Alright folks, new story. This one is a hero MC, but not really a goody goody. He's a hero because he finds it more convenient than dealing with cops, and for personal reasons. Morally he's fairly grey, but mostly harmless to people who don't actively try to hurt him. This story is a commission, and will be updating once a month, though the pat-reon chapters go up weekly (four ahead for a total of 10k words). This is Ultimate btw, though there will probably be some other Marvel properties mixed in later, and Billy's power comes from another source, which I suspect many of you will guess quickly, but if not I'll reveal at the end of the chapter. Also this story will be smut heavy, and the MC is a pretty horny teenager. Anyone not interested in that kind of thing is free to skip it.

New York City, February 10th 2001, 9:00 PM EDT

I dumped my backpack full of clothes on the floor of the warehouse with a groan, looking around with a sigh. This was...suboptimal. I hadn't thought of myself as someone who needed creature comforts growing up, but it was quickly becoming clear that I'd been much less spartan in my upbringing that I had thought. Mom may have been a psychopathic perfectionist, but she had good taste, and setting up my new digs in a New York warehouse really drove home exactly how sheltered I'd been up to now.

Brushing off the thought, I went about setting up a makeshift bed for myself. If I wanted comfort I could have stayed back in Chicago with mom. Her bullshit academy was plenty cush, but I wasn't interested in being her prize show dog. I was here for freedom. Besides, I was eighteen, an adult, and that meant I didn't need my mother paying for my meals and clothes all the time, not with the control she expected to have over me when she was doing so.

There were a few palettes, a bunch of tarps, and I had my bag itself to use as a pillow, so I managed to put together a makeshift bed for me to crash on. I slumped down onto the wooden surface with a groan, but it was good enough for government work. My body was sturdier than most humans anyway, so I wasn't too worried about it. A side effect of my mutant ability.

Which was the crux of the issue really. Mom was over the moon when I developed what seemed like a more destructive and focused version of my Grandpa Sebastian's power. She spent most of my life getting me the best possible training and instructors, but once Xaviers X-men came out into the open, she'd shifted gears. She opened the Academy of Tomorrow, and decided that I was going to be the face of her team. A new band of powerful and attractive mutants to show the world that Xavier wasn't the only person who could decide where our species went.

Fuck that noise. I was not a prized horse to be showed off at special events. I was a fucking warrior. When she told me what was going to happen and what I would be expected to do, I took a long hard look at my life and tried to decide exactly what I should do. The conclusion I came to was that my mother was absolutely right. Xavier wasn't the only person who could decide the future of mutant kind, neither was Magneto, or even mom.

No one should get to decide what mutants were allowed to do or steer our destiny except for US. So I decided to make that a reality. Fuck the academy, fuck the Xavier Institute, and fuck the Brotherhood. All these big shots spent so much time telling mutants how to live, how to be, and I was sick of their shit. I came to New York to make my own organization. A place for mutants to go to do whatever they wanted. The only rules were that we would look out for each other, keep the big fish off each others backs, and follow the paths we wanted.

Well, we was a strong word. I was better. For now. But I would find more people to join up soon. Once people heard that there was a place they could go for protection without needing to be told what to do they would be flocking to my door. I looked around unhappily. Well...maybe not to THIS door. This door was pretty shitty. But I could work with that. I just needed to get some cash so I could spruce the place up. Some drapes, a throw rug, maybe a stripper pole. Just in case any of our prospective female members were looking for some spirited cardio. You know, classy shit.

Which kind of brought me back to the present because...I didn't know how to make money. Mom had always paid for everything growing up. I'd never had a job or even chores really. I mean, I was good with hard work. I spent years in training and I knew the value of good old fashioned elbow grease. I just didn't know how to APPLY that grease to anything in order to produce funds.

I could probably track down and kick the shit out of some criminals or drug dealers for cash. That would be a good way to get my name out there I was betting. Knowing that with this weighing on my mind sleep was completely out of the question I groaned and sat up. The palettes creaked under my weight as I shifted and I winced. I wasn't a small guy. Mom was above average height for a woman, and my dad was just an inch under six foot, but Grandpa Sebastian was six two.

By some fluke of genetics I'd ended up being a staggering six foot nine, and with my unusually dense body and tightly packed muscle I wasn't light. I wasn't like...fall through the floor levels of heavy, but I was a solid five hundred pounds or so. I brushed my shaggy blonde hair out of my eyes as I sat up. Sighing as I stood up and stretched. I'd need to figure this out before I could get to bed. So I'd have to figure out what exactly my options were here. Slinging my backpack over a shoulder I slipped out of my new digs, sliding the door shut behind me as I faced out into the New York evening.

I'd remember where this place was and come back to it, but before that I was going to take a walk. Walking always cleared my head, and I might see someone who needed help. I wasn't really one for 'helping people' for the sake of it. I didn't mind giving someone a hand if they needed it, but my main reasoning for being an altruist was pragmatism. I was strong, like...freakishly strong. People tended to get uppity about strong people taking what they wanted, but if the person you were taking from was an asshole it was much less of a problem.

People liked to have deniability. "Oh no, I'm not a bully or an asshole, that guy was bad, which means it was fine for me to hurt him". I'd learned at a young age that the damage I could do to people was best aimed at targets no one would care about, and if I got some grateful cutie all excited to reward the big strong hero that was a nice bonus. I wasn't much for forcing other people to follow my code, hence the whole 'do what you want' aspect of my new organization, but this was a great way to let out pent up anger and stay on people's good side all in one fell swoop.

I walked for about an hour, strolling through the docks and into the city itself, and I quickly spotted a problem with my strategy. I had no fucking clue where any drug dealers hung out, or where I could find a criminal stash house. I saw a bunch of closed shops, but I didn't feel like dealing with cops so that was out. I had a few bucks in my wallet, which was enough to get some food at least, so I stopped at a nearby fast food place to get something to eat.

