Chapter 30: Chapter 28 - Live well, Friend
1st POV (Natasha Romanoff)
I should have listened. In hindsight it should have been obvious, especially after facing Taskmaster. There were hidden powers all over Earth, I'd seen the little scraps of information SHIELD had gathered on them. But I'd allowed myself to be complacent.
I was weary of Mutants at first. Weary of this new form of power introduced to the world on mass for the first time in our history which granted limitless abilities to those it favored. But that fear disappeared soon, sure they had the power, but they lacked the training. They always seemed to have one or the other, never both.
The few gifted with God like abilities were arrogant and dismissive viewing humans as something beneath them. While the few who possessed real skills all had weak mutations. Even Logan was only such a pain in the ass due to his regeneration. (An: she fought him before he got his Adamantium bones)
All this time facing the same situations, I had allowed myself to form biases based on the power of my opponents. Reaper's mutation was strong, being immune to all forms of kinetic energy on top of his Super Solider Serum (AN: now SSS). I'd taken that information and my mind naturally assumed that he wouldn't be a skilled fighter.
Then I'd seen Morrison fight. He moved with skill and experience show casing the decades of war he claims to have gone through alongside Reaper. And I'd quickly corrected my assumptions. Or at least I thought I did.
Instead of properly evaluating his threat level my mind warped it into an evaluation I was comfortable with. Lowering the power of his mutation and raising his combat prowess in turn.
"Ahhhhhh!" Gritting my teeth in rage as Shahed had her arm removed, I forced down my shock and turned to help but before I could the restaurant suddenly exploded into chaos. Feeling the air shift behind me I threw myself to the left just in time to dodge a kick from Reaper that shattered a nearby table. The splinters left over were thrown across the room as Morrison appeared not a second later and threw a kick of his own. His boots sparkled with familiar sparks of electricity.
That Son of a Bit...I'd been looking for my spare tasers all morning. Did he sneak into my room while Coulson was giving our debriefing? He definitely looked like a stickler for rules so I can't think of any other reason he'd be late to the meeting. I continued cursing him in my head as I took cover behind the front counter where the waiters greeted guests.
I was broken from my thoughts by the sound of a Collison that echoed distinctly throughout the now still restaurant. Gulping slightly, I turned to my right to see the result peaking from behind the front counter I'm using for cover. Shit Morrison is unconscious by the wall about 10 meters from me.
"Morrison, Morrison weren't you listening to me. Your old." Reaper said in a voice that contained something I couldn't quite make out. Is he Pitying Morrison? I don't know and I don't have the time to think it out.
{Swoosh} The familiar whistling sound of Clints released arrow served as my signal running towards Reaper just in time to drop on him as he stumbled from Clints explosion.
Launching myself towards him I activated my tasers and went for a sweeping kick trying to knock him down using the momentum from Clint's arrow as a boost. He dodged effortlessly taking a few steps back and observing me for a second before his eyes went to the rest of the team.
"Hmmm. More SHIELD agents. Interesting. This should be fun." Asshole. It might be hard for the others to make out with how scratchy and rough his voice sounded but I could clearly hear the amusement rolling of his voice. We weren't interesting, we were back up toys he kept around for when he damaged his favorite console.
Once Morrison was back up – hopefully that would be soon – We'd all be dead, and he'd go back to fighting Morrison no worse for wear. Well screw that if he thinks I'm going to roll over and let him walk over us just because Morrison went down then he's got another thing coming.
I was the Black Widow! I don't value much of my past and I'll never stop wishing things could have been different but that doesn't change what I am, what they made me. I've spent my life taking down powerful men by myself. Reaper won't be any different SSS or not.
"Don't disappoint me now."
Rushing forward before he could keep taunting us, I launched myself into a head-on confrontation. Double tapping a button on my waist caused my suit to light up as electricity began to course over top of my suit. This new prototype had just arrived last night and was made to combat Reapers powers while allowing me to keep my fighting style.
I ignored the punch he sent towards me that wasn't moving any wear near the speed of the ones he traded with Morrison. Confident Clint or one of the others would knock it off course.
