Marvel's Villainous Gacha 47 (Patreon)

His next day started with a similar pattern, with most of his time split between construction and hacking, with some time split to R&D. There was no immediate attack from SHIELD or another party, helped by the fact that no one was really equipped to attack an underwater base five hundred yards below the surface.

The most they sent was a few probes, which his underwater drones dealt with. He didn’t even have the reveal the Sutherland variants he designed for variance.

He tried one of them, and trying to use it was a fascinating experience, even though the machine itself was nowhere near enough to push his Master Driver to the limit.

With everything in place, he focused on his newest skill.

Firebending.

He started to contemplate it, not just because it was a very convenient skill, or the title of apprentice meant there was a lot more than just throwing punches of fire or controlling open fires.

He pondered over it because it was the first magical ability he had … well, almost. The more accurate description was a combination of four core factors. It was like halfway between physical skills and magic.

Physical discipline, mental focus, emotional resonance, philosophical alignment.

Too bad the apprentice quality training meant that the information that came along with it was generic and surface-level, as accurate as a primary school chemistry lesson.

The physical portion and mental focus were easy. His combat expertise, enhanced by many skills and meant that not only could he perfectly deliver the necessary movements, but he could also improve with ease.

The same went for mental focus, Mind Palace trait giving him perfect control of his focus.

Emotional resonance and philosophical alignment were more complicated. Not because it was hard, but because it was easy. Too easy. The philosophical alignment of firebending was destruction, and the emotional anchor was anger.

He raised his finger, and a small flame appeared, red and flickering. He then focused on his fury and anger, which were still under the surface. Just because he had been living better didn’t mean all that dark, impotent anger that defined his life before he had been chosen by the System was forgotten. Under control, yes, but not forgotten.

The flame rose stronger, gaining a darker, reddish quality. He threw a punch. The flame was almost ten times stronger.

“Fuck, I’m so glad it wasn’t the first skill I received,” he muttered, feeling a sense of fear. Back then, he wouldn’t have had the context to understand what he was doing, or catch the nuances, nor would he have possessed the discipline to control it.

All it would have taken was a momentary slip of his emotions to burn someone alive.

He was lucky. Absurdly so.

Just out of curiosity, he touched his Warlock trait, one that gave him affinity toward unholy and darkness, mixing his anger through that. The fire turned pitch black, radiating a sickly feeling that nonetheless gave him a sense of pleasure.

One that made him glad for Mind Palace even more, allowing just how insidious the pleasure that it was giving.

[Feat Achieved! Develop a pseudo dark-side power-up

+1x Diamond Random Gacha ticket]

“Well, that’s not ominous at all,” he said, immediately deciding not to use it. Anything that excited the Villain System enough to give him a diamond ticket just for discovering it should never be touched. Linking it to the dark side just made the red flag even brighter.

Of course, he had no intention of returning his reward.

Tickets were tickets.

[Nature's Chosen]

{Epic Trait: Mother nature has chosen you as her favored one, you receive her protection in forests and nature, wild animals are all friendly toward you and understand your words, the trees part to show you the way, and bounties offer fresh fruit and vegetables, animals and nature aligned beings favor you and are more affectionate towards you, some may even recognize her touch on you. You also recover energy faster the closer you are to nature.}

“Yey, I’m a magical princess,” he muttered, unable to keep himself from laughing uproariously. It was funny. Especially since it came from discovering a usable version of the dark side.

However, not useless. After all, he had just discovered he could use Warlock to transform his firebending. Why not his healing abilities, or nature’s chosen?

He didn’t immediately jump into one of his cars and drive outside the city.

Instead, he opened multiple web pages and started reading, using his Multitasking and Mind Palace to get familiar with various philosophies around fire all around the world. He certainly wasn’t lacking.

Fire was a potent symbol across religions, representing a variety of concepts from evil and destruction to purity and healing. Symbolism of hellfire and punishment was obvious, but he read them just to understand.