It was late, but most chain places stayed open into the night, especially in New York, and I decided 'Burger Frog' was as good a place as any. I stepped into the warmth of the fast food place with a sigh of relief. Even badasses like me could get cold, and it was like thirty five outside. The burger place was warm and smelled like food and I was hungry as fuck. I strolled up to the counter, towering over a mousy kid with brown hair who looked about eighteen, my own age. I grinned down at him as he jumped out of his skin, having been daydreaming and staring off into the distance.

I put both hands up. "Whoa there, sorry to scare you man. Didn't mean to freak anyone out. This place is open right? Because I'm starving." I gave him my best good ol' boy smile to put him at ease. The poor guy was like a foot shorter than me and looked like a stiff breeze would blow him over. Figuring I might as well be nice, I held out a hand to the first person I'd officially met in New York. "William Frost, nice to meet you. You can just call me Billy though, everyone but my mom does."

The kid took my hand nervously, but when he squeezed his grip was firm enough to surprise me. "Sorry man, I was spacing out. Peter Parker. Yeah, we're still open and of course I can get you something. Sorry." He gave me a smirk. "Also, do you usually introduce yourself to fast food workers? Because I'll be honest, I don't get many polite introductions from customers. Usually just 'hey kid where the hell is my ketchup packet?'."

He let go of my hand, giving it a contemplative glance that told me I might have seemed a bit strong to him.
Not that I was worried. I was pretty big, and people usually just wrote off any excess strength I couldn't control as being related to my size. I shrugged and my smile turned into a grin. "Only when they look like they might keel over dead of a heart attack. I figured if I scared you to death the cameras could at least let them know who the killer was." He snickered a bit at that, which made me like him more. I got so sick of dealing with assholes who can't take a joke. "Anyway, I'll take four doubles, three large fries and a shake in each flavor."

I passed over the meager forty bucks I had left, sadly aware I wouldn't be getting change back for that, and Peter raised an eyebrow. "Shit, man. You can pack it away huh?" He looked me over. "Then again with that much muscle I'm guessing you need a ton of calories to keep yourself going." He rang me up and passed me back ten bucks. "I went ahead and applied my discount for you. Consider it an apology for almost pissing myself when you showed up. I'm almost off shift anyway, and if I don't use my employee meal it goes to waste." He shuddered. "I literally can't eat another burger from this place."

That got a laugh from me. I took the ten bucks with a nod of thanks. "Yeah I appreciate it. I just got to town and I don't have a job yet so every dollar counts." I desperately hoped he didn't try to tell me they were hiring, fast food places always were, but I'd rather become a criminal than flip burgers. I wasn't a snob like mom, but I DID have my pride. Luckily he didn't. He just waved me off and looked out past my shoulder, freezing in place slightly before flushing.

Since that hadn't happened before, I assumed there was someone behind me, and turned around to see a blonde girl standing behind me, arms crossed in annoyance. She had kind of choppy blonde hair, but in a way that made me pretty sure she'd paid extra for it, tight red pants and a tank top, and she was wearing a gold belt. She was tall for a girl, I'd put her height at five six or so, and her hazel eyes bored into my unhappily. "Are you done trying to get Parker's panties for your collection? Some of us want to order."

I raised an eyebrow at her unnecessary venom, but couldn't resist jabbing back. "Oh, hello there little girl, where are your parents? Or do they let you out to represent the lollipop guild on your own at this age?" Considering she was pretty obviously eighteen or so like I was and pretty sexy to boot, the condescending tone and insulting patronizing smile were very deliberate attempts to rile her up.

To my surprise though, her lips quirked up in a smile. "Ok, the only reason I'm not going to kick your ass for that is because I could tell it was just teasing." She raked her eyes over me, much more thoroughly and appreciatively than I would have been comfortable with from Peter. I didn't bother flexing. I didn't need to. "Well, that and I'm not sure even I could take you. Dear god, what the hell do the feed the men where you're from? You're absolutely gigantic." I opened my mouth to respond and got a sharp fingernail in my chest. "And if you make a joke about dick size I'm going to shiv you."

"Well." I said with a smirk. "I guess I'll have to restrain myself." I held out a hand. "One more time for the cheap seats, I'm William Frost, but you can call me Billy. Can I have your name? Or do they not bother with first names in munchkinland?" Her lips twitched again, and I could see her fighting a laugh. I had to resist the urge to smirk. Girls that liked to fuck with people always appreciated a little back and forth, as long as you were careful not to say anything deliberately offensive.

She rolled her eyes. "You get less charming every time you open your mouth. My name is Gwen, Gwen Stacy. I don't usually bother giving it to random strangers, but it seemed rude to leave you stuck making up a name when you masturbate to me tonight." She gave me a wicked grin. "At least I'm assuming, based on all the staring you've been doing at my tits since we started talking."

I was pleased to note she didn't sound annoyed, but a little smug. Still, I couldn't let her get away with a dig like that without serving back. "Oh, is that what those are? I wasn't staring, my vision just isn't so good. I just figured busting out my binoculars would be rude." Her mouth dropped in mild outrage and she just stared there looking at me for a minute before she finally burst out laughing.

Peter cleared his throat. "Not that watching you two insult each other isn't the highlight of my night, as low as that bar is, but there are other customers, and Billy, your order is ready." He pushed the tray with all my food across the counter and and I nodded my thanks, turning to Gwen.

