Richard walked down the road, a bag of various school supplies in one hand and a bottle of Coca-Cola in the other. Between sips of his soda, he would whistle various little tunes. It was a beautiful day in New York; the sun was brilliantly shining, the clouds were on vacation, and the birds were singing their own songs.
Turning on the next street by a deli, Richard took several feet to realize he had made a wrong turn; he had accidentally gone one street up and now found himself in an unfamiliar alleyway. As he turned around to go back the way he came, he saw a burly man wearing a black jacket and a hat. The man in black had his hand in one pocket and the other hand was clenched in a fist. Frowning, Richard realized he would not be able to get around the man easily.
"Excuse me, sir?" Richard asked. "I just realized I made a wrong turn, do you mind if I get around you so I can get home. My wife is expecting me soon."
The man pulled out his knife and tried to stab Richard; the former dropped his bag of groceries and stepped backwards, his adrenaline levels rising. The man rushed forward and was about to stab Richard again when a silver blur came from nowhere and the man who had the knife was thrown against the wall and his knife had disappeared. Richard, astonished, looked around to see what had happened when all of a sudden, he saw a young man standing above him.
Tall, thin, and strangely handsome, the man was one who Richard recognized instantly; Pietro Maximoff, one of the crown jewels of New York. His silver hair was pulled back into a ponytail and his long, hooked nose was covered in silver nasal strips. Maximoff smiled, his teeth white and brilliant, and offered Richard a hand. Taking it thankfully, Maximoff helped Richard off the ground.
"Pietro Maximoff," the young man said, shaking hands with his recently saved companion.
"Richard Parker," the man replied. "You're the guy on the news all the time?"
"I try my best to be," Maximoff replied. Richard scratched the back of his head; Maximoff talked fast. "Anyway, where do you live, man? I'll walk back with you to make sure no more second-rate punks mess with you."
"Just a bit away from here, actually," Richard answered. "Are you going to go all vroom-vroom?"
"Well, no, that'd be rude," was Maximoff's response. "Tell me, Mr. Parker, what do you do for a living?"
"I work at OsCorp," Richard answered. "You?"
"I'm a superhero," Maximoff stated proudly. "It's loads of fun."
Richard nodded. "I imagine it is. How did you get your powers, Mr. Maximoff?"
"Please, call me Pietro. And I'm not really sure. I didn't have them one day, and the next I did. It was rather exhilarating. I enjoy it though, even though it is a little hard to handle. Everyone is so slow, man, you can't even imagine."
Frowning, Richard asked, "Have you ever considered going to someone who may be able to help? I mean, OsCorp has an amazing genetics program, and if you were born being able to use the powers you have—"
"No way, Jose," Maximoff interrupted. "I don't do big corporations. They're filled with corrupt billionaires and stuffy pencil-pushers. I work alone."
"Alright, it was just an offer," Richard explained. He stopped in front a dingy apartment building. "This is it. My home."
"You work at OsCorp and you live in this rathole?" asked Maximoff, turning his head slightly.
Nodding, Richard remarked, "It's cheap and it's big. That's all I need for now. Hopefully I get transferred to the Oregon factories next month though. My son was just born and I'd rather not raise him in this city."
Maximoff nodded understandingly.
"Shit!" Richard growled. "I forgot my bag in the alleyway—"
"This one?" Maximoff asked, handing Richard the bag of school supplies. "If your son was just born, why do you have school supplies?"
"My wife is a science teacher at Midtown High," Richard answered. "Did you just—"
"—Run back and grab this bag in the middle of your sentence? You bet cha!"
"Well, you're welcome in my home anytime you want, Pietro," Richard commented. "Thank you for saving me and walking me home and grabbing my bag. It's been quite a day. I don't think anyone is going to believe that I met you."
"Well, let's see," Maximoff grumbled, putting his hands inside of his pockets and pulling out a camera phone. Before Richard knew what was happening, Maximoff had taken a picture and asked, "Do you have a Facebook? I'll tag you in the picture."
"Uh, yes," Richard replied. His phone vibrated.
"There ya go!" Maximoff replied. "I just put the picture up. Anyway, I've gotta run, but I'll catch you later, I'm sure."
With that, Pietro Maximoff was gone.
