As I am thoroughly in a Marvel mood, here is a new fic. One that I have thousands of words of notes for and tried to make a fully working timeline with butterflying consequences of using future information. Anyways, hope you guys enjoy.
And big thanks to my bro Loopy-Loophole for all the help with tryna figure out the comic timelines horrible messiness
/
"Move and I'll blow your fucking heads off!" I state calmly over the pain-filled wails of the man clutching his wrist where his hand used to be. "And you, shut the fuck up!" I kick him in the stomach, he lands on the ground on his back. "Couldn't have just done what I wanted. Everyone always has to put up a fight. Look where that got you?"
"Just leave! Take the bitch I don't fucking want her!" The man screeches, trying to back away from me on the ground. I step on his chest to pin him in place. "I said you can take her! Isn't that what you wanted?!" He's frantic, and his wrist is bleeding out rapidly.
"Too late." He goes to talk but I press my foot down hard on his chest and it turns into a wheeze instead. "Laura. Kill him, or I'll do it myself."
"No-wai-" He's cut off, literally. Two blades coming from the girl's fist punch through his head and pin him to the strip club floor. Then she looks up at me, I give her a nod.
"Good riddance."
I don't like killing if I don't have to. Not that I wouldn't have killed him if Laura chose not to. Zebra Daddy was going to die regardless. Now I just need to deal with the aftermath.
A shame really, the night had started off so well. Until I walked into a washroom.
Earlier/
The world runs on information. Not really a lesson or some grand revelation to be had on that fact. That's how it is, how it's always been, and how it's going to be in the future still. The only thing that changed over the years is the scale.
Well, that's how it was where I'm from. Here? Here the importance of information goes way way higher then it ever could have back home. And coming here, after a couple of unpleasant, downright tortuous (in a literal sense) events, I made a career abusing the information I had.
I've made a lot of enemies in my short time here, and the people I call allies sure as shit don't like me even if they trust me, but I can't bring myself to care. I've helped a lot of people with what I know, but probably condemned just as many. After all, I sell what I know to the highest bidder. Consequences be damned. Wouldn't even really be mad if someone actually managed to off me, I'm only living now purely out of spite and extravagance. No, I wouldn't be mad. But I'll do my best to prevent it.
Right now? I'm not sure I can. Or even would be willing to. I run my hand down my face and let out a deep breath. The water of the shower covers the sound of my exhale to my ears, but not the girl I'm looking at. Her ears twitch, and she turns to face me with the most expressionless green eyes I've seen. Dead to the world save in a physical sense. Still trying to die herself if the long bloody lacerations are anything to go off of. Covering her arms and back, the fact she hasn't died from blood loss is a miracle.
It would be a miracle. If they weren't visibly healing. The wounds given to herself by her four bloody claws, two on each hand coming out of the knuckle. Information is important, as I said. But even if you know a metric fuckton, you can still find yourself flatfooted. In my case? The no-name prostitute I had been railing for the last two hours or so went and started cutting herself in the washroom. My urge to kill someone rises, and it's only a fifty-fifty on if that person is me.
Or not. The girl tenses, fully comprehending I just saw her using herself as a pincushion. She might just decide to deal with me herself here. Can't blame her really. Still, now knowing who it is, it's a bit of a gut punch when I had just used her like that. Considering one of the few people I fucking owe the most in this world is her father. She meets my eyes when I'm mid-internal debate, then her claws slip back into her arms.
We stand in silence, just staring at each other for a good few minutes. Her, fully naked with formerly deep cuts all over her skin that are growing ever fainter. And me, in an unbuttoned shirt and a pair of rather expensive dress pants. Then I break our mutual dead-eyed stare, walking up to her she tenses up again, only relaxing when I just turn off the shower. Then I get back and out of her space again. No words. Don't think there will be any with how she is now. And I'm still not sure why she didn't just kill me. This would have been the best time for it considering I'm fully unarmed.
I let out a sigh. "I'd like to apologize." She stills at my words. Her breath is so silent I can't hear anything from her. The way her eyes are focused on me with an intensity that wasn't there before, I presume I have her attention. Captain obvious moment aside, I'll say what I want to say. "It's entirely because I know who you are. What you've gone through." She glares at me ever so slightly at that and I hold a hand up to say there's more. "Normally I wouldn't care. But I owe someone. So I'm going to fix this. Miss Kinney."
What a fucking mess. Lesson learned, don't ever take a gift from a coked-up gangster. Being in the information business, you need people in your network, and connections. Even if I had a plethora of information, I don't know everything. Having street-level sources from the shadier side of the streets is just plain useful. This one's getting burnt, unfortunately. Well, the pimp is.
