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PROLOGUE - THE EVERYMAN SUPERHERO
🕑 Added 2024-12-09 10:25:27 +0000 UTCA YEAR AGO. LOCATION UNKNOWN
The air was cold. His back was stiff. His body was foreign. With great effort, the teenager finally opened his eyes. The whiteness washed over his vision and threatened to overwhelm his sight. He held up a hand to shield his eyes and immediately felt relief. However, his attention was drawn elsewhere.
He felt a burning sensation. It came from his chest. He finally remembered to breathe. The air was as cold in his lungs as it felt on his skin. Also, he noticed his body was shivering. But instinctively, his body prioritized air fast. Drawing his first breath, his nostrils were assaulted by the staleness of the air. It smelled of antiseptic. From a hospital room. Wait! Why was I in the hospital?
The boy searched through the dense fog of his memories. But he came up empty. His mind was a locked box inside a vault, and by the looks of it, he had lost the key. In desperation, he mentally slammed his fists against the metaphysical vault. It shuddered and trembled from his assault. He could almost grasp the answer, the knowledge, but it remained stubbornly out of reach.
His memories were pushed aside when he opened his eyes. They had finally adjusted to the brightness and to the colors. He withdrew his hand. Without hesitation, he turned his head from side to side and discovered that the world was horizontal.
No, it was he who was horizontal; he was laying on the ground. He slowly pulled his body up and pivoted. He saw two strange things hanging freely below him. He peered down and saw that they were attached to him; instinctively, he realized they were his legs. They were a part of him. He felt other limbs in his physical form and held them up. They were his arms and hands. He looked down to memorize the rest of his form. And realized that he was naked, sitting on a smooth, white surface which, in turn, rose a few feet above the equally smooth floor. Instinctively, he knew that he was sitting on an altar.
"Where am I?"
His mind full of curiosity now, he looked around. He saw a white room bare apart from his lone altar. The boy hopped off his altar and his feet landed on the ground. To his minor shock, the floor felt as cold as the altar. He looked up at the ceiling and saw panels of bright white fluorescent light. The ceiling was several feet high. Furthermore, he noticed that the ceiling took the shape of a dome.
His eyes roamed again as he carefully studied his surroundings. The lone altar was made of white marble, likewise the wall. It curved continuously and there was no exit that he could see.
Suddenly, music started playing. It was a cheery tune composed of wind instruments with the accompaniment of a piano. The music was clearly meant to convey the feeling of a brand new day.
"Welcome Emiya Shirou." A voice said. An old man with a disarming smile stood in front of him clad in khakis and a shirt hidden underneath a green sweater. Even though the boy was physically more intimidating than the old man, his presence was surprisingly greater. "You have been chosen to be reincarnated in this new world."
"What…? Who are you? Where am I?"
"I build with many hands. They are themselves, but they are also me. I am all-powerful. My only weapon is love. I am the 'One-Above-All'. But… you can call me Stan. And as for where you are, you are on Earth-199999…"
"Also known as the Marvel Cinematic Universe."
. . . . .
PRESENT DAY. MANHATTAN, NEW YORK
As per Nick Fury's wishes, paraphrased of course, it was time for a sheathed sword to draw itself.
Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how one looked at it, he was currently predisposed at the moment. The Director certainly won't take that as a sufficient reason for him arriving behind schedule, but he was doing something really important.
He was rescuing a cat from a tree.
Shirou Emiya was a man many would call distorted, though, to be fair, he knew not why he attributed that particular trait to himself, or why he presumed such a notion. It wasn't something to be proud of yet he did just that, taking pride in what was undoubtedly an insult. He may not remember his past bar the bare minimum required to function and his brand of mage-craft, skills and experience, but little words, phrases or places tended to resonate with him. They likely had an impact on him in one way or the other in his former world. 'Distorted' was an example of such a word. Same with the phrase, 'hero of justice'. He felt, within him, that no other job would suffice, save the one that led to him saving people.
It wasn't strange then that he had accepted a job with S.H.I.E.L.D. Though the organization was too clandestine for his liking, it offered him a route through which he could rescue as many people as he could without incurring the wrath of the government or being labelled a vigilante and hunted down. Plus, he doubted he could have rescued people for more than a month at least without gaining the interest of the organization.
This way he was, more or less, saving time and resources they would use in locating and securing him.
It wasn't to say he didn't help with the everyday problems when he wasn't out on a mission, like stolen wallet, attempt rape in dark alleys, or a simple cat stuck in the tree.
As the case may be at the moment.