Richard walked up to his apartment and smiled to himself. He had just met Pietro Maximoff. Life was good.
Pietro Maximoff, however, was not having the best day. As he raced through the streets of New York City looking for work to be done, he was once again bored with the results. Everything seemed to be overly okay; no muggings, no rip-offs, no robberies or interesting court cases and Doctor Who wasn't showing any reruns. Sighing to himself as he zipped around town, he decided to go hang out in the park.
Which turned out to be a mighty fine decision, for the moment he arrived at the park, a group of armored mercenary-looking fellows walked into the park too. One of them started shouting, "Alright, we're going to need everyone to leave this area of the park until we're finished!" Then, turning to the tallest of the men, the shouter ordered, "Get some police tape, close off this whole area until we're done checking it."
"What's the beef, bro?" Maximoff asked after he found himself in front of the shouter with his wallet in his hands. "You work for OsCorp?"
"I do," the shouter growled. "Who are you?"
"It's amazing how rude some people can be and how nice others can be," Maximoff noted. "I've met two people who work at OsCorp today." Maximoff opened the shouter's wallet and began looking through it. "Well, well. Head of OsCorp Security, Emil Blonsky! That's a cool name, are you Russian?"
Blonsky sneered. "Get out of here, this is a private investigation."
"Are you allowed to be using police tape to secure areas when you're not the police?" Maximoff asked. Blonsky lifted his gun.
"I'm allowed to kill you," Blonsky told him.
Maximoff laughed. "You're allowed to try."
Blonsky began to fire his gun, but Maximoff was much faster than any bullet. Speeding through the park at incredible speeds, he grabbed the bullets and aimed them towards the ground so they did not go and hit civilians. Then, he stopped in front of the armed guards, who each had their guns trained on Maximoff.
"What the fuck are you?" Blonsky spat.
"I'm Pietro Maximoff," the speedster replied with a smile and a wink. "Just call me Pietro. Now, I'm just going to ask that you leave, because anyone who would fire lethal firearms in a public place like Central Park needs to go home and take a nap."
Blonsky and his men fired. Once again, Maximoff ran around and stopped the bullets, neutralizing them by having them hit the dirt. As Maximoff ran to attack them, he found his fist collide with the jaw of the first as he grabbed the guns from the remaining guards, making sure to keep Blonsky conscious.
Dropping the guns at the ground at his feet, Maximoff said, "You guys are gonna have to try much, much harder to take me out. Now, what's going on here?"
But instead of replying, Blonsky drew a knife and charged forward attempting to stab Maximoff. Maximoff rolled his eyes and ran forward just as a bomb exploded.
Rolling on the ground, Maximoff looked up to his right shoulder covered in small embers. "What the hell happened?" Maximoff asked himself, as he moved so he was leaned up against a tree.
Blonsky walked out from the flames and black smoke that took up the space Blonsky and his men had been standing in. The right arm was missing and his was limping severely. But he was growling as though it were just a flesh wound.
"I was not expecting to have to use that on you," Blonsky spat. "No, in fact, I was hoping I didn't need to. But look at you. Too quick for regular fighting."
Maximoff sighed, about to stand, but realized that his ankle was wounded. Blonsky's smile widened. "Yeah, I figured that'd happen. You're stuck, now, aren't you?" Pulling out his pistol, Blonsky aimed it at Maximoff's forehead. "Say goodbye, freakshow."
What Maximoff was not expecting to have happen was the tree he found himself leaning against to smash one of its arms into Blonsky, knocking the captain to the ground and disarming him.
"There you are, you son-of-a-bitch," Blonsky spat, jumping to his feet. At the same time, the tree also got to its feet, much to Maximoff's surprise. Blonsky pulled a grenade from his belt, pulled the pin and threw it; the tree caught it and smashed it on the ground. Without a trace of fear in his eyes, Blonsky pulled out a knife and charged the tree; but the tree was not scared, and pinned the soldier to the ground with his tree-feet. Blonsky let go of his knife and closed his eyes, either too tired or too injured to carry on.
Maximoff managed to stand, and he looked at the tree. "Holy shit, are you real?" he mused out loud.
The tree turned to him, revealing disturbingly human features. "I am Groot."