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Just InCommunityForumMoreDragonborn's Might makes Right by Infonticus Game X-overs & Avengers Xover Rated: M, English, Adventure, Words: 356k+, Favs: 1k+, Follows: 1k+, Published: Aug 25, 2021 Updated: Jun 12, 2022 514Chapter 19

Chapter 19: A Tangled Web of Wrong Assumptions[Asgard]

"This changes everything." Gamora muttered in trepidation to her sister as they stepped onto Asgard, the Jewel of the Nine Realms.

Made of sturdy stone and gleaming golden metal, the newly constructed megaport of Asgard was absolutely packed. Asgardians in their graceful robes were out en masse loading and unloading ships. Metal crates of the goods were stacked high everywhere- ready to be transported by Asgardian skimmers all across the realm. Fully-armed Sakaarian raider crews walked up and down the perfect stone streets with their chins held high like they were returning heroes rather than raping, pillaging raiders. And every dock was occupied by ships from Sakaar: Some were raiding ships armed to the teeth recruiting Asgardians for their raids, some were massive freighters carrying loot-turned-relief goods, and some were carrying fresh slaves for the newly legalised slavery of Asgard.

And in the midst of it all, it was just her and her sister, Nebula: Both of Thanos' infamous daughters hidden in plain sight- disguised as soldiers of their father's sworn enemy.

"The Nine Realms allying with Sakaar." Nebula gruffly agreed as she fell in step beside her, "As if regular Sakaarian raiders weren't a threat enough, now the galaxy will have to contend with Asgardian raiders in the raiding fleets as well… Stronger, faster and all the skills earned from a long, long life. This doesn't bode well for the Nova and Kree Empires. How did Hevnokren manage to recruit them after his rampage through Asgard?"

Gamora fiddled with her shiny amulet- the same one that the Barbara girl had distributed to Hevnokren's chosen raiders. As far as Hevnokren knew, Gamora and her sister were just two of his trusted elite raiders who were touring Asgard's newest port. And it was almost laughable how much respect this amulet gave her in the eyes of the Sakaarians. Conversely, she didn't want to think of what the Sakaarians would do to them if they were discovered to have been spies this whole time. There would be no escape this deep in their territory, even if it was Asgard.

"It's an after effect of the civil war- it has made the Asgardians desperate." Gamora added- watching as a Sakaarian captain cajoled a pair of young Asgardian men into joining its crew.

The armoured insectoid captain was no doubt spinning promises to the two Asgardians. They'll give you a gun, armour and an energy shield fresh from Magister Johanna's Tesseract-Energy factory. They'll reserve you a bunk on their ship, and all you have to do the next time they go out to raid some pitiful planet is do whatever you want. And Gamora knew it was an easy sell.

Are you in it for the money? Just slap a slave collar on some civilians and you'll be rolling in more Units than you could have earned in a decade with a 9-to-5 job.

You want that shiny new techtool behind that store window? Smash and grab, baby, as many as you damn well want. Same goes for whatever material object that catches your eye. Cars, jewellery, clothes, shoes, guns. You see it, you take it.

Maybe you just want to burn and kill and destroy? Rampage away. Brutalise whoever you can find. And maybe if you're lucky, you'll find a local celebrity that you have been holding a seething hatred for. It won't be the first time.

Or maybe you come across a cute little piece of ass that you want to fuck? That ass is now yours as often as long as you want. You're not limited to just one too, take as many as you like.

After all, who's going to stop you? The local law enforcement with their piddly guns that can't even get your shield down to half-charge?

"The Asgardians are now just another victim lured in by Hevnokren's primal promises of anarchic freedom." Gamora muttered. "And that last raid on a Nova Empire planet was the first time that the Asgardians realised that such promises were far from empty."

Already, a few Asgardians had come back with their own pillaged ships laden with plunder and slaves. Their once frightful families who lived desperately day-after-day relying on Sakaarian foreign aid wept in joy and relief as their fortunes were made- lifted up from the dregs of poverty to affluence with a single raid. An all-too-common story on Sakaar, and now, it was about to become a lot more common in Asgard as well. And as if to reinforce her train of thought, a line of blue-skinned Kree slaves in chains led by a proud Asgardian passed them by on the streets. Some Asgardians looked enviously at him. Others gawked and whispered in hushed tones.

