JohnnyZ
patreon
[Life is Good] Chapter 47
🕑 Added 2025-02-16 05:40:37 +0000 UTCSome dreams just fuck me up.
The Sketched Man? He still makes some sense—like, maybe some cosmic entity noticed me because I remember my past life. But this shit? The nonsense I dreamed last night? What the hell does Strucker have to do with anything? Why the fuck did my subconscious drag him up and shove him into a Star Wars setting? Having that kind of family, even in a dream, is nightmare fuel.
My ass is still clenched so tight from fear it probably looks like a dried-up prune.
Outside, it was still dark. Penny and Ginger were passed out, but I couldn't sleep. I was exhausted—physically and emotionally—but I was wide awake. The clock said five a.m., and my brain kept chewing on that stupid dream. Strucker… A stylish dude, sure, and if the canon applies to him, then he's alive and well. Or, more likely, she is. Ten-to-one odds.
Ugh… I wonder if Wanda pulled off the plan.
Carefully, I slid out from under the covers, grabbed my phone, and slipped out of the room, using a soft glow of light to guide me. No, I wasn't about to call Deadpool—I wasn’t about to be that asshole who blows a hero’s cover with a phone call. I just wanted to chill on the internet, sip some tea, and veg out on the couch in the living room. Maybe do some light stretching after, since sleep clearly wasn’t happening. Hell, I might even rot my brain with some mindless short videos on the local TikTok equivalent.
But my plans for couch potato-ing went straight to hell. Mom Judy was already there, curled up on the couch, fast asleep. Next to her were both the house phone and her cell. I sighed heavily. God, Mom… I’ve put you through so much stress. I backtracked to her bedroom, grabbed a blanket, and carefully draped it over her, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek. For half a minute, I just stood there, watching as she shifted in her sleep, nestling under the warmth. The apartment wasn’t cold per se, but it was still winter, after all.
"I’m so sorry," I whispered, the words slipping out on their own. And just like that, my thoughts snapped back to Wanda’s little nighttime operation. Please, Emperor, let everything go smoothly. I grabbed the house phone and went to the kitchen.
At least I got through the tea, the light workout, and the internet doom-scrolling. The news was mostly positive. Salamander was trending everywhere, topping the charts across every news outlet. It was glorious. The Washington Post even drew parallels between me and America’s most patriotic hero—Captain America. Apparently, I wasn’t just playing hero; I was serving the country, working with official institutions. The article even justified my masked identity:
"The authorities are well aware of who hides beneath the Salamander’s helmet"—which, yeah, true. SHIELD could confirm that one. "But keeping his identity from the masses… If the world knew who their hero was, I am more than certain that his crime-fighting days would come to an abrupt end, buried under a horde of rabid fangirls."
…And fuck, wasn’t that right. I’d already seen a few fan sites, and holy shit. My masked portraits were everywhere, and the content was wild. Fanfiction, spicy art—full-on pornographic stories featuring me. Some even claimed to be "true accounts" of encounters with the great Salamander himself.
The superhero forums were even worse. I knew part of the hype was artificially inflated, and yeah, my gender definitely played a role in the craze. But damn.
One lady, going by "Silver Mane", straight-up offered me a million dollars to marry her granddaughter. And if I wasn’t up for marriage? A hundred grand for just one date. I almost answered out of pure greed. I could feel the little Loot Goblin inside me waking up, only for my Imperial Guard instincts to put a bullet between his beady little eyes, muttering, "Death to xenos."
I actually snorted at the mental image.
Meanwhile, Iron Lady was killing it in popularity. Unlike me, though, her fame was organic. No artificial hype—just pure badassery. Slick suit. Big guns. Girls loved that. Next to her, I was like some Justin Bieber wannabe standing beside real life Freddy Mercury. One was a heartthrob for teenage girls; the other was a global rock legend.