Holding out a burger I gave her my most charming grin. "How about I offer you a burger as a peace offering, and you can pick one of my shakes. Then we can sit down and you can tell me more about yourself?" She gave me a half smile and a shrug, taking the burger and turning to head to a table. I hadn't been lying about her tits, she was like a double A cup tops, but I had to admit as she walked away with that sway in her hips, she definitely had other noteworthy features. What an ass.

New York City, Burger Frog, February 10th 2001, 10:00 PM EDT

I was almost drooling as I watched Gwen eat her burger, and it wasn't because of the smell. She was savaging the damn thing like an animal, and watching her tear it apart was absurdly hot. From the way she was glaring at me, I could tell she was expecting me to make some sort of comment about it, but I just watched until she finished, shoveling down my own food in the process. Once she finished, she licked her fingers and raised an eyebrow in challenge. "What? Surprised I don't eat like a lady?"

"You." I said in awe. "Are so fucking hot right now." Her eyes went wide, jaw dropping a bit in an expression of surprise so off brand for her 'seen-it-all bad bitch' aesthetic that I couldn't help but start laughing. Then I realized I'd probably been somewhat creepy just than and scratched the back of my head sheepishly. "Fuck, did I say that out loud?" Ignore that. I'm glad you liked the burger." I hesitated for a second. "You...want another one?"

I still had all my fries and another burger to get through, and watching her demolish that was almost as good as porn. I held it out to her and she snatched it from me with a suspicious look before going to town on the second one. Fuck yes. Realizing that watching her pound down a half pound of meat and bread like it was a gangbang in progress was probably really weird, I cleared my throat, deciding to say something witty. "So...you do stuff?"

Jesus Billy. What the fuck? Apparently all the blood had fled my brain. She actually had to stop eating as she choked out a laugh, finally putting down the burger as she coughed to clear her airway. "Holy shit. Did you actually just ask me that?" I winced and she actually giggled, which I counted as a win. "I'm going to pretend you didn't just sound like a stroke victim and answer the question a normal person would ask. If you want to know what I do for fun, I'm an artist. I also shit kick obnoxious jocks. I'm getting a strong jock vibe from you."

I smirked at that, back on much firmer territory. I could do banter. "Hey, that's offensive. I'm way more obnoxious than I am jock-like." She snorted at that so I continued. "As mentioned, I'm new in town, and broke as fuck. I moved here from Chicago to get away from my mom, who thinks she should run my life." I grimaced. "I...may have less experience dealing with money than I had expected. My mom was apparently kind of well of and I never realized how much easier that made things for me."

There was no reason to admit that to her honestly, but it wasn't like I had a reason to lie. Besides, I liked talking to Gwen. Aside from being smoking hot, she was funny, and kind of a bitch. I didn't need a psychiatrist to tell me why bitchy blonde women were my comfort zone thank you very much, but they were. Even if this one was kind of throwing off my game. I wasn't used to talking to girls who didn't fall all over themselves to impress me. I was huge, good looking, and stupidly rich, all of which were kind of panty droppers. I was far from a virgin, but I was starting to realize I'd kind of been playing on easy mode.

Oh she was interested, no doubt. Her eyes had been raking over me. But I wasn't 'William Frost' to her. I was Billy, the big, admittedly sexy, random guy who didn't have a place to sleep. It felt kind of nice. Making my own first impression like this. Weirdly, when I mentioned my mom, she kind of tensed up, but then her expression softened. "Mom troubles. I get that. Mine was kind of an asshole before she skipped town. Well, I can't exactly give you a place to crash, I'm not inviting some seven foot tall guy home with me the first night I meet him. I'm a badass, not a fucking idiot. But...I might have some ideas for job options."

That was a pleasant surprise. I popped the top on my chocolate shake, dipping some fries into it, and then pushed one of the three fry boxes over to her with an eye roll when I saw her eyeing it. She grabbed a few, dipped them in the shake, and moaned a bit at the first bite. I snickered at that, drawing an actual blush from her, which I decided was worth my weight in gold. "That would definitely be a help." I said with feigned casualness. I was planning to fuck up some criminals for the money, but rolling drug dealers would require me to FIND some, and a day job wouldn't hurt between scores.

It was her turn to clear her throat, pretending she hadn't had just moaned like a porn star at her first bite of hot fries and cold shake. I got that, it was one of my favorite combos. "Right." She said, trying to sound businesslike. "Well, it's Saturday night, hence me being out like this, so a lot of places will be closed tomorrow. For immediate job prospects, I hear the Daily Bugle is looking for photographers. You know anything about cameras?" I shrugged, because not really, and she rolled her eyes. "Why am I not surprised. Though points for not trying to spin that question into some reference to seeing me naked, you would be surprised how often guys do that."

My willpower was severely tested at that comment, because I had to fight not to glance down at her tits, which contrary to my earlier ribbing were nice perky hand fulls, but as a badass warrior, I managed to resist the urge to look, instead focusing on forcing out a response. "I don't really know much about taking pictures. My skill set is basically beating the shit out of people and lifting heavy things. I can do both at once too, as long as you don't expect me to chew any bubblegum." She smirked a bit at that. "Still, it can't be that hard right? You point the lens at something and press the button."

Rolling her eyes and eating more fries, Gwen sneered at me. "I'm going to pretend you didn't just try to boil down a form of artistic expression to something a monkey can do, because I was just starting to like you." She reached down under the table and grabbed a black purse shaped like a coffin, studded with small metal spikes. She popped the thing open, flipping through it, and then pulled out a small silver digital camera. "You're lucky I have an interest in photography and a soft spot for giant idiots. This is my back up camera. I'm willing to lend it to you, if you break it, I'm going to kick your ass, even if I need to find a step stool. Understood?"

