AN: Hey! I know I've been gone a while, I'm not gonna give excuses, I'm just gonna publish the chapter so you can enjoy. This is going to be the last chapter before we get into 'Canon' MCU, and it is the longest chapter by far. So without further ado enjoy!

When detention bell finally rang at 4:00, Jackson nearly bolted for the door. He was full of jitters, it seemed the day's events and random bursts of speed awoke something inside of him. He knew that before anything happened tonight, he needed to gain control, needed to at least gain some wisdom on how to use his powers properly. He walked down the hallway, a small pressure at the front of his skull urging him in that direction.

'The bike rack!' he thought to himself as he realized where he was walking towards. He quickly opened and walked out of the double glass doors leading out to the large bike rack area, with about a dozen metal bars running parallel to each other. Jackson only noted three bikes, one black with red stripes, one green and blue and the third a rose red, almost pink color with a double seat. He assumed the two 'macho' bikes were Conor and Luis's, before remembering he needed to hide to watch them come out.

He ducked behind the corner of the wall, formulating a plan as he waited. Jackson realized that he could track his sPhone on his laptop, with the StarkFinder app. He heard the boys talking through the door, and realized he had to hurry. He quickly took his phone out, set it to do not disturb and crouched down, ready to slip the phone in a pocket or backpack. He saw his opportunity as the two boys hopped down the short staircase.

He followed them, and pretended to trip into them, slipping his phone into the open pocket of Luis' backpack. He watched as the ST of the phones logo slipped down, and quickly apologized. He made sure not to turn towards them fully, so they couldn't see his face. He kept a brisk pace as he walked away from their exclaims of "Puta!" and "Asshat!"

Once Jackson was far enough down the block, he entered a jog. He slowly increased his pace, and he began to feel a surge of energy flow through his muscles. The feeling of wind on his face lessened, feeling like a summer breeze, even though he knew it should feel harsher against his skin as he ran. His fingers and toes tingled, the feeling of pinpricks moving up his arms and legs and into his chest. Just as he started to feel his lungs burn, from lack of use over the last few months, the pain went away. It felt as if he was getting clean oxygen for the first time in years, as his panting turned into a solid rhythm.

As he neared the end of the long city block, Jackson couldn't, no didn't want to stop or slow down. He planted his right foot down near the corner of the curb, and pushed off, turning to his left without losing momentum. His vision blurred as he slowly started to match pace with the cars beside him, until it slowly cleared. His eyes now darted around, seeing things in sharp detail, detail he would normally miss when standing still. He looked at the blue RAV-4 driving next to him, as he slowly pulled ahead. Nearing the second intersection, he turned onto S. Mainstreet heading towards the Fashion district.

'Man I wish I had my phone!' he thought to himself as he tried to figure out his speed. One block later he dashed across the intersection, hopping over a passing car and sliding along the hood. Another two blocks later and the cars seemed to slow down, moving at a turtle's pace. His Giants hoodie's hood flapped behind him as he crossed over the 101 overpass onto N. Maintstreet. He could see the Los Angels River nearing in the distance, and smirked to himself, deciding to test himself further. He did his best to speed up as he neared the culvert, leaping over the fence and down into the culvert. He zagged and zipped back and forth, trying to increase his speed as he got closer to the wider river mouth.

He readied himself, psyching himself up, and stepped onto the water. His pace and speed carried him atop the surface for a few steps and he raised his arms to let out a yell of excitement. His faced quickly morphed into shock as his feet started to drag and he fell face first into the brownish water.

Jackson turned himself over and sat himself up. For the second time in the past few minutes he wished that he had kept his phone, just knowing there would be some message about what just happened. He stood up, the water going up to his lower thigh. He shook himself off as he trudged over to the concrete riverbank. He ran a hand through his shaggy hair as he sighed and slumped his shoulders.

"Not an entirely useless effort," he said to no one, "I guess I'm not fast enough to walk on water. Yet, I hope." Jackson stood getting ready to run back home where his laptop lay, to go find the two boys. As he took a step forward, he noticed his watch on his wrist had broke when he landed in the water. "Shit! Mom's gonna be so mad." He unlatched the watch his father had left him, and as he pulled it off he noticed the time. He had left the school at about 4:04, and it was now 4:08. He had ran what would normally took seventeen minutes by car in only five minutes. Doing quick mental math, he calculated that he had done about 110 miles per hour toward the end of the run, given his slow start and the total time running and distance.

