Capítulo 9: Chapter 9 : An unexpected offer, a saving grace.
Ok, so I messed up. This chapter was supposed to come out chronologically before the last one, but I messed up on the timeline and here we are.
Will switch them in order later.
For now, read up. This chappy was insanely long too, 3000+ words. Y'all better appreciate this dudes.
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May 11th, 2012
Kamar-Taj,
Kathmandu, Nepal
I sat on the same cushion in the antechamber of the Kamar-Taj, sipping on some complimentary tea as JARVIS played the news highlights on the comms bracelet screen on my wrist. The bracelet did have holographic capabilities but they drained the battery fast and I didn't have the charger. Stupid mistake, I know, but in my defense, I was on a time crunch. I had already had JARVIS place an order for delivery that would be 'mysteriously' lost in transit.
"…rebuild our homes, rebuild our lives. This effort in collaboration with Stark Industries, is a monument in honour of those lives that were lost and to protect the futures of all those lives yet to be lived." Tony Stark's voice rang out from the speakers announcing the inauguration of The Department Of Damage Control.
That meant it was time to recruit my first minion-ahem, I mean teammate.
Of course, that's for later this afternoon. But first-
The door slid open smoothly and the Ancient One strode in, looking at the broadcast with no more than a raised eyebrow.
"Just something I'll need to handle later today." I brushed it off, "So, how did I do?"
"Well enough. Your grasp of magic theory is passable. Your spellcasting, on the other hand...." She made a so-so gesture.
"I think I did pretty well for someone with only a week to learn." I defended.
I had worked hard, you know?
"Two weeks." She corrected, "You don't sleep."
"Touche." I conceded, "Still, pretty good showing, even for two weeks. I can make whips, shields, a bit of a problem on the weapons front but-"
"Make one." The Ancient One interrupted.
"What?"
"Make a shield. Show me." She said, "Go on."
I frowned but complied.
I made a gesture, drawing a circle across the back of my wrist and chanted the spell, and instantly a triple layered tao mandala appeared around my forearm, spinning impressively.
"Tada!" I presented with pride, only for the Ancient One to lean forward and poke it.
CACKLE-FIZZ!
The shield popped like a soap bubble on ice, scattering sparks everywhere and the Ancient One gave me a look of amusement.
"Okay, so maybe it needs a little improvement." I admitted awkwardly.
"A little." She smiled and pinched her fingers as she sat down beside me, before continuing.
"And your weapon casting?"
"Yeah, um, I can't get the sharpness just right." I clapped my hands and chanted the spell, drawing a naval cutlass from the palm of my hand, hot and glowering with an orange glow. It fizzle and sputtered a bit but remained overall steady enough to appear menacing, as if it were made of lava.
"Just the sharpness?" The Ancient One asked.
"It'll get more solid with practice. I can feel it." I said, chopping it against the table to show that it would endure; and it did, but it left not a single mark on it, bouncing off as harmlessly as a pool noodle.
The Ancient One looked over my cutlass, and made a 'hmm' sound in realization.
"I see the problem." She said, finally, "Why do you think these two spells are the first ones we teach new initiates? Why not telekinesis, or conjuration or any number of other spells. After all, all initiates have undergone the baptism of multiversal energies, they can, in theory, cast any spell."
"Probably to build a solid base? These are two easy spells and widely effective for self defense. Add on the sling ring and it makes the holy trinity of offense, defense and mobility." I guessed.
"That is true to a certain extent. They are easy to learn, and good for self defense, no doubt. But there is something else you seem to have missed." She said, "Do you know what magic is?"
"The art of harnessing cosmic energy to shape reality?" I repeated the textbook definition, but she seemed disappointed by that.
She shook her head.
"That is why introspection is the key to progress in the field of sorcery."
Oi, oi, oi, why does that sound like you're dissing me?