"That..." I trailed off, stunned. "I don't know why you would do that for me. We like...just met." At her raised eyebrow I gingerly took the camera. "I mean, thank you, obviously. But isn't giving this to someone you don't know kind of...crazy?" I wasn't sure what her game was here. This was crazy generous. Like...way more than I would expect from a stranger. To the point that I was mildly suspicious of it. But I also couldn't see the point of some cute little blonde trying to fuck me over. There was just no real upside for her.

She seemed weirdly embarrassed by the comment, rather than offended, and just gave a shrug of feigned nonchalance. "Don't read too much into it, ok? I just don't want to see some big moron end up in jail for vagrancy if I could have stopped it. My dad is a cop, and the last thing I need is him trying to arrest your gargantuan ass because you're sleeping in an alley or something. This is just...like a public service." She was definitely blushing now. She pulled out a piece of paper and scrawled a few things. "This is my number, and this is the address for the Bugle." She shoved it toward me with a glare. "You'd BETTER call me and give me my fucking camera back when you can afford your own."

I held both hands up placatingly. "Hey, trust me. I'm not going to screw over the first person to cut me a break here. I owe you one." I meant it too. Gwen had stuck her neck out for me, and I wasn't going to forget it. I was the kind of person it was nice to have owe you a favor. At least I had been, and would be again. This girl wasn't going to regret giving me a hand here. I'd buy her another camera to go with this one. Something fucking fancy too. Girls liked presents, even self proclaimed badasses.

She stood up abruptly, grabbing the rest of the fries and the chocolate shake. "Anyway, it's getting late, even for a Saturday, my dad is going to want me home." She glanced at the paper. "That's my cell number. You...you don't need to wait until you can afford a new camera to call. Since I was the one who told you about the interview, I guess you can call me tomorrow to tell me how it went. Later." Then she turned and stomped away gruffly, her thick combat boots smacking the ground decisively as she left.

"Wow." Said an awed voice from beside me. I didn't jump because I was way better trained than that, but I noted that I'd been staring hard at her ass and missed Peter sitting down. "That was...like watching someone tame a dragon or something. Holy shit, man. That was GWEN STACY. Like...I've talked to her a few times, but she's basically made of barbed wire. I can't believe you got her number." He shot me a goofy grin. "Teach me your ways?"

I snorted, taking a long pull off my strawberry shake. "Eat your wheaties and grow a few inches, man. Chicks dig guys who can reach the top shelf." He flipped me off with a snort. "Guessing your shift just ended?" He nodded, stealing some of my fries, and I considered growling at him before remembering he'd used his discount to get me the food. I gave him an 'I'm watching you' glare, getting a smirk in return, and held up the paper. "So, I don't suppose you can show me where the hell the Daily Bugle is?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Wow. You ARE new in town. Sure, I was planning to interview for one of the photographer spots too. They always need new freelance guys. I can show you the way there." He held out his hand, curious about the camera. I passed it to him carefully, and he looked it over with a whistle. "Canon S110. Hell of a backup model. Didn't know Gwen's family pulled in this kind of cash. I knew her dad was a cop, but he must be pretty high up." He passed it back. "Tell you what, why don't you meet me tomorrow morning and I can show you how to use that before we go in to the Bugle?"

That was the second person who was offering to help me out from the goodness of their heart. New York was turning out to be much friendlier than I expected, not that I thought either of these two were normal. Still, I'd be an idiot to turn down free photography lessons from someone who it kind of seemed was a camera nerd. I nodded, holding out a hand to shake. "Sure man, we can meet back up here tomorrow at like ten. That work for you? Paper says they hold the interviews starting at noon."

Taking my hand, he gave it a tight shake, then let go and popped to his feet. "Sounds like a plan. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going home to pass out. I'm exhausted. See you tomorrow Billy." With more grace than I expected from a little nerdy guy he turned and strolled out of the Burger Frog. Stuffing the camera and paper into the pockets of my coat and wolfing down the fries, I turned and walked out of the fast food joint, heading back the way I'd come toward my warehouse hideout, finishing my last strawberry shake and taking the vanilla with me.

I wasn't sure what I'd expected when I came out tonight, but it hadn't been this. New York had been...nicer than I'd expected so far. I'd met good people, one of whom was an absolute bombshell, and I had a good meal and a lead on a job. This wasn't exactly what I'd expected when I came here, but it wasn't bad either. I was taking steps, making moves to get to the place I wanted to be here. It wasn't exactly lightning speed, but I wasn't in a rush. It wasn't like crime was going to up and vanish tomorrow.

I raised a fist in front of me, concentrating on my power, and a glowing white sphere of concentrated energy flickered into existence for a split second before I let it disperse. A hypocenter was too eyecatching to keep going for more than a second, but seeing my power manifest always calmed me when I was feeling uncertain. No matter how big of a curveball life threw me, this fist was a constant. My own strength would prevail. I finished the shake, tossing it into a half full trashcan I passed, and picked up the pace.

I made it back to the warehouse and laid down on the palettes, I was tired, not physically, my power afforded me a level of native physical endurance even outside of my ability to create vibrations and shockwaves. It was part of what made me so dense for my size and so much stronger than a normal person. It carried over to things like sleep, but I still felt mental exhaustion, and it had been a pretty big fucking day.

As I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep I considered for the first time what my life was going to be like here outside creating my new group. Not the crime fighting, or the establishing of reputation, but just...my day to day. I imagined chilling with Peter and playing video games, or taking Gwen out for another burger. Maybe there were more benefits to being out from my mom's thumb than I had expected. I hadn't exactly come to New York expecting to make normal friends, but I didn't exactly hate the idea. I was pretty sure I was going to like it here.

