Chapter 28: My Pleasure and their Pain
A couple of days later, after I partially finished setting up my tech forge, I sank onto my new leather couch, rubbing my temples with a sigh. Time to put some of the salvaged tech to good use, with a sprinkle of the less advanced stuff to ease this world in.
My usual helper, Titania—my go-to for labor and bouncing around ideas—was still out cold. The connection to Titania was there; if I compared her to a charging phone, she might be at 10%, but she needed to reach 100% to boot up. Since my return to this timeline, her charging had resumed, though I hadn't bothered to figure out why it had stalled before. In the end, I'd managed to build a zero-point device and a time-space displacement device without her in the past; it had just taken longer.
Then, it hit me like a poorly thrown boomerang—an idea! "Eureka!" I muttered, recalling a forgotten exchange from the Terror Infinity, tech I had stashed away like last year's Halloween candy. I quickly grabbed a device that was about the size of a Rubik's cube from my Subspace unit, spotting "Ava Technology" on its tiny panel. "Well, what am I waiting for?"
With a tap, I accessed the control panel, processing the interface in silence, and selected "Save." The pale blue screen flickered and morphed into a honeycomb grid of squares. In the first square, there was a transparent pane floating—a force-field tech piece—suspending a single sheet of paper in mid-air, defying gravity like it was trying out for a superhero role. In the next square, I spotted a curious device: a miniature television that looked like it had been plucked from the '70s, with a retro two-tone scheme of sunshine yellow and twilight purple. I couldn't resist, so I tapped the screen, setting it into a slow rotation like it was auditioning for a role in a very niche sci-fi film.
I snagged the levitating "television" out of the air and plopped it down on the table. The device settled with a whirring hiss, its miniature thrusters retracting with a sigh that sounded suspiciously like a contented cat. The front screen flickered to life, revealing a smiley face made of chunky light bars—an expression that looked like it had just found out it was getting free Wi-Fi.
"Well, well, well, aren't you a curious contraption?" I muttered, tapping the screen with the same curiosity as a toddler poking at a confused bug. "Do you even have a name, little buddy?"
The "television" chirped back with a series of nonsensical bleeps and bloops, sounding like a malfunctioning R2-D2. I frowned, my brow furrowing deeper than a pretzel. Definitely not the user-friendly interface I was hoping for.
Suddenly, with a pneumatic hiss that could wake the entire neighborhood, the flat surface of the "television" hinged open like it was about to swallow me whole. A tangle of cables erupted from its depths, writhing like a nest of angry spaghetti—delicious, but definitely not something I wanted to deal with. In the blink of an eye, the cables solidified into a compact helmet, hovering expectantly right in front of my face like it was waiting for me to crown it king.
"Nanotech. Now that's impressive," I muttered, grudging respect creeping into my voice. This little trinket from the Terror Infinity was packing more surprises than a birthday piñata filled with fireworks. I strapped the helmet on, and a wave of electronic static washed over me, frying my senses like bacon in a nuclear oven.
"AVA pod reporting for duty," a synthesized voice echoed inside my head, crisp and clear despite the static storm that felt like a rave in my skull. AVA? Not exactly the most inspiring name.
"AVA pod?" I echoed, my brow furrowing deeper than a pretzel. "Sounds more like a cheap brand of protein shake."
The pod chirped again, a high-pitched trill that suspiciously resembled laughter. I felt a flicker of amusement. This little gremlin of a device had some personality!
"Alright, alright, settle down, comedian," I chuckled, my bewilderment melting like ice cream on a hot day. I watched the "television" bobbing and spinning playfully, the helmet sitting proudly in the center like a jester's hat. "So, can you hold your own in a scrap?"
"Affirmative, ma'am," the voice boomed inside my head. "I am a top-of-the-line AI, capable of battlefield strategy, electronic warfare, remote hacking, and even overloading enemy systems. My cables can restrain targets and carry up to a metric ton—equivalent to, like, two elephants, for your reference. Plus, with enough juice and spare parts, they can morph into a whole arsenal of weapons. And that's not all! I can even connect to a pocket dimension for storage—animate and inanimate—cloak your presence, and even take on a human form, although that last one requires a bit more power than I have right now."