He really was treating us like amusing toys. Slapping myself mentally I grabbed and dragged my mind away from my negative thoughts and began to go over everything I knew again. From the moment I first began the case to now. What could I use? There had to be something. Think damn it!
The answer came to me while I tried to shock Reaper with a quick jab to the face. Ducking under a counter swing from Reaper I retaliated by going in for a takedown, but his body decomposed before I could grab him reforming a few steps back, where he had to turn instantly to avoid another arrow from Clint that landed before releasing a flashbang. Seeing the telltale markings on the arrow I waited just long enough to stop Reaper from suspecting anything before covering my eyes.
Old, tired, and resigned. Those were the first things I thought when I met Morrison. A live time of fighting wars and apocalypses on their world only for it to all be proven useless as they watched their world be destroyed. Then suddenly they're transported to another world without being given a new purpose and what happened? They went right back to where they used to be.
Morrison and Reaper are trapped in the past, unable to move towards the future because none of this is their future. Their future ended when their world died. So, now they're reliving their pasts in this world. Holding onto their rivalry like a lifeline to stop them from drowning in the face of cosmic forces beyond their control that brought them here for some kind of sick joke.
But Morrison isn't the only one who's tried. Reaper is too. For all his talk about Morrison being old and without ideals, Reaper is hardly in better condition. His condition may slow his aging, but it hasn't stopped it and the never-ending pain has worn on him for decades. He spoke of finally having proven that his goal could be accomplished, his mission proven to be just and right.
But under his fanatical speech there was a sense of hollowness. He was trying to fight it and he was doing much better than Morrison but all the same he was struggling with finding purpose again in a new reality. But that wouldn't last forever. Upon first glance I could see that unlike Morrison Reaper still had fight in him. He still wanted to show the world he was right; to prove that those who wronged him were mistaken.
He needed to be stopped here. I realized and the only person who could stop him. My focus for barely a second drifted to Morrisons condition but that time was all Reaper needed to launch a kick that sent me hurtling towards a wall. Then in a burst of speed he was beside the downed Shahed raising his hand once more. The others tried to shoot at him, but the bullets effortlessly passed through his body.
The world slowed as his hand pierced her chest and I felt all of the confidence I had built vanish as the light disappeared from Shahed's eyes. Coulson's team is the only team I interact with at SHIELD and besides Coulson himself most of the others don't do much beyond simple greetings and pleasantries. They force themselves to talk with me because it's an order not because they want to.
I've always known that, and I was fine with it. Just simple interactions like that served as a reminder that I wasn't just a weapon anymore. To most people being asked 'How are you?' or 'How was your day?' And other such questions is an annoyance. Unnecessary time they're forced to give up in pointless social interactions.
But I cherished every second of those pointless interactions even while knowing that the people asking would prefer that I ignored them or gave simple answers. Boring mundane tasks like those I've come to learn are key aspects in forming a sense of belonging. SHIELD, more specifically Coulson's team and Clint have become my home. And I swore to protect them as a form of repayment.
So why? Why is it that this had to happen to her? Why couldn't it be me? I deserved it. Not her, she's never done anything deserving of such a punishment. But as my thoughts began to spiral out of my control and I started to lose control of myself to new emotions, I couldn't stop the darkest part of my mind from taking this opportunity to unleash itself. The part of me that was well and truly broken by the Red Room.
'What did you expect? You wanted to be free, to be more than a weapon, no? This is what happens when a blade becomes dull. It's unable to cut.' I try to block out the voice to keep it from continuing but there's nothing I can do to stop it and slowly I can feel my mask slipping. 'Why do you resist me still? Is this not proof enough? You need me! As much as you claim to be more you will always come back to me. I am your core; you can put on whatever masks you want. It matters little, those masks aren't you. I AM.'
"It's okay kid. You can stop now." Before I could try and argue back, I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned sharply to see Morrison standing behind me.
"Finally done napping Morrison?"
"Yeah. I didn't get much sleep last night. Mind if we try that again Reyes?"
"Ha. I suppose it's only right to let you choose how you go out old man."
"Will you ever let that age comment go?" Morrison asked in an exasperated tone, and I felt the hatred I had begun to bury come back up at their casual conversation. Shahed had died and yet they talked like it never even happened. How dare they.
"Did you back when we were training?"
