade spoke.
"Hold up there-what's that?" He grabbed the sword handle, looking it over as I blinked and smiled. "Mm. I almost forgot." Everyone, Blade included made a noise that broadly speaking, went along the lines of 'bullshit' and I chuckled.
I was never this much of a peacock before, or a braggart I think. But there was something about being Victor that demanded pride, whose intellect he would someday brandish over everyone, heroes and villains alike.
Never, if I had any say. Aside from bursts of temper and my own joy at showing off my stuff, I think I was doing a good enough job. It almost made me forget the nightmares I had, trying to convince me otherwise.
I am inevitable.
I hid a shudder and nodded to the handle. "More fun. The handle is hollowed out, filled with a vial and an electric engine. Twist it in your hands like so and-"
Blade did it eagerly and in a flash, a gleaming silver blade immediately formed as he stared and squinted. ".... Silver?"
"Alchemical silver. Normally stored in unstable form, till you run an electric current. It then flows along the magnetic shielding generated and forms a sword. It also has the added side effect of running an electric shock through whatever it cuts. Like the pistol, it also can be recharged at any power socket. The vials can be replaced as well, should anything happen. Useful for both werewolves and vampires I expect." I took a deep breath and spoke.
"Poor gifts. But they were made with care and as best as I could, with what I had in mind." Blade was shaking his head, his expression serious as he turned off the sword and hooked it to his belt-which I had installed a latch, precisely for that purpose. "Victor." He said somberly as he added.
"I hate vampires. But it's a job where I'm constantly outgunned, with nothing but wood and old weapons to deal with them. This...." He gestured haplessly to the tools I crafted as he finally laughed.
"This is beyond anything I ever dreamed! As far as I'm concerned brother, you got a friend for life." He extended his hand. Without hesitation, I took it as I smiled and added.
"On that note, should you ever need repairs or replacements? Feel free to contact me-for a suitable fee of course. This kit is on the house." Blade laughed again, pumping my hand as he spoke with relish.
"Oh, I will. I'm going to enjoy using these!"
Blade left, satisfied and eager to get back to the hunt. As I waved goodbye, I once more thought about the oddity that was my 'artificer' skills and abilities as well as the setting itself, that seemed to meld in the oddest of ways. The coat for example was crafted, by me envisioning how an Artificer would create a magic item based on Mage Armor. While the alchemical treatment helped with that, in-setting effects also included some other strange things that I certainly would never have allowed as a GM. Like the fireproofing bit-a layered on, fire resistance ability. I had no idea how 'half damage' to fire would translate in this world. But at any rate, testing it had barely damaged the materials if at all and I finally just classed it as 'magic bullshit' and went to work.
The UV bolts were shamelessly ripped off from Underworld. The grenades themselves were unga-bunga proof, grenades had been made for centuries and even an ordinary crafter could make them. The sword were far more stranger to me. I had intended to just craft what in game terms would be a +1 silver sword, combining it with alchemy and science had been almost second nature, things and concepts sparking in my brain to provide a guide for something I never could have done before. Was it because Marvels laws of science were bullshit or elastic? Or was it from the Dungeons and Dragon side of things, allowing me to 'flavor' anything I made, so long as it fit? What were my limits? How do I find out and would my skills increase, if I continued to craft more?
I certainly gained experience from it, if the ideas and odd sensations I was experiencing was any sort of guide. I laughed, quite at ease and eager now as I finally had a plan. One that would enable me to avoid all the 'King of the Mountain' metahuman bullshit as I put my mind to gaining experience without putting myself in harm's way for my quest. I would go on a knowledge binge, graduate from college and work my way through every other similar venue. I would be an academic, till such a day as I could craft the device to do what the original Doom and myself had prioritized above everything else.
To bring our mother back. I felt sorry for Latveria, but really the MCU didn't have it and things turned out alright, right? Everything looked like not only smooth sailing from here on out, but also bright for the first time.
.... So why was I feeling that sense of foreboding, despite the bright sun and the sight of my friends coming to join me? Once more, words-my own echoed in my mind, from an armored figure of iron and green.
I am inevitable.
We'll see about that. All I have to do is just play nice with Richard when I met him, and all would be well.
How hard could that be?
Getting out of Latveria was difficult but with enough bribery, some tearful farewells from Aunt Magda and Uncle Boris, and a long journey that at one point, required me to hide out in a cargo container-I finally made it. I had a farewell from Valeria as well, but as that encounter contained details with no interest to anyone aside from us, I've struck it from this record for my own private musings.
I had little on me save for the clothes on my back, a somewhat outdated suit that once belonged to my father when he went to college which ironically was a darker shade of stained green, my tools and books and some other sundries, but I was at least ahead of the curve. For example, the bag itself was a spatial-dimensional bit of work and as a result, I was able to carry the entire contents of my wagon with me. I would not be wanting for tools nor supplies.