"Few people ever ask about the cost and who paid for it." Gamora whispered in dismay, "All that matters to them is that their own family is no longer starving."

Her sister just grunted uncaringly in response.

"As Hevnokren says, the weak belong wherever the strong decide to place them." Nebula quoted- eyeing the newly-minted Asgardian Raiders leading the slaves as well, "And now that they've had a taste of it, the Asgardians believe it as much as the Sakaarians do."

"This was everything that father had been trying to prevent, you know?" Gamora pointed out. And it was a silver lining of sorts for her: Knowing that the cause she and her father fought for was just. That slaying half the population of planets was not only necessary, it was also the morally just thing to do, if only to avoid the kind of devastation that Hevnokren and his 'Dread Armada' inflicts on the galaxy.

"Well, I don't plan on disappointing our father." Nebula whispered with conviction. "'Your most important mission to date.' That's what father said when he ordered us to locate those Dragon Balls."

And Gamora nodded.

Their father and the Dragon Balls. Some would call the 'Mad' Titan's newfound interest in that Celestial Artefact to be an obsession, but Gamora knew her father better than that. He was merely determined more than ever, because her father had sensed weakness in his enemy, Hevnokren. And despite being desperate to have them, the dragon Hevnokren could not overtly move to search for them, so he sent his women to search for the Dragon Balls. But Gamora knew that she and her sister were the best people suited for the job- much better than Hevnokren's own women could ever be. And once their father gathers the Dragon Balls and wishes for all six Infinity Stones to be at the palm of his hand…. Not even Hevnokren, nor his inner cabal of women, nor all his ships, nor his Asgardian allies could stop Thanos then. No one can.

The hunt for the Dragon Balls were all that mattered now.

"We need to tail Hevnokren's inner circle this time." Nebula specified, "We wasted so much time tailing that Venti-child only for him to go on a planet-wide pub crawl. That cannot happen again. We need to tail someone who is actually important to Hevnokren's operations: Barbara, Klee, Johanna or even Governess Sylvie."

Gamora pursed her lips as they sat down at the balcony of a restaurant that overlooked the shining port of Asgard. It was a semi-private table: Not too private that they practically announced they had something to hide, but not too open that anyone could overhear what they discussed. It was one of the reasons why they had avoided getting caught with their secrets thus far. And this objective about tailing Hevnokren's most trusted women is certainly one such secret.

"But this might be harder to do than it sounds." Gamora sighed, "Barbara only appears during the Choosing of the Elites when she hands out the Amulets, Klee doesn't do anything apart from committing planet-wide genocides, Johanna supervises the Sakaarian Orbital Shipyard that is off-limits to anyone but slaves. So that leaves…"

"Governess Sylvie." Nebula finished for her, and Gamora nodded as their drinks arrived. And as one, they both turned their eyes towards the Royal Palace of Valaskjalf. A mountain of metal that gleamed like gold where the new High Queen held her court.

"From Governess of Sakaar to High Queen of the Nine Realms…" she muttered into her drink, "Governess Sylvie has done well for herself."

Nebula nodded in agreement.

"Some are even calling Sakaar as 'The Tenth Realm.' But apart from public knowledge, we lack information about Asgard in general." she supplied before directing an accusation towards Gamora. "And it's completely your fault that we missed our best chance: I told you that we should have joined when Commander Brunnhilde asked for volunteers for the campaign against the Frost Giants. We could have been close to the Governess by now if we did."

And against her sister's well-worn argument, Gamora could only roll her eyes yet again.

"There you go again, sounding like a broken holo-record." she groaned into her drink. "Do I have to remind you that we only got the Chosen Elite titles because I insisted that we participate in every raid we could? Hevnokren has a nose for picking out spies from the Nova and Kree Empires, and we only got this far because of my decisions."

