Marvel's Villainous Gacha 48 (Patreon)

After revealing his fire trick, his life gained a new equilibrium. It wasn’t ideal, with Natasha busy in a mission, Mary Jane and Jessica still in Los Angeles, Jane and Darcy in Europe for a conference because the dean called in one last favor before she left for her sabbatical.

Even Pepper was gone, stuck in Washington because Tony decided to turn Stark Tower into a generator in the middle of the city, somehow believing it to be a smart decision.

Government, unsurprisingly, approved that decision, proving that they had learned absolutely nothing from the Hammer debacle.

Not that he complained too much. Spying on Tony while he installed it allowed him to update his own Arc Reactor designs further. He wasn’t able to get his hands on the synthesis method of the new element that Tony was using to replace the palladium core, but that wasn’t too much of a problem, especially for the giant version.

It was easy to shield the giant version.

Upgrading the power output allowed him to upgrade everything, from computational efficiency to production.

He used those benefits to the limit, creating more Sutherland variants numbering just above two hundred, and three thousand low-powered armor variants without weapons that could be deployed in emergencies, simple enough that any police officer or firemen could use.

Meanwhile, the shield drone numbers were nearing a hundred thousand, mostly search and rescue variants. He knew that he was being a bit too paranoid, but since he had the excess power, it would be a waste not to use it.

Similarly, he used the opportunity to get certified for helicopter use, and purchased one for his roof, even secretly modified it for emergencies. With the people he cared about split across the globe, possibly revealing his hand wasn’t as important.

At worst, he would claim that Professor Azure was an old man and gave the helicopter in exchange for healing him. His growing ability to heal people worked perfectly as an excuse as well.

For Professor Azure, he even created a couple of planes that could be used to deploy those drones anywhere around the world in emergencies, ready to support other parts of the world. He also thought about selling those drones at acceptable prices to make them deployable all around the world, but he wanted to wait a bit more.

A villain selling weapons was a different story. It was the kind of thing that would force SHIELD to react, and he much preferred them to stay passive until he perfected his Sutherland control systems, ready to be deployed without hacking.

After all, no external signal meant no risk of being hacked, regardless of how good SHIELD computers were.

Luckily, he wasn’t lacking in materials. There were more than enough shady black market dealers who were happy to drive a truck near the sea and don’t ask questions about how the equipment inside disappeared.

He even started extracting simpler materials like iron and copper from the sea bed and process in his new underwear base, this time almost two hundred miles away from the shore, safely tucked away.

&&&

He was at his New York Base, testing a Sutherland Mark II, an upgraded chassis with superior mobility and armor at the cost of higher energy consumption, collecting data for the piloting system when he received multiple high priority alarms.

A quick check showed the reason. Video of a giant aircraft carrier that, for some reason, was flying in the sky with a burning engine. He would have guessed SHIELD even without the giant symbol on the side.

Exactly the kind of stupid construction choice he expected from those idiots.

Take a giant platform, add in four engines that made their stupid contraption weaker than a tutorial videogame boss, and somehow convince themselves that it was not a huge waste of money.

And they were supposed to protect the world. No wonder he was feeling insecure enough to build thousands of robots.

However, his good mood evaporated when he activated a little bug he installed Natasha’s phone, revealing that she was on that death trap. “Fuck,” he gasped as he immediately jumped out of the robot, activated his teleportation to return to his basement, and immediately rushed to his roof.

There was no time to waste.

The importance of his hurry was confirmed when he was already in his helicopter when he called Natasha, and she didn’t pick up. The same was the case for Clint. So, he called Coulson, who answered.

“Mr. Wren, not a good time—“

“Just a question. Is Natasha in that giant flying aircraft carrier designed by the smartest team of morons in the world?” he asked.

“Yes,” he replied.

“Good, then I’m already in a helicopter and flying toward it. Just make sure they don’t shoot me when I approach.”

“It’s highly dangerous—“

“Phil. Shut the fuck up. You don’t go into action without a healer. Every gamer knows that.”

“Not much of a gamer, Michael,” Coulson chuckled. “I’ll warn them not to shoot any approaching helicopter without checking.”