New York City, Dockside Warehouse , February 11th 2001, 8:00 AM EDT

I rolled out of bed bright and early the next day, no alarms required. I had a thing about interrupted sleep. I refused to use alarms of any kind because I felt like any nights sleep was ruined if it ended in annoying screeching, so I always made sure to give myself eight to ten hours before I had to do anything whenever I went to bed. That way I had time to have my natural rest and wake up refreshed after.

Plenty of time to remember to text Peter when I got up. One of the reasons my cash reserves were so low was the burner cell I bought with cash after I left Chicago. I wanted to make sure I could contact others, but that they couldn't contact me. Or at least couldn't track me easily. I shot him a message with a meeting place. He'd scrawled his own number next to Gwen's on the sheet with the time for the interviews. I got a pretty quick response that made me wonder exactly how early he'd woken up and then I went about getting ready.

Though I didn't have too much in the way of clothes, I had a button down shirt and some slacks in my bag just in case. Aside from my normal every day wear I also had a pair of sweats and a ratty old tee to wear around the house, but since I had no house to be around I doubted I'd be using those too soon. After getting changed, I went in search of a donut shop I'd seen nearby on my walk, and picked up a dozen for the ten bucks I had left. I ate nine of them, then decided to save three for Peter since he was helping me out.

And so began my walk to the meeting spot, a park only ten minutes from the Daily Bugle. I figured I could go early and sit for a while. I'd considered working out, but I would have to get all sweaty in my nice clothes and I felt like it would make a bad impression for an interview. So I arrived at the park and sat on an out door picnic table, waiting for Peter and going over what I knew about job interviews as I booted up the canon and tried to puzzle out what the settings did.

Not that I figured much out. Lots of weird things to tweak like shutter speed and focus, so after spending five minutes fucking with it I just shoved it back into the pockets of my slacks and laid down to wait. I wasn't the only one to arrive early though, because after about fifteen minutes, I heard a throat clear from nearby. I looked up to find Peter, in the same general outfit I was in, a button up and slacks, looking at me in amusement. "Are you literally lying down on the job right now? Because that's almost too on the nose."

sat up with a groan, flipping him off. "I don't HAVE a job yet. Let me be lazy before it all ends. Besides, people who make bitchy comments don't get donuts." I held up the box and shook it tauntingly. Peter's eyes went wide and he practically blurred forward to snatch the box. I whistled at the speed on display. He must have been starving. "Damn, Pete, they're donuts, not spanish dubloons. Cool it."

Peter already had the top off and was stuffing a glazed into his mouth with a groan. "Sorry." He said through a mouthful of donuts. "My Aunt May is on a diet. She's trying to cut out carbs and she cooks all my food. I forgot how good bread tastes." He was practically groaning as he started on his second donut. "So." He said casually. "You talk to Gwen yet today? You guys seemed chummy."

That got a raised eyebrow. "Nope. Not yet. I was going to call her if I got the job. First thing in the morning seemed a bit desperate." At his feigned nonchalance, I decided to just come out and ask the awkward question. "Am I stepping on any toes there? You two didn't seem particularly close. I figured I was safe on that front. If I'm cutting in on something I can cool it." Gwen was cute, but we hadn't really gotten further than a bit of flirting. I wasn't going to alienate a new bro for something like that. Even if I hoped he told me no.

Lucky for me, I got the wave I was expecting. "Oh, nothing like that. She's helped me out around school a few times. Scared off some bullies. She actually IS as much of a badass as she pretends to be. Pulled a knife on this one guy. We haven't been in school too long though. School started on the second, and she's new. Anyway, feel free to take a shot, man. I kind of have a girl I like anyway, so don't feel weird about it." He flushed a bit at the mention of this girl, so I assumed she was hot. Good for him, and for me.

"Alright, cool. She's a cutie, and fun to talk to. Anyway, we can talk about girls later, and don't think I'm not gonna ask about your chick, but for now I figure you should start teaching me how this camera works. Somehow I don't think I'm going to pick this up quickly. There's like a hundred options on this damn menu." I held up the offending device and he chuckled as he took it from me, flipping through it.

He didn't seem too bothered, not that I was surprised given the big ass black camera that was hanging from his neck with one of those big fancy lenses on it. "Huh. Ok, this isn't too bad." He flipped through it for a bit before passing it back. "Ok, first thing you need to know is that you don't need to know any of that stuff. Cameras are pretty easy to use at the base level. I'll rig the settings for you before we go in. You can learn about the individual stuff over time, but in terms of the first lesson you only need to be aware of a few things."

Holding up the camera, he clicked to a specific setting, showing it to me. "Camera for dummies step one. The flash. Keep that off if there's natural light, turn it on if there isn't. That's not to say you want to use it in the dark. Try to keep it to daytime pictures. Night shots are much more complicated, we'll get to that later. Second make sure not to hold down the button, this camera has a recording function, and you might take a video by accident. Could be useful later, but right now go ahead and stick to clicks."

The next hour was spent going over small details. Apparently 'only the basics' still covered a ton of stuff. Luckily I was pretty sharp when I wanted to be. My mother had been pretty hard up on academics. I personally avoided that shit if at all possible, but I WAS intelligent, even if my preference was just punching shit. Still, it was a bit annoying memorizing all this stuff. I was glad when it was over.

Once we finished up Peter had me spend the next half hour taking shots, correcting my form and pointing out ways I could improve. I made a mental note to delete some of the pictures, mostly because I'd 'accidentally' caught a few cute jogger girls in yoga pants during my practice, and I doubted Gwen wanted bouncing asses on her camera roll, even if some of them were particularly juicy.