He sighed as the cat—Prissy, he learnt her name was—meowed loudly, breaking him out of his thoughts. He looked down to the little girl at his side whose hands tugged insistently at his shirt. Even though he had already told her that he would in fact help her rescue her pet, she still urged him. As if fearing her cat would decide the world was too unfair for one such as her and take a plunge into the abyss. Though, with the way the cat was alternating between them and the ground, suicide was looking as the next action for the feline.
It seemed Prissy was a jumper.
The area surrounding the tree she was on was bare of any vegetative covering but sloped awkwardly and so, the fall would most likely result in her death. There won't be any right way for her to land even though the height wasn't much. Except, of course, if he interfered. And he would. Not only would it be hard to resist the dreaded puppy-eyes from the owner, his dream was to be a hero. And only villains ignored cats stuck on trees.
Shirou stared at the tree, debating for a second whether simply reinforcing his arm and punching the tree was a better option than climbing it. He could scale it but he didn't have much time until he had passed the realm of being 'fashionably late' for a meeting with the Director. If he was late, an action that was quickly becoming a norm for him, Nick Fury would surely blow a gasket. Moreover, it wouldn't do for him to garner undue attention that could be traced back to S.H.I.E.L.D. That may lead to the Director having an aneurysm. It wouldn't do for him, for the remainder of his life in this world, to be hunted down by an organization as powerful as S.H.I.E.L.D. due to an action he could have avoided.
He kicked off, the action displacing dirt from the ground, directly at the tall plant. His shoes slammed against its bark hauling his body upwards. He grabbed a branch, wounding his arms round it and pulled himself up. He made to dust his hands then thought better of it as he would be repeating the act several times in the next few minutes. He looked at the cat who had in the course of him getting atop the first branch had slunk closer to the edge of the trunk it was upon.
Well, it looked like he needed to hurry then before Prissy unknowingly bust the feline myth.
As he climbed Shirou wondered why he was 'summoned'. And that was another word that never failed to get a reaction from him, a sort of yearning to be precise. For what, he didn't know and probably could never find out. Back to topic. While it wasn't rare, most of his missions were done through Nick Fury's mouthpiece, agent Coulson, and usually in a car or some shady, rundown warehouse. Being asked, or rather ordered as the case may be, to appear in the main S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ was really a point for consideration. And possibly meant the mission, whatever it was, was important. Like really important.
Probably more important than rescuing a cat stuck on a tree.
His hand grasped a branch and he allowed a shocked gasp to escape his lips—for publicity, of course; it wouldn't do to arouse any suspicion from the rapidly growing crowd—as it snapped under his weight. If he had been paying attention he would have been aware of the gradually thinning trunks. This far up only a few branches looked sturdy enough for use.
Luckily for him, in his stumbling he managed to grab a hold of a knot, skinning his palms for his efforts. If it wasn't for his stroke of luck he would have fallen, revealing his status as a meta-human as he would have emerged unharmed. Even now he could feel the torn skin re-knitting itself till it was as good as new.
He ignored that train of thought, instead, continuing his upward journey. He was surprised, this time not feigned, to see the cat staring at him with an intensity that bordered on abnormal. Scratch that, it was abnormal. The cat wasn't what it seemed. Shirou realized that what held Prissy's attention was his hand.
The very same hand that had healed itself in the span of a few seconds. He concentrated his outwardly senses on the domesticated cat and was not shocked by what he found out.
The cat was an Eldritch being. Possibly a great one from the Eldritch Truth. Maybe. Maybe not. He couldn't really tell for sure but he was certain the cat was out-worldly.
He debated within himself whether to climb back down or continue with his rescue but one thought flashed through his mind.
Since when has he had any iota of self-preservation?
The answer was never, and he doubted he would start having one now so he continued onward. Before long he had reached the branch atop which the cat clung.
"Here kitty, kitty," Shirou said in a high-pitched, childlike tone. He had read somewhere that it was a must to reassure the cat before attempting a grab.
Slowly at first he crawled, quieting the sounds he made to not scare Prissy, before dashing in quickly. He grabbed the animal by the scruff of her neck, like a mother cat does, her body going still once suspended.
With one hand occupied, he scrambled down much slower than he had climbed, making sure no twigs touched the precious cargo he held.
He gave Prissy back to her owner and left in a haste, dodging the many on-lookers that circled the area. All through his journey, he couldn't help but feel something staring at his retreating form.
He shivered. That cat was 'cute but deadly' personified.
With one last glance at the little girl—he forgot to get her name—who waved at him until he was out of sight and the weirdly powerful cat-thing, he reinforced his legs and took off for the rooftops.
Nick Fury was not going to be happy.
. . . . .
S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Sword
. . . . .