"Magic is not science. It is not the art of crafting, but rather, the art of visualization, of intent. When you cast an eldritch weapon, you are not making the weapon, you are visualizing it. Materializing it from the ether, summoning it into existence. When you make your shield, it looks perfect, the ideal image of a shield. But it's just that, an image. An image cannot protect you, so don't make an image. When you visualize a shield, your intent matters. You try to make it look like a shield. You copy the appearance but not the substance, not the function, because that is your intent. You intend to create an exact replica of what you see when I, or anyone else casts it. And it is just that, a pattern of pretty sparks forming a picture of a mystic shield. That is why your spell keeps failing. Do you know what I picture when I cast a shield?"
"I guess you're about to tell me?" I said, expectantly as I went over the explanation. It made a lot of sense now, why my shield kept failing.
"I imagine a chasm, deep and wide, that swallows the might of whatever is thrown at me, swallows it whole, like the gaping maw of the abyss." She explained, "But when I began learning, I would picture a pan, cast iron, blackened with the soot of three generations of my family. It was the closest thing I had seen to a shield in my life. So I pictured that- what it felt like to hold it, its weight, its heft, how it moved through the air, what I intended to use it for." She continued, summoning two different shields, one in each hand and as I looked over them, I could feel the difference. One felt like it would sink me deep, like a quicksand made of darkness, my magic sense disappearing into it like a match in the wind. The other was simpler at a glance, tough, resilient, short.
The difference was…it was enlightening.
"Magic is the source code of the universe. Don't try to remake the coding language, learn the commands. Only once you understand the commands, through and through can you attempt to rewrite the language itself." She said, her wisdom profound yet simple, "That is why we teach these two spells to start. Because they help you deepen your understanding of how magic works, and through it of your own self."
"My own self?" I tilted my head in confusion.
"Introspection," She re-emphasised, "leads to a greater understanding of the self and that understanding is the guide to one of the three sources of magic. Do you know which one that is?"
"Egocentric magic. It draws on the caster's own energy, like chi," I answered, mumbling beneath my breath, "that I can't use."
She smiled consolingly.
Alongside Ecocentric magic which utilizes the energy of the universe and Exocentric magic which channels multiversal energies from other planes of existence, it made up the three types of magic, distinguished on the basis of their sources.
"Yes, and the weapon casting spell, serves exactly that purpose." She raised her arm to the side, level to her shoulder and materialized a gladius, short and straight, double edged.
"Every sorcerer casts a different weapon, unique to themselves, before they learn to change its shape. This was my first weapon cast, though these days I prefer folding fans over blades." She said, dismissing the weapon, "Each weapon, when first cast, sheds light on the kind of person they are. My gladius shows that I am a straightforward woman, willing to give as much as I take, but sharp and ready for war. Mordo's on the other hand is a single edged machete with a rounded tip. He is single minded, devoted and focused, sometimes to a fault, unwilling to seek any alternatives than his own. Yours…" She pointed at the flickering cutlass in my hand, "tells of indecision, its blunt edge, your unwillingness to use it to harm another, the full hilt, your caution, and the blade, balanced between cutting and thrusting yet excelling at neither, your penchant for compromise over violence. And yet it is a sword, and it must, in time, be used as such. That shows you are willing to do what it takes, though you may not like the consequences or the methods that will lead to said conclusion."
She was right. I will not delude myself into thinking that this journey was to be bloodless. I will inevitably need to kill, directly or with a borrowed knife. If only because I cannot stand by and watch injustice come to pass. Or because there is evil here deserving of judgement, evil that cannot be reformed or rehabilitated or talked down.
"To understand the world, one must first understand oneself, otherwise you will not be the one controlling your magic, but the other way around." She warned.
I nodded, filing away the warning.
"As long as you understand and improve upon this, you will progress in leaps and bounds." She capped off her lecture with that, "Now, you wanted to talk about something?"
"Yes, its about my powers, the ones that are still under the weather, so to speak." I said, leaning forward pitifully, "I was hoping you'd use the sceptre to accelerate their recovery."
"I had expected as much." She reached to the side and conjured the sceptre from nothing.
"Here." She offered it to me, but I declined.
