Ather walked alongside Liv through the pristine corridors of Sycorax Industries, his footsteps muffled by the sleek, polished titanium floors. The ambient hum of cutting-edge machinery resonated in the air, mingling with a subtle scent of antiseptic and ozone—a hallmark of high-tech innovation. He couldn't help but notice the architectural marvel around him: walls embedded with interactive displays, ceilings that shimmered with embedded lighting, and panoramic windows offering breathtaking views of the city skyline.
Beside him, Liv moved with effortless grace, her heels clicking in a rhythmic cadence that matched the confident sway of her hips. She glanced at him frequently, her emerald eyes shimmering with a mix of curiosity and unmistakable flirtation. Her auburn hair cascaded over her shoulders, catching the light in a way that accentuated her sharp features.
"Impressed yet?" Liv asked, her voice carrying a lilting tease as she gestured toward the horizon, where the sun painted the skyscrapers with hues of gold and crimson.
Ather allowed a small smile to tug at the corner of his lips. "It's certainly... expansive," he replied, his gaze drifting over the city before settling back on her. "Sycorax spares no expense, it seems."
She laughed lightly, a melodious sound that seemed to dance in the air between them. "Wait until you see the R lab. That's where the real magic happens."
As they continued down the corridor, Liv leaned in slightly, her shoulder brushing against his arm. The subtle fragrance of her perfume—a blend of jasmine and something elusive—wafted toward him. "You know," she murmured, her tone dropping just a fraction, "with your expertise, we could achieve remarkable things together."
Ather raised an eyebrow, catching the double entendre. "I'm sure collaboration could be... beneficial," he replied, matching her tone.
Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Oh, I have no doubt about that."
They arrived at a set of reinforced doors that slid open with a quiet hiss, revealing a sprawling laboratory bathed in soft, white light. The space was a hive of activity—technicians in lab coats moved about like orchestrated ants, each immersed in intricate tasks. Holographic interfaces floated above workstations, displaying streams of data and complex schematics.
Liv led him to a central platform where a hologram projected a rotating model of a biomechanical limb. The design was sleek, almost organic, with synthetic musculature and neural interfaces that mirrored natural anatomy.
"This," she said, her tone turning serious, "is our latest project—advanced limb replacement technology."
Ather studied the hologram intently, noting the intricate designs that bore a striking resemblance to his own prosthetic arm. The level of sophistication was impressive, but he couldn't shake a sense of déjà vu. "Fascinating," he murmured. "You've made significant progress."
She tilted her head, observing him closely. "I was hoping you'd say that. We could use someone with firsthand experience."
He met her gaze evenly, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Subtle, Liv."
A brief flicker of something—was it vulnerability?—crossed her face. "Personal motivations can be powerful drivers," she said softly, almost to herself.
Before he could probe further, a sharp clatter interrupted them. They both turned to see Liv's tablet slipping from her grasp, crashing onto the metallic floor with a dissonant echo.
"Damn it," she muttered, quickly bending down to retrieve it. As she picked up the device, Ather noticed a slight tremor in her hand.
"Everything alright?" he asked, concern edging into his voice.
She flashed a quick smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Just a bit of fatigue. Long hours, you know how it is."
He nodded slowly, filing away the incident for later consideration. There was more to Liv than she let on, and the momentary lapse hinted at underlying issues. Perhaps her interest in limb replacement technology wasn't purely professional.
"Shall we continue?" she asked, her professional demeanour snapping back into place as she motioned toward another section of the lab.
"Lead the way," he replied, allowing her to guide him through the labyrinth of innovation.
As they walked, Ather couldn't help but mull over the possibilities. Was Liv's tremor a sign of a medical condition? Her sudden vulnerability had pierced the veil of confidence she so carefully maintained. It added another layer to the enigma that was Liv—both a potential ally and a possible adversary.