He grinned massively, immensely proud and excited of what was surely to come as he trained and honed his skill. He turned about, and saw Dodger stadium looming in the near distance. As a die-hard Giants fan, Jackson detested going to the large field if his team weren't playing there, but Jackson knew it would be empty, and he needed a place to practice. He broke out into a run again, and found it much easier to increase his speed, outpacing the cars he passed by leaps and bounds. He ran up the winding road to the parking lot and zoomed past, jumping over the fence. He remembered then the other power he supposedly got, and his excitement grew even more.

He decided to test that particular ability in a short while, first wanting to do some conditioning to gain speed. He zipped up and down the rows of seats, rushing about the stadium up and down the ramps to the different levels. He got to the Third baseline and hopped the short fence. A wicked grin graced his face as he did his best to tear up the ground and leaves marks. He raced back up to the balcony seats to view his handywork, and smiled in appreciation at the large Giants logo imprinted on the field.

His smile fell, as he recognized the height at which he stood, knowing he could easily jump and fall to his death. He took a deep breath and a few steps back and rushed forward, jumping out over the balcony. He shut his eyes tightly, praying to whatever god existed to help him. When he no longer felt the rush of air, he shakily opened one eye, and saw he was suspended in air. He let out a yelp, and flailed for a second and he dropped a few feet before he froze again in fear. He understood then how he was staying still in the air, by staying still himself. He leaned forward and drifted the way he leant. Backwards and sideways had the same result. His hands still shaking he lifted his arms and felt his body tilt forward without moving. He rotated around in a circle until he was once again upright.

He did this a few more times, moving his hands to the side and back made him lean this way or that. When he leaned forward and raised his arms he moved faster, but slower when his hands were by his side. He could make quick adjustments if he tilted his feet, or moved his arms slightly. After about a half hour, around 4:45 Jackson decided to call it a day, and to head home to track his phone. He was about to fly over the city, but quickly realized how that would look. The press was always getting pictures of Iron Man, Stark's alter ego, and it wouldn't be hard to get a hold of him.

Not yet knowing how to drift down yet, Jackson angled his body to the field and tried his best to move forward slowly. However, he didn't take into account how gravity would affect his descent, and thus fell faster than anticipated. He landed with a loud thud and tore up some more dirt.

"Aawwuughh" He moaned in pain as he stood up, he swayed, almost falling back down, but stayed up right and brushed the soil off his sweatshirt. "Note to self; learn how to fly down."

He grabbed at the hem of the black sweatshirt to shake off the remaining dirt, not realizing that it would probably fly off when he ran home. Once he was ready, Jackson dashed forward, no longer needing to ramp up to his highest speed, now capable of starting off that fast. 'I really need to find a way to track my speed,' he thought to himself as he passed over the 101 and turned east towards his house. Not wanting to be seen by his neighbors, Jackson decided to stop behind a local grocery store, where he would usually get off the bus. Walking the rest of the way, still unsure of how to regulate how fast he ran, Jackson realized how hungry he was.

Luckily for him, there was a McDonald's three blocks from his house, so he took a quick detour. When he opened the door, he noticed to his surprise his friend Charlie working behind the counter. It seemed Charlie recognized him too, as he flashed Jackson a grin before returning to the customer in front of him. Three people later, and Jackson was standing in front of his old friend, a guy he hadn't seen in the year since he graduated.

"Charlie! It's great to see you man," Jackson said, dapping Charlie up, not going for the bro hug with the counter in the way.

"Jackie my main man, it's been too long," Charlie replied smiling back at Jackson with a gleam in his green eyes. "How have you been man? I heard you got into some freak accident?"

"Yeah," said Jackson while putting a hand to his scarred forehead. "It was...pretty bad. An explosion at Stark Industries." Jackson shuffled his feet embarrassed and Charlie, seeing his friends discomfort, changed to a different topic.

"Well...how's the college search going? Heard back from any yet?"

"Yeah, just two right now. ASU and WSU. Still waiting for Stanford, Cal-Tech, UCLA, NYU and a couple others."

"Well I'm sure you'll get into those too man, you're way too smart not to," Charlie acknowledged, about to say more before the old lady behind Jackson cleared her throat, obviously eager to order. "Well we can talk about that more later, what can I get you?"