"No, I suppose I didn't. Very well let's end this, Reyes. No more escape, no more miracle surgeries no more resurrections. Let's end this now."
"...No promises Morrison." Reaper spoke as his shotguns slowly appeared in his hands. In response Morrison unslung his pulse rifle from his back and held it diagonally across his body. Reaper snorted as he watched but didn't begin to throw out insults like I expected, and a solemn atmosphere fell over the remains of the restaurant as they prepared to fight.
Standing up I made my way over to the others and helped them evacuate with Shahed's body. There was no point staying in the restaurant, we'd only be a distraction. I'll watch from outside and try to hit Reaper with a thermal if possible. One way or another Reaper won't leave here alive.
1st POV (Reaper)
Standing across from my creator as we waited for the audience to begin evacuating, I allowed myself to relish my human emotions one last time before the final act began. Everything has gone according to plan so far but that's only to be expected from my creator.
And yet as I stand across from him and allow myself to feel emotions. I truly realize something about my creator. He isn't perfect. This plan won't work as it is now. My death cannot be faked. While my creator was working on contacting the SHIELD agents I have dived deep into SHIELD's servers without his permission and now I know that a team of Mutants – The annoying shits – are on standby nearby by orders of Nicholas Fury.
All equipped with mutations specializing in tracking and scanning. I won't be able to hide my escape from them. But that's okay, I was supposed to die anyways. I was made to be nothing more than a disposable pawn. But my creator in all his infinite wisdom has forgotten something crucial about himself. He's human.
It's ironic to think that the situation from when we first met would end up reversed but my time in this city with its people has led me to this conclusion and I believe with all my being that I'm right. My creator as much as he insists that he's human does not treat himself like a human.
He doesn't rest, doesn't celebrate, doesn't mourn, and doesn't relax. He's always moving onwards to the next project always studying always inventing. He dedicates time to speaking with Mercy, Jessica, and myself but he continues to neglect himself.
Mercy has approached me privately to let me know that the recent problems my creator has had with his powers is most likely the result of his body, mind, and spirit being overtaxed and forced to continue on anyway.
For all that he is human my creator has become the God that he denies himself to be. I don't know why he chooses to do this to himself. It's possible that this is all part of another of his plans but even if that's the case I want to destroy that plan.
He is hurting himself for this world and its people. He needs to rest, and my death will allow him rest. I've purposefully delayed reports given to me by Jessica and while I'm sure my creator is aware of this discrepancy; he is not aware of it in its entirety. Jessica has only gone on a fifth of the missions I was assigned to give her. The rest were completed by me, and I used Jessica's rebellious nature as a cover.
My creator has come to care for the rude, lazy, vulgar women he took on as a servant. He won't allow himself to admit it, but it shows in his works' quality how much seeing her benefits him. He wouldn't harm Jessica for this simply be a little more vicious in their next training session.
By delaying the missions I've been given I gave Nicholas Fury time to gather these Mutants. With my death my creator will mourn for he cares even for the vilest of scum he kills. He has lost himself in the torrents of his power but to me his true self still shines brightly. Its innocence is all encompassing protected by an energy I feel a familiarity with but cannot identify.
Raising my shotguns, I fire at my creator and watch as he begins to move in tandem with the numerous designs no doubt going through his head, but I cannot allow him to turn this fight into a dance. For my creator this must be a fight to the death. That is why even though my hands shake I once again raise my shotguns and began to fire towards him.
My creator's shock is easy to spot after spending so much time with him. His left hand is twitching, and his stance has naturally shifted into the defensive even as he continues to run at me. I'm sorry for the shock creator but this is how things must go.
I've read online that people can communicate through fighting. I don't know if the creator gave me such an ability, but I will do my best to ensure he hears this message. Dissolving my shotguns as he approaches and lifts his rifle to begin peltering me with laser fire I move and manipulate my body to move around the shots forcing my creator to fight me fist to fist.
This is my last selfish act. I wish to die by my creator's hand not some machine he received from his powers. As he tosses his gun to the side, we have our first real physical clash and I feel overjoyed when my creator confirms that he's received my apology.
'Why are you doing this?' Ahh my creator always filled with such great curiosity and wonder. I despise how this world has corrupted that curiosity.
