32 months before Ironman 1 

All across the globe sensors are going haywire, from national government spy agencies, down to small organizations.  The cause is a multi-dimensional meteor shower happening over North America.  Acres and acres of multi-material objects ranging from the size of your average human head to a pickup truck tire.  The storm originated in one dimension far from this one, where many small teams of powerful individuals were present.  All were fighting to stop the greatest evil that they would ever face.  The one who would endanger everything across every dimension. 

But our story doesn’t begin there.  No, it begins on one planet where a few of the objects successfully made landfall.  Most were reduced to the size of thimbles or less, destined to be lost among the waste, but one carrying way more energy than it should’ve been able to, retained just enough mass to still be the size of an adult human fist when it impacted a young man's campsite, sheering the top of the tent off with a flash, and cratering the once firepit.  The young man was violently awakened, ears beyond ringing from the noise the crash generated.  This was due to the bottles of alcohol consumed in misery.  His life is in a shamble.  No real job prospects, no real savings to speak of, just a dead-end job that that he can’t leave as he has no real alternatives due to no college education.  While he is decently fit, a couple of issues he has make military service a non-option.  As he stumbled from his tent, the object, still glowing with a prismatic spectrum of color, caught his eye.  He was at least smart enough not to immediately reach for the still smoldering object with his bare hands as his head throbbed from the light show. Cooking tongs are the most easily accessible for his needs, having skewered his tent’s fabric and missing his foot by only a few inches as a result of the shockwave from the object’s impact.  Carefully reaching down into the crater past his elbow, the tongs slip over the object’s rough surface a few times before getting solid enough purchase to bring it out.  There is no smoke or heat haze coming from the object to indicate that it is still hot.  He tries thinking of what else to do with this, but every time he turns his head or tries to think of who he can possibly sell this to, his thoughts and eye are quickly drawn back to gazing at the object.  Reaching to move the object again with the tongs, he slips, falls down and ends up with his left hand touching the object.  That touch triggers a reaction as from the point of contact, it phases into his hand, like being slurped through a straw, and within ten seconds, the object and the prismatic lightshow are gone.  Pain, like he has never felt before starts coursing through the young man, so much that he curls into a ball around his left hand.  He can’t even scream and is forced unconscious from the pain in less than a minute.  Thoughts not his own flash through his mind, martial arts techniques he has never before done let alone seen, engrain themselves into his mind at the speed of light, ready to be used at a moment’s notice.  His body is changed, as muscles get slightly denser, unneeded fat being converted to immediate energy storage, his body improving to peak human physical ability.  Shadows of rough figures pass through his mind, as if he is not yet ready for what that entails. Lastly, his very DNA changes, as abilities are brought into possibility, ready to be activated with the right trigger. 

He awakens sometime later, feeling better than he has ever been before.  He is able to easily get to his feet, and does so, after which he checks his phone that was still in his tent.  He knows that he went to sleep Friday night after drinking too much.  He had come out to rural Pennsylvania to clear his head away from the New York life, away from the constant noise, lights in the skies and all his other troubles.  He shakes his head and powers his phone down, then turns it back on in case there was an error.  Nope it still reads the same thing: 10 am June 12th, 2006.  Well, that is a kick in the nuts.  Here he is hoping that he still has his job, as he was supposed to clock in at 8:00 am sharp, two fracking hours ago.  He goes to kick a foot sized rock in his frustration, and instead of hurting his bare foot, while still moving the rock a foot or two, the rock itself is pitched twenty yards and no pain is felt in his foot at all.  His right eyebrow rises into his hairline at the sight, his frustration and troubles briefly forgotten at the sight of what shouldn’t have been possible.  Sure, he was decently strong, but that kick was like Pro football strong, not decent shape strong.  Shaking his head, he moves to clean up the campsite and then pack his stuff back in his little four-door Toyota for the two-hour trip home, or what is hopefully still home as if he has lost his job, that means no money, no money means not having enough to pay rent to keep staying where he is. 