With that, Coulson ended the call, but Michael felt a chill. Coulson didn’t slip like that, not unless the situation was far more critical than he expected.

He flipped a switch and activated boosters, his helicopter turning into a monstrosity between a helicopter and a jet, Yggdrasil Drive activating. It sped up to Mach Ten, which was just above seven thousand miles an hour, the jump was enough to kill an ordinary human.

Even then, it took fifteen minutes for him to reach the flying aircraft, which seemed to be stabilized, though still wobbling. To anyone else, landing on an unstable flying surface would have been nearly impossible, but not for him.

He landed, though he didn’t forget activating the defensive measures as he landed. Nor did he forget to activate his hacking tool that was already integrated into his helicopter. He did need to get paid, after all.

Even in an emergency, he didn’t trust SHIELD stooges.

“Healer on deck,” he shouted the moment he landed, ignoring the panicking agents. “Call Coulson, he’ll confirm.”

That made the agents stiffen. “A-agent Coulson is … dead,” one of them said.

That made Michael freeze. Coulson, one of the very few people he actually liked and respected.

Dead.

Or, was he? “Is his head intact?” he asked.

“What kind of disrespectful question is that—“ one of the agents started.

“Superpowered healer, you moron,” Michael shouted. “I just talked with him fifteen minutes ago. Unless he died the moment he ended the call, he can be revived.” He looked panickedly. “Now!”

“Follow me,” a woman shouted the moment he called. A brunette woman, one that radiated the kind of authority that he found extremely sexy, and loved to flirt any other time.

Michael did, moving fast, and then he also shouted. “Also gather other wounded and arrange a triage!”

They might be working for an idiot organization, but that didn’t mean they deserved death.

He followed the woman, ignoring the sight of Tony trying to repair the engine. Emergency lights pulsed across the hull in patterns that told a story of cascading system failures, the kind that would have mercilessly mocked if it wasn’t for the emergency.

The smoke filling the corridors, revealing multiple structural fires, didn’t help either. The whole structure groaned in a way that would have scared him if he couldn’t melt his way out in case of a cascading failure.

He barely paid attention to the hundreds of voices shouting in panic, including someone giving a report to something called security council. He made sure to hit anyone bleeding with his Divine Healing Light, not bothering to hide it, as he had a feeling that would be necessary while trying to revive Coulson.

The medical bay was a warzone.

Forty-plus wounded were spread across treatment stations that had been supplemented with field cots along the walls and stretchers on the floor. The room was tilted with the carrier's list, equipment sliding against its mounting bolts, IV stands leaning at angles that gravity disputed.

Coulson was in the corner, thankfully linked with several machines that seemed to be doing a good job protecting his brain, surrounded by monitoring equipment and a medical team whose faces told the story before the instruments did.

He didn’t know what kind of plan they had to revive him, but it wouldn’t be better than his Divine Healing Light. Especially since he could see the wound, the discoloration in patterns suggesting some kind of extraordinary damage. Cellular disruption.

He raised his hand, bathing the whole room with light, though he made sure to keep the ability relatively weak, just preventing death.

Then, he walked Coulson’s side, pushing the doctor away as he put his hands on his wound. He didn't announce what he was doing. He didn't explain the golden light that erupted from his palms with an intensity that made every person in the medical bay avoid looking.

He didn't care about cover stories or managed revelations or the careful calibration of how much to show. He hit Coulson with the full power of his Divine Healing Light mixed with his golden flames, wanting to destroy the monitoring devices connected to him.

However, it turned out to be a very smart decision, as it actually resisted his healing, forcing him to cast his Greater Blessing with a stamina boost to overcome the effect.

Lucky, as he definitely didn’t want to give Coulson a prince charming kiss.

Even with all three, it took a minute for him to actually repair the damage. Greater Blessing laid the foundation, with minor regeneration and stamina helping the situation, creating biological scaffolding. Divine Healing Light addressed the damage left by cellular disruption, while his golden flames fought against that weird, sticky energy.

The medical team backed away in fear and awe, though Michael believed that the only reason he wasn’t shot in the head was the woman — Maria Hill, as the chatter revealed — giving them orders.