After he showed me how to delete pictures, we headed over to the Bugle. It was about ten am, so we were early, but we figured they would have a waiting room or something, and it was kind of fucking cold outside. February was a chilly month, and mornings were always extra icy. Luckily it wasn't snowing, and when we got inside we breathed a sigh of relief at the warm air of the Daily Bugle building. We trekked through the bullpen towards the editor's office, figuring we would ask about a spot to wait, but slowed to a stop before reaching the desk at the sound of fairly creative cursing.

"Fucking digital whore!" Spat an attractive thirty something with dark hair, as she glared at her computer. "I didn't want the font to be that big!" She looked about ten seconds away from hurling her monitor through the opaque glass of her boss's office. Unfortunately, she caught sight of us right after and decided to change targets. "What do you two want. Interviews for the photographer position start at noon. I don't really have time to entertain a couple kids, not while this website is being a bitch."

Peter, luckily, seemed to have a ready made response. "I'm pretty good with computers. I can check it out for you." He seemed so meek and helpful that the black haired hottie actually calmed down slightly. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, which was pretty pleasant to watch considering her cup size. Probably C's or so, not absurdly large, but very perky. I jerked my gaze away just before she opened her eyes, brown irises fixing on Peter.

"Sorry." She said with a sigh. "Yes. I'd love the help, if you can check this out for me, I'd appreciate it. I can put in a good word for you with Jonah if you want." She slid her chair back (it was on wheels) and let peter get to the keyboard. She gave him the rundown of what she wanted, and the kid started up making changes, absolutely flying through a bunch of coding I didn't have any clue how to parse.

I leaned against the wall, watching him work, and looked down to the milfy chick. "Oh, sorry, we forgot to introduce ourselves. I'm Billy, and that's Peter." I held out a hand. "And you are? Aside from pretty obviously done with today I mean." I shot her a grin to let her know I was mostly teasing.

Her eyes tracked up me, noting exactly how UP that was, before meeting mine, and took my hand. "Betty Brant. Jonah's secretary." She released my hand, waving at the computer. "NOT...whatever this is. Jonah apparently thinks secretary is latin for 'bitch who does the stuff that annoys me'. Sadly, that has proven to be that case more times than not, so I can't exactly argue the point. I'm going to have to put my foot down about computer shit though, because I have absolutely no clue how any of that works. I'm too old to pick up that kind of thing."

That got a snort from me. "I wouldn't describe you as old. Or a bitch based on the conversation we've had so far, though I admit the latter is more of a gut feeling." I shot her a wink, and saw her give me a once over again, this time ignoring the height and focusing on the obvious muscle under the shirt and slacks. She bit her lip in appreciation, taking her time enjoying the show.

She leaned forward, giving me a nice look down her shirt. "I appreciate the comment about my age, but I assure you, I can definitely be your bitch." She widened her eyes innocently. "Oops. A bitch. I meant I can be A bitch. Silly me. What a thing to say to a guy I just met." She winked at me. "Think I should be punished?" Despite the aggressive flirting, she wasn't being touchy or getting in close, so I was pretty sure she just liked to talk a big game. Still, I put her on my maybe list for some work fun.

Her reaction to me wasn't exactly unheard of. It was the height. A lot of girls got really into being towered over, and the muscles made it even more obvious that I was bigger than them. Add in my admittedly handsome features, and I'd definitely been hit on before. Usually it was for my last name too, but the physical appearance helped, and talking to Gwen had made me a bit more comfortable chatting up girls as an unknown.

Chuckling, I pulled a piece of paper off a notepad on her desk and grabbed a pen, jotting down my cell. "Tell you what. Why don't you give me a call about later, and we can come up with a suitable way to discipline you." I wasn't going to try to be pushy if she was just a work flirt. If she called, I'd break her ass in half, but I'd leave the ball in her court. Just because someone like to tease didn't meant they were down to get pounded.

She looked a bit surprised at that, like she'd expected me to keep going, but she also seemed intrigued. She slipped the number into the pocket of her skirt with a smile. "I might just do that." Before she could continue talking though, she came up short as she stopped to stare at the screen, where Peter was just finishing up a string of code I was pretty sure would have taken me an hour to type. Dear gods that guy could type fast. Crazy dexterity. "Holy shit, you're done? That's amazing kid, how did you do that?"

I didn't know why he was 'kid' and I was allowed to make her my bitch, but I was guessing the full foot of height difference was a factor. Before he could respond, she raised her voice to a bellow. "Hey! Jonah! Come out here a second!" I winced at the volume. Damn, she had a pair of lungs on her. The door opened, revealing a salt and pepper man in his late forties, going gray around the temples. Betty pointed to the computer. "Check this out. This kid just recoded the whole website I was struggling with in like three minutes."

The man, Jonah, turned to look at the computer, walking over to scroll through the site for a minute before nodding. "Huh. Looks good to me." He turned to Peter. "Hey kid, you want to be a..." He trailed off. "Brant, what the hell do you call someone who does website shit all the time? I'm pretty sure I can't put nerd on a paycheck."

I had to fight a snicker at that. Betty just rolled her eyes. "Webmaster, Jonah. He would be our webmaster." She pointed at me. "His big friend is here for a photographer job too I think, so there's that. We have the positions open, right?" Jonah just nodded, waving us off to head back into the office, telling Betty to just take care of it. And that was how I got my first job as a news photographer.

New York City, Club Impulse , February 11th 2001, 6:00 PM EDT

After talking through things with Betty and helping Peter get settled, I headed home with a few hundred bucks in my pocket. Peter had been paid a signing bonus for getting the site up, and he insisted on splitting it with me. I wasn't in a position to turn that down, so I just promised to pay him back when I made some of the cash back. The few hundred was enough for a sleeping bag, some pillows, some toiletries, and some food, which put me in a way better position than I had been in before, with another two hundred and fifty bucks on top of that.