Half-way home, his car signals that he needs gas.  Thankfully the ten dollars in his wallet will easily get him the rest of the way home.  As he pulls into a gas station, there is not much activity, so he is quickly able to get to the register and then back to the pump to put gas in his vehicle.  Just as he finishes, a Harley roars as it pulls in, the sound loud enough to make his head ring a little.  The owner of the Harley gets off their bike just as a pretty young woman exits the store.  They let off a wolf whistle as they take her in.  The young man shakes his head in exasperation for a neanderthal expressing their behavior.  He gets back into his vehicle, but nature is calling. 

A few minutes later he steps out of the restroom, only to hear a small scream that is quickly muffled coming from behind the building.  Normally he would just walk away, acting like he didn’t hear anything, but his feet wouldn’t budge in any direction except for when he takes a step toward the scream.  Two seconds later and he is at the source, the woman from earlier is pressed against the wall, the neanderthal pawing at her breasts and ass outside her clothes, for now.  He sees red at seeing this scum doing what he is.  A form flashes through his head at that moment and before he can consciously realize it, he is moving to strike.  In just two seconds, he is in close range.  Before the biker even realizes that someone is there, the young man sucker punches the neanderthal in the skull.  The guy goes limp from just the one hit, sliding to the ground and off the woman he was assaulting.  Before the woman can get her bearings, the young man is gone back around to the front. 

As he drives off in his vehicle, he feels good for helping the young woman, and the form for the punch he used has gone from mental memory to muscle memory.  Without a doubt he could use that same punch now without fail.  ‘What is happening to me?  I have got to figure out why that happened.  I know the how, it was that weird object that gave me this knowledge.  There also seems to be the heavy, true feeling, that that form I used is just the tip of a very big iceberg. 

As I continue driving, I make the decision to finally call in to my work.  All I get is a bit of screaming and cuss words that confirm that yep, my job is history.  The good news is that I still have another eighteen days till my rent is due, hopefully I can find enough temporary work to make ends meet, but I’m not counting on that. 

I get back with no other issues and unpack my supplies by one pm. I then get cleaned up and try and hit up some temp companies that a quick internet search gave me. 

Three hours later and I have hit on a whole lot of nothing for now, with a slim chance of something by the end of week.  The last place I tried wasn’t in too shady of an area, but trouble has possibly seen fit to find me, as three gang members are loitering just outside by my car near the alley.  I get closer to my vehicle and start to hope they won’t start anything, but no such luck.  They roughly box me in towards the alley with one brandishing a knife at me from near his waist, so it’s not visible from the street.  One of them gestures for my keys, causing me to let out a huff.  I refuse to be their victim and with that thought, information floods the front and center of my brain on how exactly to take them down.  The one on the left goes to take a swing at me after I don’t present my keys, and I just react.  Not only do I grab his punch and push him past me to throw him off balance, but my right foot lashes out at the knife wielder at the same time, the scream of pain from my foot impacting his knuckles is loud as he drops the knife.  Gang member number three tries throwing his own punch but throwing gangster number one over my shoulder puts an end to that as they go down in a heap of tangled, dazed limbs.  As they do, I see the hint of money peeking out of a back pocket and think ‘money for my troubles??’  Seeing me distracted, the former knife wielder tries to attack me from behind and on reflex, I pull a Rafiki, my fist comes up and my knuckles slam into his face as I swing my left arm back.  He collapses like a sack of rocks on the ground after sliding off my fist, minus a few teeth. Back to the money, though it might seem wrong, I feel I need the money more than they deserve it as I ruffle through their pockets quickly.  My haul is not too bad, $400 between the three of them.  That is two-thirds of my monthly rent right there.  I then just walked away back to my car. 