Spider-Girl got some coverage—mostly positive, but minor. Petra focused on small-time crime. Muggers, petty thieves, street fights—good old-fashioned neighborhood crime-stopping.
Hell’s Kitchen and Daredevil were getting a ton of press, too. I definitely needed to meet her. Through her, I could get an in with Qi-users. My biggest weakness was still my physical abilities. At my core, I was slow, relatively armored, with high damage output in close-range combat. But acceleration and Qi-enhanced movement? That would make me a whole different kind of beast. Time. That was the real issue. No question about it—I needed to wrap up school ASAP. It was just getting in my way at this point.
The Punisher got… less pleasant coverage. Pure anti-heroine material. A ruthless killer of criminals. A true terror to the underworld. In my past life, I’d respected the Punisher’s approach to human garbage. But this woman? The reports scared me. She wasn’t just brutal—she was cold. It wasn’t rage. It wasn’t an emotional break. She was just like that.
In a hero-versus-crime scenario, baddies usually ended up neutralized, with occasional unfortunate fatalities. But the Punisher? If you survived a run-in with her, you may as well consider it a rebirth. She was relentless, merciless, efficient. And yet—even she had diehard fans. People she’d saved, radicals who shared her views, and even some cops who genuinely believed the system needed someone like her.
It was hilarious how villains had fan clubs, too.
Take Mysterio, for example—the very same villain I’d totally forgotten about in my panic over Mom Betty. She was apparently the most popular villain out there.
And the biggest shock? The woman was deep into charity work.
Like, seriously deep.
Through various schemes, she donated massive amounts to charity. She was personally funding two orphanages. And law enforcement? Conveniently blind to her "extra activities." To the point where she could walk into a children’s cancer center and spend an entire day entertaining kids with "real magic tricks." And somehow, police sirens only ever blared into action ten to fifteen minutes after she left.
Interesting.
I mentally noted that if we did end up fighting, I’d go easy on her. Gentle punishment only. Spanking-level discipline. Maybe just a light tap on the ass. And then, of course, she’d activate her "Mysterious Anti-Salamander Cloaking Device" and make a daring escape.
I was just about to read up on "The Most Unlucky Supervillain", aka Rhino, when my phone vibrated.
The caller ID? Mom Betty.
For a second, my breath hitched, and it took actual effort to press accept.
"Hello..." I managed to squeeze out, my throat suddenly dry.
"Son..." Mom’s voice was tired, but calm—oh, wait, scratch that. "You hear me? NEVER! Never again are you allowed to hire some crazy, costumed mercenaries to paralyze me, kidnap me from my hospital room, drag me into the subway like a sack of potatoes, take me even deeper underground to some freaky-looking people, attach a new arm to me, and then haul me all the way back, tucking me into my bed as if nothing happened, while the police spent the whole damn night trying to find me!!!" There was an angry huff, then a deep sigh. Meanwhile, I had no idea what to say.
"...Toby... thank you again. You're the best son in the world. But just so you know—you’re not escaping the belt for this."
"Please, Mom. I love you so much. Just... don’t scare us like that again, okay?" I was grinning like an idiot, though. A belt? Pfft. At this point, I think only the Hulk could actually make me feel a spanking.
"I’ll try..." She sounded calmer now, having vented everything that was sitting on her chest. "Now, hand the phone to Judy before they realize I’ve been 'kidnapped back.' After that, I doubt we’ll get a normal conversation."
I looked over at Mom Judy, who had just woken up. Seconds later, she was radiating pure happiness, clutching the phone like a lifeline. I wisely chose not to eavesdrop on whatever emotional outpouring was happening there. Instead, I slipped back into the kitchen and shot Wanda a quick message from my Salamander phone: "Thank you. You're the best. Call me when you can."
Early morning at the Daily Bugle newsroom.
"BROOOOOOCK!!!"
