A Rider Kick in Marvel Rewrite

Ace stood on the rooftop, the New York cityscape sprawling beneath him. The evening wind whipped through his casual clothes, a stark contrast to the armored forms he'd recently wielded. His phone sat silent, waiting for Detective Watanabe's message about the Fly Grongi.

His mind drifted to the Pegasus Form. The last time he'd transformed, the sensory overload had been overwhelming. Sounds, smells, and visual details had crashed into his consciousness like waves, nearly incapacitating him. But he knew he needed to master this form.

Closing his eyes, Ace began a series of breathing exercises. He focused on controlling his perception, imagining himself filtering the incoming sensory information. The city's sounds—car horns, distant conversations, the hum of electricity—began to organize themselves in his mind.

He activated the Arcle, feeling the familiar energy pulse. The transformation into Pegasus Form was instantaneous. Green armor materialized around his body, the helmet's compound eye-like design giving him an alien appearance.

Immediately, the sensory input flooded in. Ace gritted his teeth, concentrating on maintaining control. He could hear conversations happening blocks away, smell the various food vendors' offerings, see microscopic details on distant buildings. The world became an overwhelming tapestry of information.

Ace's concentration intensified. The sensory input became a crushing wave of information—each sound, smell, and visual detail piercing through his consciousness like razor-sharp needles. His body trembled, muscles tense as he fought to maintain control of the Pegasus Form.

Sweat beaded on his forehead. The compound eye-like helmet seemed to amplify every minute detail of the city around him. Distant conversations became thunderous whispers. The microscopic textures of buildings transformed into landscapes of overwhelming complexity.

Fifty seconds passed. The strain became unbearable.

Ace collapsed.

His green armor dissolved, returning him to casual clothes. He lay on the rooftop, breathing heavily. Despite the pain, a small smile crossed his face. He had lasted longer than his previous attempt—an improvement he recognized as crucial to his development as a Rider.

The transformation's aftermath left him drained. He knew pushing himself further would be counterproductive. With careful movements, Ace stood, gathering his balance.

He couldn't transform again, not so soon after this intense experience. The best course of action was to return to Pole Pole and rest.

…

Ace pushed open the door to Pole Pole, the familiar bell chiming overhead. Pops looked up from behind the counter, his weathered face breaking into a warm smile.

"Looks like you've had quite a day," Pops said, already reaching for a coffee mug. "Sit down. I'll get you something to drink."

Ace dropped into a chair, feeling the exhaustion from his Pegasus Form training settle into his muscles. The café was quiet, with only a few late afternoon customers scattered around.

Pops placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of Ace. The rich aroma filled the air, and Ace wrapped his hands around the warm mug. He took a careful sip, feeling the hot liquid spread warmth through his body and gradually calm his nerves.

"So," Pops said, leaning against the counter, "how's school going?"

Ace set down the coffee cup. "It's been fine," he replied. "I've met some friends - Nico and Berto. They're interesting people." He paused, thinking about his classes. "I have some trouble with some subjects, but I've found some people to help me."

Pops nodded, listening attentively as Ace continued to sip his coffee.

"That's good."

Pops wiped down a coffee mug, his weathered hands moving with practiced ease. He glanced at Ace, who sat hunched over his steaming cup, shoulders tense and eyes distant.

"Ace, have you been in trouble lately?" Pops asked, his tone casual but probing.

Ace looked up, his eyes momentarily sharp with surprise. "Why do you ask?"

Pops set the mug down and leaned forward, his gaze direct and knowing. "You have got this look that looks like you're carrying the entire world."

Ace straightened, a flicker of something—tension, perhaps defensiveness—crossing his face. "Pops, I'm not in trouble. Trust me."

Pops wiped his hands on a cloth, his expression softening. "I'm not saying you're in trouble. I'm saying you can rely on me. Whatever's happening, you don't have to handle everything alone."

Ace straightened in his chair, his posture becoming more rigid. "I appreciate that, but I'm not in trouble," he repeated firmly. "And if anything happens, I can deal with it."

The café's ambient noise seemed to pause for a moment, the tension hanging between Pops and Ace. Pops studied the young man, recognizing the familiar determination in his eyes - the same look he'd seen in countless young people who believed they could shoulder the world's burdens alone.

"I can handle myself," Ace said, his voice calm but resolute. "Really."

Pops chuckled, a distant look crossing his weathered face. "You know, when I was your age, I was quite the troublemaker," he began, wiping down a coffee mug. "Always getting into scrapes that would make your head spin."

He set the mug down and leaned against the counter, his eyes distant with memory. "There was this one summer in Osaka. I was working odd jobs, never staying in one place too long. Got mixed up with some local street racing crews - dangerous business for a young man with more confidence than sense."

Ace listened, surprised by the revelation. Pops wasn't just the calm café owner he'd always known.

"One night, I'd borrowed a friend's motorcycle and accidentally crashed it into a yakuza-owned restaurant. Thought my life was over," Pops said, a wry smile playing on his lips. "But my friends - Kenji and Hiroshi - they didn't abandon me. They helped me work off the damage, covered for me with the restaurant owner, made sure I didn't lose everything."

He looked directly at Ace, his gaze serious but kind. "I could have tried to handle everything alone. Would have been a disaster. But my friends - they shared my burden. Made the impossible possible."

Pops moved closer, his voice softening. "Whatever you're carrying, whatever challenges you're facing - you don't have to do it alone. There are people who want to help you. Who will help you, if you just let them."

The lesson hung in the air between them, simple yet profound.

Ace chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "I didn't know you were such a delinquent, Pops."

Pops let out a hearty laugh. "Hahaha, let's just say it took years to be as wise as I am today."

The moment of levity was interrupted by a sudden vibration. Ace pulled out his phone, his expression shifting as he read the text message. The screen displayed a location sent by Detective Watanabe - coordinates that marked the potential whereabouts of the Fly Grongi.

Without hesitation, Ace stood up quickly. "I have to go," he said, his voice urgent but controlled.

Pops noticed the change in Ace's demeanor. "Be careful," he called out as Ace rushed toward the café door.

The bell chimed as Ace burst out onto the street, the text message clutched tightly in his hand. His mind was already racing, processing the location and potential strategies for confronting the Grongi.

Pops watched through the café window, a concerned but knowing look crossing his weathered face. "Be safe, kid," he murmured to himself.

***

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Advance chapters are in my P@|r3on - Najicablitz