Chapter 5: New Plans
Lin Chen stood in the abandoned alley where he had landed after escaping from General Ross's forces, his body still thrumming with the incredible power he had absorbed during the battle with the Abomination and the Hulk. The adrenaline was fading now, replaced by a growing awareness of just how dramatically his capabilities had changed.
He looked down at himself and winced. His clothes were in tatters—his shirt hung in strips from his enhanced frame, torn by the rapid muscle expansion that had occurred during his power surge. His jeans had split at the seams, barely holding together after the abuse of superhuman combat. His shoes were completely gone, destroyed by the tremendous forces generated during his rooftop-to-rooftop leaps across the city.
Only his makeshift face mask and his underwear had somehow survived the transformation intact.
I need to understand what I've become, he thought, flexing his hands experimentally.
Lin Chen picked up a chunk of concrete debris that had fallen from a nearby building. The piece was roughly the size of a basketball—something that would have required both hands and significant effort for his old self to lift. Now, it felt as light as a foam ball.
He squeezed gently, intending to test his grip strength.
The concrete instantly crumbled to powder, falling through his fingers like sand.
Lin Chen stared at his hand in shock. He had barely applied any pressure at all—certainly less than he would use to shake someone's hand—and yet the solid concrete had been reduced to dust as if it were made of chalk.
This is going to be a problem, he realized.
For the next hour, Lin Chen conducted a series of careful experiments to understand his new capabilities. He practiced picking up pieces of debris with varying degrees of force, learning to modulate his strength from "accidentally destructive" down to "merely superhuman." He tested his jumping ability by making small hops, gradually increasing the power until he could accurately predict his landing zones.
The learning curve was steep, but his enhanced mental capabilities allowed him to adapt more quickly than should have been possible.
By the time he felt confident enough to move through populated areas without accidentally injuring someone, the eastern sky was beginning to lighten with the first hints of dawn.
Lin Chen made his way through the quiet streets of New York, using his enhanced agility to move silently and his newfound strength to leap over obstacles that would have forced detours in his previous life. The few people who were out at this early hour—shift workers heading home, early joggers, and the occasional police patrol—paid no attention to what appeared to be just another young man walking through the city in torn clothes.
He stopped at an all-night convenience store to buy snacks and a cheap pair of sweatpants, paying with some of the cash from his underground fighting winnings. The elderly clerk behind the counter looked at his torn clothing with mild concern but said nothing—in New York City, stranger things happened every day, continuing his journey home.
The walk back to Queens gave him time to process everything that had happened. Less than a week ago, he had been a powerless young man struggling to survive in a world that seemed designed to crush ordinary people. Now, he possessed strength that rivaled mythological heroes and abilities that placed him firmly in the superhuman category.
But with great power came great responsibility—a lesson that would soon become personally relevant, given his connection to the Parker family.
Lin Chen reached his shop just as the sun was rising over the horizon. He carefully retrieved his key from the system storage and opened the metal security shutter, then the door behind it, moving with precise control to avoid damaging the mechanisms with his enhanced strength.
This small convenience store was his entire inheritance from his predecessor's parents—a modest building divided into two floors, with the ground level serving as retail space and the upper floor converted into a basic living area. The total floor space was barely ten square meters, but it represented more than ten thousand dollars of investment by people who had worked hard to provide their son with a future.
Lin Chen sat behind the cashier counter and opened one of the snack bags he had purchased, chewing thoughtfully as he considered his situation. The loan sharks would be coming soon—probably within a few hours, based on their previous pattern. They expected to find a desperate young man willing to beg for more time or scrape together whatever money he could find.
Instead, they would encounter someone who could bench press a city bus.
After finishing his snack, Lin Chen closed the shop entrance and headed upstairs to get what sleep he could before the confrontation. His enhanced physique meant he needed less rest than before, but his mind still required time to process and integrate all the new information and capabilities he had gained.
When he woke a two hours later, Lin Chen felt more centered and controlled than he had since his transformation. His strength was still incredible, but he was beginning to develop the fine motor control necessary to function in a world built for normal humans.
He made his way back downstairs and reopened the shop, then settled in behind the counter to wait. While he waited, his mind turned to longer-term planning.
His immediate goals were clear: deal with the loan sharks permanently, and then begin the next phase of his development.