Jackson stood to the side and watched the old lady order as he waited for his chicken nuggets, vanilla shake and fries. Once she was done, Jackson stepped back to the counter to talk to Charlie again. Just as he opened his mouth, Charlie got called away by a co-worker, and left with a shrug to help with whatever was needed of him. His order number was called then, and he looked at the clock.

'4:56. I need to get home soon, in case they went super far outta town. I guess I can catch up with Charlie another time...' he thought as he grabbed his bag and shake. He caught Charlie's eye on his way out the door and gave him away, gesturing with his free hand to call him later. As Jackson walked home, he pondered over the days events. 'I can't lose control like that again. Not now that I have these powers...God I need to train more.'

He finished the last of his fries as he stepped in the door, knowing his mom would still be at work he didn't bother to call out to her. He dropped his backpack on the coffee table in the living room, and walked down the short hallway to his room. He sat down on his black and red gaming chair, before standing up again. He had forgotten his laptop in his bag. A few minutes later he was back at the desk, sipping at his milkshake while the app loaded his phone's location.

When the loading bubble under the Stark logo disappeared, it was replaced by a colorful map with a blue and red marker. The blue marker was just in front of his house, but the red was down in Anaheim. Jackson used his mouse to scroll and zoom in, to grab the address, and recognized the iconic location.

"Disney Land," he said dryly. 'Well a few blocks from Disney' he thought, as he saw it was a few blocks south east of the main gates. He got hallway up to leave, but stopped knowing he had no idea if they would stay at the Wendy's they were stopped at. Thinking quickly, he sent the info over to Robbie using Skype. Robbie sent back a question mark, and Jackson rolled his eyes at himself, for forgetting to tell him why he was sending his sCloud info. He sent a message saying he lost his phone, and he also sent instructions to text his old sPodTouch, and that he'd connect to wifi when he could.

With that, Jackson stood again, moving to his closet. All his hoodies were dirty, and he didn't want to show too much skin so he just turned his current hoodie inside out, so his classmates wouldn't recognize it from earlier. The orange stripes on the sleeves looked a little fuzzy, with the hemming now showing, but the logo was covered. His hood also had this orange stripe, but larger and thicker. Needing less restrictive pants, he took his older blue jeans off, and took out a new, looser black pair his mom had bought him for his last birthday. He grabbed a pair of Giants themed Nike Elites, black, with an orange stripe, and tucked them under his jeans, followed by his pair of runners from when he tried Track and Field last year. He had custom made them, again themed from his favorite team; an orange sole, black meshy fabric with a reddish-orange overlay and neon orange laces. Finally, he put a beanie on under his hood and some old work gloves form the summer he stayed with his uncle in Tennessee.

He stepped out the front door, but dashed back inside to grab a bandana to cover his face when he felt the cold. 'That wouldn't have been good,' he thought to himself as he scolded himself for almost showing up face out for all to see. He stepped out the door and checked the sPod for any updates before he stepped lost wifi. With no up dates from Robbie, he raced down the street with renewed energy. Turning every so often to stay on track to the I-5, Jackson wished for what seemed like the hundredth time to have his phone, so he could use headphones and listen to music on his run South.

Jackson had been to Disneyland with friends or his mom many times since they moved down from the Bay Area, and knew that the drive should be about half an hour, without the usual traffic. He also knew that he left his house at 5:15, and saw that he got there at about 5:24. Doing a quick calculation in his head, Jackson realized he had ran 159 mph, almost 50 mph faster than before his training.

He peered through the tinted window, advertising Dave's Doubles and Triples, Frostie's and Spicy Nuggets. He didn't recognize anyone inside, certainly not the two boys from his school. He took out his sPod and connected to the wifi of the nearby Starbucks. He got two notifications from Robbie, one saying they were moving, and one saying they had stopped at the Candy Cane Inn, near the back of the complex. Shooting a quick thanks to Robbie, Jackson zipped to the motel, getting there within a minute.

Jackson felt a tug behind his forehead again, and followed it to a room, number 14. He stopped outside the door, and tried his best to listen in. He couldn't hear more than a muffle, so he tried to listen from the window. The sound quality was no better, but he could see that the back window was cracked open slightly. He rushed around the complex, coming to a kneeling position under the window.

"Marshall, are you crazy?" he heard a voice ask. 'Luis', he thought, quickly recognizing the voice. "We thought we were only here to work the corner, y'know, get the teens leaving the park, tired and needing a pick up? Now you're telling us we're here to do a job?"