It would also preserve quite a lot of packed lunches, which was great because I had little in the way of American money though I expected that to change eventually. I admit, the taste of home did much to quell my own misgivings and second thoughts, for many reasons aside from the most obvious. Namely, that I was living in a Marvel New York City. So naturally, the first thing I did was grab a day-old newspaper from the trash as I paused for a moment to smile at the 'Daily Bugle' headline before opening it and scouring it for details.
I breathed a sigh of relief. Nothing.
No random masks, no 'weird' stories, etc. As I sat there on the bench, paper in hand I felt I could breath a sigh of relief as my preparation-the scent of a hot dog and a drink filled my nose. My stomach growled as I glanced over my paper at the following. A smiling, old man in shades as he proffered a hot drink and a genuine, new york city hotdog as he said warmly. "You look like someone new to the city. But I got a good feeling about you anyway."
"Um... Thank you sir." I took both gently and went rummaging for my wallet which he refused with a wave of his hand. "Kid, I didn't buy that so you could pay me back. Think of it as a welcome to New York! And I hope you enjoy your stay. Say!" He added as if it occurred to him. "I just finished my paper too, if you want to read it, I'm good. I already took out the hat model advertisements."
I snorted quietly, amused despite myself. "Thank you again sir. I didn't get your name?"
"I didn't, no." He said cheerfully as he waved, turned to leave and said a single word that had me snap my eyes up and scan the crowd.
"Excelsior!"
But he was gone.
All I had left to denote his presence was a hotdog, some coffee and a newspaper. The coffee and hotdog, I ate and drank quietly in thought. As for the paper, I opened it and scanned todays news (minus the hat model advertisements of course) and froze at one, particular ad.
Upon the picture, the visage of a masked luchadore loomed and held up a golden belt. Surrounded by scantily clad beauties looking on in awe, my eyes were focused on the following words.
For $100! Face Crusher Hogan in the Ring for Three Minutes! All applicants welcome!
On the one hand, I really, really shouldn't involve myself. There were problems if one messed with an origin story, especially for one as impressionable as this one at his age. On the other hand... I checked my calendar and smiled grimly. I had time. I tossed my trash into a wastebasket and rose to my feet as my smile grew wider.
What the hell, I had always liked Spider-Man anyway. Award ReplyReport331The Last Hunter15/1/2024NewAdd bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Along Came a Spider New View contentThe Last HunterHe/Him9/2/2024Add bookmark#78I was severely tempted to go to the venue that Parker would be visiting. But if I did that, then I wouldn't be able to help in the way I wanted. So instead that night, with a phone book page ripped out and in my hand, I would be trying my best to not look suspicious as I peered at the page and glanced up and down the neighborhood, I found myself in. A suburban slice of life, quiet and peaceful enough as far as I could determine and I looked back and forth, carpet bag in hand and still dressed in my suit as I contemplated how exactly, I was going to approach. I had no idea when the burglar would arrive, nor did I know if my presence lingering on the street was already an indication of failure on his part, with a younger witness. Eventually, I decided that such waiting like some random peasant was beneath me and that I had always favored the direct approach.
Why stop now? So, I walked up to the door, knocked twice and waited before the door opened and a nice, sweet looking old man smiled up at me as he spoke. "Can I help you young man?" So, this was Uncle Ben? The only man death feared, as she made sure he could never come back unlike others. He bore signs of a once-powerful build but was respectful. His eyes were fixed on my own, there was nothing but polite curiosity in them despite the sudden intrusion and as I gathered my thoughts, he smiled as if this was something expected and not sprung upon him.
I smiled back, tipped my hat and spoke politely, careful not to seem too foreign with my accent though I'm not sure how well I did so.
"Is this the Parker residence? Forgive my intrusion, I came here to discuss a possible rental? I'm a student going to Hegeman State University this semester and your ad seemed perfect for my needs."
Ben Parker blinked in confusion and looked apologetic. "Ah, I'm sorry son." He sounded truly sorry, as he added. "But we hadn't put any kind of ad out."
"Oh." I remarked, looking crestfallen as I sighed out and smiled before bowing my head. "Forgive me then, I seem to have made a horrible mistake. I won't bother you further-"
"Ben? Who is that at the door? Is that the plumber?"
Ben turned slightly aside and called out. "No May, its just a mistaken identity. A student from Hegeman."
"Hegeman! Isn't that where Peter wanted to go?" May's voice came back, cheerful and full of life as Ben chuckled with fondness and I seized the opportunity.
"Sir. As an apology, perhaps I might help you? I'm something of a craftsman and I always carry my tools with me. Perhaps I might fix your pipes for you, before I leave? I'd feel better doing so."
