in Marvel, Multiverse and more With GACHA

"Forget this! I'm out!"

Sam, dude I barely even spoke to, suddenly shot up, voice cracking like a cheap Bluetooth speaker. Man was done. Gunfire, explosions? Nah, that wasn't in his student handbook. And honestly? Can't blame him.

The bus felt like a death trap.

And he wasn't the only one thinking it.

The moment he made a move, others started shifting too. First, a little hesitant, but then picking up steam like a Black Friday crowd.

Mr. Trump didn't stop them. Why would he? Bro was already leading the charge.

Mans went from teacher to Titanic escapee real quick.

"We should follow too," Ned muttered. His legs looked like a Jenga tower on its last block.

I didn't move just yet. Instead, I turned back, scanning the chaos outside before making a decision.

Police. Armed soldiers. Firing at whatever the hell had kicked off this real-life war zone. The source of all this madness was just out of sight, but from the way bullets were not effective and explosions were ripping through the streets, I was pretty sure it wasn't just a couple of robbers who got too ambitious.

Nope. This was big.

I can't stay here anymore.

Deep breath. Last one out.

The moment my feet hit the pavement, it was loud. Gunfire popping off like fireworks on steroids, people screaming, and cars looking like Swiss cheese with all the bullet holes.

Then.

ROOOAAAARRRRRR.

"What the hell is that?" Ned muttered, eyes wide like he just saw his browser history projected on a big screen.

I turned and oh, we are so cooked.

Big. Hairy. Built like he eats cement for breakfast. Dude had hands the size of my whole torso and was tossing a car like it was a bag of crisps.

If he wasn't bright orange, I'd swear Hank McCoy finally said screw Xavier and went full primal.

Still, the first thing that popped into my head, mutant?

What else could he be? Dude was built like a brick wall that got sick of architecture and decided to pursue a career in vehicular manslaughter. And right now? He was out here tossing cars like they owed him money.

"Bro," Ned whispered, voice shaking. "Tell me we're not about to get curb-stomped by that."

"I would, if we weren't literally on the list of potential victims."

Big Angry, because that's what we're calling him now, let out a roar straight from a Dark Souls boss fight and swung a minivan like it was a baseball bat. Cops scattered. Sirens wailed. The barricade? Gone. Yeeted into another ZIP code.

"Alright, new plan," I muttered. "Step one, don't die."

"Big fan. Love that. What's step two?"

I had nothing. Brain blue-screened.

Except for one idea.

Run.

And then, because the universe hates me, Big Angry turned. Looked directly at us.

His eyes? Red-hot coals of murder.

"Uh," I started.

"Oh, we are so dead," Ned whimpered.

Then the bastard moved.

Fast.

Too fast.

"RUN!" I grabbed Ned by the arm and bolted, nearly tripping over my own useless, noodle-like legs.

Screams. Gunfire. Another explosion, because why not? But all I could hear was the T-Rex stomping footsteps right behind us.

"WHY IS IT SO FAST?!" Ned practically sobbed, running like a man who just saw his student loan interest rates.

"WHAT KIND OF ELITE RAID BOSS BULLSHIT IS THIS?!" I yelled, barely dodging a flying chunk of asphalt.

Is Stan Lee's ghost watching me right now?

Fuck.

"WHY DOES IT HAVE MAXED-OUT AGILITY?!" Ned wheezed, sprinting like he just saw his credit card statement.

Behind us, Big Angry was gaining.

The ground shook with every step. I risked a glance back, instant regret. Bro was built like he skipped leg day just to max out his speed stat.

"Bro, he's running like Walmart just announced a PS5 restock," Ned wheezed.

I didn't have time to laugh because another car yeeted over our heads, flipping mid-air like it was auditioning for Fast and Furious 27 We Ran Out of Roads. It crashed into a bus, which, because the universe has a sense of humour, immediately exploded.

"Okay, new plan!" I gasped between breaths. "Step one, run. Step two, don't die. Step three, find a tankier target."

Ned shot me a betrayed look. "Did you just say bait?"

"Survival of the least stompable!"

"WE ARE NOT BUILT FOR THIS!" Ned shrieked, running like his tax fraud just got exposed.

Meanwhile, Big Angry was still on his villain arc, treating the street like his personal stress toy. Cars launched. Barricades gone. Cops running like their shift didn't cover this.

I risked a glance back, instant regret. "Bro, we are so not supposed to be in this boss fight!"

Why? Just why?

I can't handle him. Not like this.

Grayson's template isn't fully assimilated yet, and even if it was, a head-on fight? Bad idea. I don't have his tinker gear, his weapons, anything.

"Why does it feel like we're on his hit list?!" Ned wheezed.

"Because we are!"

"What did we do?!"

"Exist in his line of sight!"

"THAT'S NOT A VALID REASON FOR MURDER!"