"It's a test obviously. I told you, the boss heard of our success at S.C.A.R.F., and now we're moving up," Conor said, sounding eager, excited.

"But...really?" Luis sounded confused, concerned even, seemingly not wanting to participate.

"Two of our guys got pinched last month, and half the crew is in Manhattan to help with the Devil. We're understaffed, and we need this score to keep up operations. Otherwise, we all get turnt loose and Boss let's us be took by the wolves," a deep gravely voice spoke out. 'That must be Marshall', Jackson thought, his nerves skyrocketing. "Now you guys aren't doin' nothin' dangerous, just watching the door while the others pull off the distraction, and us four grab the cash."

'So there's three more in the room, and more nearby. Where could they be hitting? There's no banks nearby.' Jackson wondered, now concerned for the people nearby this 'distraction'.

"But still, Disneyland? Isn't that like candy from an baby?" Luis asked. 'Disneyland?!' Jackson almost exclaimed out loud, barely catching himself and letting out a small puff of air. The room went quiet, and Jackson stopped his breathing.

"Thought I heard something," Marshall said after a moment, "but yeah, Disneyland. Their security is mostly focused on the gates and entrances, not at the admin where the money is stored. We already got a man inside, one of the cast members. So are you in or out?"

"We're in!" Conor answered for the both of them, followed by a shaky "Yeah," from Luis. Jackson looked up into the room when he heard the door close. It was empty, and Jackson knew he should go and follow, but he could see the backpack from earlier. Waiting a few more seconds, Jackson pried the window open more, far enough that he could slip inside. He grabbed the backpack, and checked the pocket where he dropped his phone. He ruffled through for a second, his hand wrapping around his familiar phone case shortly after.

He entered his passcode and his phone opened up to his homescreen. He went to his settings to turn off the do not disturb, and immediately was flooded with messages from his power app. A lot of small xp gains, ranging from 1-5 based on his increased speed, height flown, and other minute achievements coming from his training session earlier. Three notifications stood out to him, two quests and a information bubble.

-QUEST UPDATE-

|Protect the civilians|

|50 xp|

-QUEST UPDATE-

|Apprehend the thugs|

|Thugs apprehended: 0/17|

|50 xp|

:: Top Speed ::

160 MPH

-17/175 xp until next increase-

Quite honestly, Jackson was scared. In all the excitement, all the crazy things that had happened in the past day, the past three months really, Jackson had not realized that these powers might have a drawback. He could walk away, right now, go home and just use his speed to make robots really, really fast for his robotics team. Or, he could follow the prompts and use his powers for good, while risking his life in the process. The answer seemed obvious. He had no training, actual training in combat, or survival skills. He had no protection against bullets, what if he got shot and died? Yes the answer was clear to Jackson, he'd forget all about this and go home.

But he couldn't. He should've walked out the door, hopped on a bus and left. But his feet wouldn't move. His mind screamed out at him to save himself and go. But his heart told him to stay. It showed him images himself, as a five year old, riding the teacups with his mom. Then the images changed to other families on the teacups and other rides, only to be shot seconds later. Yes, his mind told him to leave, but he knew he couldn't.

He heaved a sigh and stood back up. He pocketed his phone and psyched himself up. Jackson dashed out of the motel room and looked down the street to find which way the men had gone. Instead of heading North, to the main gate, they had turned South and were about to turn right on the corner. Jackson knew how conspicuous he looked, and knew he couldn't be seen by the men, or risk tipping them off. The sky was dark enough, the sun still setting rather early. The sun hadn't set fully, but the sky was a pinkish purple, enough of a cover for Jackson to feel comfortable flying up. Racing around to the back of the motel once more, stopping and crouching low, tensing his muscles ready to spring back up.

He hadn't flown straight from the ground before, only flying after jumping from a balcony or using his speed as momentum to leap up. However, he was able to float off the ground easily, simply jumping up and staying there. He pushed his arms above his head, trying to gain more height. Having only stopped a few feet above the gabled roof, Jackson estimated that he had jumped 32 feet in the air, and rose a further 30 feet, coming to a stop at about 62 feet high. He tilted himself forward towards the street on the South side of California Adventure.