"And as I told you from the beginning, sister." Nebula spat the word like poison, "All that wouldn't have been necessary if we had gone under cover as slave traders in the first place instead of having to raid and pillage three times a day. You were so intent on working hard that you let golden opportunities pass us by."

"Pardon me, ladies." A smooth voice interrupted them from the other end of the table, "I couldn't help but overhear your bickering over your infiltration of Sakaar."

Immediately, they burst into action- their blades held against the newcomer's throat in the blink of an eye. And despite the blades that were held to his throat, the middle-aged Asgardian man with wilting blonde hair and slight wrinkles calmly smiled at them, not even batting an eyelash. Gamora didn't recognise him: The newcomer was practically as unremarkable as Asgardians came… which was exactly the reason why Gamora and Nebula knew that he was some kind of spy in disguise. Also, Gamora could have sworn that it was just her and Nebula on this restaurant balcony. Where did this creep come from?

"It's alright." The mystery blond man cooly reassured them, "I am no friend of the Fake-Queen Sylvie; and moreover, I want to help."

Gamora shared a careful glance with Nebula, and they both pressed their blades just a hair closer to the man's throat- almost to the point of drawing blood, but his sly smile was still intact as they did.

"Who do you work for then?" Nebula demanded in a low growl. "The Nova Empire? The Kree Empire? The Interstellar Confederacy?"

And the man merely shot them a knowing smirk.

"No one. I am merely an individual with a long memory." he hinted. "And the actions that Sylvie had struck against me can fill a large scroll."

Believable, but she wasn't buying it yet.

"Your name. Now." Gamora demanded with a frown- not giving any information away. She wasn't like her dumb sister who was a second-rate spy with her questioning. By listing down names like that, Nebula had practically confirmed that they weren't working for either the Nova Empire, the Kree Empire, nor the Interstellar Confederacy. And from the way this man was smiling, he figured that out too. Thanks a lot, Nebula.

"You can call me… Ki-Lo." He shared- his hands raised to show they were empty. But again, Gamora felt that he was hiding something.

"I'm Moraga. She's Bulane." Gamora took charge of the conversation with this 'Ki-Lo' before Nebula could run her mouth again. "Now talk. Tell us why we shouldn't just slit your throat right here."

"Because we share a common goal." this 'Ki-Lo' shrugged, "Uncovering the secrets of the Fake-Queen Sylvie."

Gamora still remained unconvinced though. She narrowed her eyes at him as she pressed her blade just a hair firmer to his neck- wordlessly gesturing to him to keep talking which he seemed delighted to continue doing.

"That there?" He pointed to the Asgardian palace dominating the city's skyline. "You're never getting in without being discovered- Hevnokren's chosen elites or not. This is not the dragon's Sakaar where anyone can go anywhere as long as they're strong enough, nor will those Amulets allow you almost unrestricted access and power here in Asgard. No, the moment you step an uninvited foot in that palace, Sylvie's Royal Guards- those burly fellows in green and black armour- will be there to drag you two away for questioning."

"And you happen to have an alternative?" Nebula prodded inquisitively.

"Oh, I do." He readily supplied with a too-cheery grin, "And the only thing keeping me from doing it myself is that I don't have a ship or a crew…"

He trailed off- his green eyes content with admiring Asgard's skyline. And for a whole minute, he didn't speak.

"We're waiting." Gamora finally demanded.

"Oh, I'm sorry." he smiled like she had just taken his bait, "Does that mean that you're- as they say- in?"

"Your plan first, then we'll decide." She growled- rapidly losing patience with this slippery spy.

"Oh, very well… A little known fact about the Fake-Queen is that she is oh so sentimental." he revealed- still staring at Asgard's palace, "Her affection for her family in particular. Now, that wouldn't be of much use with all of the royal family residing in the same palace that you cannot enter, except… there is one member who does not."

"Thor." Nebula spoke the name of the banished prince of Asgard. And Ki-Lo only smiled even more deviously.