Back in the solitude of his penthouse, Ather sank into his ergonomic chair, the city lights casting a kaleidoscope of colours across the minimalist décor. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered an unobstructed view of the urban sprawl below, a constant reminder of the world he was beginning to engage with more directly.
He activated his custom-built computer system, a labyrinth of code and algorithms that he'd been refining for weeks. The screens flickered to life, displaying a network of surveillance feeds and data streams—a nascent version of the "Detective Vision" he'd envisioned. Multiple monitors showcased live footage from various parts of the city, overlaid with real-time analytics and predictive models.
Leaning forward, he sifted through the information. Reports of unusual activities caught his eye: a figure swinging between skyscrapers in a web-like fashion, captured briefly on a grainy security camera. He enhanced the image, revealing a woman in a sleek suit with spider motifs.
"So, she's real after all," he mused, tapping his fingers thoughtfully on the desk. "Spider-Woman."
Further digging revealed obscure mentions of the Fantastic Four. Archived news articles, sporadic eyewitness accounts, and blurred photographs painted a picture of legendary heroes who had faded into obscurity. "Retirees or not, their legacy lives on," he thought aloud. "Perhaps they still have a hand in things behind the scenes."
He skimmed over reports of miniature heroes—Ant-Man and the Wasp—disrupting illegal operations at the micro level. Surveillance footage showed inexplicable malfunctions in security systems and unexplained incidents that aligned with their supposed activities. "Interesting approach," he noted, impressed by their ingenuity.
His fingers paused over a particularly alarming file: evidence of Stark Tech weaponry circulating among local street gangs. Schematics of repulsor guns and energy blades scrolled across the screen, accompanied by intercepted communications discussing an imminent arms deal.
A notification pinged—a quest prompt from his integrated system.
Quest Alert: Intervene in the illegal Stark Tech arms deal in your city.
Reward: Adrenal Surge
He read the details of the reward,
Adrenal Surge: A temporary boost to your physical attributes—strength, speed, agility, and reflexes.
- Duration: 1 minute
- Cooldown: 60 minutes
"Not that I needed more motivation, but a reward doesn't hurt,"
Decision made, Ather stood and moved to a concealed compartment built seamlessly into the wall. It opened to reveal his gear: a sleek suit designed for agility and protection, matte black with subtle accents that absorbed rather than reflected light. He donned the suit with practised efficiency, each piece fitting perfectly to his form.
Finally, he secured his upgraded prosthetic arm—a marvel of engineering courtesy of Tony Stark. The arm integrated seamlessly with his nervous system, responding to his thoughts with zero latency. It housed various enhancements, some of which even Tony wasn't fully aware of.
"Time to put this to the test," he said to himself, his gaze steely.
The warehouse loomed ahead, its dilapidated exterior a stark contrast to the high-stakes exchange happening within. Ather perched atop a nearby building, the cool night air whispering around him. Through his enhanced optics, he scanned the perimeter. Guards armed with advanced weaponry patrolled the entrances—a far cry from typical street thugs. Infrared signatures indicated more inside.
"Security's tight. They're expecting trouble," he muttered.
He mapped out their positions, formulating a plan. "Disrupt communications first, then isolate and neutralize."
He descended swiftly, utilizing shadowed corners and silent movements honed through years of training. At the warehouse's side entrance, he interfaced his prosthetic arm with the electronic lock. A few encrypted commands later, the door clicked open without setting off any alarms.
Inside, the deal was in full swing. Crates of Stark Tech were displayed like trophies, the dim lighting casting ominous shadows. Several high-ranking gang members conversed with a group of well-dressed individuals—likely black-market brokers.
Ather stepped into the open, his presence immediately drawing their attention.
"Gentlemen," he announced, his voice modulated to conceal his identity. "I believe you're handling stolen property."
Though he clicked his teeth a beat later, gods damn he sounded so lame, even to himself.
Silence hung in the air. Then chaos erupted.