His focus was on different aspects. Zoroastrianism revered fire as the ultimate symbol of purity, truth, and divinity. Hinduism positioned it as a link between humanity and divinity, meanwhile in Greek Mythology fire was linked to both Prometheus, who brought enlightenment to humanity, and the forger Hephaestus.

He read anything that he could find on the topic, interested in the analysis, breakdown, and surrounding thoughts. Luckily, there were hundreds of philosophers that had written on the topic, from ancient to modern, so much that, without Mind Palace boosting his ability to not only memorize but actually understand.

His studies got even faster once he remembered to put on his Archmage Robe, which confirmed that philosophy was sufficiently under the magic umbrella.

He was glad that he was focusing on more esoteric aspects, as still, fire as a source of destruction was the most common aspect; the wildfire, the conflagration, the wrath of gods, the ultimate source and the end…

After some reading, he focused on another aspect of fire. The source of life. Both because he felt like it was the exact opposite of the pseudo dark-side, making it safer, but also the practical concerns. The connection to his healing abilities was apparent, and he had multiple abilities that worked differently to heal, allowing him to practice with them.

Tantric Healing, Greater Blessing, Purification, Divine Healing Light, Regeneration… A part of him was amused that he was trying to come up with another healing technique despite having the villain system … but needs and musts.

Even with all the advantages he stacked due to his overwhelming combination of skills and traits, it still took two hours for him to have a hint of progress. Even that was only possible after he repeated the dark fire trick several times, allowing him to pinpoint exactly which parts of the fire had been changing.

Ultimately, it worked. He was looking at a beautiful golden flame. It was weak and flickering, but he could sense that it would not hurt, but heal. However, when he tried to deliver punch, it snuffed out.

The original physical aspects were not working in the slightest.

“Well, fun,” he stood up, went to a room with metal walls, and started practicing. The strong martial basis he developed thanks to Clint helped, allowing him to explore existing martial arts.

Tai chi worked best, but it was merely a rough basis. He started practicing, using his combat supercomputer to help design physical moves, his Pugilist talent always useful to connect the dots and make intuitive leaps.

Something clicked. A sweeping arm motion, left to right, perfectly circular and unhurried, accompanied by a grounded stance, feet wide, weight low, the posture of something rooted and stable.

His chest was a furnace, healing following the breath he took.

The golden fire exploded. It was not a spark, but an unmatched fire. He could feel a hint of drain, but it was surprisingly effective.

He wondered if he could teach firebending to Natasha. Not immediately, even if he could. If there was one person that had been dealing with too much darkness, it was Natasha. He would much rather give her an armor than a skill with emotional resonance, at least in the short term.

He spent the next two hours refining the skill, not just the healing art, but also the original anger based kind; something that was only possible thanks to Mind Palace, allowing him to switch between mindsets and emotions that would have driven anyone else insane.

Curious, he also tried to leverage it to create a flame of creation, but it didn’t work. Neither Chemistry nor Mechanics resonated with the flames in a deep, philisophical way it required.

He guessed it would have been different for something like Blacksmithing, but he didn’t want to spend days just to develop another flame trick. Instead, he focused on sharpening his two styles, which he termed as Art of Healing, and the Art of Fury. Dark side, he left alone.

Ironically, as he tried to develop them further, he found two unexpected synergies. Expert Fine Arts, and King of Disco. Firebending, at its core, was a method of connecting mind and body, emotion and conception…

In other words … dancing.

It was magnificent.

He practiced more and more, slowly figuring out new tricks, interrupted only when he received an unexpected call. Clint. “Hey man, I missed your ugly mug,” he said.

“I didn’t,” Clint answered, though his voice was light. “I have a few hours, and I wanted to see if you’re available for a spar.”

“Sure,” he said. “Here, or do you have anywhere else in mind?”

“How about the Brooklyn Gym?” he asked.

“Sure, works for me,” he said and closed. Then, even as he stepped at the elevator, he sent a message to Natasha, asking to talk if she was available. The message also had a code they agreed, signaling that the topic was important, but not urgent.

She called. “Hi, this is Natalie,” she said immediately, signaling that she was undercover.