I decided to invest the money into buying some info on the local crime scene, hoping I could find a stash house. Hell, even if someone tipped off the local gangs and they came after me, I was living in a warehouse. Being pretty much bulletproof would make any assault pointless. I brought along my camera too, because I was hoping to get some pictures of myself in action. It could take video, so all I had to do was aim it at the place and make a big scene, then snag it when I was done. I'd have to figure out how to cut the clips, but I bet Peter could teach me that.

After texting Gwen that I got the job and asking her to hang out the next day to celebrate (my treat) I set aside fifty of the two fifty for a date night and took the other two hundred out on the town to buy myself some info. I considered a few of the possible options, but eventually decided I'd hit a club and try to find some kind of in there. I spent some of the two hundred buying some fresh clothes, then headed for the nearest club I could find, a place called 'Impulse'.

Impulse was big and loud and incredibly crowded, but funny thing about being six foot nine and made of muscle, people tend not to crowd you. I was able to get in pretty easily, and I found myself on the receiving end of several very friendly smiles from pretty girls, and a few guys too, though I only really returned the former. I didn't have anything against guys checking me out, but I wasn't into men, so I tried not to encourage flirting by giving a positive response to stares.

I danced with a few girls, bought a drink or two (no one ever ID's someone my size) and after some light chit chat finally found my way to someone who could probably help. The guy who I got pointed at was named Jeremy, and he was pretty much the definition of a club druggie. Long hair, sunglasses, stylish clothes and a wide smile, Jeremy was the kind of person who got invited to a lot of high school parties and gave away 'free samples' to get his dick sucked.

When he saw me approaching in pretty decent clothes I'd gotten from a thrift shop, his wide smile hit me in full force. "Whoa, look at you big man. How's the air up there?" He joked lamely. "What can I help you with, amigo? I was just about to hit the dance floor with my friend Mandi here." He reached out and pinched one of the girls sitting around his booth on the ass, getting a squeak and a playful bat at his hand. "You need something? Or can we talk this out later?"

I pulled out my last hundred and showed it to him. He chuckled and waved the girls off. Mandi tried to slip her hand in his pocket but he smacked it away, and she pouted as she slunk off. I dropped into the booth. "I'm here looking for something. Something a little special. I'm not sure if you have it, but I'm willing to pay a finder's fee if you can help me track down someone who does. Is that something you might be interested in?"

This was probably not the MOST subtle way to get info, but I wasn't too worried. This guy was a small time dealer, so there was no chance he didn't know whose territory to avoid. Telling other people to avoid them or sending customers their way wouldn't be a big imposition. Big scary stash houses were full of big scary men with big scary guns. What kind of suicidal moron would attack somewhere like that? Not to mention even if he managed to remember this in his obvious drug induced haze, he wasn't going to tell whoever I hit that he'd given me their address.

Still, I decided to play the game and give him some deniability. A mysterious drug that he couldn't find would be a good excuse. I was sure I could find something to ask for he didn't have. My friend and sometimes fuck buddy Alison back in Chicago was a total club bunny. She'd loved telling me stories about her adventures at raves and shit, and we'd even dropped acid together once, though mom had found out and threatened to expel Alison from her Academy if she gave me anything else.

I started combing through my memories of things Ali had said. "I'm looking for tabs of K-36. Do you know anyone that might have it?" K-36 was a synthetic ketamine. Apparently stayed in your system longer than the normal stuff and stopped the body from building a tolerance. It was a high end drug, and I knew he wouldn't have it. The local distributor MIGHT have it, and if he didn't the money and the fact that I knew what to ask for might convince Jeremy to point me his way.

Jeremy gave a low whistle. "Damn. K-36 is expensive shit. You sure you have the green for that, compadre? I have more than a few party favors I can hook you up with." He shot me a wink exaggerated enough to be visible behind the shades. "Plus a few girls who might like to share. You're a big boy, that'll be popular. Poor Mandi looked a little sad to get shuffled off, but I bet if you let her do a line of coke off your dick her opinion of you will change real quick."

Mandi had been kind of sexy, but it wasn't that tempting. I didn't need to shell out cash to take home a girl from this club. I was here for a reason, and I could always come back to find some tail another time. I just shook my head. "If you don't have the stuff, like I said, just point me at someone who does." I waved the hundred. "I'm a generous guy. Once I get my info you can have the hundred free and clear."

Most dealers, at least according to Ali. Had to reserve part of their take to pay for their next resupply. Money like this,
uninvolved with the actual drugs, he could just pocket. Assuming he was independent and not shelling for someone else, in which case he might need to account for his product. Hell, I didn't know how New York worked, maybe they made their dealers fill our ledgers and give receipts.

"Yeah, ok man." He said after a minute. "I know a spot." He reached into a pocket and pulled out an honest to got pen and paper, jotting down a few lines and passing it over. "That's my boy Hector's place. He doesn't usually deal directly from his house, but K-36 is high end product. For a sale like that he'll be willing to meet. Be polite though, Hector always keeps a few big boys around to keep everyone...civil."

I passed him my last hundred bucks, annoyed that between bribing the bouncer and my damn drink I'd cleaned myself out except for my date money for Gwen. Still, I had some information now, and that was worth blowing some money. If Hector was selling high end club drugs like the shit Ali took, he no doubt had a pretty decent stock of cash. I thanked Jeremy and left the club, heading out on foot towards Hector's place.

On the way I stopped at a sporting goods store, buying a hockey mask, a thick coat with a fleece lined hood, and a pair of leather gloves. I paid with cash and picked a mom and pop place with no cameras. I had to dip into my date funds, but I wanted to avoid getting hauled off to prison for this, so a mask would be necessary. Then I stopped across the street from Hector's place and set up the camera to record.