The thugs reacted swiftly, pulling out weapons and unleashing a barrage of energy blasts. Ather moved with calculated precision, his prosthetic arm absorbing and redirecting kinetic energy. He activated a shield that flickered into existence, deflecting incoming fire as he advanced.
He weaved through the onslaught, disabling weapons and disarming opponents with fluid motions. A swift kick here, a precise strike there—each movement economical and effective. But the numbers were overwhelming. For every adversary he took down, two more seemed to appear from the shadows.
A particularly burly thug caught him off-guard, swinging a modified energy hammer. The impact sent Ather skidding across the concrete floor, his suit's impact gel absorbing some of the force but not all.
He groaned, pushing himself up. A quick systems check showed minor damage to his arm's external casing.
"Alright, playtime's over," he muttered.
He tapped a hidden control on his arm—an upgrade he'd recently installed.
He unleashed a concussive wave from his arm, the force rippling through the warehouse and knocking assailants off their feet. Seizing the moment, he darted forward, incapacitating the remaining foes with swift, precise strikes.
Within moments, the cacophony subsided. Breathing heavily, he surveyed the unconscious bodies scattered around him. The crates of Stark Tech remained intact—a small victory.
"That was... more intense than expected," he admitted, his heart still pounding from the adrenaline.
As he looked around the abandoned space filled with stolen tech and unconscious thugs, a realization dawned on him. "I didn't exactly plan for cleanup," he thought aloud. "Well, shit, now what?"
Almost on cue, the distant wail of police sirens pierced the night air, growing louder by the second.
"Time to disappear," he decided.
From a safe vantage point nearby, he watched as law enforcement vehicles converged on the scene, officers swarming the area.
"At least they'll handle the rest," he mused before turning away.
Back at his penthouse, exhaustion began to weigh on him. He shed his gear and sank into his chair, running a hand through his tousled hair. There was one more task to complete.
He initiated a secure call to Tony Stark. After a few moments, Tony's familiar voice filled the room.
"Well, if it isn't my favourite overachiever," Tony quipped. "To what do I owe the pleasure at this ungodly hour?"
Ather couldn't help but smirk. "Thought you'd like to know that your tech is making rounds on the black market in my city."
Tony's tone shifted instantly. "That's... concerning. How did you come across this information?"
"I intercepted an arms deal tonight. They had crates full of Stark Tech—repulsor guns, energy blades, the works." Tony hadn't a chance to clean house but his new projects were housed on a private server that only a few had access to.
It was clear that he had an espionage problem at Stark Tech before, but now it was clear as day that it was someone close to him.
Ather figured it would be the clear topic of this phone call but Tony angled at something else instead.
A pause. "You 'intercepted' an arms deal? Care to elaborate?"
Ather hesitated for a moment. "I've been... taking a more hands-on approach to dealing with these issues."
"Define 'hands-on,'" Tony prompted, suspicion lacing his voice.
"I've been operating in the field," Ather admitted. "Using my arm, among other things."
There was another beat of silence before Tony spoke again, this time with a hint of amusement. "So, you're moonlighting as a hero now?"
"Something like that." Ather groaned.
Tony chuckled softly. "You know, it's funny. It took a life-changing event for both of us to decide to play hero with our talents."
"Maybe it's in the genes," Ather replied dryly.
"Perhaps. Just be careful out there. These aren't small-time criminals you're dealing with."
"I can handle myself."
"I don't doubt it. I'll have my team look into any security breaches on our end. In the meantime, keep me posted on anything else you find."
"Will do."
As the call ended, Ather leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. The conversation had gone better than expected. Tony hadn't tried to dissuade him, which was a relief.
The night was far from over. Settling back at his workstation, Ather began analysing the data he'd gathered from the warehouse. He cross-referenced serial numbers, shipping manifests, and communication logs he'd intercepted during the operation. Threads of information wove together, forming a complex tapestry of corruption and intrigue that extended far beyond a single arms deal.
"Looks like this goes deeper than I thought," he muttered. "Multiple cities, coordinated efforts... Someone's orchestrating this."
