in Marvel, Multiverse and more With GACHA

Chapter 8: Post-Apocalypse Aesthetic



Just half an hour ago, this place was a war zone.

Destruction stretched in every direction. Shattered roads, wrecked buildings, cars tossed around like a toddler had a tantrum. Smoke still curled from the ruins, the air thick with that lovely mix of burning metal, dust, and "yep, that's definitely something toxic."

I turned away. No point in staring. It wasn't gonna magically unexplode itself.

The news anchors weren't much better. Same dramatic voices, same recycled phrases. Devastation of an unprecedented scale. Blah blah blah. Just endless blabber about "the extent of the damage" without touching on the real question—who was responsible?

After The Thing finished turning Big Angry into modern art, SHIELD swarmed the place.

Big guys in suits were making sure nosy civilians (read: me) didn't stick around too long.

That's when I spotted the officer heading my way. Clipboard. No-nonsense expression. The human embodiment of I don't get paid enough for this.

I sighed and stepped forward. "Got any leads?"

He barely glanced up. "Yeah. Her name's Gali. Mother's dead. Father's missing, probably dead too."

Yikes.

I exhaled, turning to the girl I'd practically tackled out of harm's way. Now that I got a better look at her, yeah, she couldn't be older than twelve. Maybe thirteen.

Black hair. Purple eyes.

"So… what now?" I asked.

The officer flipped a page. "We'll need your signature before we send her to an orphanage. Same with the others who lost their guardians in the chaos."

I glanced at the girl again.

Orphanage, huh?

She didn't react. Didn't flinch.

Just kept watching me like she was trying to figure me out.

Maybe still in shock.

"…Alright." I pulled out my pen and signed where needed.

The officer gave me a nod. "Appreciate it."

"Yeah. No worries."

And just like that, I was free to leave.

Wish escaping this entire multiversal nightmare was just as easy.

Maybe I could go to Westeros. Life's gotta be safer there, right? Just chill in some castle, avoid politics, maybe pick up swordplay as a hobby. Sounds better than nearly dying every other week.

Yeah, yeah, there's the Night King, dragons, magic, but hey, at least nobody's chucking cars at me.

It's not even been a month, and I've already had more near-death experiences than I can count.

…Wait.

Is someone watching me?

Maybe LADY D—

Cough cough.

The hell am I doing?

Is my brain actually fried? Why am I thinking about her?

…She probably already heard me.

Siiiiigh.

What did I just get myself into?

Sigh again, just for extra suffering.

Alright, alright. Focus. Deal with the present first.

The whole mess with Big Angry, mutant or mutate, whatever he was, still had no clear answer.

Locals were already throwing the "mutant" label around because of course they were. Facts didn't matter. Just slap X-Gene on anything remotely weird and call it a day.

And the government? Pfft. Like they'd ever back mutants, truth be damned.

Still, no way I was just walking away from this. Random incident? In Marvel? Yeah, right. Nothing here happens by accident.

So.

I needed real answers, not just street gossip. And for that, gotta find someone official.

Doesn't have to be some big-shot politician. A cop would do.

Preferably one who won't bury the truth to cover someone's ass.

Or…

One who will spill it to save his own.

Or hell, maybe both.

Riiiing.

I sighed, fishing my phone out of my pocket.

"What happened?" I asked, pressing it to my ear.

"Ha. Yeah, I'm free now."

My eyes flicked back to the wreckage one last time.

"Yeah, just wanna get home and crash on the couch."

"Yes, I saw the message."

I rubbed my temple. "And?"

"Of course, the school won't be shut down."

I exhaled through my nose.

A whole city block just got turned into modern art, and they still expected us to show up like nothing happened.

Not that I am surprised.

"Alright, whatever. I'll see you there," I said before hanging up.

Slipping my phone back into my pocket, I finally started walking. My legs felt heavier, probably the adrenaline wearing off. Or maybe my body was just protesting the whole almost got crushed by a flying car thing.

First time for everything.

And knowing my luck, probably not the last.

The streets were still a mess, cleanup crews already rolling in. SHIELD agents stood around looking important. Cops were busy trying to keep reporters from getting too close.

Standard post-chaos procedure.

I kept my head down, weaving through the crowd like I wasn't there.

No point in sticking around. Not like I had anything to add.

Besides, I had a date with my couch.

A simple, beautiful plan.

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