The pod spun like a hyperactive top, the helmet stubbornly staying in place.
"Okay, okay, I get it, you're a Swiss Army knife with a side of magic tricks," I said with a sigh, a hint of a smile tugging at my lips. "But I already have an AI... hmmm, who can do all that... hmmm, two heads are better than one, I guess. I like that humanoid part. From now on, you're Ava—just Ava. But seriously, this whole television thing... it reminds me of an old Gatling pod in Nier: Automata. Interesting..."
I watched Ava spin for a moment longer, a strange warmth flickering in my eyes. This wasn't exactly what I was expecting, but a quirky sentient AI companion might be just what I needed.
"Acknowledged, ma'am," Ava chirped dutifully.
I peeled off the helmet, a genuine smile creeping onto my lips. "More than a glorified paperweight, huh?" I muttered, cradling the compact Ava pod in my hand. Swapping those hard-earned reward points for Ava turned out to be a fantastic decision. The pod chirped back, the high-pitched sound somehow endearing. With a satisfied smirk, I tucked it under my arm like a running back cradling a football. "Now, it's time for food," I announced. "Let's celebrate a new dawn."
I rose, quickly scanning my newly acquired walk-in closet, which revealed a bounty of clothes that screamed "You could be a fashion influencer if you weren't so busy saving the world." "Yeah, I bought clothes—deal with it! I am a woman," I mumbled to myself. In seconds, I was clad in rugged jeans and a leather jacket that made me feel like I could take on a motorcycle gang. Reaching the vanity, I henged myself to look like Selene in Underworld a no-nonsense look that screamed: "I mean business." I smirked as I caught my reflection in the mirror. The face staring back had a smile and looked cute, but those eyes...well they looked pretty intimidating.
I snagged my bag from the hallway hook, metaphorically heavy thanks to the wallet inside, which was packed with the millions I'd made selling those lost artworks from the forties. The new parquet floor creaked softly as I strode toward the foyer. Slipping on my new boots—sturdy treads perfect for navigating the city's concrete jungle—I reached the entrance, grasped the heavy oak door, and with a groan of its rusty hinges, pushed it open like I was making a grand entrance into my very own action movie.
...
"Decisions, decisions," I muttered, a mischievous glint dancing in my eyes. Pizza, burgers, or BBQ... "I'm a foodie, okay? Sue me!" An excited energy buzzed inside me, like a caffeine jolt to the system. "Scratch that," I declared, my tone final. "That new burger joint on Bleecker is calling my name—tonight's the test run!"
The streets were a jungle of people, all heading home, the air thick with the scent of car exhaust and exhaustion. I weaved through the crowd with the grace of a predator on the hunt, my focus laser-sharp. Soon, I was in the thick of Bleecker, the scent of sizzling meat in the air. "OMG," I muttered, barely keeping my saliva in check. "Time to indulge!"
I shoved open the door, and the heat hit me like a wall. Inside, the place screamed 'retro diner' with its chrome-and-red-vinyl decor. The noise was an overwhelming orchestra of clinking dishes and loud chatter, but none of it phased me. My eyes immediately zeroed in on a quiet booth in the back, my perfect fortress of solitude.
"Menu, please," I said, my mind already mapping out my caloric assault.
The waitress, a doe-eyed teen who looked like she just learned how to serve coffee, handed me the menu. Her nametag read "Britney" in swirly, dubious handwriting. With the enthusiasm of someone on autopilot, she rattled off the day's burger options. I nodded, unfazed, and gave my order: a monstrosity of a burger, so tall it might need its own zip code. We're talking a juicy patty, lettuce, tomato, and a mountain of onion rings—because, obviously, I was building the Empire State Building of burgers. A side of wings, dripping with some sort of mysterious sauce that could probably fuel a jet engine, rounded off my protein intake. For a drink? A glass of cola so cold it might as well have been harvested from a glacier. And the pièce de résistance: a slice of chocolate cake so decadent, it probably had its own gravitational pull.
Came back from the past with a hunger like that? Nah, it was more about living in the present. Where else could you devour like this? In my opinion, nowhere.