His thoughts drifted back to Liv and the momentary lapse she'd shown. The tremor in her hand, her interest in limb replacement technology— perhaps he was overthinking things, but he couldn't stuff like this. Back when this universe was a work of fiction things like that would be a story beat of some sort.
And it all seemed connected somehow. Was it possible that Sycorax Industries was involved in the black market dealings? Or was Liv pursuing her own agenda that would bite him in the arse?
Ather threw his head back, "One mystery at a time," he reminded himself. But he couldn't ignore the nagging suspicion that the threads of his personal and vigilante lives were becoming increasingly intertwined.
A notification flashed on his screen—a successful completion of his quest, along with the promised ability upgrade.
Adrenal Surge Unlocked
- A temporary boost to your physical attributes: strength, speed, agility, and reflexes.
- Duration: 1 minute
- Cooldown: 60 minutes
"Things are about to get interesting," he mused.
Ather gazed out over the cityscape, the lights twinkling like distant stars. The path ahead was fraught with challenges, but for the first time in a long while, he felt a sense of purpose. Fully embracing the dual life he'd chosen, he prepared himself for what was to come.
The adrenaline from the night's events still coursed through my veins as I decided to unwind before calling it a night. The city's vibrant nightlife beckoned, and I found myself outside a cosy, dimly lit pub nestled on a quiet side street. Pushing open the heavy wooden door, I was immediately enveloped by the warm atmosphere inside. Soft jazz played in the background, and the murmur of conversations filled the air, offering a welcome contrast to the chaos I'd left behind.
Approaching the bar, I presented my convincingly crafted ID to the bartender. With a nod, he served me a glass of whiskey on the rocks. I settled onto a barstool, letting the amber liquid ease the tension from my muscles. As I took a sip, the smooth burn reminded me that I was very much alive.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a woman seated a few stools away. She appeared to be in her late thirties, with elegant features and a confident posture. Her long, ash-blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her piercing blue eyes held a depth that drew me in. She glanced my way, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.
I recognized her immediately—Jane Foster. Memories from my earlier life surfaced, fragments of articles I'd read about her groundbreaking work in astrophysics. But seeing her in person was something else entirely. Enamoured by her beauty and the aura of mystery that surrounded her, I decided to shoot my shot. I'd kick myself if I left here without at least trying. Even the wrath of a thunder god wouldn't stop me.
Deciding to take a chance, I moved closer. "Mind if I join you?" I asked with a casual smile.
She looked up, her eyes meeting mine. "Not at all," she replied, her voice smooth with a hint of curiosity.
"I'm Ather," I introduced myself, extending my hand.
"Jane," she said, shaking my hand gently. "Pleasure to meet you."
We fell into easy conversation, discussing everything from the complexities of modern technology to the beauty of the city's architecture. I was surprised by how effortlessly the dialogue flowed. Jane was witty, insightful, and possessed a keen intellect that matched my own.
"You seem wise beyond your years," she remarked, swirling her wine glass thoughtfully.
I chuckled. "And you have an air of someone who's seen and experienced much."
She let out a mock click of her tongue. "Careful, that almost implied I'm old."
"I'd say refined," I mused with a playful grin, my knuckles grazing her bare knee under the bar. The difference between creepy and romantic often came down to mutual attraction, and she didn't seem to mind.
She smiled enigmatically, locking eyes with me without mentioning the touch. "Life has a way of keeping things interesting."
"Doesn't it just," I agreed.
As the evening progressed, the connection between us deepened. The pub began to empty, but neither of us made a move to leave. There was an unspoken understanding that we were both exactly where we wanted to be.
"Care to continue this conversation elsewhere?" she suggested a hint of mischief in her eyes.
My heart quickened. "Absolutely."
In a tangled mess of limbs, we stumbled into my apartment, our laughter filling the space. "Nice place," she murmured between kisses, her lips warm against mine as she wrapped her legs around my waist.