The thunderous roar of J. J. Jameson shattered the normal buzz of the newsroom, making every single worker—and the one male employee—flinch. Said employee also got a few sympathetic looks from his colleagues.
See, J. J. Jameson was… beloved. Eccentric, demanding, relentless, but a goddamn legend in journalism. Sure, she was a tyrant who expected miracles from her staff, but she was also a workaholic who looked out for her people. There were countless cases where she'd personally helped employees through tough times. So, yeah, people loved her… from a safe distance.
"Brock! My boy!" she exclaimed dramatically as he cautiously stepped into her office. "I need something from you! And to be specific, I need an exclusive interview with Salamander! Do whatever you have to do, but I want the Daily Bugle to be the first newspaper to publish an exclusive scoop on that guy!"
"But, Boss—"
"Listen up, Brock. You’ve got a once-in-a-lifetime chance here!" She immediately cut him off, leaping from her chair and pacing the office like a storm, hands gesturing wildly in sync with her words. "I woke up this morning and it hit me! New York just got its first major male superhero! And the Daily Bugle just so happens to have a talented young male reporter! What is this if not destiny, Brock?! So! You’re going to take your pretty little ass over to Captain Stacy’s precinct, get a meeting with Salamander, and you’re going to find common ground with him. Which you will—because at the very least, neither of you plan to sit on your asses while the women handle everything.
"Find the right angle, befriend him if you can, and ideally—become his personal journalist. That kid is a gold mine!"
Jameson studied Eddie’s face as he processed everything she’d just thrown at him. A slow, dawning realization flickered in his eyes, and when she saw it click, she grinned like a wolf.
"I see you get it. Now listen, if you pull this off—every single article on Salamander? Yours. And not just that—I'll make sure you get prime columns. You do this, Brock, and you’ll be the youngest, most successful male journalist in the industry. Don't waste this chance. You see the opportunity here, right?"
"...I do, Miss Jameson," Brock said, his enthusiasm building.
"Then WHY THE HELL ARE YOU STILL HERE?! MOVE IT! MOVE IT! MOVE IT!!!"
As she watched him bolt out of her office, J. J. Jameson turned to her secretary.
"Wendy, tell me—what’s the difference between a good boss and a bad boss?" Jameson grinned smugly.
"A bad boss just yells, but a good boss yells and motivates."
The young woman, a fresh college graduate who had already earned J. J.'s favor with her sharp wit and fearlessness, smirked back.
"Exactly, kid. Learn while I’m still alive." Jameson leaned back in her chair, looking very pleased with herself.
Salamander… Oh, what a brilliant start this guy had. She actually squinted with pleasure. And the free publicity he’d given her paper—her, personally. The editor-in-chief smacked her lips in satisfaction. If that wasn’t an invitation for a mutually beneficial partnership, she didn’t know what was.
"A man and a functioning brain? Miracles do exist."
Lieutenant Elizabeth’s Hospital Room.
"Lieutenant…"
"Captain…"
"...I see our doctors were a little premature with that disability paperwork?"
"Uh, yeah, ma’am." Elizabeth felt the weight of Captain Stacy’s unimpressed stare. "...So, um… what happened?"
"You’re asking me?" Julia stared at her lieutenant with open disbelief before sighing deeply and sinking into a chair. "This whole situation is a goddamn circus. Beth, mind if we keep this off the record for a sec?"
After a nod from Elizabeth, the captain rubbed her temples.
"I really hope we don’t have a repeat of last night, but if something like this happens again—please give me a heads-up. We shook down half the damn district over this, and the lowlifes are gonna be hiccupping in fear for a month."
"I didn’t know it was going to happen, ma'am," Elizabeth sighed, looking away. "...I went to sleep without an arm… woke up with an arm…"
She looked down at her left hand again. It was clearly not the original. Paler skin, a thin circular scar where it had been attached, awful nails—or rather, no nails at all. The whole thing was thinner than her natural arm. But it felt the same. Moved the same. It was just… weaker.