But beyond that, he needed to think strategically about his place in the Marvel Universe.
The battle with the Abomination had shown him just how dangerous this world could be, and how quickly ordinary people could be caught up in conflicts between forces beyond their comprehension. If he wanted to survive—and protect others—he needed to continue growing stronger. That meant seeking out more battles between powerful beings and finding ways to pick their abilities and attributes.
But he couldn't do it alone. He needed information, resources, and support systems that would allow him to track down these conflicts and position himself to benefit from them. He needed a professional to help him.
A graceful figure quickly flashed through his mind: Skye, also known as Daisy Johnson. In the future, she would become one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s most valuable agents, with earthquake-generating powers that could level buildings. But right now, she was just a brilliant teenage hacker with anti-establishment tendencies and no official affiliations.
She was perfect for his needs—intelligent enough to gather the information he required, skilled enough to break into systems that would be impossible for normal people to access, and young enough that she hadn't yet been recruited by the various intelligence agencies that would eventually compete for her services.
Most importantly, at this point in the timeline, Daisy had not yet joined S.H.I.E.L.D. or discovered her true parentage and abilities. She was accessible in a way that she wouldn't be once Phil Coulson's team brought her into the fold.
Lin Chen began flipping through his inherited memories of the Marvel Universe, trying to recall specific details about Daisy's current situation. She should be around seventeen or eighteen years old at this point, probably still in high school but already showing signs of the brilliant intellect that would make her so valuable to intelligence organizations.
However, because of her exceptional IQ and her growing disillusionment with traditional education systems, she was likely already considering dropping out to pursue her own interests in computer science and hacking.
The problem was that he didn't know which specific school she was currently attending. New York City had dozens of high schools and universities, and searching through all of them manually would take weeks even with his enhanced capabilities.
But he wouldn't have to search alone. The loan sharks who were about to arrive would provide him with the manpower he needed to conduct a systematic search of the city's educational institutions.
After he had a clear plan in mind, Lin Chen looked out the shop's front window, watching for signs of the approaching confrontation.
Time passed slowly. To occupy himself, he pulled out his phone and began browsing financial websites, checking the stock prices for various companies he knew would be important in the coming years.
Stark Industries was trading at relatively modest levels, with no indication that the public was aware of Tony Stark's impending transformation into Iron Man. The stock would multiply in value once his true innovations became public knowledge.
Something to consider for later, Lin Chen thought. *Supernatural power is useful, but financial leverage has its own advantages.*
Finally, after three hours of waiting, the distinctive sound of motorcycle engines echoed from down the street.
"Vroom! Vroom!"
The roar of multiple bikes approaching in formation was unmistakable. Lin Chen put away his phone and stood up from behind the counter, a cold smile playing across his lips.
"You're finally here," he said to himself. "I've been waiting for a long time."
He walked out of the shop, making sure to lock the door behind him. He had no intention of allowing this confrontation to take place inside his store—the building and its contents were worth far more to him than the lives of the thugs who had been extorting him for years.
More than a dozen motorcycles roared down the street in formation before coming to a stop in front of his shop. The riders dismounted with practiced coordination, clearly intending to create an intimidating display of force and numbers. Their leader was a man in a black leather coat, his face scarred from years of street violence and his expression radiating the casual cruelty of someone who had made a career of hurting people weaker than himself.
"Brat, have you prepared the money?" the leader demanded, his voice carrying the expectation of immediate submission.
Lin Chen looked at him with genuine curiosity. "What money?"
The leader's face darkened with rage at what he perceived as defiance. "You asshole!" he snarled, lunging forward with his fist raised.
Lin Chen didn't even bother to dodge. Instead, he simply extended his palm and gave the charging man the gentlest push he could manage—using less than one percent of his available strength.
The result was spectacular.
The man in the black coat flew backward through the air as if he had been hit by a freight car, crashing through the line of parked motorcycles with enough force to send several of them tumbling across the street. He landed in a heap of twisted metal and broken glass, alive but clearly in agony from bone crack and severe bruising.
Lin Chen had been extremely careful to restrain his strength—he wanted the man conscious and capable of communication, not dead or comatose. But even his most gentle application of force was devastating to someone with normal human durability.