Britney, her smile thin as a paper napkin, gestured toward the counter with all the enthusiasm of a sloth on a lazy day. I shrugged and executed the "pay at the counter" routine like a pro, my internal systems calculating and adjusting as necessary.
An hour later, I emerged from the diner, satisfied. Glancing back, I caught sight of Britney glaring at me through the window, probably cursing my name in some language she made up on the spot. I grinned to myself. Let her stew. Tonight, I'd won the battle of the burgers, and nothing could ruin my greasy victory lap.
...
The streets were empty by now. "Guess everyone's gone home for dinner," I thought, except for a few scattered people. There were some hunched figures in doorways, watching me like broken security cameras. I didn't care, a smirk on my face.
Suddenly, a shout cut through the silence. I spun around, my boots clicking sharply on the cracked pavement. My enhanced vision zeroed in on a group of thugs spilling out of a graffiti-covered alcove. One of them, a big guy with a bunch of questionable tattoos, staggered towards me like he had no balance at all.
"Hey, you!" he growled, slurring his words. About 72% certainty of being drunk. "You dropped something."
I raised an eyebrow, amused, for two reasons. Ava, who was now connected to my internal HUD/computer lenses, had been leaving these funny percentages, and, well, this big guy approaching me—this was classic rookie stuff, straight out of my basic self-defense training. I scanned my surroundings, taking in their numbers, catching the nervous cough coming from one of the thugs leaning against a flickering streetlight.
"You've got it wrong, buddy," I said, my voice low and threatening, with a 27% chance of scaring the guy into wetting himself.
The tattooed guy didn't care, waddling closer. "Yeah, you. Dropped something," he repeated, getting closer. The loose cobblestones crunched under his boots, each step likely giving him a 78% chance of twisting an ankle.
When he was only about four meters away, his hand disappeared into the inside of his beat-up leather jacket. A flash of metal caught my eyes, the knife's serrated edge giving me about a 92% chance of catching tetanus if it hit me if I was a normal human.
"Miss," the tattooed guy spat, a cruel grin spreading across his face and showing off a chipped tooth. "Hand over your valuables and that fancy gadget, and maybe we'll let you walk away without any trouble."
His buddies, a group of wannabe whatever, burst out laughing and throwing crude comments my way. My smirk faded, replaced by cold anger that burned in my eyes like a laser cranked to full power. "Was that my Heat Vision? If so, I better turn it off! I don't want to accidentally fry these guys, that will surely get S.H.I.E.L.D's attention."
A sigh of frustration escaped my mouth. "Humans," I muttered, "always so predictable. Guess getting home without killing anyone today was out of the question."
"Ava, initiate 'Urban Incognito.' I need a visual and audio blackout for the area." Ava-pod beeped in response, confirming it was done.
"Alright," I muttered, designed to have about a 32% chance of making them soil themselves. "How would a young, harmless woman, trying to stay under the radar from S.H.I.E.L.D., handle this? Self-defense, of course, but within the acceptable limits."
"Miss, what's all the mumbling about? Just hand over your stuff," the tattooed guy snarled, impatience dripping from him. His hand stayed hidden in his jacket, clearly to do something stupid.
I ignored him, my eyes still locked on the Ava pod in my hand. "Ava, is 'Urban Incognito' up and running?" I asked.
A high-pitched chirp slipped from the pod. Instantly, I took that as a yes, ripped open my jacket, and the Glock 19—a recent "tactical acquisition" from a careless perp—slid into my hand like magic. I leveled its cold, unforgiving barrel right at the thug's chest as he brandished his knife at me.
My enhanced vision clicked into gear, calculating ballistics, predicting every twitch. With a practiced squeeze of the trigger, I sent a single round straight into his thigh. He dropped to the ground, clutching his leg and groaning.
The others froze, caught completely off guard, their bravado fading fast. They hadn't expected a woman with a trigger finger in their lineup. I broke the silence with a steady, sarcastic drawl, "Gentlemen." The word dripped with irony. "How about we keep it civilized? Maybe a… private discussion?" I gestured toward the darkened alley across the street.
A few bystanders who had stopped to watch now shrank back as my icy gaze swept over them. "Move along," I snapped, the warning clear. "Unless you want to join the party?" Then, turning back to the unlucky crew, I added, "Drag your friend along."