He's dying tonight after all.
/
"Roil my G, your clothes get stolen? I'll have one of the boys hunt em down." Zebra Daddy, real name Lawrence Smith, asks as I approach him in the busy strip club. He hadn't noticed Laura yet behind me. Probably because I got her to put on my clothes and not the slutty one-piece dress she was sent to me in originally. But he sure notices my lack of pants and a shirt. As I'm in just my boxers, jacket, and boots.
I could have probably stolen a pair of pants from one of the rooms upstairs, but the sooner I can get out of this shit hole, the better, so I didn't put the effort into doing so. "Don't bother. Girl you sent me. I'm taking her home." I state clearly.
"What was that bro? You want one of my girls? Permanently?" He asks, leaning forward with a joint in his hand. He's got a bunch of garish-looking bracelets on and exactly what kind of coat you'd expect a pimp to have. "That wasn't in any of our deals. If you like her that much I'll let you keep her for a while. Consider it a favor." He says with a smug grin. Any other day I'd take it at that, just leave with her. But I'm honestly too pissed off to be rational right now.
"I'm taking her with me. I wasn't asking, I was telling. Quite frankly you should be thankful I'm the one doing so. Anyone else would fucking kill you, painfully." At my words, his expression falls. Gone is the friendliness from earlier. His thugs in the room tense up as a few hands reach towards their weapons.
"Rich or not, I ain't like being told what to do, my G." He grabs the piece in his jacket and I sigh.
"Boom." I state, snapping my fingers. Zebra Daddy's wrist and hand holding the gun combust in a bright flash. A spray of blood spurts from the un-cauterized wound.
/
And that brings us to now.
"Which of you is next in line for the pimp coat?" I ask the gathered thugs, most of which are still halfway frozen to their weapons.
"Fuck you!" One of said men pulls out his gun. I snap my fingers and he loses his head in a flash of light. Chunks of blood and meat rain down on a few of the girls and other thugs as his body drops. Said men look terrified, and the women even more so, shrieking once again.
"I said shut the fuck up! What part of don't fucking make a sound do you not understand?!" The women go silent, save for some whimpering. "Now, which of you is next in line for the goddamn pimp coat?"
"Uh, that was Diesel. You just killed him." One of the men says after a short while. I pinch the bridge of my nose and let out a heavy sigh.
"Next after him. Now."
"Are you gonna kill-"
"I'm not going to kill them unless they give me a reason to kill them."
"It uh, me then." I focus fully on the man now.
"What's your name?"
"Gutierrez."
"Alright Gutty, you're in charge now. And you work for me, you fucking got that?" I ask and he nods.
"Yeah man, I got it."
"I'll have someone contact you shortly. If you don't want the promotion, you can fuck off and the next guy can take it. If something happens to my guy, I will personally kill each and every one of you. Is that fucking understood?" I ask the room at large. They all nod or give confirmation that they understood. "Good. Someone get me pants and a shirt. Clean ones."
At my words, it's a scramble of movement as multiple people start looking. Somewhere along the line, Laura had gone behind me. Silent as a ghost. No idea what I'm gonna do with her yet, but what little remains of my morals demands I make sure she's better off then she is now. At least now she won't spend time running from that asshole pimp.
"And someone clean all this fucking blood up!" I bark out another order. Then make my way over to the bar, the barkeep gets out of my way as I grab a bottle of bourbon. I take a seat at the bar and pop open the bottle. Laura takes a seat on the stool next to mine. "I'm not sharing." She just nods.
Fuck it, I'm not paid to play therapist. And with that, I take a swig from the bottle.
/
I didn't get much time to drink before another of my contacts messaged me with an urgent request to meet.
So I find myself in a tacky red Hawaiian shirt someone found, and a pair of basketball shorts. Sitting at a dive bar in a private booth, still in the Flatiron district. Cus fuck if I'm going across town for a meeting. No, she can come to me. In the meantime, I turn to the other complication I gave myself. "You want fries or something?" Laura just continues to look at me with her dead-to-the-world eyes. "I'm ordering us fries. And wings. I feel like having wings."
The judgemental stare of the waitress means nothing to me, I get my wings, fries and drink. No drink for Laura, she's under the drinking age. I managed to get that much out of her. The only thing she's actually said to me so far. Still, she's older then she should be and that all but confirms the timelines fucked here too. Then again, I've already fucked the timeline immensely, so it's not too much of a surprise.
A commotion at the front has me thinking the person I'm supposed to be meeting has arrived. And my wings and fries still haven't arrived. I swirl my glass of whiskey around a bit, I've never been able to sit completely still, always need to do something. Actually, I gotta warn resident murder blender. "Lady we're meeting is a bit of a bitch, but don't turn anything she says into a fight. She'll win." At my words, Laura tilts her head and gives me a side-eye.