"Yes…" He gleefully confirmed, "If Thor was- let's say- kidnapped by an unknown party only to be saved by Hevnokren's raiders? Well, those raiders would have gone a long way to securing the Fake-Queen's trust. The royal family cannot leave the saviours of their first born uninvited, and that would be the perfect time to sell your services."

"Bullshit." Nebula spat out, "No one knows what backwater planet Odin had banished Thor to."

"Oh, but I do." He smiled up at them both, "I know exactly which backwater planet Thor was banished to spend the rest of his life on. And before you think about trying to force it out of me, bear in mind that Odin would not have left Thor powerless. You'll need someone who Thor won't recognise, but also is very much familiar with him to ensure his kidnapping goes smoothly… someone like me."

"And what do you get out of this?" Gamora forwarded her own question.

"I assume that whatever reason you two have for wishing to get closer to the Fake-Queen isn't for her benefit?" He questioned evenly.

"It isn't." Gamora had no qualms about confirming it to him. And with a sigh, she pulled her blade away from Ki-Lo's throat.

"Wonderful." He smiled with a clap of his hands. "That is enough for me. So, what do you say? Partners?"

And instead of answering, Gamora once again shared a glance with her sister. And disappointingly, Nebula's subtle body language said that she was completely sold on Ki-Lo's idea and willing to go along with it. Gamora, however, was still leery about this mysterious Asgardian man. There was something off about him that she couldn't pinpoint, but she had to admit that there were short on options on how to enter the palace. Fine, she'll let Nebula have her way this time around. This could go really well or really poorly for them, but as her sister always says, opportunity only knocks once…

"Welcome aboard, Ki-Lo." Gamora greeted him with a shake of their hands, "Now about that planet's name?"

"We Asgardians call it 'Midgard.'" He smiled as he stood up from his seat and let her lead him to their ship, "But its primitive denizens call it Earth."

… but that didn't mean that she trusted this Asgardian. Not one bit.

Privately, Loki (or 'Ki-Lo' as he was now known to these Sakaarian simpletons) can only grin internally at how smoothly things were going.

The best deceptions were always the ones that had grains of truths mixed into them.

It was true that he severely misliked how Sylvie had betrayed him (before he could betray her, of course). And he was also truthful about the plan to kidnap Thor. But it was not to impress Sylvie- no, she would see through the deception. The unpowered Thor was merely the bait to lure the Fake-Queen of Asgard away from the safety of the palace.

And for that, it was also true that he needed both transport and a crew. Sylvie- by whatever trickery- had found out all his secret pathways and sealed them, and he was unable to travel to Midgard on his own. At the moment, the only way in and out of the Ten Realms were through the mutual border of Asgard and Midgard which the Sakaarian fleet all but controlled. And thus, he required a Sakaarian ship with a Sakaarian crew to slip through them. Arrogant from their string of little victories, Sakaarian crews had been wining and dining across Asgard for the past week.

It took some waiting around pubs and restaurants, but he had finally stumbled on the Sakaarian crew who was already on their way to depose Sylvie.

His newest little pawns thought that Thor's kidnapping was all there was to it. When in truth, the kidnapping was only the plan to disguise his real plan: to gather all seven of these Orbs. With this one Orb guiding him to the other six, it will be a quick hunt.

Yes, he had heard how veteran raiders of Hevnokren's fleet are granted magical artefacts in the form of those Amulets. But Loki was certain that they paled in comparison to his Orb. He couldn't help but smile to himself as he imagined just how powerful he would be if he gathered all seven of these nameless orbs. Perhaps he should make them his own and name them? 'The Seven Orbs of the Great King Loki' did have a nice ring to it…

Loki smiled as he boarded the ship with Moraga and Bulane.

Once they reach Midgard, he will reveal its- his power to them, and without a doubt, Moraga and Bulane will fall to their knees in awe of his power, denounce Hevnokren and beg to be in his service instead. And soon after, Midgard will follow suit. The frail and short-lived mortals of Midgard were never that powerful, and he expected them to worship him as their ancestors had done- the powerless masses unable to do anything but venerate the living god that stood above their world. And once that occurs, then he can enact Phase Two of his plan to regain the throne…

And in his chest, he felt a rising surge of assured confidence that he hadn't felt since he had first sat on the Throne of Asgard as its rightful king. How could he not when he- and only he- knew the power of the Orbs?