"I don't think I can handle the power of the sceptre right now. Using it myself might risk further injury."
"You want me to use it on you?" She guessed my intent, "I am gladdened by your trust."
"Desperation." I corrected half-playfully, "I feel naked without them."
"Very well, when do you want to start?"
"Now, please and thank you."
Later that day, after my session with the Ancient One, feeling refreshed, I was ready to go headhunting, and I had been handed a juicy prime rib by Tony Stark on a silver platter.
I grinned as I drew upon the leyline and pulled open a shining door in space, a Way, straight to good old NYC.
--x--
Bestman Salvage,
Queens, NYC
"The joint venture between Stark Industries and the federal government, the Department Of Damage Control…"
Adrian Toomes watched the news broadcast, staring blankly at the image of Tony Stark as dozens of thoughts rushed through his mind, an ocean of worries about bills and bankruptcy nearly drowning him even as the humiliation of the earlier morning burned through him like a bed of hot coals. This torrent of emotions sunk him further into hopelessness as his last hopes seemed to be dashed. Anger rose like bile in his stomach.
How dare they treat him-them like that?
Who do they think they are?
How was he supposed to fight Tony Stark for business?
How-Why, why was this happening to him?
His world had come crashing down on him in the span of a day and he was helpless to fight against it all!
Just the mortgage on the equipment was in the hundreds of thousands, and the bribes and contracts- it came to nearly two million dollars to cut even. Where could he find that sort of money on such short notice-
"So now the assholes who made this mess are getting paid to clean it up?" Herman ranted behind him.
"Yeah, its all rigged." Mason added, tinkering absentmindedly with whatever alien doodad he had on him, their voices washing over him like the wind.
"Hey chief!" Just then a voice raised him from his reverie of depression, calling his attention elsewhere, "We still have a load from yesterday. We're supposed to turn this in, right?"
"I ain't hauling it." Randy skipped on the job immediately, grumbling something about 'government douchebags'.
"Its too bad. We could've made some pretty cool stuff from all that alien junk." Mason sighed.
That's when an idea struck him.
Yes, this could solve all his problems.
He turned to his men as the light returned to his eyes.
"I tell you what, lets keep it." He said, attracting all of their attention as they turned to look at him, curious, "World's changing, it's time we changed too."
Just as he finished saying it, suddenly, a slow clap rang out in the warehouse.
Clap…clap…clap…
"Well said, Mr. Toomes." A man emerged from seemingly out of nowhere- the door was close- clapping at his words. He was dark of skin, wheatish- Indian perhaps, and he was dressed in monk robes? Like that Dalai fella, what's-his-name.
"I'm of a similar mind." The man added.
Adrian narrowed his eyes as everyone grabbed the nearest implement or tool they could reach, wariness filling their eyes. The man looked to be bad news.
"Who are you? What do you want?" Adrian asked, taking a step back to regroup with his men.
"Relax, Mr. Toomes. I mean you no harm. None of you." I swept a gaze over them all, "Who I am does not matter. What I can do for you, on the other hand?"
"What are you talking about?" He grew frustrated, grabbing a tire iron himself.
"A job offer, Mr. Toomes." He smiled at ease, which would be disarming, if it weren't for the fact he had appeared out of nowhere, without a trace. One of those mutant freaks?
"Am I right to believe that you are currently in a bit of a… financial pickle, shall we say?" The man asked, but the tone implied he knew more than what he let on.
"That's none of your business."
"Oh, but it will be, soon enough, especially if you plan on selling illegal alien technology to mobsters of the street. A high crime, I'd say. Enough for the government to throw the book at you with all its might behind it." He sat down on a chair by the table, leisurely as if at tea, "Or is that not what you were planning?"
Adrian's expression soured. He was right. It wasn't a great plan, but what other option did he have?
"How much are you in for?" The man asked.
Adrian sighed.
Might as well hear out the offer. Beggars can't choosers after all.
"Two mil, a little more." He admitted reluctantly.
"Alright, done." The man said with a tone of finality, "Check your phone."