The thugs, their confidence shot, scrambled to obey. The biggest one hefted his wounded friend over his shoulder, and they stumbled toward the alley, fear and respect etched on their faces.
One of them suddenly broke and bolted, desperation in his plea: "Please, we just wanted cash! We won't do it again, I swear!" His words registered as about 92% false.
"Oh, I don't need to wonder about that 8 percent," I muttered. My hand twitched on the Glock, silence stretching out for a moment before I fired another precise shot. He collapsed, clutching his leg and howling.
I turned back to the remaining three, my voice calm, even colder. "Let's not test our luck, gentlemen. This little beauty"—I tilted the Glock in my grip, feeling a grim satisfaction—"still has plenty of persuasion left. The next guy who tries to run? Gets a permanent vacation."
The fear in their eyes crystallized as they dragged their two injured buddies deeper into the alley, not daring a glance back.
I took in the scene, detached and mildly amused. Two of them writhing on the ground, three more huddled and trembling—it was a sad, pathetic sight. A small, chilling smile broke through my otherwise stoic mask. "Scared?" I taunted, my voice thick with malice. "Good. But trust me, fear is a luxury you won't have for much longer."
The thugs nearly wet themselves, realizing this was no simple robbery gone wrong. They dropped to their knees, pleading, "Please, let us go. We won't ever do this again," though they were probably lying about 89% of the time.
"Stop blubbering like babies," I replied, irritation creeping into my voice. "When the sheep turns out to be a lion, you lot turn into cowards," I muttered under my breath. "This isn't story time. If you have any last words, now's the time. I'm counting to three. One…"
A rapid burst of gunfire tore through the night, cutting off their cries with shrill screams that echoed around us. They collapsed to the ground, some moaning, others too paralyzed by fear to even respond. I scanned the scene, a flicker of disgust surfacing before quickly fading. "Ugh, dealing with idiots like you drains my brain," I muttered, watching them with detached irritation.
Giving criminals a second chance? Not my style. I wasn't a saint before, and I'm certainly not one now; 'second chances' weren't exactly on my agenda. But I wasn't a stone-cold killer either. Left to their own devices, wouldn't they just make another innocent woman their next victim? I didn't want to draw too much attention, though. After some pondering, I decided they're sufficiently beat up and giftwrapped, so I might as well pull a Batman!
With a sigh that could've snuffed out candles, I turned away from the grimy alley, ignoring the pitiful whimpers behind me. Pulling out my untraceable phone, I dialed emergency services. "Hello, police? There's been a robbery at a burger joint in Brooklyn. Yes, I'm still here," I said, adding just the right amount of tremor to my voice. "They… they tried to jump me. I… I had to defend myself."
A silence stretched on the other end before dispatch responded, "Copy that. Are you still at the location?"
"Yeah," I replied, casting one last look at the alley. Hanging up, I turned to Ava. "Did you adjust the footage? Make sure it looks like they attacked first." I had no intention of dealing with the police in person or giving a victim statement; the video would be enough evidence of what these losers were up to.
A series of rapid chirps came from the pod, confirming Ava had it covered.
"Good," I muttered, dusting off my hands. "Let's grab a coffee. Black, large. Maybe a pastry if they've got anything fresh. Apparently, dealing with idiots in alleys has given me a caffeine addiction." With one last look over my shoulder at the alley, I strode toward a nearby 24-hour convenience store. Stealth mode was hard to pull off with clowns like this putting me on their hit list.
The whine of sirens sliced through the thick, greasy night air. Emergency lights flooded the street, casting frantic flashes of red and blue across the pavement. I sighed, irritation seeping in. "Efficient, huh? Almost like they were just waiting for those thugs to bolt."
Once I saw the police had those idiots handled, I muttered, "Alright, let's head home and reset. Today's been a little too exciting, with all this extra hassle." Tucking the pod under my arm, I slipped back into the shadows.
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
Revenge_Knightess
Revenge_Knightess This chapter, and most of the future ones, was written a while back, so the style is different, but I thought it was funny, so I kept it like it was. Hope you liked it.
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