S.H.I.E.L.D.'S HQ, NEW YORK CITY
Spider-man
Real Name: Unknown
Current Alias: Spider-man
Alias: Friendly Neighborhood Spider-man (self-made)
Alignment: Lawful Good
Relatives: Unknown
Affiliations: Tony Stark
Base of Operations: Unknown
Status
Identity: Unknown
Citizenship: Unknown
Marital Status: Unknown
Occupation: Vigilante, adventurer
Education: Unknown
Characteristics
Gender: Male
Eyes: Unknown
Hair: Unknown
First appearance: June 28, 2017
Bio: First came into prominence when he stole Captain America's shield in the battle at the airport. Most of his stats are unknown and any method of identification through the Stark database has been deemed impossible due to interference by FRIDAY. It is suspected that Spider-man is affiliated, loosely, with Tony Stark and the Stark Industries, though the nature of his association is unknown.
Character: Not much is deduced on the subject's traits, but data gotten from eye-witness accounts suggests civilians are able to relate with Spider-man on a personal level than most heroes can achieve. The results of a survey show he is more popular with teenagers due to his tendency to throw wisecracks during altercations.
Powers and abilities: A list of all proven and probable (suggested due to Spider-man's inherent similarities to the Arachnid from which he bore his name) abilities compiled from video feeds are as follow:
Superhuman Strength
Superhuman Speed
Superhuman Durability
Superhuman Agility
Superhuman Reflexes
Superhuman Stamina
Wall Crawling
Healing Factor
It is possible he possesses an inbuilt mechanoreceptor organ though it is unlikely. Full medical examination is required for further analysis.
Equipment: Web-Shooters
Weapons: Spider-Man uses his Web Shooters as a non-lethal weapon.
Shirou sat staring at the Director blankly. The man couldn't be serious, yet one look at his unflinching face told the auburn-haired teen that he was indeed serious.
He blinked before rubbing at his temple. "You want me to spy on a kid."
S.H.I.E.L.D. Director Nicholas J. Fury stood behind the desk in his office, dark eyes gazing out the glass wall, hands at his back in a distinct militaristic pose.
"He's an unknown. And I do not like unknowns." Nick Fury said before he turned on his spot to face the teen. "A kid literally pops up on the face of the Earth and Stark has blocked all access to files related to him in any way. We are logged out from the Stark Industries' grid making a systematic check for correlated match-ups all but impossible. Stark's keeping secrets. Secrets I want to know."
Shirou glanced down at the file in his hands. He turned the page and examined a close-up, filtered picture of the hero. "It's hard to say for sure but I feel he's younger than 18—possibly still a kid. Maybe Mr. Stark is being overprotective."
"'Overprotective' does not cut it. In our line of work, unknowns have a tendency to crop up later down the line with the urge to take over the world." Nick Fury tilted his head up slightly and raised his voice. "Computer, show me Observer B." then he turned to him and added, "We have successfully narrowed our options down to these locations."
The wall behind Shirou shimmered to life displaying a list containing three names. It read: Midtown High, New York's Columbia University and Brooklyn Visions Academy. Beside the names were brief summaries including pictures of the buildings and little facts known about them.
"Out of them Midtown High seems the most likely. We were cut off before we could pinpoint the exact GPS coordinates, but we still managed to trace several calls made by one Happy Hogan, Stark's bodyguard, chauffeur and apparent close friend, to that location." The Director said.
"And what makes you think I want a part of this assignment?" Shirou turned back to face Nick Fury. "Isn't it better to not be part of whatever mess Mr. Stark's dragging the kid into?"
"Because we both know you wouldn't be able to sit idly when a kid could be in danger. For God's sake, you came late to this debriefing 'cause you were rescuing a damned cat from a tree." He sighed as he regarded the teen. "In the end it isn't a matter of 'what I think' but rather, 'what I know'."
Shirou Emiya hesitated.
"Would you stay back at the off-chance that I have been spurting lies? Believe it or not, Emiya, I only have the best intentions for this kid, whoever he is."
Shirou glanced once more at the open file on his laps. He stared at the picture of the kid mid-swing, his arms outstretched in an odd sign and his legs folded a bit beneath him. Wasted motions. Like a chick on the first flight of its life. A super-powered individual he may be, yet within him, Shirou was sure even without evidence. Spider-man was still a kid.
He sighed as he stood, his decision made. As there was a real chance of the kid being put in danger because of the mantle he had taken upon, his choice was so obvious this was all unnecessary. The Director was an asshole like that. He knew Shirou Emiya aspired to be a hero and so…
"I would take it." He sighed. "I will attend Midtown High and find out Spider-man's secret identity."