Just as he spoke, Adrian felt his phone buzz.
He picked it up cautiously and saw a message from his bank.
"Three and a half million?!" He couldn't help but exclaim in shock.
"A little extra. Consider it your signing bonus."
That was the straw that broke the camel's back. Adrain surrendered.
The man had saved him, all of them, and their families too, in more ways than one.
At this point, if he'd asked him to jump into a fire, he wouldn't ask why, but rather 'How far?'
He just hoped it wouldn't endanger his family, whatever it was that this mystery monk wanted.
"What do we have to do?" He gulped as he asked.
There was no such thing as a free lunch in this world after all.
The monk smiled wide, and sunk back into his chair, his fingers interlocked in a scheming clasp.
"How would you like to make the world a better place, and get filthy rich doing it?"
"I'd ask you to slap me because I'm afraid that's too good to be true." Adrian laughed awkwardly.
"We'll find out then, won't we now." The man chuckled softly alongside him, and turned to Mason.
"You, cheese-whiz wizard."
"Phineas." Mason pointed at himself, "Phineas Mason."
"Mason then. You're the techie in this little group, yeah?"
Mason nodded.
"That your desktop?" He pointed at the PC setup by the corner wall.
Again, Mason nodded and the monk tapped on his smartwatch, when suddenly the PC lit up.
"I've sent you some schematics. Check them out, see if you can follow. And then…start by building an arc reactor. Smaller the better."
"A-arc reactor? Like the one Stark made?" Mason stuttered out in shock.
"Yup. You'll need the energy for future projects." He explained, "Oh and uh, keep tinkering with the Chitauri tech. See what you can pull off. Get real creative, there's more where that came from."
Adrian frowned at the implications of that.
"Did you-"
"I stole one of their motherships, yes. Kicked them off, stopped the invasion last week. All in a day's work. I have almost a quarter of their arsenal still in stock, though it'll take time getting it to you. It's halfway across the Andromeda galaxy right now and it won't be getting here anytime soon." The monk dealt out bombshell after bombshell.
"You're welcome, by the way. No need to thank me. It's what I do." He preened smugly, "Though, not a word of this or the operation to anyone. No communications, no calls, no chats. Encode everything. The walls have ears and they're real chatty bitches. If the Avengers sniff so much as a whiff of this…let's just say, you don't wanna know how far they can go to get what they want."
"Oh, I know what they're like." Adrian scoffed. Those damned Avengers had ruined his business. There was no way he was going to let them have the last laugh.
"Well then." The man stood up, "Keep up the good work. I'll check in from time to time. We're on a time crunch here and I have so much more to share. But… all in due time. In the meanwhile, expand your operations, get more warehouse space and maybe an office too. I'll send over more funds for that later." He extended a handshake and Adrian took it gladly.
"Thank you, for all this." He said, "I don't know how we can repay you but we'll try our darndest."
"That's all I ask." The monk smiled warmly, "You're part of something bigger now. Get ready for the adventure of your lifetime, because all of you are going down in the history books, right alongside Einstein and Feynmann."
With that, he turned around, disappeared in a flash of blinding light.
Adrian decided it was best not to question that, and his crew seemed to agree with that sentiment.
"Alright boys, tonight we celebrate." Adrian let out a cheer that was carried across the whole warehouse.
And tomorrow, the work begins anew.
The monk was sketchy at best, but it couldn't be any worse than illegal gunrunning, now could it?
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You know the deal.
I'm counting this as two chapters cuz its too damn long.
Add the fic to your library, don't cost ya a cent.
Tell me what you thought of this chappy in the comments, thats what they're there for. Well that and shit talking me, the author to my face. Whichever suits ya.
Donate them powerstones, we're mad late to the party already.
Sorry the Thanos interlude got delayed. Its also supposed to take place before the last chapter and at the same time as this one. It was actually gonna be part of this chapter itself but then this one got looooong. So its next chapter now.
Thanks for reading fellas.
Good night and cheerio~
Estado de energía semanal
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