I was sitting on a curb, staring at the empty pocket of my tight outfit. Zero cash. Zero food. I was Juri Han, a badass ass-kicking machine, but even machines need fuel. And in New York, fuel costs money. Damn, even that pirate Fury didn't give me an advance for my future SHIELD gig.
— System, got any dollars? — I muttered, hoping for a miracle.
SYSTEM RESPONSE: NO CURRENCY. SUGGESTION: FIND A JOB OR ANOTHER WAY TO EARN MONEY.
— A job? — I snorted. — Me, Juri Han, slinging coffee at Starbucks? Not happening.
I had to come up with something fast, 'cause my stomach was growling like an old engine. I looked around the street. Crowds, neon lights, chaos – New York. And then it hit me. A stupid, totally idiotic idea, but hey, I was desperate. Everyone in this city wants to be a star, right? And I had a body straight off a magazine cover and moves like an action movie. Time for a little performance.
I found a plaza downtown where street artists played guitars or juggled. Perfect spot. I jumped onto an empty bench, activated the Feng Shui Engine to make my eye glow purple (for effect, you know), and shouted:
— People of New York! Get ready for the Juri Han show, the one-and-only queen of kicks and style!
A crowd started gathering, mostly out of curiosity. I did a few backflips, kicked the air with a boom, and threw in a pirouette for good measure. People stared with their mouths open. One guy was even recording me on his phone. Perfect. Time for the main act.
— And now, the special number! — I called, pulling out the small pocketknife I'd found in my outfit. — Watch Juri Han regenerate like Wolverine, but with better style!
I made a small cut on my hand, showing the blood to the crowd. A few people gasped, but before they could freak out, the wound healed in seconds thanks to my basic regeneration. The crowd went nuts – people clapped, tossed dollars into a cap I'd swiped from some hipster (relax, I'll give it back... maybe). One kid even shouted: "Are you a mutant?!"
— Mutant? Nah, kid, I'm Juri Han! — I laughed, collecting the cash. In half an hour, I had about a hundred bucks. Dumb plan, but it worked. New York loves weirdos, and I was as weird as they come.
Satisfied, I bought a giant pepperoni pizza and sat in a park to eat. I felt like a king until someone landed on the tree next to me. Red-and-blue suit, webs – Spider-Man himself.
— Yo, Purple! — he called, hanging upside down. — What's up? Smashing thieves again or just stuffing your face with pizza?
— Oh, Web-Head, back for more of my kicks? — I snorted, setting down a slice. — I'm saving my stomach, if you didn't notice. What about you? Why're you hanging like a bat? Running out of fans?
Spider-Man flipped down and sat next to me, trying to snag a slice of my pizza, but I smacked his hand. — Hands off, bug! This is my pizza. I earned it fair and square... well, sorta. Saw my show at the plaza? People were throwing cash like crazy.
— Show? — he laughed, tilting his head. — Yeah, I saw. You were waving a knife like a circus nutcase. Seriously, what was that? Trying to get on Broadway?
— Broadway? — I scoffed, faking outrage. — Dude, I'm a street star. Made a hundred bucks in half an hour. What about you? Catching crooks for free? Or, wait, you doing those web tricks for internet likes?
— Likes? — Spider-Man acted offended. — Purple, I save the city with class. I don't need likes to know I'm awesome. But you? Rolling around the plaza like an acrobat? That's some desperate stuff.
— Desperate? — I laughed, elbowing him. — Says the guy in tights shooting strings from his hands. What's your name, anyway? Spider-Boy? Spider-Dude? Or just plain bug?
Spider-Man looked at me like he couldn't believe I asked. — Uh, Spider-Man's good enough. And you? "Purple" all you got, or is there something under that braid?
— Purple? — I snorted, crossing my arms. — I've got style you'll never touch, bug. Call me Juri, unless you want a kick to those red shorts. Speaking of, seen that pirate guy lately?
Spider-Man chuckled, nearly falling off the bench. — You still calling Fury a pirate? Juri, you've got guts. Or zero survival instincts.
— Bit of both — I said, winking. — But for real, think Captain Hook'll hire me? 'Cause something tells me I gotta earn his respect, and I'm not up for cleaning his desk.
— Something tells you? — Spider-Man looked at me like I was nuts. — What, you got hunches or something? Okay, that's too weird, even for me.
— Let's just say I've got an... inner voice — I muttered, finishing my slice. — Long story, Web-Head. Short version: I'm badass, got superpowers, and purple nails. Simple, right?
— Simple? — he laughed. — You're the most screwed-up person I've met. But... you like pizza, so I guess we can be buddies.
— Buddies? — I snorted. — Only if you learn to flip like me. Your web-swinging's cool, but it's missing... you know, style.
— Style? — Spider-Man acted offended. — Purple, I invented style! Without my quips and webs, this world would be boring.
— Sure, keep dreaming, bat-boy — I said, tossing a napkin at him. We laughed like idiots until the system chimed. Ding!
TASK COMPLETED: EARN MONEY AND BUILD TIES WITH SUPERHEROES!
REWARD: +20 SYSTEM POINTS, NEW SKILL: PRECISION KICK (INCREASED ACCURACY)
— Look at that, my inner voice loves me! — I shouted, and Spider-Man stared like he was debating calling a shrink.
— Alright, Juri, you're cool but creepy — he said, standing. — Gotta swing, but if you're doing another circus act at the plaza, let me know. I might even buy a ticket.
— Beat it, Web-Head — I laughed, waving him off. He swung away, shooting a web, and I went back to my pizza. I had cash, a new kick, and a pal in tights. The Marvel world was nuts, but damn, I was starting to love it.