“Hi, Nat,” he said. “While working on my art, I developed a new trick. I wanted to tell you before I talk it with your boss, just in case.”

“Groundbreaking?” she asked.

“Visually impressive, but at its core, it’s a similar artwork. The concept of regen and healing. My favorite photos,” he said.

“I’ll ask my boss to take the initiative to prompt you, then. That way, I’ll have the credit, and you won’t look eager.”

“Perfect,” he said. He would have loved to talk more, but he didn’t want to interrupt her task. Instead, he threw a gym bag into his car, and drove to the gym, which was exactly the same, including the old posters.

Michael had to admit he was warming up to the place. He entered. Steve was already warming up when he arrived, working the speed bag with a rhythm that made the equipment blur. Each strike landed with a precision that turned the bag into a metronome, the chain rattling in a pattern so consistent it could have kept time for an orchestra.

His each punch radiated a subtle anxiety, one that he would have missed if he hadn’t spent a lot of time trying to decipher the true mood of one of the greatest spies in the world.

Steve was trying to anchor himself with punching.

Michael said nothing. Not because he didn’t want to help. He actually liked Steve, even without the whole stopping the Nazis from taking over the world bit. Unfortunately, some demons were too personal to be assisted.

However, he could provide some friendly distraction. “I heard that you were getting bored without me,” he said.

Steve stopped the speed bag with one hand, the motion arrested the chain so completely it didn't even swing, and he turned with a surprisingly warm smile. "Michael. Good to see you," he said, even as he jumped into the ring and removed his gloves.

Steve clearly wanted to be distracted. Michael decided it would be the friendly thing to provide it. “No boxing today?” he asked as he jumped.

“No, I learned some grappling techniques like you suggested. How about some contact sparring.”

“Sure,” Michael responded. “Feel free not to hold back. As long as we don’t break bones, it’s all fine.”

“Perfect,” he said. They started sparring, but once again, despite saying that Steve held back. Michael let himself hit harder and move faster, which was part of his slow reveal without scaring SHIELD.

“You’re getting faster, that’s good,” Steve commented as he let himself hit harder, forcing Michael to dodge. Steve’s technique was not amazing, clearly he didn’t learn as fast, but he still had his raw combat instincts and experience, which made the spar surprisingly interesting as he switched between grappling tricks and simple punches.

“Damn, guys. We should have the crew record this. Boxing promoters would pay a fortune for this,” Clint called from the doorway.

“You’re late,” Michael said, even as he dodged Steve’s punch, and countered with a low kick, forcing him to jump back.

“Sorry, I had a last-minute emergency. At least I managed to convince Coulson to meet here instead,” Clint said. He wasn’t lying, meaning Coulson actually misled Clint as well.

For a seemingly simple man, Coulson was full of small tricks.

“So, want to get into the ring, or do you want to watch?”

“I’ll watch. The last few days had too much action. A bit of rest while I watch you two is all the fun I need.”

“The new villain, or Hammer screw-up?” Michael asked even as he fought against Steve, though still fighting without tapping into his two latest styles. They went through several rounds, though a few times, Clint joined, sometimes replacing one of them, sometimes turning the fights with one-against-two situations.

It was good sparring, with practical benefits, though that didn’t mean Michael wasn’t genuinely enjoying himself. Three men in a boxing gym, pushing each other, learning from each other, the simple honesty of physical competition without stakes or agenda.

After days he spent endlessly hacking around, it was a fun change of pace, and Clint’s sardonic commentary whenever he was outside the ring made it even more fun.

Then, Coulson arrived, once again wearing his classic off-the-rack suit, interrupting their fun. "Gentlemen," Coulson said, efficient warmth of a man who had learned that kindness and good humor were an underrated interrogation tool. Frankly, Fury could learn a lot from Coulson. "Good session?"

“As long as Clint here doesn’t get the impression that he could fight without a toy bow,” Michael teased. “Do you want to go for a round?”

“Why not?” he said. “Just hit me with an agility boost so I can keep up with your reflexes.”