He looked me over, smiled again and spoke. "Well, come on in... Mr...?"
"Ah." I grinned, tucked my hat under my arm and gave another small bow. "Victor. My name is Victor."
Anyway, that was how I got my in as I wiped my shoes carefully and stepped inside the Parker household. There was a faint smell of pasta in the air, and pictures on the wall of the boy I assumed was Peter himself, as I stared in interest. He looked... Well, ordinary. Teenager, glasses, white collared shirt and sweater vest. Brown messy hair, holding aloft some kind of science fair award as Ben saw what I was looking at and chuckled.
"My nephew, Peter. He's planning on going to university himself at some point, brilliant kid."
"So early?" I asked, surprised as Ben nodded proudly, leading me through the house. "Yes sir! He gets it from May's side of the family I'm sure."
"Oh, you rogue." May Parker stepped into view, a proud looking woman with her hair with streaks of white rather than full. She had the look of someone, like Ben who took care of herself and it showed as she added. "Pay this fuss-bucket no mind, he's very smart too!"
"Knowing the best places you hide the Halloween candy is an esoteric gift passed down through generations." Ben said solemnly, May slapping his chest lightly before melting as Ben kissed her cheek.
Well then.
I was well and truly taken, as I resolved to break the bones of anyone who dared intrude on them. They were a lovely couple, obviously not wanting for sweetness and care and well, if I was reminded of my parents as I looked at them? It would be no one's business but my own. At any rate, I had work to do as I removed my coat, placed it on a hook and rolled up my sleeves as I smiled and bowed slightly.
"Lady Parker, thank you for allowing me into your home. I am Victor, and I understand you have a problem with the pipes?"
"Oh my." May looked me up and down and smiled as she looked at Ben. "Ben Parker, I think it best we keep this one to ourselves. Our neighbors will eat him alive."
I blushed despite myself, and Ben laughed, before he clapped a hand on my shoulder. "C'mon you, this way. So Hegeman university?"
Grateful for the change in topic, I followed him to the basement and was soon engaged in a conversation that surprised me. He asked my topics, my dreams for the future and as I worked on fixing the pipes that looked to have been installed in the Mesopotamian era, I realized I was far more open than I had thought I'd be.
"I'm from Latveria. It's a small country in Europe and going through many crises. While part of me wants to return and fight, I know also from my history that such things only incite more violence." Ben nodded, his expression and tone non-judgemental as he eyed my work and spoke.
"So, what is it you hope to accomplish then?"
"I feel that to accomplish anything, I have to first improve myself." I admitted as I added. "I'm just a small fish in a great sea for the moment, and my words will be drowned out by those in power. If I wish to be listened to, I must make myself a person worth listening to. I'm still unclear as to how." My frankness felt freeing, as I poured my troubles out before adding.
"I'm mostly afraid of what the journey will demand of me, and if I'll recognize myself by the end of it. Or even be the same person."
Ben Parker was quiet, and for a moment there was only the sounds of the radiator before he finally spoke. "Son, if there's anything I've learned, is that we're forever changing. We're the never the same person we were yesterday, and part of growing up is acknowledging that and keeping to something to help you stay grounded. Think of values you hold dear, think of a line you refuse to cross. As you go through life, they'll act to anchor you so you're never truly far from the reason why you started your journey."
"What have you used to anchor yourself?" I asked, as Ben contemplated and finally sighed out before he spoke. ".... For me, it was always responsibilities. I'm not only answering for myself, but also for my wife, my nephew and other relationships I hold dear. If anything happened to me, I'd want to make sure those I loved were cared for, that I was able to go in a way that would give them proper closure. The more you improve yourself and grow closer to the ideal man you wish to be, the more these responsibilities become important to ground yourself."
"With great power, comes great responsibility?" I ventured, perhaps a little cheekily as Ben blinked and smiled. "Yes, I suppose so. Whether that power is to be a family man, a driver, an office worker or even a revolutionary, we as people have responsibility to act accordingly to it. To use it to improve the lives of those around us, however we could but never at the expense of our own selves." His expression turned somber as he added.
"To give fully into those responsibilities, without so much as personal groundings? That's the realm of potential saints and monsters alike."
For a moment, his words seemed prophetic in the basement, my expression blank and my mind racing. Once more, the towering visage of iron in green flowed across my mind before I finally spoke.
"Thank you Mr. Parker. Your words are wise and I accept them gratefully."
As I turn a valve and check my work, we both smile as the sound of a smooth flow echoes, no longer stuttering and Ben laughs quietly. "Victor, please call me Ben. Would you like to join us for dinner?"
I smiled, and then suddenly there came a sound that brought terror to myself and Ben alike, echoing above in the house.
The sound of a gunshot.