After all, who on Midgard had the power to stop him?

[Manhattan, New York]Peter Parker, or 'Spiderman' as he was currently dressed, let out a relieved sigh.

"Glad that I was wrong." he muttered to himself.

The dawn air was cool and refreshing even up at his vantage point high above the streets. At an unrented apartment near the top of a 50-floor condominium, he had a perfect vantage point of Ms. Schmidt's loft on the nearby skyscraper.

"Felt creepy following Ms. Schmidt and Klee around last night." He sighed as he took a gulp from his thermos of orange juice.

Bringing up his camera, he cycled through the photos that he had taken. His phone had a pretty poor camera, so he had taken his Aunt May's DSLR instead. A big black bulky thing that dug into his hip when he would swing around, but it had amazing zoom and sat in his hand really comfortably. So that made collecting evidence with it a lot easier. He had used it to take pictures of robberies before so that the police could have evidence when he webbed the bad guys up. And last night, Peter brought it along just in case Ms. Schmidt was doing something illegal, but so far…

"I'm glad that she wasn't doing anything illegal. Pretty normal stuff really." He muttered to himself as he continued to browse through the photos he had of Ms. Schmidt and Klee.

Just a stroll through Central Park with Klee (It was pretty cute). Ordered a mountain of hotdogs (Klee could possibly beat Ned in a hotdog eating contest and that was saying something). Met up with a Captain America cosplayer who she invited to her loft. (A pretty accurate cosplay at that.)

"I hate how his outfit looks better made than my own spiderman suit." He shook his head as he browsed through the photos that he had taken. The cosplayer even had the amazing hair, the ripped body, the shield that looked like it was actually metal and everything that the real Captain America had. "Maybe he was the boyfriend she mentioned to the class? Good for her, not so good for me though. Because aside from having gossip to share about my new physics teacher's boyfriend, I feel like I wasted an entire night being paranoid about Ms. Schmidt."

All this just because his Spidey-sense acted like Klee crying meant the end of the world. He'd definitely keep Klee from crying if he could, but he was still scratching his head over why his Spidey-sense made a huge deal about it for some reason. After all, he's been around crying kids before, so why has his Spidey-sense only freaked out when Klee was about to do it?

"Come here often?" A woman's voice spoke right behind him, and Peter will forever deny the girly yelp of surprise that he made. Especially when his aunt's DSLR camera slipped from his hand and came this close to falling 50 floors down onto the hard pavement.

"Jeezus, lady!" He gasped- clutching the camera tight, "I think I almost peed myself a little there."

Because he was going to be sooo grounded if Aunt May's camera had so much as a scratch on the lens.

At that confession, the lady who had somehow snuck up on him laughed. It was pretty. She was pretty. Wavy rosewood red hair and brilliant green. An oversized white t-shirt and baby blue pajama pants over a undeniably womanly frame. And Peter had only one thing on his mind: 'I hope she thinks I was kidding about that whole peeing myself comment. I don't think I'll ever let myself live it down that I leaked a bit in front of a seriously hot older woman.'

"Sorry." She apologised- her pink lips curling into a small bemused smile, "I was just wondering why someone in red and blue spandex would be sitting on the ledge outside my balcony."

That stopped Peter's train of thought.

"Wait, you live in this apartment? Huh, could have sworn that it wasn't for sale." Peter puzzled- scratching his head. And he knew that because he made it a habit to pick stake-out spots carefully. Last thing he needed was for people to call Spiderman as some kind of pervert voyeur. Again. Thanks Daily Bugle.

"That's true, but a lady has her ways." the redhead replied with a mysterious smile as she leaned on the railing, "You have a name?"

"Oh right, you're new in town!" Peter smiled under his mask, "Welcome to Manhattan! I'm just your friendly neighbourhood Spiderman! So, uh, if you need anything, just shout when I swing by, I guess?"

