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Interlude II
Technomancer in MCU
New York City
–Third Person POV–
On the screen, you could see a sea of people exiting the huge central park camp built by our mysterious saviors.
The reporters were interviewing the survivors regarding their experience of the ordeal.
A high school student, clearly in his early teens, could be seen relegating his tale of witnessing a battle of a lifetime.
He said, “I was one of the people who was rescued by the Captain.”
“I was stuck in a bus and their jet crash-landed right in front of us. Oh, man, it was so cool. You had to be there for that.”
The reporter urged him to go on, clearly in a hurry to move past him to other people.
“Then they exited the jet like such badasses.”
“The Widow and Hawkeye were cool too, I guess.”
“But they all became even cooler when they got their suits.”
“It was like someone who knew them very well built those suits personally for them. They were all personalised in some way.”
“I couldn’t see all of it because of those pesky shields in our way but I remember seeing the suit just launching itself at the Avengers.”
“They were also clearly just as startled as us but the suit just unfurled itself on their bodies like a wave of water.”
“It was awesome as heck. I think Iron Man should come with the same technology.”
“After that, those smaller bots came into the shelter we were hiding in.”
The reported interject at this point, “Are those the healing pods that are termed as such in the news?”
He nodded, clearly excited, “Oh man! You had to see it to believe it.”
“It was so fast. All it did was scan you with a weird blue light that made you all tingly like it was static clinging to your body, you know. And then BAM! The light turned yellow and after a few seconds only, all bruises and cuts were gone you know.”
“I didn’t even know I had a cut on my elbow when it healed me.”
“Broken bones were healed within less than half an hour.”
“And! And! It wasn't just healing either. All the people that were hit by that yellow light for a few seconds looked so much better and it was just so noticeable.”
“I suddenly had a lot of energy. All the gloomy faces of the oldies were changed. They looked like they wouldn’t kick the bucket the next second.”
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
Somebody changed the channel in the bar.
“Hey! I was watching that”, yelled an old man from the corner.
A Tall, well-built black man, who was clearly the bartender, replied “Old man. All the channels are showing the same damn thing. Watch the reporter interview someone else for a change.”
Clearly intimidated by the visage of the bartender even though he didn’t make any intimidating gestures, the old man shut up and watched the new channel.
The man sighed, clearly aware of what was going on in that old customer’s head.
He didn’t want to scare that man but ever since escaping from that hellhole, he had become more easily angered, more frustrated.
Especially now, when he had the power to help the people.
He could have destroyed nearly all of the aliens that he could see, those huge whales being the exception.
Destroyed them with his bare hands.
Their blasts would have done nothing but tickled at best. His skin was invulnerable.
He felt ashamed to have just run with the populace when those robots came, herding them into safety shelters.
The shame reached a new high when he felt relieved that there was somebody else to save the people and he wouldn't have had to reveal himself.
Afraid of imaginary boogeymen.
Unworthy of this power that I was given.
He nursed a drink and turned around to look at the TV, watching those bloodthirsty vulture reporters trouble the poor victims.
Maybe, Pops was right.
Huh! Maybe he did need therapy.
If only to not destroy someone’s ribcage with a light touch.
He looked out of his bar, at the unusually peaceful night, pondering about Pop’s suggestions of heroics.
Shaking his head, he ultimately decided against it, too cowardly to face the public.
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In Hell’s Kitchen, a caucasian man with a stick walked into a clearly run-down apartment.
This scene was not surprising due to the state of the apartment as the neighborhood was a rough one but due to the astonishing coordination of the man as he entered the apartment and moved around it without missing a beat,, especially in the darkness of the city.
The city officials still hadn’t gotten to restoring power to the poorer areas of the city.
He opened the fridge to get something to drink, but upon opening it he saw that it was empty.
He realized that somebody had broken into his apartment and eaten all his food.
With a sigh, he plopped himself onto the old worn-out sofa.
He resolved to get the food from one of Tony Stark’s charity trucks running all around the city, giving away food for free.
Last he heard, even mobile soup kitchens were running around the city to feed the homeless, to some people’s chagrin.
But they were mostly ignored in this time of solidarity.
He clenched his fast as he thought of the death and destruction that happened to the city in a short period of time.
He wanted to help, he truly did.
But he was given no choice.
He was near Stark Tower when it happened.
When a hole in the sky opened up and the people ran for their lives, screaming.
He helped as many as he could by guiding them to the nearest shelter but he was very clearly out of his league here.
Then the blue barrier spread over all over the city.
Tying a torn piece of his shirt across his eyes, he was about to go help the people trapped everywhere but he was stopped.
One of those robots came in and escorted him into the barriers.
When he protested, it threatened him with his real identity and his past.
After that, he fell silent and tried his best to calm the people he was stuck within the makeshift shelter.
As he was about to get some precious shut-eye, his advanced hearing managed to hear the faint sounds of a gunshot.
With a resigned sigh, he woke up and opened a hidden compartment in the floor.
The authorities turned on the power at the same time, revealing a red mask that covered his eyes.
It made for an ominous sight.
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Word Count - 1128