I don't give him an answer instead as we continue to clash, I reflect on our time spent together and try to send him those memories. Training to better understand my powers, eating Mcdonalds and other fast food because the generator in the hideout wasn't a priority until Mercy told me about the side effects of too much fast-food, late-night talks as we monitored Mercy, hours spent brainstorming ways to help Jessica Jones, and my favorite the 3 times my creator took a break to play chess with me and told me stories about his home and my own.
My glove slashed across his chest as he struck my elbow breaking my left arm only for it to regenerate in a second. What we discovered in training is that I, unlike my creator, don't produce my chemicals endlessly. That's why I don't often use teleportation or regeneration, they both permanently use chemicals.
(AN: Since the Characters damage transfers to Makenzie's body whenever he Un transforms after being hurt. It's like a full reset on the characters body when he re-equips them)
My creator's eyebrows shot up above his visor and I'm certain he must now understand what I intend to do because his offense has increased significantly in intensity. But it's too late.
{Swoosh} I hear the sound of the arrow and the thermal grenade it's trying to hide from my senses. But instead of dodging I let them both connect pretending to be too pressed by my creator to fight back.
Ahhh. I'm dying, that thermal has destroyed most of my body. Of course, that's because I concentrated my body there but my creator's the only one who knows that. In his ensuing panic my creators' attacks force me out of the confines of the restaurant. He's stopped holding back, desperate to regain control of this fight so that I may continue living.
So much kindness in one individual. Whoever the God of this world is I curse him for giving my creator such a cruel destiny. He deserves to live in peace and happiness and yet you force him onto this path of paranoia and nonstop fighting. Well, I refuse. I refuse to let you destroy him. I will protect my creator no matter the cost and you nor anybody else will stop me.
A crowd has begun to gather. Good, Jessica must have started her mission. The Mutants I sent her to fight are weak, but their leader is capable of making it rain hail in about a 100m^2 radius. Not strong enough to do real damage but enough to drive people to evacuate away from the area of effect.
I let the majority of my body begin to form into a half mist half solid form to look as least threatening as possible while also greatly increasing my fighting power allowing me to temporarily match my creator's power.
The second thing my creator learned from our training is that I have not been made based on the Ultimate universe as he calls it but from the canon universe. Meaning my creator is significantly stronger than me even in his Mercy form. That woman has a mean swing with her staff.
'I can't do this. Reaper please!' My creator is reaching his limit for our final training session it would seem. That's fine, I've done what I must, it's no longer in my hands. Mercy, I trust that you will liberate our creator from his curse.
As my creator throws one last punch at his full force kicking up a windstorm that briefly obscures us from vision, I don't give him time to say anything. Moving forward at the highest speed I've ever moved I'm in front of his punch in an instant. Just before his hand can pierce me, I gently lay my hand on his arm and try my best to send him my positive feelings.
{Puich, squelch} My what a horrible sound that made. As my body slowly began to disperse as my mind failed to generate enough focus to hold it together, I looked at my creator's face and for a moment his transformation faded, and I could see the child hidden behind that accursed visor.
"You are human my creator. Live well, do not let your demons continue to control your life. It has been an honor to serve your glorious mission my...My friend."
Authors Note:
Wow way too much writing in one chapter. Anyway, that wraps up the first arc of the story, let me know what you think could have been better and I'll keep it in mind for the next one.
The big thing I noticed is that I didn't give a lot of time or effort to really making my characters feel real and that made some of their deaths feel pretty unemotional when I was rereading. I tried to correct that in this chapter with Reaper so let me know what you think but its Definity something I'll work on in the next arc of the story.
I also want to clarify that all of Makenzie's characters, even in base form, are a lot stronger than the game/canon counterparts just off the fact that it's an ultimate universe version of them. And yes, I plan to keep the summons at canon levels of strength at least for the semi-far future. If I gave the summons ultimate level strength, then it would be too much of a cakewalk for Makenzie.
Leave any other comments, ideas, thoughts you have heard so I can take a look at what you guys want to see next. Take into consideration that I'll most likely be including a time-skip soon that will probably be a couple months long just so that I don't have to detail New York's recovery process.
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