Chapter 2: A God, A Genius, and A Sarcastic Fan
The hospital room smelled of antiseptic and lingering fear, a scent Adam found far less appealing than the lingering dread of cosmic annihilation. His head still throbbed, but the Guild System's translucent blue interface floated reassuringly in his peripheral vision, a testament to the fact that this wasn't just a concussion-induced hallucination. This was real. He was in the MCU, 2011. Thor was probably out there, dramatically brooding over his hammer.
"Right, escape plan," Adam muttered to himself, testing the strength in his legs. They were a little shaky, but mostly functional. The doctors had clearly assumed he was in shock after the "freak accident" and loaded him up on sedatives. Big mistake. He needed to be out, now.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, wincing slightly. A nurse bustled in, clipboard in hand, a harried expression on her face. "Mr. Stiels! You shouldn't be up! We need to monitor you for another 24—"
Adam plastered on his most charming, disarming Stiles-esque grin, leaning against the bedpost dramatically. "Oh, nurse, my dear, sweet nurse. As much as I adore the rustic charm of institutional décor, I'm feeling… surprisingly spry. Must be all that excellent bedside manner, truly top-notch. But duty calls! People to annoy, sarcastic comments to unleash upon an unsuspecting populace, you know how it is. Can't keep a good, tragically injured but now miraculously recovered, man down."
He layered on the hyperactive energy, subtly shifting his weight to put less pressure on his still-aching ribs. He talked faster, louder, throwing in non-sequiturs and exaggerated gestures until the nurse, bless her heart, looked utterly overwhelmed. He even managed to slip in a compliment about her fabulous hair – totally sincere, she really did have great hair.
Within fifteen minutes, mostly thanks to her desire for peace and quiet, and perhaps a touch of his subconscious Charisma stat working its magic, he was filling out discharge papers. He spun a tale about a frantic family waiting, a sudden onset of crucial business matters, anything to get him out. He even managed to get them to call him a taxi – using his remaining, pitiful amount of real-world cash.
Free! The crisp New Mexico air hit him like a revelation. Freedom, and the terrifying, exhilarating reality of his new mission. First priority: the "Must See to Invite" rule. He needed to get eyes on key players.
He pulled out his phone, a generic flip-phone that felt like a relic from a forgotten age, and started doing what any meta-knowledgeable fan would do: Google.
"Okay, Puente Antiguo, New Mexico. That's where Thor's crash-landed. News feeds… let's see what's buzzing in the world."
He quickly found local news reports. Weather anomalies. Strange events in the desert. Yep. Thor. Still, he needed visual confirmation.
Next, he typed in "Tony Stark." News about Stark Industries. His recent press conference. A blur of paparazzi photos. Adam squinted at the tiny screen, scrolling through image after image until he spotted a high-resolution one of Stark, mid-smirk, at a podium.
[Character Sighted: Tony Stark – Detected]
[Proximity: Undetermined (Not in immediate vicinity)]
"Bingo," Adam muttered, a thrill running through him. Tony Stark. Iron Man. Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. And, eventually, a man with a target on his back from the universe's biggest purple grape.
He then searched for "Bruce Banner." The news was scarcer, more obscure. Classified sightings, whispers of a green rage monster, military pursuits. He found a grainy, distant satellite photo from some obscure online forum, a blurry green figure in a jungle. It was enough.
[Character Sighted: Bruce Banner – Detected]
[Proximity: Undetermined (Not in immediate vicinity)]
"Excellent. Two birds, one blurry photo," Adam mumbled. "Now for the main event."
He hailed the taxi he'd called, directing the bemused driver towards Puente Antiguo. The drive was long, giving him time to really dig into the Guild System interface.
It was intuitive, almost like a mental app. He could swipe through menus with a thought. The "Members" tab was empty. The "Guild Store (Member)" tab showed a paltry list of basic items: "Minor Healing Potion (1 GP)," "Basic Strength Potion (1 GP)," "Durable Utility Knife (5 GP)," "Basic Skill Book: First Aid (2 GP)." Everything seemed astronomically expensive given his current GP balance.
He checked his own "Guild Master Store." It showed a larger list, true to the entity's promise, but still locked behind a GP wall. Items like "Devil Fruit (Random - 1000 GP)," "Super Soldier Serum (Tier 1 - 500 GP)," "Advanced Hacking Skill Book (200 GP)."
His eyes drifted to his "Guild Points (GP): 0."
"Right, points," he sighed. He pulled out the meager wad of cash the hospital had returned to him after his discharge – about $50. He mentally commanded the system to convert it.
[Convert $50 USD to Guild Points? (30% tax applied to Guild Master)]
[Conversion Rate: 1 USD = 0.01 GP]
[Converted: $50 USD -> 0.35 GP]
[Adam Stiels – Guild Points (GP): 0.35]
Adam stared at the paltry sum. "Are you kidding me?! 0.01 GP per dollar?! That's… that's basically nothing! My God, the economy of this Guild System is brutal!" He paused, considering. "Wait, 30% tax for me as Guild Master? So, members only get 70%? That means for every dollar a member converts, they get 0.007 GP. That's even more brutal! Is this thing trying to make me a cosmic slumlord?!"
The system remained stoic, unanswering. Of course. It was a tool, not a conversationalist.
"Okay, okay," Adam mumbled, rubbing his temples. "Slow start, Got it. This isn't a get-rich-quick scheme, it's a build-an-empire-from-the-ground-up scheme. And frankly, a much more interesting challenge."
He settled back in the taxi seat, watching the barren New Mexico landscape pass by. The sun was getting lower, casting long shadows. Puente Antiguo would be in chaos soon. Thor was there, but so was something else. Something loud, destructive, and very much alien.
The Destroyer.
He had to get there. Not just to "sight" Thor again, but to start doing what this Guild was for: protecting people. And finding the first piece on his chessboard. Darcy Lewis, for her wit. And maybe, just maybe, someone brave enough to be his first, loyal Guild member. Someone who hadn't yet been completely disillusioned by the chaos of the world.
He grinned. This was going to be fun. And incredibly terrifying.