Once again, a few seconds later those forms and techniques I used are slotted into place in my muscle memory, ready for use at any time. I have got to find a secluded place so that I can test out just how far this information and clearly enhanced abilities will go, as there could be a situation in the future where there either is not a technique or form to get me out of it, or as unlikely as it is, someone or something that out classes me in most ways.  This gift that I have been given has already changed my outlook on life.  Helping that woman felt equally good to helping myself just now, but I get the sense that there is a limit of some kind to how selfish with this power that I can be.  I head back to my apartment to eat and sleep for the night, hoping that these thoughts can be settled by the morning. 

Since I am not too worried about rent right now, I spend the day testing what physical limits that I can in my apartment and find out several surprising things.  My form is auto correcting for basic exercises like pushups, mountain climbers, and any others that I try.  I also found out that physical abilities like my endurance seem to have gone through the roof, as normally fifty pushups in row would leave me somewhat out of breath, yet my heart rate stayed the same from when I started to when I stopped after having done two hundred of them. My balance and coordination have shot up so much too, as I can do a handstand, and walk around on my hands as easily as my feet.  I need to test the endurance further, so I head out on a run, while also trying to listen for anyone in trouble.  Even with stops for the lights to change, five miles later and not even twenty-five minutes have gone by.  I take a moment to sit down on a bench as this is freaking insane especially factoring in that I’m barely breathing hard and have hardly sweated.  If this is how I am right now, how much better will I be in a month, a year from now.  If there is more growth than what I have already been given, then the sky could be the limit for all that I know.  But one thing does remain a constant, use this power that I have been given for good reasons. 

I’m broken out of my thoughts as I hear a window being smashed in, followed by a male scream, someone is being car-jacked apparently.  A quick look sees the culprit reaching into the vehicle to unlock the door.  A push off the bench and I'm in motion, a technique appearing before my mind’s eye.  Just as the carjacker has pulled his victim out, I’m there to clamp my hand on his shoulder and squeeze.  Strength is clearly not controlled as with a crack, pop, then a scream from the carjacker, his collar bone right at his shoulder is broken.  By this point onlookers have called the cops.  I have not released the shoulder in my grip and with a bit downward force, I put the carjacker on his knees, the pain making them too wary to try anything.  I hear a siren almost two minutes later as a cop car screams around the corner and pulls to a stop.  I haven’t said anything but have been repeatedly thanked by the man that I saved.  The flash of cameras indicates pictures being taken, oh joy.  It is a simple matter to release the culprit into the officer's custody.  I hate that I had to stay and give a statement, but it can’t be helped.  Another fifteen minutes and I can finally get back on my way. 

I stopped for lunch about halfway back to my apartment and was surprised, normally I’m not that big of an eater, but I just kept going back for more and more at this buffet that I was wondering myself, where was I putting it all.  Seven plates each piled high with steak, chicken, veggies or pasta.  By the end of it I didn’t have to pop the button on my shorts, nor was my stomach distending from how much I ate.  I jogged the rest of the way back, but felt no discomfort from how much I ate, but had the sense that a metaphorical lever and gauge for my energy levels was barely a quarter of the way to being filled.  I stopped in shock a few blocks from my apartment.  What I ate had to have been well over six thousand calories, yet my new gauge of energy said that it needs more fuel, almost four times the amount, including what I just ate, to be full, what the hell??  At this point, forget rent, I need to get a job just to feed my stomach. 