A man held open a small gate to the back lots of the park. Once inside, Jackson saw them move left and right through the parking lots and buildings, stopping as the man who held opened the gate, typed in another code on another gate. Once it opened the seven men stepped out onto the bridge near Ariel's Undersea Adventure. Jackson followed them as they met up with ten others near the Monster's Inc attraction, splitting up again into two new groups. He saw five move off towards what Jackson had thought to be a studio surrounded by shops. The other eleven took up positions along Buena Vista Street.

Families walked up and down, in and out of the small merchandise shops. Screams could be heard from the Tower of Terror around the corner. Jackson did his best to slowly drift down to a nearby rooftop. He had decided to wait to see their first move, to better react to whatever this distraction was going to be. He didn't have to wait long, as the nice theme music was interrupted by the sound of gunshots to Jackson's left. He hadn't seen one of the men pull out a sub-machine gun, having been watching Luis and Conor stood near the Animation Academy.

The other nine men quickly drew their weapons, each aiming at different buildings. It seemed to Jackson like they were trying not to hit people, but he knew in all the panic people might get shot or hurt inadvertently. Acting fast, Jackson jumped down and used his flight to slow his fall, landing in the middle of the street. He drew the attention of three men, and Luis. Jackson could see the confusion on their faces, as two of them turned their weapons onto him. It hadn't escaped Jackson's attention that Luis hadn't fired yet. Determining him to not be an issue, Jackson turned his full attention on the gunman to his right. He, like Luis, was only five feet away and totally unprepared for Jackson's next move.

Crossing the distance in less than a second, Jackson grabbed the barrel of the gun, and shoved it upwards. A spray of bullets shot upwards as the thug squeezed the trigger in surprise. Jackson then raised a fist, smashing into the thugs nose. He heard a sickening crack as he felt the cartilage break. Jackson pushed him back, grabbing his face and smashing the back of his head into a nearby wall, knocking him out. He turned to the nearby Luis and before he could move forward, Luis dropped his gun and raised his hands.

"Stay there!" Jackson grunted, deepening his voice and making it gravelly. Jackson then turned back to the other thug who had aimed his gun, but saw the third and fourth thug and two others now pointing their guns at him. Jackson raced forward, the world slowing down again as Jackson did his best to remember the little he knew about guns. Jackson had only ever held a paintball gun before, and hoped that the safeties were in the same spot. As he ran up to the nearest gunman, he got to the side of the gun he suspected the safety to be on. While it wasn't in the exact same spot, it was near enough that Jackson saw it and flipped it to on. He did the same with the others, effectively getting rid of four more. Doubling down, Jackson went back to the first of the four, shoved him into the next one down the line and grabbed a nearby balloon to tie them up together.

As he raced around them, pinning their arms to the side, the other two gunmen had the chance to turn their safety off. One of the thugs Jackson had tied up cried out as a stray bullet hit him, and just narrowly missed Jackson's shoulder. Gasping in surprise, Jackson quickly turned back to them and thrusted their guns up into their faces as best he could. Their heads snapped back, and their grips loosened on their weapons. Jackson quickly pulled them away and tossed them down the street, away from the other gunmen. He threw a right hook at the man on the left, followed by a gut punch. The thug on the right had enough time to recover, and took advantage of the opening Jackson left him.

Jackson felt the punch hit his right side, gasped losing focus and dropped his arms to his side. The thug on his left landed a blow to his stomach, followed by an uppercut. Jackson stumbled back, holding a hand up to his chin. The two thugs squared up and moved closer, and Jackson knew he could be overwhelmed if he tried to fight them together. He needed to split them up, divide their attention. He leapt and flew up, getting some height before coming down fists forward onto the man on his left. They slammed onto the ground and Jackson rolled off of the other man. He stood and squared up against the other man, having knocked out the man on the floor.

The thug rolled his shoulders, and threw a punch at Jackson's face, which Jackson ducked. Another jab from the thug, and Jackson shifted to the side. Almost like when he was running, Jackson could see the punches coming in slow, like he saw a baseball come at him when at bat. He dodged to more punches before returning a jab of his own. Three more hits and the thug stumbled backwards, and Jackson capitalized on the man's grogginess. He shoved him back, hitting him again and again until he fell down, his face bloody. Jackson paused for a second, realizing that he had just beat this man terribly.