And Scarlett just laughed again- clearly amused.

"Well, 'Spiderman,' call me Scarlett." She introduced herself- still smiling as she extended a hand to him, "Scarlett Jo."

"Nice to meet you, Miss Jo." He grinned under his mask as he shook her hand. His spandex covered one on her pale and uncovered one. But she frowned at him.

"Just Scarlett." She emphasised with an annoyed huff, "I'm not that old."

"Uh, sorry. Scarlett."

"Want a panini and some coffee?" She offered- pointing a slender finger towards her apartment, "You look like you've been out there for a while."

"Oh, uh… I'm not sure… I got to go soon." he hesitated, but then his stomach grumbled audibly, and he had to give up, because some food would be nice right about now. "Fine… can I take a panini?"

Scarlett just smiled back.

"Come on in." She gestured to him to follow as he followed her back into her apartment. And immediately, a few things caught his eyes. He wasn't unobservant. Kind of came with the job title of being Spiderman. The sparse furniture and decor, the stacks of boxes that said that she hadn't finished unpacking from her move, the book about pregnancy on the dining table, an unopened box of a baby's crib. Scarlett was definitely expecting.

"Congrats on the baby, Scarlett." He smiled at her as he sat down at the kitchen island.

"Thank you." She smiled back as she served him a warm panini fresh from the oven. "So what does it exactly mean to be the 'A friendly neighbourhood Spiderman?'"

And Peter didn't even need to think about it.

"Oh, I go around helping people, stopping bad guys. That kind of stuff." He shrugged as he took a bite out of his panini. And Scarlett just nodded before walking over beside him and placing a nice warm cup of coffee beside his plate.

"You mentioned that you were busy, Spiderman?" She asked while pointing to the wall clock with her metal tongs. And it was then did Peter remembered that he actually had class today.

"It's already this late?!" He shouted out- jumping out of his chair, "I'm going to be sooo late!"

"Hey, Spiderman, have some to-go!" She tossed a brown paper bag at him as he broke out into a sprint, "Take care and keep up the good work!"

"Thanks, Scarlett!" He called out just as he caught the warm paper bag full of paninis just as he took a swan dive off the 50-floor condominium, he was not going to be late again.

And at least he had lunch in hand this time. What a nice lady.

"I feel kind of bad doing this against Spiderman, he seems like a nice kid." Agent Natasha Romanoff, or 'Scarlett Jo' in her latest cover ID, muttered to herself after Spiderman left in a rush.

"Oh, the things we forget while we're in a hurry." She smiled as she picked up the DSLR camera that Spiderman had left behind when she 'accidentally' blocked his view of it, and distracted him with her homemade paninis.

People in a rush were one of her favourite types of people to 'work' with. Too focused on getting where they need to be, they grew careless with everything else. She couldn't recall how many times she had done the old 'Switcheroo' as Clint called it: subtly switching out items in a target's possession with something else. Folders of secret Soviet documents replaced with restaurant flyers… Personal phones replaced with a can of soda… or Spiderman's DSLR camera replaced with a bag of freshly grilled paninis. She didn't think that she'd have an opening to take it, but the kid was just too carefree and inexperienced.

"Now, what were you really doing outside my apartment?" She muttered to herself with a knowing smile as she hooked the camera up to her SHIELD laptop.

[Midtown School of Science and Technology]Slipping into his first period's classroom, Peter sighed in relief as he noticed that he was still a few minutes early to class. Sitting down, Peter helped himself to Scarlett's homemade salmon panini. Humming at how delicious it is, Peter took the time to glance around and noticed the new post on the bulletin board.

'PARIS OR BUST!'

'Don't let the French nor their truckers stop you!'

'Charge onwards for Paris like Ms. Schmidt, and apply for the new exchange student program now!'

'Keep on trucking, proud students of Midtown!'

And that was an eyebrow raiser for him. That was fast- people were already making motivational posters with Ms. Schmidt. Looks like her story about trucking across the European countryside was a smash hit even outside their class. Still… Europe, huh? Good to see Tony Stark's donation already being put to use.