Two minutes later, Coulson opened his eyes, finally healthy, and Michael made sure to stumble back to the nearest chair, breathing hard as if he had just finished a marathon. He would have dramatically fallen to his knees, but considering his flames destroyed everything around Coulson, including his clothes, he decided to avoid that part.

“Streaking again, Coulson?” he asked with forced levity. “You’re making that a habit.”

Coulson rose, patting his chest, unable to believe that he was still alive. Somehow, after meeting Maria Hill’s gaze and sharing a nod, he reestablished control. “Mr. Wren, maybe you should be the one to answer that,” he responded. “You should know that I am taken.”

“You dog, you never mentioned it,” Michael chuckled as he made a show of leaning back, using Suppression to sell his exhaustion. “Is Natasha or Clint on board as well?” he asked.

Maria seemed to refuse that question in principle. “Yes, and they are not facing an immediate deadly situation,” she answered. Her tone suggested their situation was not exactly perfect, but he was alright with the situation.

“Good,” he replied. “Bring anyone who is in absolute emergency condition. I can keep them stable, but a full heal should probably wait for a while.”

Maria nodded and walked away. Michael gestured one of the doctors. “Buddy, go grab me a sandwich, please. Or a couple of protein bars.” One benefit of magically healing fifty people facing death, people were more than happy to play gopher. “Anyone dying?” he added.

"Mr. Wren," Coulson said as he put on a hospital gown. His voice was hoarse but steady. "Your bedside manner needs work."

"Not as much as your combat skills. How did you manage to get stabbed?"

Coulson chuckled, still dizzy from overcharged healing. “It was still impressive, considering who I was fighting,” he commented.

“You owe me a dinner, though,” Michael said. “I had to use a favor from one really annoying guy to come here.”

Coulson looked concerned. “Who?”

“Professor Azure,” he said. “Now, I owe the guy three healing sessions for it. Luckily, healing is a valuable currency for an old man.”

“How did he know it?” Coulson said.

“Come on, Coulson,” Michael whispered. “I don’t want to insult SHIELD in front of the people who fought risking their lives, but you guys don’t have the best reputation. This is your third fuckup in less than two months, and that’s what I know.”

“Fair point,” Coulson agreed. “Do you want to accompany me to the main deck? Steve will appreciate a friendly face.”

“You guys dragged him into this mess as well,” Michael said. However, he still waited for a minute before standing up, responding to the emergency cases that had been dragged to him. Only when the doctor confirmed there were no more deadly cases, did he stood up, making a show of stumbling somewhat as if his world had tilted. “Any emergency cases, call me or wheel the patient to the deck,” he said.

The doctor nodded, and they moved. Coulson stopped by a room on the way to put on another off-the-rack suit, though he finally had the chance to see his wardrobe.

“Really, Coulson. Three dozen suits of the same color and cut?” he teased.

Coulson shrugged as he closed the door to change. He used the opportunity to type a few messages to his phone, communicating with his helicopter, remembering that he had activated his hacking tool, curious whether it triggered the same defenses. Luckily, even if he got caught, he could always blame Professor Azure.

To his surprise, it didn’t. For some reason, SHIELD decided that their giant flying aircraft carrier didn’t deserve their best cybersecurity tools. He could actually make it fall down with a touch.

He didn’t. Instead, he let his helicopter’s onboard computer copy every single piece of data it could scrap, the broken state of the aircraft carrier making it even easier.

When he appeared again, Coulson was talking into his earpiece. “Let’s visit Natasha and Clint first,” he said, his voice tight.

“What happened?”

“Clint has been mind-controlled,” Coulson replied. “He’s fine, but…”

“He killed people,” Michael completed, feeling somber. He still remembered how horrible it felt when he faced Kilgrave, that was merely partial control. Being used as a meat puppet to kill people he fought together might be the worst thing that could happen to a guy like Clint.

Michael started to walk faster.

Natasha was in a room, talking to Clint, who was tied to his medical bed. The moment he entered, Natasha jumped in shock, then hugged him. Michael hugged her, her state the worst he had ever seen, with many small wounds. He hit her with a Greater Blessing of Stamina. “P-Phil,” Natasha whispered, her emotions thick enough to overcome her control.