He did while Steve emptied the ring, and they started fighting. Michael could have blitzed him with speed, but he didn’t, once again finding himself in a deceptively difficult fight, especially since he was trying not to get tagged.

Coulson was good, deceptively so, forcing him to push. They chatted casually, and Michael acted as if he didn’t recognize the subtle interrogation.

“A new style?” he asked toward the end of their second round, managing to bring the topic to there while making it look like he bragged about it. “Interesting trick?”

“Kind of,” he responded. “It’s not fully a fighting style. It’s also some kind of interpretive dance, allowing me to tap into my emotions,” he said. “It also gives me a chance to push my power accordingly.” As he said, he saw Steve’s eyebrows tighten in confusion … which he didn’t blame. Considering his whole context was from the forties as a soldier, reacting to it with merely slight confusion was a sign of his good character.

“Interesting,” Coulson said.

“Want to see?” he responded. “I’m still having a little trouble controlling it, but it’s going well.”

Coulson nodded.

Michael closed his eyes, tapping into the mindset of what he called as Art of Healing, and started moving through his developed movements. Calm and circular, already a fascinating piece of artwork. Then, several circles of golden flames appeared around him, turning it into a fascinating show.

He wasn’t surprised to hear them gasp in wonder. What he was doing was a masterpiece … one that could easily be turned into a prank.

One that Coulson deserved.

Once he finished circling, he suddenly punched toward Coulson, bathing his chest with his golden fire. He gasped in panic, and even Clint and Steve jumped to their feet.

Coulson froze as he realized he was suddenly half-naked, patting himself with understandable fear.

“Healing flames, interesting, right?” he asked.

“That’s one word for it,” Coulson said, his tone more like a disappointed parent than an angry man. It made Michael grin even harder.

“Thank God for my good aim, right? A little slip, and your pants would have gone as well?” Michael said, which made both Steve and Clint chuckle.

“Thank you for not turning me into a stripper, Mr. Wren. I don’t think I’ll be a very successful one.”

Michael smirked wider. “Oh, I whole-heartedly disagree. You’ll make far more than what SHIELD is paying you. All those girls with daddy issues will pay a fortune to see you dance, especially if you can copy your current tone.”

That made Clint and Steve laugh even harder. More importantly, it got an actual chuckle from Coulson rather than a polite smile, which he counted as a minor miracle.

“Interesting effect,” he said. “Is flames a part of it, or merely a cosmetic effect?”

“Flames are a part of it,” Michael replied. “I suspect my real power might be about the flames, and getting wounded might have triggered its healing variant first,” he said as he raised his finger, and an ordinary, burning flame appeared.

“You know—“ Coulson started.

“I know, I know. I can come to a SHIELD facility for a test. How about you ask that after SHIELD manages to not screw up openly for a month?”

“How about two weeks?” Coulson replied with a rueful smile, recognizing the lost cause. Clint threw him a t-shirt, which he put it on. “Would you mind sharing how it works?”

“Sure, but please don’t put into a written report. I’m almost sure it’ll be hacked in minutes.”

“Our cybersecurity is the best in the world,” Coulson said. That, he didn’t doubt because he tangled with their best defences. What he doubted was that his report would go to the protected section. “I’ll respect your wishes. I’ll still have to tell Fury.”

“Good,” Michael said. “Fury looks like a spy cliche, so I know he won’t reveal it. My power seems to require me tapping into my emotions in a direct manner to be used actively, which is why it took a while for me to discover. I decided to try my hand at interpretive dance. I was lucky that I was in the machine shop.”

Coulson hummed, listening as he gave a surface-level explanation. “It’s a magnificent power, particularly for non-lethal takedowns.”

He nodded. “A good point,” Michael said. “You know me. I won’t work SHIELD, but I’m happy to help as long as you explain exactly what we are doing instead of pulling the usual spy bullshit.”

Coulson smiled. “That’s difficult. Fury can be … touchy.”

Michael just smirked. Fury’s sensibilities were not his problem.