"All about the minimalist life," I responded half-heartedly, gripping her meaty rear firmly as I carried her toward the bedroom.
Crossing the threshold, Jane slid down and let her purse drop to the floor. With a graceful motion, she slipped out of her dress, the fabric pooling at her feet. I followed suit, pulling my shirt over my head. As I briefly wrestled with the fabric, I felt her hands on me—not roaming over my muscles like others might, but tracing the seam where flesh met metal on my prosthetic arm.
Free of the shirt, I took in the sight of her. My gaze softened as I noticed faint scars across and around her chest. Gently, I reached out with my real hand, my fingers grazing the scar tissue. A hint of sorrow flickered in her eyes.
"You're gorgeous," I whispered, offering an honest smile.
She let out a relieved sigh, her vulnerability matching my own. Bringing my hand to her lips, she placed a tender kiss on my knuckles. It was an intimate gesture that felt both timeless and profound.
Feeling a surge of emotion, I scooped her up and laid her gently on the bed. I kissed every mark and supposed imperfection on her body, each touch a silent acknowledgment of the battles we'd both fought. It was almost unsettling how natural it felt—hardly a few hours had passed, yet I'd never felt so at ease with someone. A part of me was apprehensive, but I pushed the thoughts aside.
That night, our connection shifted from passionate to something deeper, almost loving. We found solace in each other's arms, the barriers we'd both constructed slowly dissolving.
The first light of dawn peeked through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. I stirred, blinking awake to the unfamiliar yet comforting surroundings of my own bedroom. Memories of the night before brought a subtle smile to my lips. Jane was unlike anyone I'd met—captivating, enigmatic, and refreshingly genuine.
I reached out, but the space beside me was empty. Instead, I found a note on the pillow, 'Had an early appointment. I promise this isn't a one-night thing... at least I hope it isn't. Last night was unexpected and delightful. Let's see where this goes. —Jane' With a penned number beside her signature. Weirdly formal.
I read the note twice, her elegant handwriting mirroring the grace she'd exhibited throughout the evening. A mix of emotions welled up within me—relief, excitement, and a hint of longing.
"Well, this is new," I murmured, burying my face into the pillow that still carried her subtle scent.
A few days later, I returned to the San Francisco Institute of Technology. It had been some time since I'd attended classes, my independent projects and recent nocturnal activities occupying much of my time. As I made my way to the lecture hall, a mix of anticipation and curiosity stirred within me.
Settling into a seat near the middle, I pulled out my tablet to review any updates I'd missed. The room buzzed with chatter until the door at the front of the hall opened.
"Good morning, everyone," came a familiar voice.
I looked up sharply. Standing at the podium was Jane—Dr. Jane Foster—now clad in professional attire, her hair neatly tied back. For a moment, our eyes met, and I saw the flicker of surprise mirrored in her expression.
"I'm Dr. Jane Foster, your new professor for Advanced Astrophysics," she announced. "I'm excited to explore the mysteries of the universe with you all."
My mind raced. Of all the improbable coincidences, this one took the prize. I maintained a neutral expression, but internally I grappled with shock and amusement. So this was the wacky coincidence I hadn't anticipated.
As she began the lecture, I couldn't help but observe her with renewed interest. She spoke with authority and passion, her knowledge evident as she delved into complex theories with ease. It was clear she was well-respected in her field, and it reminded me of the fervour she'd shown at the pub—her passion for knowledge matching the intensity we'd shared that night.
Throughout the class, neither of us gave any outward indication of our prior acquaintance. But beneath my composed exterior, I felt a thrill. The unexpected complication added a layer of intrigue to our connection.
"Of all the classrooms, in all the institutes," I mused silently. While part of me acknowledged the potential challenges this situation posed, another part couldn't deny the allure. The idea of continuing our connection, now under the veil of academia, was undeniably enticing.