"So I assume asking who, what, and how is a waste of time?" Stacy deadpanned.
Elizabeth just gave a noncommittal shrug and a very apologetic smile.
"Figured." The captain let out another long sigh. "...Alright then. Officially, last night’s events were a series of planned police raids. The results were productive, at least. Now, go talk to your wife and get your stories straight before this turns into an even bigger mess."
"Already," the lieutenant nodded. "She won’t make a fuss. Though I’m definitely going to get an earful..."
Captain Stacy chuckled knowingly and gave her a sympathetic nod.
"My daughter gives me grief over taking risks too. Good luck, lieutenant, get well soon. I’m drowning in paperwork while you're out here on vacation."
"Will do, Captain. Thanks for stopping by."
Tobias
After breakfast, Logan and Storm picked up Penny and me. Mom and I had agreed not to tell anyone about Betty’s miraculous recovery—Gigi would find out today when she visited, and I’d tell Penny later.
"Hey, everyone," I said as I flopped into the back seat after helping Penny stash her suitcase in the trunk. She slid in beside me but on the opposite side. "This is Penelope Black, my school friend and fiancee. Penny, this is James Howlett and Ororo Munroe—teachers at the school I’m attending now."
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Howlett, Miss Munroe," Penny beamed at them, flashing her dazzling smile before taking my hand.
"Just Logan," Wolverine grunted, giving Penny a once-over. He studied her for a few moments before shifting his gaze to me. Then, with a respectful nod, he gave me a thumbs up.
Which promptly earned him a jab in the ribs from Storm, who then flashed Penny an amused wink.
"We’re pleased to meet you too, Penny," Ororo added as she started the car. "Toby mentioned you’ve been living in Europe for a while. How was your trip?"
"Thank you, ma’am. It was fine. Long flights can be exhausting, but I caught up on sleep and feel great now."
"That’s good to hear. So, you know our school is for… special students?" Ororo’s pause was slight, but I could tell she was gauging Penny’s reaction.
"Yes, I know," Penny nodded. "Toby told me right away that he’s a mutant. But that doesn’t change anything for me."
"Penny’s got no issues with mutants, Miss Munroe," I added, throwing in my two cents. "In fact, we actually met Mystique and Miss Lehnsherr together for the first time."
Penny shot me a puzzled look, and I realized—shit—she didn’t know who those two were. I’d been careful not to mention any specific names or identities in our chats online.
"Remember when we were getting ice cream?" I prompted. "The older lady? She’s one of our community’s leaders. And the younger one—her assistant and second-in-command."
"Shut up…" Penny’s wide eyes locked onto mine. "Did you know back then?!"
"Nope," I admitted. "We only met as mutants after I got kidnapped the first time. Miss Lehnsherr saved me, along with one of her people—Victoria. So… yeah, that’s how that went."
Logan suddenly cut in with, "So, kid—what’s your mutation?"
"Uhhh… I don’t have one?" Penny blinked in confusion.
"Logan, I told you—Penny’s just a regular girl."
Two synchronized snorts sounded from the front seats.
"Kid, no offense, but with your luck, I don’t believe that for a second," Logan huffed.
"I’m betting she’s a gamma mutant," Storm suddenly giggled.
"Been there," Wolverine waved it off dismissively. "I’m calling a disguised alien." A brief pause. "…Possibly a reptilian."
Silence took over the car. Penny and I exchanged equally baffled looks. Then, after a solid ten seconds of our stunned silence, Ororo’s shoulders began to shake—then came the quiet snickers—until finally, she burst into outright laughter. Logan just smirked like a smug asshole, looking all too pleased with himself.
"Hilarious," I grumbled.
"Forgive us, Toby," Storm said, still catching her breath after laughing. "But your faces were just too funny."
"I forgive only debts," I replied, cartoonishly frowning. "And everything else… I punish! Punish severely!!!"