I tore though, running up the stairs four at a time as I snarled to myself. Pathetic! Stupid! Lured into complacency, by an old man's stories and menial work! I had forgotten why I had come, why I was in this house and I burst out with an expression of rage that seemed to startle the person upstairs. A skinny, pale figure with a gun and the surprise I had come upon him with was the only thing that saved me from getting shot immediately.
Not that I cared as I slammed the wrench in my hand across his jaw and proceeded to throttle him on the floor.
"Intruder! These people are under the protection of Victor! In raising a hand against them, you've raised a hand against me." His eyes were wide, his fingers scrabbled at my own, my expression terrifying him as I smacked his head against the floor. Die, pathetic insect! Die and rid the world of another piece of scum, no different than those back home. He was starting to get weaker, his eyes red and bulging further as he mouthed something... Apologies, pleas, it mattered not. I only squeezed harder, my teeth grinding hard enough that I felt like I could shatter steel if I had it in my hands now.
And then, the haze of my rage was shattered as Ben called out. "Victor! Help me!"
Like a cold wash of ice water, sensation returned and I turned to look. The thug took the moment of weakness, breaking free and fleeing from the premises as Ben Parker looked helplessly at me.
May Parker was shot, her collarbone shattered as red stained her shirt and the floor. She had been setting out plates, three on the table and one extra, shattered on the floor which further eradicated any thoughts of revenge. I crawled over, unheeding as May smiled softly and raised her hand to my face.
"It's ok Victor." She said softly and I snarled, before going for my carpet bag. Rummaging, grabbing an item as I came back and shoved my newest gauntlet iteration on my hand.
"No."
A far cry from the junkyard model that I had made a child, this looked more akin to a Knight's armored piece. Save for the interior, padded and with various electronics to channel my arcane workings as power crackled and I spoke.
"No. The laws of science are mine. The power I have, is MINE. Here is MY responsibilities to use them!" And with that, I used one of my 'slots' as May gasped in pain, before relaxing. Ben stared at me, at the gauntlet as energies pulsed a glowing, faint white as May started to speak softly.
"That... That feels so much better."
"Empowered cellular regeneration. Coupled by a magnetic field, to extract the bullet." I said grimly as I added. "By harnessing my own power, I can use it in healing applications. But even then, you'll still be weakened by blood loss. I recommend this." I turned to Ben and spoke softly.
"Sir, there's a glass bottle in my bag. Red liquid, please grab it." Ben to his credit, nodded as he rushed to my carpet bag and was briefly astonished as he realized its spatial properties.
"Its like there's a whole room in there!" He said surprised and I coughed, looking briefly ashamed.
"Er.... Sort of. I might have been staying there, while looking for a place to rent within my budget." Ben came back, the glass bottle in hand as I uncorked it and held it to May's lips.
"It'll help with the blood loss. Drink please."
May did so obediently, though not without making a face as she spoke. "That's disgusting. It must be medicine." I chuckled, not without mirth as I added gently. "It was brewed by my caravans best healer. She'd be happy to know it helped."
I myself was just happy to have Cure Wounds on the Artificer spell list. Between both of these and some rest, May Parker should get through this without a problem. As she drifted off to an easy sleep, I began performing other work to help the people who had been kind to me.
Prestidigitation, cleaning the blood away. Mending for the bullet hole and the shattered plate, before I carefully picked her up and with Ben's help, laid her out in bed as I set the bottle on the dresser next to it. A quarter of it was drunk, the rest could be done whenever she woke up.
Ben Parker, eyes wet with tears would embrace me tightly as he spoke. "Thank you. Bless you. My wife, she... I don't know what I'd do without my May. Or what I'd tell Peter.... God. Where is that boy?" He breathed out and then finally frowned, looking at me as he spoke.
"Son. You're not going anywhere. You looking for a place to live? As far as I'm concerned, you've found it."
The door creaked open, both of us turned, prepared for anything.
Instead of the thug come back, instead was someone else entirely. A teenager, a boy really. Nerdy thick glasses, face red with exhilaration as he held an envelope in hand and spoke. "Uncle Ben, I brought us something! We-" He paused and looked around... Stared at the face of his uncle, the loss of May, a stranger in the house... And a bullet hole in the wall I had yet to fix.
The envelope dropped from his hands as his voice quavered. "Uncle Ben? Where's Aunt May?"
Ben stepped towards him, embracing Peter tightly and Peter, unsure hugged back. Ben pulled back, somber as he spoke. "Peter, she's fine... She's resting now, but she might had died tonight if it weren't for this man." He nodded to me, Peters eyes widening in horror as he approached and nervously, extended a hand to shake. "H-hi." He said, looking at me as he added. "My names Peter. Peter Parker."
"Nice to meet you Peter." I said slowly, extending my own hand to shake as I added. "You may call me Victor."
I was going to adopt this entire family so, so hard.