Back at my apartment I made a decision that has the potential to be good, but for the normal person it is a very stupid decision.  Crime happens every day and for a lot of the crimes, the police don’t get there till it is too late.  With my endurance I know that I can get around easily on the street, as this is not upstate New York, the buildings, while crammed together don’t really differentiate in size too much, so that leads me to the next test, one that could be very painful for me.  I go up to the roof, and the next closest building is maybe ten feet lower and twenty feet away.  I walk back twenty feet away from the edge and take a running leap, pushing off just two feet from the edge.  I easily make the distance and with a form flashing through my mind, I’m able to bleed off the extra momentum, stopping just a few feet after I touchdown, more than twenty feet onto the building.  I take a few moments to bask in the exhilarating feeling of sailing through the air.  My decision just seems to be better and better as I discover more about what was done to me by that object.  I look at the gauge in my mind, and the lever hasn’t moved at all.  I tried jumping back to my apartment building, and ended up with an oops moment, for I barely managed to grab at the pipe running along the outside edge.  It takes a moment, but I’m feeling an absence of something that should be pretty prevalent what with me hanging onto a pipe more than fifty feet above the ground.  Fear in this situation is non-existent when it should be breaking the meter.  This power that I have gotten has to have at least some sentience to it beyond the form and techniques and increase to physical abilities it has granted me.  After this moment of retrospection, I pull myself up and over the edge of the building.  With the hopes that I will be lightening the pockets of any criminals I come across, I go and buy a thick green cloak to help hide my identity, along with a blank hockey mask to hide my face. Then it is back to the apartment for some good old-fashioned internet studying for a few hours. 

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

The information I have found is not too hard to process, mainly tips and tricks for spotting actual gang members or criminal activity outside of muggings and assaults.  If I am going to be going to be out at night, I need to adjust my sleep schedule so that even with my new abilities I’m not as mentally tired during the prime time of the night.  I start by staying up as late as I can, which turns out to be five am, another side effect of the improvements maybe.  Then I try to stay asleep as long as I can so that I’m more energized for the night, which turns out to be four pm.  I spend the next few hours getting a few things such as cable zip-ties so that those I stop can’t get away before the police actually show up. 

It is now seven pm and the sun is just about finished going down, so it is time to head out.  I leave via the roof with a backpack initially holding the cloak and zip ties so that if someone does spot me going up to the roof, they should think it is just for a smoke or something.  After donning my cloak, I get going.  As I leap from building to building, working to get some distance from where I live, I don’t work to bled off the momentum from my jumps, which allows me to jump farther and farther.  Once I am two miles from the apartment complex, I then choose a mid-sized building with a fire escape so that I can easily get both to the ground and back up after rendering aid to those in trouble. 

I don’t have to be waiting long as a scream pierces above the normal cacophony just as I start observing.  It came from the alley way two buildings over, so with a run and a jump, I’m at the edge of that building overlooking the alley to see the trouble unfolding.  A guy brandishing a knife at a young man and woman, with a third person already bleeding from their shoulder as they lean against the wall.  Wasting no time, I hop over the edge and drop at least twenty feet, slowing my fall by grabbing a pipe running up the outside of the building.  I then push off the wall and drop another ten feet, landing feet first right onto the shoulders of the would-be robber.  He goes down with a scream of his own as his shoulders are brutally broken, the knife falling from his hand and far out of reach. ‘Oops, didn’t think I would land that hard, but his fault for picking the wrong place to stand.’  “You folks okay now?”  I ask the people I saved.  I get nods in return after a few seconds of the shock wearing off.  One of the two uninjured people pulls out their phone and calls 911, their voice still shaking a little as they communicate with the operator.  That is just about my cue to go back to the rooftops.  I get a hug in thanks from the young woman, and with a casual wave I am out of here, as it would be bad form to be seen sifting through the would-be robber’s pockets by the people I just saved. 