As the lecture concluded, students began packing up. I lingered, contemplating whether to approach her. Before I could decide, Jane glanced my way and gave a nearly imperceptible shake of her head—a silent message to maintain discretion.
I nodded subtly in return. There would be time to navigate this new dynamic. For now, we'd keep our prior encounter to ourselves.
The following days settled into a rhythm. In class, we maintained professionalism, though occasional glances hinted at our shared secret. Outside of lectures, I found myself looking forward to opportunities to engage with her, whether through academic discussions or chance encounters on campus.
One afternoon, as students filtered out of the lecture hall, Jane approached me. "Ather, could you stay for a moment? I'd like to discuss your latest paper."
I nodded, my pulse quickening. Once the room emptied, she closed the door gently.
"I think we should talk," she said softly, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.
"Agreed," I replied. "This situation is... unexpected."
She sighed lightly. "Life has a way of surprising us. I didn't anticipate becoming your professor."
"Nor did I expect to see you here," I admitted. "But I can't say I'm displeased."
She smirked for a moment, biting her bottom lip before schooling her features. "Mr. Agni, it would be best if we forgot our initial encounter."
I let out a disappointed breath but nodded, which seemed to surprise her. "You're taking this in a shockingly mature way," she remarked as if expecting me to protest.
"I met this gorgeous, smart, sexy woman in a pub, and I had an amazing night with her," I shrugged. "Would I want to pursue her? Absolutely. But it takes two to tango, and if she's pumping the brakes, all I can do is respect her choice. It's common decency, at least to me."
She raised an eyebrow. "You mentioned my looks twice."
I grinned. "You're smoking hot, but we didn't get to fully explore your wit. To be fair, we got... distracted."
She huffed good-naturedly. "I'll have you know, people say I'm quite charming."
Stepping closer, I was pleased to see she didn't step back. "When they say that, have you noticed they're staring intently at your butt? Because I have to admit, focusing in class has become a bit of a challenge."
She leaned in slightly, her defences lowering. "Perhaps I could help you out... outside of class."
Smirking in victory, I placed a gentle kiss on her lips before trailing down to her neck. Before things could escalate, she placed a hand on my chin, bringing my gaze back to hers.
"Ground rules," she intoned.
I groaned playfully. "Oh, I'm not going to like this."
She tried to maintain a stern expression but couldn't hide her amusement. "Not in class," she emphasized.
"Knew that was coming," I said, feigning exasperation.
"My place or yours. Not here," she continued.
I sighed dramatically but nodded, scooping up my bag from the floor. "Understood... Dr. Foster."
She cringed slightly. "Please don't call me that when we're... you know."
I gave her a teasing look. "You know what, Dr. Foster?"
She rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. "You're impossible."
"Only when it comes to things worth the effort."
She shook her head, but the warmth in her eyes was unmistakable. "I'll see you tomorrow, Ather."
"Looking forward to it," I replied.
As I left the lecture hall, a mix of excitement and anticipation bubbled within me. The situation was far from simple, but that only added to the allure. The idea of continuing what we had, even in secrecy, was more than just tempting—it was exhilarating.
A/N - Published - 2024/10/02
Yo, thanks for all the support shown to this story.
Decided to say fuck it and go full comic, with the world, some established heroes have already roamed. Tossing up between Jane being a civilian, having the power of Thor, or the power of Valkyrie.
Thoughts and ideas are always appreciated.
Thanks for the comments.
Tony McNucklz: Thanks for the ideas and thoughts (as always) yeah considering I'm trying to write a somewhat healthy relationship for Tony that he can't simply push away in his usual fashion, it should be interesting to see how he changes with Ather's involvement in his life.
ActualTurtle3: Would I really write something like Ather screwing his half-brother's mother... well shit you nailed me. This legit made me laugh. But for the sake of not going fully deprived, he won't.
Damien Evermere: Well shit, Liv Amara is a character from the BH6 cartoon, but now I've gotta sow the seeds as her as female Doc Ock, cheers.