"For years, you've been taking my money and still want more," Lin Chen said, his voice cold and emotionless. "Damn you."
The years of exploitation and intimidation had worn away his patience completely. These people had taken advantage of a grieving teenager, exploiting his desperation and turning a legitimate business transaction into an endless cycle of extortion.
The other gang members stared in shock at their leader's condition, then began moving to surround Lin Chen.
But his enhanced agility made their attempts at coordination look sluggish and predictable. He moved with fluid grace, appearing behind them before they could react and gathering them into a tight group with casual applications of his superhuman strength.
"Brother, we were wrong!" one of them pleaded desperately.
Slap!
Lin Chen's controlled backhand sent the speaker spinning but left him conscious and capable of speech. He grabbed the man's collar, causing the fabric to tear under the pressure of his grip.
"Who are you calling your brother?" Lin Chen asked coldly. "What are you?"
The man's face, already swollen from the slap, became even more distorted as tears of pain and fear streamed down his cheeks.
"I'm sorry, I'm stupid!" he sobbed. "We were wrong, we apologize to you!"
Lin Chen sneered at the pathetic display. "If an apology were useful, why would we need laws? You people have been threatening me for years, forcing me to sell inventory at a loss just to make your payments. You're going to compensate me for every dollar I've lost."
The leader, still groaning in pain from his collision with the motorcycles, managed to speak through gritted teeth. "How... how much?"
Lin Chen had already calculated the figure randomly from memories of payments made over the years, plus interest, plus compensation for the stress and lost opportunities caused by their extortion.
"One hundred thousand dollars," he said simply.
The gang members stared at him in shock. That was far more money than any of them had ever seen in one place.
"I... I only have thirty-four thousand," the leader admitted, his earlier arrogance completely gone. "That's everything I've saved."
The other gang members began emptying their pockets and counting their available cash. The amounts varied—some had a few thousand dollars, others only had hundreds—but the total came to just over forty-seven thousand dollars.
"Send it immediately," Lin Chen ordered, providing them with his bank account details.
One by one, they used their phones to transfer their available funds.
Lin Chen's mobile phone chimed repeatedly as the payments were processed, each notification representing years of stolen money finally being returned to its rightful owner.
As the last transfer went through, the gang members began to back away toward their remaining functional motorcycles. But Lin Chen's voice stopped them before they could escape.
"There's one more thing."
The leader turned back with obvious reluctance, trying to force a smile despite his injuries. "Is there anything else?"
Lin Chen's expression remained cold and businesslike. "I have a job for you. You're going to search through New York's universities and high schools for a girl named Daisy Louise Johnson.
She's Asian-American, approximately seventeen or eighteen years old. Her academic performance is exceptional, especially in computer science and mathematics."
The gang members exchanged glances, clearly confused by the request but not daring to refuse.
"Must find her," Lin Chen continued. "Bring me information about where she goes to school, where she lives, what her schedule is like. Do this quickly and efficiently, and I might consider our business relationship concluded on a positive note."
The leader nodded frantically. "Yes, yes, we'll find her! How... how should we contact you when we have information?"
Lin Chen provided them with a secure phone number—one of several.
"You have one week," he said. "Don't disappoint me."
As the gang members limped away with their damaged motorcycles and wounded pride, Lin Chen allowed himself a moment of satisfaction.
The immediate threat to his shop and his livelihood had been eliminated, and he had gained both financial resources and human assets that would help him achieve his larger goals.
But this was just the beginning. The Marvel was full of opportunities for someone with his abilities and knowledge, but it was also full of dangers that could destroy the unprepared.
Lin Chen looked down at his phone, reviewing the bank balance that now showed the return of his stolen money. He still have 50,000 USD in system storage.
So total 50,000+47,000 USD= 97,000 USD~
For the first time since arriving in this world, he had genuine financial security.
More importantly, he had a plan for the future—one that would allow him to continue growing stronger while building the resources and connections.
The age of heroes was beginning, and Lin Chen intended to be ready for whatever came next.
As he turned to go back into his shop, Lin Chen's enhanced senses picked up the distant sound of sirens and the mechanical noise. The aftermath of the previous night's battle was still being dealt with by the authorities, and somewhere in a secure facility, the Abomination was probably being studied by scientists who couldn't begin to understand what they were dealing with.
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