I move on to another building about half a mile away, keeping my ears pealed for the sounds of people in distress.  It is not a criminal or gang member harassing or assaulting someone that I happen to next come across, but a crash happening right before my eyes right as I leap another gap between buildings.  This crash is bad, as a truck just ran a red light, serving to miss the minivan coming one direction, but in turn getting t-boned by another car coming the opposite way, the sudden slowdown of the car leading to another truck to rear-end them in a horrific bending of metal.  Flames are already emerging from the car’s wrecked engine seconds after the vehicles slide to a halt, so I have to be fast.  I leap to street level, using a roll to bleed momentum.   First is those in the car, thankfully there is only the driver, but they are unconscious.  I grab the wrecked door and pull with all my new strength, hearing the door slowly give as the metal produces a torturous groan of sound from being pulled.  I get the door open and it’s messy, the driver’s face is bloody from the deployed airbag and the sudden stop, and I don’t have the knowledge to assess them for any other injuries, but I have to get them out.  The seatbelt is easily torn off, and then I am gently, while supporting their head, pulling the person from the vehicle.  The folks that rear-ended them in the truck are already stumbling out in a daze, minor injuries apparent in scratches on their faces.  I lay the person I am holding down on the sidewalk and then move to the t-boned truck.  The flames are growing higher during this time, and the heat is starting to affect me as I move to the opposite door from the side that was t-boned.  This door is still fully functional, so reaching in through the broken class to unlock the door is easy.  There is the driver right there, shoved from the driver’s seat due to not wearing a seatbelt, their legs being licked at by the flames, their feet a mangled mess.  Thanks to my strength I don’t struggle to move this three-hundred-pound guy, and I am easily able to get him onto the sidewalk.  I already hear ambulance sirens on the way, and the person from the car is already being treated by what looks to be an off-duty nurse, so I take that as my cue to leave. 

Other than those few incidences, the rest of the night is quiet as I move around.  On my way back home though about 3 am, I come across the sounds of shooting, thankfully not near a neighborhood.  This is bad, knives and car crashes are one thing, but bullet’s flying are on another level.  I still decided to take a look and see if there is any way I can help stop this.  When I am nearer, I hear a voice from one side of this incident.  “Just give us the coke, we don’t want your life, just the coke.”  One guy wearing a do-rag says as he peaks around the dumpster.  He whips his head back behind the dumpster as a gun sounds off and another bullet flies in his direction.  On his side there are two more, one not in the fight as he holds his hands to his side as the white T-shirt stained red indicates a significant bullet injury.  The other is behind his own dumpster, peeking his head over the top.  On the guy with the drugs’ side, only one is left as the other is missing a chunk of their forehead, showing that they are dead.  The other one lets out a curse as his gun jams after his latest shot.  The other two also hear this and that is when they abandon their cover and rush the guy.  This is where I make my entrance.  I jump and making sure to dial-down how much strength I am using, laying do-rag out with a thump as he hits the ground unconscious.  His cohort barely has time to realize that another player has entered the fray before he joins him in la-la land.  I then moved to the drug dealer.  He is shaking as he brandishes his gun at me.  I get close without a word, and he throws the gun at me.  I grabbed it and returned the gun to sender, giving him one goose-egg, while him hitting the ground when he falls, gives him another.  I then take out pairs of the zip ties cuffs, and cuff the four guys that are still living, with the guy who was shot and still living having passed out from the pain.  I let out a sigh of relief as I am in no mood to see how resistant I am to a bullet.  I search all of the bodies, and aside from the guns, which I leave where they are, I find wallets with cash totaling only two-hundred dollars, a few lighters, a dozen baggies of cocaine totaling maybe half a pound, and the jackpot, hidden in the false pocket of the same backpack where the drugs were, is five grand in cash.  I grab one of the phones the guys have, dial 911 and use part of the cloak to muffle my voice as I tell the operator the location and what happened.  I hang up when they try to get my name or other information.  Using one of the lighters I burn the cocaine, stuff the cash in my own backpack and then flee the scene, not even staying nearby to make sure the cops come.  I get back to my apartment building, stuff the cloak and zip ties back into backpack and get back to my apartment. 

As I sit in my chair, I’m think back over the night, surprised for a moment that no new forms flashed through my mind.  Then I realized that none of those situations required anything new of me, thus the reason why I had no new forms or techniques.  I then think about the money, and I know that I have to be smart about how I spend it, otherwise I will catch the wrong eyes.  I tried to sleep, but even with the adrenaline having worn off, I’m not tired at all. 