"I'm not sure if I should be mad or flattered." Said bitch responds, startling Laura who turns to glare at her. I'm not surprised myself, I've been tracking her from the moment she walked in. "Nice shirt."
"Thanks, it's peak fashion. And you should be flattered, you know you're a bitch. I'd say you revel in it." I give her a shrug and take a sip of my drink. "Help yourself to a seat, Carol." She chuckles and takes a seat across Laura and I. Laura, still glaring at her even now. Lotta intent in that glare. Not the good kind.
"Might want to watch that tongue, Ross, someone's gonna take offence and either shoot you or punch you outta the stratosphere."
"And if they do, the Punisher gets an Iron Man suit." Always good to have your bases covered. I just went a bit extra with mine.
"Your weird respect for Castle aside, who's the chick? New side piece?" She raises her eyebrow at Laura, the very tense Laura.
"A friend, one that can stay during a serious talk. Leave it at that. You want a drink before we get into anything?" I raise my glass and then take a sip of it. Carol's never said no to a drink, my oldest drinking buddy save for Stark. Carol winces.
"I'll have a water." Never said no to a drink. Until now, that is. "You've not been back long, yeah?" She asks.
"Few weeks, been building up contacts again." I shrug, no seriously, when has Carol ever turned down a drink? Can't remember a time that's ever happened.
"I've been assigned enforced AA meetings as a member of the Avengers. Been doing good, I like to imagine. Three months sober." Fuck. I mean good for her, but fuckkkk.
"Glad to hear it." My smile is probably tighter than intended. I see Laura tilt her head again as she looks at me, breaking her intense stare at Carol. "Guess that means…"
"Sorry." I wave it off and take a sip of my drink. "You know, I could see about getting you into those meetings. It's for people in my line of work with that problem… What do you think?" At her question I take a sip of my drink, not looking at her.
"Your message said something urgent came up?" Changing the topic should be answer enough.
"Nice segue." She sighs.
"Thanks, I try." I give her a grin. Carol just shakes her head. The waitress comes by with my wings and fries, while she's here Carol orders some water. Guess she's actually serious. Commendable really. "Yo, eat." I push the food towards Laura. She looks at me, then at it. "Eat the damn fries." She takes one slowly. Instead of focusing on her more, I turn back to Carol who has her brow raised again. "You were saying?"
"If you thought it was Tony who asked me to meet up with you, you're mistaken, he's still pissed by the way."
"As expected, go on."
"We got word that a few people have been asking around about you. Mental manipulation in regular people to ask questions, but that's not the main worry." Carol states. Fuck. Bad news it is.
"I fail to see how that's not the main worry." Someone who can mess with minds coming after me? Fuck that. I've been trying to prevent mind tampering at all costs, I even have a watch device thing I asked Tony to make forever ago to prevent that shit. And I presume it works as he had Xavier test it. At my words Carol looks around the bar before leaning in, giving Laura a hard look but the girl doesn't care as she's already eaten half the bowl of fries and is going for more.
"Fury, we think he wants to recruit you, or kidnap you."
"Fuck, with that man it really could be either or." I palm my face for a quick second. "Thanks, for the heads up."
"No problem, and welcome back. Hope you enjoyed your vacation. A convenient time to leave considering the Hulk's return with an invading army."
"I warned Strange and Tony about that. And unlike you, I'm squishy and very much not Hulk-proof." I steal a fry before Laura can eat them all, then push the wings her way hoping that will work as a sacrifice instead.
"Can't really blame you for that then. And I really am happy to see you didn't die in a ditch or something." Carol says leaning back in her seat, glass of water in hand.
"An uncommon sentiment."
"Maybe if you were less of an asshole…"
"No."
"I tried." Carol shrugs, then downs half her water. I just shake my head with a chuckle. I'll have to ask more about this mental manipulation thing before she leaves, can't trust just this safety device after all.
And what the hell could Fury want? Fuck it, I'll find out eventually. It pays well to be cautious, however.
More importantly, Laura ate all the wings. Guess I'm ordering more…
/
I'll be working on this on and off like my other fics. Wherever the adhd takes me is where I go. Hope you enjoyed da prologue.
Quick note for people expecting something like my Worm SI. this is not Rory. There will probably be still a lot of similarities as he's still just based off of me. Just an older me than Rory. A Rory that woke up in Marvel Canada and got tortured for a year. And lost more family before leaving our world. Ross is living off of spite and extravagance as opposed to Rory's nihilistic pessimism and joke coping.