A friendly, heavy-handed slap on his back brought him out of his thoughts.

"Dude, I thought you were going to be late!" Ned gushed excitedly as he sat down beside him. "Have you heard? Our history class is going to be taught by Ms. Bayonetta! We lucked out, man!"

"Really?" Peter stopped mid-bite and offered Ned a panini. "Mr. Dell was supposed to teach today… Is he alright?"

"Too busy enjoying his bonus thanks to Tony Stark's five mil donation." Ned absentmindedly muttered- accepting the offered panini, "I heard that he took a long weekend so that he can take his family to see the Pistons game in Michigan. All the other teachers look like they're visibly itching for their own turn at a vacation."

"Good for him, glad that Mr. Stark's donation is being put to good use." Peter replied, only half-sarcastically. Mr. Dell was a fair and pretty straight-laced kind of guy. It was nice to see him take some time off.

"Yeah, but enough about Mr. Dell. I heard that Ms. Bayonetta is really hot." Ned continued, "First Ms. Schmidt, and now Ms. Bayonetta. Are these the fabled 'Hot milfs living in your area' from the internet ads that I keep seeing?"

Peter rolled his eyes as he took a sip from his cola.

"No one has even seen Ms. Bayonetta: She's only arriving today." He shook his head. "Also, what kind of sites are you even visitin- Wait, nevermind, and I don't want to know."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Ned airily replied- taking a big bite out of his panini. And Peter watched as Ned's eyes widened in surprise.

"Dude! This panini is awesome." Ned gushed excitedly as he greedily tore into the chicken one that Peter had shared with him. "Where'd you buy it from?"

"Didn't buy it. Scarlett gave them to me. She's a… neighbour of mine." He offhandedly replied, and his big friend immediately narrowed his brown eyes at him. "Well, she doesn't live nearby, more like I was passing through and she offered it to me."

"She's not another milf, is she?" Ned probed with narrowed, suspicious eyes, "First, your Aunt May, then Ms. Schmidt, then Ms. Bayonetta, and now this Scarlett? Dude, you're like a milf magnet or something."

"Please don't call May that." Peter couldn't help but groan out loud, "I get enough of that kind of comments from just about everyone who meets her."

"It's just a compliment." Ned just shrugged. "Your Aunt May is smoking hot."

And thankfully, before Ned could once again extoll the attractiveness of Aunt May, the bell rang and everyone reluctantly went to their seats. Peter didn't think he could handle yet another one of those conversations without strangling his friend.

"Bet you $20 that Ms. Bayonetta is a milf." Ned whispered to him.

"Sucker's bet." Peter scoffed. "Knowing my luck, she'd be some seriously… hot… lady."

Peter trailed off in awe as an eight-foot-tall woman wearing the skimpiest teacher outfit Peter had ever seen outside of porn strutted into the classroom. Not that he'd ever admit to searching up teacher porn, but that's beside the point. The point was that Ms. Bayonetta was really, really sexy; and she wasn't afraid to flaunt it right in everyone's faces.

And the entire class- as one- whimpered like a puppy.

Ms. Bayonetta strutted into the classroom like a supermodel on the runway- wide hips rolling, mile-long legs on display. Flawless raven-black hair in luxurious curls bounced down past her shoulders and framed each luscious breast that was as big as his head. The tight white button down clearly showing off the lacy lingerie that she wore underneath, and the black pencil skirt that looked like it was about to burst open from the strain of containing her thick thighs and even thicker ass. Brilliant aquamarine eyes peered through smart rectangular black glasses, and a laidback smile oozing confidence on her perfectly painted red lips.

"Good morning, class." Ms. Bayonetta's posh British accent spilled over the class like pure chocolate-coated sex. And suddenly, the whole room seemed ten degrees hotter. Peter had to glance around to make sure that he was still in a classroom instead of a hotel bedroom shooting a porno. And was half disappointed that yes, he was still in class.