Over the next few weeks, I gained another fifteen techniques, such as blocks, grappling, kicks, some of them feeling like they almost slot together, as if from the same style.  No encounters with guns since that first night, just muggers and would-be assaulters, wielding bats, knives, and in one very odd case, spiked steel-toe boots.  Also except for that first night, I stopped taking large amounts of cash for myself.  Anything over three-hundred dollars a night was dropped in the locked donation bins at soup kitchens and homeless shelters.  I feel that doing this is clearing my conscious of me robbing criminals.  I then made a surprising decision.  I decided starting tonight to change locations and spread my vigilantism further, which gets me into my next incident.  I traveled thirty miles west and parked in an all-day parking garage, paying cash for the night.  I then leave via the street in some of my regular clothes, getting some food along the way as my stomach growls.  I find a decent place and with use of the fire escape, make my way up to the roof.  I then pull out my cloak, which looks a little ratty and might need replacement soon, get a few of the zip –tie cuffs ready, then I take off to the nearest building. 

I hear lights and sirens after traveling a mile and instead of avoiding them, I go to see if help is needed.  I quickly determined that help is needed, as three officers are pinned down by the ratatat sound of an automatic rifle.  The cruiser they are crouched behind is shredded, while another cruiser is just a flaming wreck.  This is happening on the opposite side of the street from where I am, so I back up to the backside ledge, then move as fast as I can forward, cracking the bricks of the wall where my leap starts.  I almost make it to the building across the way before the momentum dissipates, allowing me to come down with a foot, sweeping at the rifle in a kick.  The kick tears the rifle out of the guy’s hands with a scream as a few of his fingers are caught from where he is pulling the trigger.  I hit the ground and lash out with my right fist, making the screams cut off as he goes night-night.  I then headed into the building, as I believed he wasn’t alone.  I’m confirmed right as I finally take the time to look around and see that this is a high-end restaurant, and the place is being robbed.  Several techniques flash through my head in quick succession over the next five minutes as I move to clear the building of the robbers, with me running out of zip tie cuffs after the eighth robber is incapacitated, so I have to start grabbing tablecloths and the like to tie the next four up.  I hear shouting coming from down below as I near the stairwell, so I head there.  Down the stairwell and through a doorway whose door blends in with the wall, my anger rises as I realize by what I see, that this restaurant is the front for a major drug distribution operation.  I see three women in small tight underwear huddled against the wall as another robber stands guard over them.  Two others are in the process of packing up the money and the drugs, weapons within easy reach, while two corpses are cooling on the floor, a full spread of buckshot for one, while the other via one between the eyes.  One of the gatherers glances around and sees me as I come through the doorway.  They then yell and raise up their weapon with one hand, but I’m on him before he can pull the trigger, as I yank him off balance by grabbing the barrels of the shotgun.  The gun still goes off, the pellets hitting the watcher in the foot, sending him to the floor screaming in pain.  I duck just as the other gatherer pulls the trigger on his submachine gun, bullets peppering the wall, but not hitting anyone.  I dive under the table at him, grabbing his legs and causing him to rake the ceiling with his line of fire as I take him down just before his finger loses purchase on the trigger, stopping the flying of bullets.  I look over to the watcher as I get up and I see that I don’t have to worry him, one of the young women has her foot on his neck, while another is just finishing her field-goal kick to his nuts, ouch.  I grab the guns by the straps being used to hold them and then take them out into the hallway.  I then go back upstairs where two officers are now entering the building, guns raised and ready.  I think that I’m going to be arrested an unmasked when I haven’t even been doing this a month, so I prepared to knock them out if I have to, but to my surprise they wave me out of the building, with a whispered “Thanks.”  I take that as my cue and duck down an alley just as more cruisers pull up.  Fifteen seconds later and I'm already on the next building, and quickly to the one after that, far out of sight. 

That action while being the first to have my heart racing since I started to do this, is not enough for me to feel like ending my night so soon, so off I go again.  Four hours later, and the only thing significant to happen was ruining four pounds of meth by dumping it down a sewer drain.  I head back till I’m a few blocks from the parking garage, and change back to my clothes, before getting down to street level to finish the trip.  I get back to my apartment at about three am, but I don’t fall deep asleep, merely doze until nine am.