His breathing got short, faster and shallow as he saw the blood on his gloves. He was shaken out of his shock by the sound of gunfire from the other five men. His head snapped towards them, and saw that they had cornered some people against a wall. He leapt forward, shooting his arms out in front of himself and flew down the street. When he got to the cornered people, he took two kids into his arms and shifted into a running position, carrying them around the corner and towards Tower of Terror. He flew back once more, throwing the mom over his shoulder and another kid under his arm. When he returned for the man and the last kid, he saw that they had been taken hostage, both held with guns to their heads.

"Who the hell are you?!" One of the thugs demanded, jostling the kid in his arms.

Jackson refused to answer, trying his best to find a way to get them both away from the gunmen.

"Stand down, take your hood off or we shoot them," the thug holding the man said. He was a tad calmer than the thug holding the kid. "We're just here to get some cash, and go."

"Then why the guns? Why hurt people?" Jackson demanded, trying to buy time. 'I should grab the kid first. That guys grip is loose on his shirt, it would be easy to knock him back. Then I gotta punch the other guy and grab the man.'

Not wasting a second he acted, rushing forward as fast as his limits would let him. He could see the thug's expression change slowly from a sneer to shock as he neared the kid. He threw a fist forward, knocking his head back as he grabbed the kid from his arms. Jackson pivoted, throwing a left hook with his free arm and then grabbing the man around the waist. As he raced back around the corner, he heard one gunshot, follwed by another. As he placed the man on the road, now safe he saw red seep into his jeans. He had been hit in the leg, but the adrenaline kept the pain away, for now.

What really threw him off was seeing the man gasp and hold his chest. The second bullet had hit him square in the chest. "No, no, no, no! Oh Jesus, no, hold on!" Jackson cried out, putting pressure on the open wound with his hands.

The man shook his head, placing his own hands on top of Jackson's to pull them away. The woman knelt down next to him and took over in Jackson's place. "G-go...g-et the-m. Stop-from hurting...others." He breathed out, his breathing shallow and sharp. "I-I can-I can help him, I'm- I'm a nurse. G-go." The woman said from her place next him.

Taking three deep breaths, Jackson stood but quickly collapsed again, his leg faltering. 'I guess I'll have to fly and fight,' Jackson thought to himself. He hopped on one foot, and got enough air to fly up and forward. The five thugs had realized by now where Jackson had gone to, and turned the corner only for the first two to meet Jackson's outstretched fists. They fell back into the other three, none of them expecting Jackson to be right there. Jackson, not wanting to loose too much speed, simply flipped and shot back towards them. He did this several times, coming from different directions, meeting one or two of their heads with a punch as they tried to aim for him. Slowly they went down, from five to four, to two, to one. Scared witless, the last man tossed his gun down, and raised his hands. But Jackson was too mad. This was the man who had grabbed a child, the man who most likely shot that innocent man.

He flew back one last time and his fist collided with the thugs jaw, breaking and twisting his head around. As Jackson flew past he heard a snap and stopped, rolling to the ground. He looked back and saw the man fall, his head twisted at an impossible angle. He had killed him. A second of shocked pause later and Jackson threw up on the street. Timed seem to slow even though he wasn't using any of his powers. He had never seen a dead person before, and knowing the man was dead because of him filled Jackson with an ultimate loathing of himself. How could he have just done that, how could he live with himself?

Jackson knew that this would be with him forever, that there was no way for him to forget, or forgive himself. He wanted to run and hide, hug his mom and cry. But then he heard Marshall come out from the building with the other four men. Jackson looked over at them, and shakily stood up, limping with his right leg. Seeing Jackson standing near several unconscious men, and several others tied up or knocked out down the opposite side, Marshall quickly ran away. He ushered the other men to follow him, moving quickly away from Jackson. Jackson moved to follow, but the adrenaline was wearing off, and he collapsed again. He needed to get medical attention, but without revealing his identity.

Jackson could do nothing but watch as Marshall and the other thugs ran away, needing to regain his strength to do anything at all. He had over-exerted himself, which coupled with his wound made him woozy. And so, he sat in the middle of the street, only feet away from the man he killed as people started to walk back to see why the shooting had stopped. Jackson then heard his phone beep, and sighed thinking it was the message from the app telling him he failed.

But when he checked, he saw it was a text from Tony Stark inviting him to come by sometime in the next several days. Jackson shakily text back to ask if he could come by tonight. Receiving a response, Jackson tried to stand, this time successful. He thrust his arms forward and shot up into the sky, trying his best to navigate to where Stark had said his mansion was. He cried during the entire flight.