“Don’t worry. I arrived just in time,” he said, and took a step back, revealing Coulson in his usual sheepish state.

Natasha shivered in his arms, took a deep breath, and hid her emotions. “It’s good to see you wearing another ugly suit, Phil,” Natasha said, trying to sound casual, but even she was unable to hide her relief.

Phil just nodded, then walked toward Clint. He said nothing, just squeezed Clint’s hand.

“What’s the mental status?” he asked.

“He’s recovering,” Natasha said.

“I think I can help,” he said. He walked toward Clint. “Permission to slap you?” he asked, even as he covered his hand in golden flames. It wasn’t necessary, but the visual impact would make it more convincing.

Clint nodded, though it was a small, wooden move, like he was still trying to deal with the mind control. Michael activated his Snap out of It Ability, and slapped Clint twice. He also applied another Greater Blessing of Stamina.

It meant he had no more free ability slots available for the next thirty minutes, with his two thinker abilities in the process of removal. He didn’t even have his regeneration, but luckily, his healing flames were effective on himself, removing the need for it constantly occupying a slot.

Altogether, it was an acceptable trade-off.

“It feels like the fog has dissipated,” Clint said with a clipped tone.

“Good to hear, buddy,” Michael said, squeezed his hand, and walked back. He squeezed Natasha’s hand, and they walked out. Phil was the best person to talk to Clint about what he had just experienced. As a bonus, it distracted Phil from his own brush with death.

“How are you here?” Natasha said.

“I owe Professor Azure a few healing sessions if he ever needs them. Not a big deal,” he said, squeezing her hand. It was very convenient to owe favors to his alter ego. “How are you?”

"I don’t want to talk about it,” she replied, her tone uncharacteristically subdued. She squeezed his hand desperately. “The fire thing. You did it in front of everyone. It won’t stay a secret,” she said.

"Phil was dying. I won’t let one of the few people that I actually like die due to an inconvenience,” he said.

Natasha's expression softened. She supported his walk, their shoulders touching as they walked through the metal corridors.

“We’re in danger,” she started, but he put his hand to her lips.

“It can wait until we meet with Steve and Tony,” he said.

“Good,” Natasha said. “We need to pick up Thor and Doctor Banner on the way as well.”

“Who and who?”

“Long story short, Hulk’s real identity, and an alien god,” she said.

That made Michael’s eyes widen. He was intimately familiar with the name, but he had assumed that it was just another hero obsessed with mythology. “When you say alien god?” he said.

“A superpowered alien with a giant hammer and lightning powers, strong enough that his previous visit convinced Earth that they are gods,” she explained.

“Interesting,” he said.

Natasha nodded, then her eyes widened as she leaned to his ear. “Make sure never to mention Doctor Foster near him,” she said, her voice serious.

He nodded, as he had absolutely no intention of taunting a guy that was strong enough to be mistaken for a god that he had stolen his long-distance girlfriend.

He still had some survival instincts.

Soon, they arrived in a lower room, where Tony and Steve were having a serious talk. The moment Steve saw him, he interrupted the talk, and rushed toward him. “Michael. Phil is —“

“Already dealt with, along with all emergency cases onboard. He’s upright, and wearing another ugly suit,” he explained.

“Really? Where’s he?” he asked.

“He’s with Clint, having a talk after … well,” he said.

Steve nodded.

“Hi Tony,” Michael said.

“Michael,” he nodded, his tone distant. Michael didn’t mind, as he knew that Tony wasn’t his biggest fan considering what was going on between him and Pepper.

“What’s the plan?” he asked.

“We discovered Loki’s target. It’s New York,” Tony said. “We’re going to take a jet and try to intercept him before he could trigger his plan.”

“Which is?”

“Opening some kind of gate using a near-infinite source of energy, to bring an invasion army to the middle of the city,” he said.

“Oh, just that,” Michael chuckled darkly. “It looks like that, for once, I’ll accompany you guys.”

“We just need to take one of the jets,” Tony said.

“Don’t worry. I have something better.”