I aimed it so I wouldn't be visible when it started and then came in from the side so it looked like the masked figure had no relation to the camera man, making sure the thing was hidden away where no one would find and steal it. Granted, I was about to make a huge mess here, so it seemed unlikely to come up. No one was going to be looking for a camera when I was done. I'd just need to approach from the back when I picked it up so there was no footage of me reclaiming it.

Once that was done, I walked up to the front of the place and considered my options. Hector lived in a slightly run down brownstone. It looked like he kept the place secured, bars on the windows and all, so I could be a bit rough with my entrance and it would seem justified. I considered how to crack the place. I could always use my tremors to tear the building in half, but that would damage the surrounding street. Direct seemed better.

I walked up to the door and focused on my hand. The familiar white glow of a hypocenter appeared around my fist, and I raised it to the space in front of the door, level with the front of the building. "Knock knock motherfuckers!" I swung my fist at the air, and there was a cracking sound as the hypocenter smashed into the space in front of me. Cracks of light spread through the air around my fist, only about a foot around, but that was more than the six inches this trick had used to max out at.

The cracks began to pulse with light for a few seconds, and as I withdrew my fist, the tremors I'd smashed into the air were released, tearing through the facade of the building along the lines of the cracks I'd just made. The middle of the strike point was a fucking crater in the wall, and the bricks and metal of the front of the building hung jagged and exposed in front of me.

I stepped into the front room, and noticed the bottom floor was open concept. About seven huge men with very heavy weapons pointed their guns at me, eyes wide with shock and fear. I held up a fist, condensing another hypocenter. "Listen fuckers." I paused, remembering the camera. "I'm here to like...bring you to justice and shit. Put down your guns and I'll let the police take you away nice and peaceful, shoot me and I'm going to do the same thing to your bones I did to that wall. Seriously. Don't do it. It won't work and it annoys me."

There was a loud gunshot and everyone turned to a skinny tweaker looking guy with brown hair and a whispy bears. He was wearing a stained tank top and holding a fifty caliber handgun with smoke rising from the barrel. I grimaced. Fifties actually kind of hurt. At least he aimed center mass. My sternum was more than up to tanking that. If he'd shot me in the skull my head would have been aching for hours. I sighed and reached up to pry the deformed slug off my chest. There was a very small amount of blood where it had broken the skin, but the bone stopped it cold.

"Oh shit man!" Said tweaker beard. "I didn't mean to do that I swear. That shit just went off." He held up both hands, slowly lowering the gun to the ground. "Please don't crush my bones. I swear I didn't mean it." His eyes started to water. "Oh god man, this is so fucking messed up. I just wanted to make some extra cash to help pay for my brother's oboe lessons. I didn't sign up to fight no bullet proof giants with superpowers."

He looked about ready to bolt, but the accidental shooting appeared to be a blessing in disguise. I lowered my voice, knowing the camera was far enough away that even with the sound enhanced as I was sure it would be, it wouldn't pick up my low murmur. "Alright. Here's how this goes. I want your money. You bring me the money, I don't kill all of you and just take it. I'm sure fine upstanding drug dealers like yourselves have good lawyers, and there's no way this holds up in court. You'll be out in a few hours, maybe a few hundred pounds of product light from the police raid."

The only man in the place without a gun, a clean cut latino guy in a white t-shirt, sighed. "Man. You don't want to do this. We won't fight you, we aren't crazy, and we don't make enough to deal with freaks, but this product comes from someone else. Wilson Fisk bankrolls me. You heard of him? The Kingpin? He doesn't like when up and comers fuck with his crew. He has some bad asses on the payroll too. You can take the cash, but living to spend it is a whole other issue."

I did NOT know who Wilson Fisk was. I did know that I couldn't punk out here or I'd lose any chance at starting a rep, I just stared at him and he sighed. "Fine. Your funeral. Just figured I'd warn you. Property damage or not you could have killed Trevor for that slip. Most people would have. I'm Hector, by the way. In case you grow a sense of self preservation and decide to return the money later." He looked over at another, much larger latino. "Rico, go get the man his money."

Rico, a muscle bound guy only a few inches shorter than me waving a tech nine of all things, nodded and turned to head upstairs. I waited there, fist raised. As he walked I reached into my pocket and dialed the cops. When the line picked up I gave them the address and told them I'd found a bunch of people with a large amount of narcotics and a ton of illegal guns there and some lunatic had blown the front of the building open.

Hector rolled his eyes as he listened, looking more annoyed than afraid. Rico got back three minutes later, and I grabbed a bag full of cash, leafing through it to check for bugs. I found a transponder sewed into the lining of the bag and raised an eyebrow before crushing it to dust with a tiny hypocenter. I waved at them. "Alright, I'm out. If you talk to this Fist guy, tell him Cataclysm says hello. I'm the new hero in town and I'm sure we'll be meeting soon."

I turned and walked off before looping around to grab the camera from out of frame. I stopped the recording with a pleased smile. Then I frowned. Fuck, I was a really obvious height. This would be super transparent if I turned it in. Oh well, I had cash now, I could figure something else out for my first photography assignment. In the meantime, I had to get out of here. I head the cops pull up as Hector and the others tried to bolt through the hole. They had been waiting for me to leave but I timed it perfectly. Time to go back to the warehouse and count my haul. Being a hero was awesome.

For anyone who isn't familiar his power is Whitebeards Gura Gura no mi from one piece, with a bit of his physical enhancement thrown in because Whitebeard was a literal giant with superstrength. I hope everyone is enjoying this one, it's new territory considering most of my other actives are DC stories. Regardless, catch you all next month, or next Sunday if you sub to my pat-reon for the advance chapters at that site /malcolmtent.