Chapter 5: Prank-Induced Demise (and the Sweet Sound of Rick Astley)
[SYSTEM MESSAGE: ATTENTION: SYSTEM DETECTS HIGH CONCENTRATION OF TARGETS. OPTIMAL FOR RAPID SKILL ACQUISITION. SUGGESTION: ENGAGE TARGETS CREATIVELY.]
"Creatively, System? You clearly don't know me very well if you think 'creative' is a suggestion. It's a way of life," I muttered, eyes fixed on Stark Tower. The battle was still raging, but my "Tactical Awareness" was picking up on something else. A subtle energy signature. Loki. He was there. And where Loki was, chaos followed. And where chaos followed, I was sure to find a convenient, skill-granting demise.
Eight unique deaths so far. I needed twelve more for the first upgrade. And time was of the essence. The invasion wouldn't last forever. I needed to diversify my portfolio of killers. And Loki was a prime candidate. He was a god, a trickster, and probably held some truly bizarre skills.
"Alright, Loki. My fellow chaos enthusiast. Let's see what you've got. Illusions? Mind control? The ability to make everyone around you question their sanity? I'm hoping for the last one, honestly. That's a real superpower."*
Getting into Stark Tower was surprisingly easy, thanks to the general anarchy. No one was paying attention to a random human wandering through the debris. My "Basic Combat Training" and "Tactical Awareness" gave me just enough confidence to navigate the treacherous landscape of destroyed offices and alien-infested hallways.
I heard the sounds of a struggle, followed by Loki's distinctive, sneering laugh. He was clearly having a grand old time. I followed the sounds, my heart pounding with a mix of fear and excitement. This was it. My chance to die by the hands of a truly magnificent bastard.
I found them. Loki, surrounded by the Avengers. Captain America was down, Hawkeye was looking grim, and Iron Man was trading blows with the trickster god. This was the scene where Loki stabs Coulson. Which meant I had to be quick. And I had to make sure Loki saw me.
I noticed a Chitauri speeder, mostly intact, just outside the broken window of the floor they were on. An idea, simultaneously brilliant and utterly insane, blossomed in my mind. The perfect prank. The perfect way to get Loki's attention. And the perfect way to get myself killed by him.
I quickly scrambled towards the speeder, ignoring the lingering pain from my previous deaths. My "Basic Energy Weapon Proficiency" allowed me to quickly hotwire the skiff, re-routing its comms system. I then focused my "Advanced Tactical Awareness" on the frequencies Loki was likely using for his comms or internal communications with the Chitauri.
"Oh, this is going to be epic. Loki, meet your new theme music. Hope you like classic 80s pop."*
With a press of a button, a familiar, upbeat tune began to blast from the skiff's external speakers, loud enough to cut through the din of battle.
"We're no strangers to love..."*
Loki, mid-snarky monologue to the Avengers, actually paused. His head tilted, a look of utter confusion replacing his usual smug expression. The Avengers looked equally bewildered.
"You know the rules, and so do I..."*
I soared past the window, grinning like a madman, waving enthusiastically at Loki. He stared, his eyes widening in a mix of disbelief and pure, unadulterated rage. He knew. He absolutely knew. This wasn't just a random song. This was a direct, personal insult.
"A full commitment's what I'm thinking of..."*
Loki roared, abandoning the Avengers for a moment, his scepter glowing ominously. He unleashed a powerful blast of cosmic energy. I didn't even try to dodge. I just kept waving, a triumphant, albeit slightly terrified, smile on my face. This was a glorious death.
The blast hit the skiff, and me, instantly. The world disintegrated into light, then nothingness.
[SYSTEM MESSAGE: DEATH DETECTED. KILLER: LOKI LAUFEYSON (IDENTIFICATION: ASGARDIAN GOD OF MISCHIEF). SKILL ACQUIRED: BASIC ILLUSION CASTING (LIMITED).]
[SYSTEM MESSAGE: IMMORTAL SYSTEM ACTIVATED. YOU HAVE 1 LIFE REMAINING AGAINST LOKI LAUFEYSON.]
[SYSTEM MESSAGE: 9 UNIQUE DEATHS RECORDED. CURRENT PROGRESS TO UPGRADE 1: 9/20.]
I gasped back to life, lying on the floor inside Stark Tower, a few feet from where I'd just been disintegrated. My body felt normal, but my mind... my mind felt different. A new layer of perception had been added, a subtle understanding of how to bend light and sound, how to create fleeting, convincing deceptions. Basic Illusion Casting (Limited)? Oh, this was going to be fun.
"Illusion casting! Yes! Now I can prank people with actual magic! Imagine the possibilities! Fake mustaches on Thanos! Invisible pants on Captain America! The sky's the limit! (Figuratively, of course. I probably can't make a whole sky.)"*
I quickly scrambled to my feet, trying to blend into the chaos. Loki was still raging, but he was now focusing his fury on the Avengers again, apparently having decided that the Rickrolling maniac was a fleeting hallucination induced by the stress of invading Earth. Good. Let him think that.
Nine unique deaths. Eleven more to go. And now with a working, albeit basic, illusion skill. This was going much better than I'd anticipated. My previous life as a sarcastic couch potato had not prepared me for this, but I was adapting. Quickly. And hilariously.
I saw a group of Chitauri rushing towards me. I quickly activated my "Basic Illusion Casting." A fleeting image of a giant, brightly-colored rubber chicken appeared in front of them, clucking loudly. They paused, momentarily confused, giving me just enough time to slip past.
"See? This is what I'm talking about! Pranking and surviving! It's the perfect combination!"*
I needed to find more varied Chitauri. There were different types, right? Not just the generic soldiers. Maybe some of the bigger ones, or the ones on the Leviathans. I needed to diversify. And then, I could start thinking about making some real money. Because dying was great for skills, but it didn't pay the bills. And those system upgrades weren't going to fund themselves.
"Alright, Adam, time to play scavenger hunt for alien death. And maybe, just maybe, I can find some alien tech that isn't completely vaporized. Because if there's one thing I know, it's that post-apocalyptic alien tech sells for a lot on the black market. Especially when it's still buzzing with residual alien evil."*
I spotted a stray Chitauri commander, barking orders at its subordinates. It was larger, more imposing. A prime target for a strategic demise.
"Come on, big guy," I whispered, a mischievous glint in my eye. "Let's see what kind of valuable skill you're hiding. Hopefully, it's something practical. Like 'Advanced Pizza Delivery' or 'The Ability to Understand Women.'"