But out of everything, Peter still couldn't get over how damn tall she was. So tall in fact, that she had to bend over at the waist to properly write her name on the blackboard. Of course, that did very interesting things to her like her top straining like it was about to pop open, or how her pencil skirt clung to every curve of her perfect rear. And everyone's eyes flicked from one heavenly view to the other as they desperately savoured every second of those sinfully full globes in thin cloth or those other sinfully full globes in black leather.

And with a flourish, she underlined her name that she wrote in a graceful cursive.

Ms. Bayonetta

"Now, you may address me as Ms. Bayonetta." She introduced herself- sitting on the desk and crossing her incredibly long legs that flashed her lacy black panties to only the entire class. Judging by how the entire class let out a tiny squeak all around him, everyone saw the same thing: The very snug-fitting black panties practically outlining her feminine mound. And Peter didn't need his sharp eyesight to tell that Ms. Bayonetta was wearing panties a size or two too small for her.

"However, a simple 'ma'am' would suffice." Ms. Bayonetta calmly dictated as if she didn't just flash the whole class, "Or 'teacher' if you are so inclined. Is that understood, class?"

And as one they answered.

"Yes, Ms. Bayonetta!" "Yes, ma'am!" "Yes, teacher!" "Yes, mommy."

Everyone turned to stare at the one who uttered that last one. Mr. Harrington, their bespectacled and bearded teacher coughed into his fist. Not that anyone held it against him. After all, he only said what everyone else was thinking. For a whole minute, Peter watched the two teachers stare at each other. But instead of being offended by it as Peter expected her to be, Ms. Bayonetta only graced him with a salacious smirk- peering at him over the rim of her black glasses and turning her predatory eyes back to the class.

"I've been assigned to be your history teacher for the rest of the semester." She announced in a matter of fact tone before her voice took on a dangerously husky quality. "But in addition to teaching history, I'll also be teaching you all how to behave. Your training will not cease until I am very… satisfied with your performances."

Everyone gulped down heavily at the not-so-subtle innuendo.

"And I can confidently claim that by the end of the semester, you-" She dragged her aquamarine gaze across the whole class to meet their eyes one by one. "All of you- will be…"

Ms. Bayonetta stood up to her full height of eight feet, casually strutted down the middle of the classroom and stopped beside a quivering Flash Thompson to trace a slender finger across his chest.

"Good little boys…" Ms. Bayonetta smiled down at him as she glanced over to her right and with a delicate gesture, gently caressed Betty Brant's cheek and tilted their blonde classmate's face up to lock eyes with her.

"And good little girls." Ms. Bayonetta breathed in an almost lover-like fashion as she smiled down at the heavily-blushing Betty Brant with the same supremely confident smile like a queen would give to her loyal subjects… or her lesbian harem of handmaidens. Peter (and the rest of the class) watched on in confused arousal as they held that loving gaze for a few moments. Poor Betty Brant blushing up a storm with a dreamy look on her face- lips slightly parted as if she was waiting for Ms. Bayonetta to swoop down and steal a kiss… right before Ms. Bayonetta turned her aquamarine eyes towards the rest of the class.

"Is that understood, class?" She purred with an appropriately feline smirk- knowing full well that they were like putty in her hands. And the class did the only thing they could do: they whimpered like a pack of well-trained dogs once again.

"Y-Yes, ma'am."

And Ms. Bayonetta smiled once again, but before she could say anything, a phone chimed in the class. Quick as a cat, their new history teacher slipped a pair of fingers down her very generous cleavage to pluck out a smartphone. And the boys of the class all groaned in arousal at what else she could hide in her vast valley of creamy pale skin.

"Oho?" Ms. Bayonetta hummed as she read her text, "Well, class, it seems we must cut our session short as the principal has called for me. I suppose some homework will suffice for now: I will be expecting the first exercise in your workbooks to be finished the next time we meet."

Strutting back to her desk, she picked up her fine leather tote and winked at the class one last time.

"Don't disappoint me now~" She half-warned and half-teased, and with those last words, everyone watched Ms. Bayonetta (and her magnificent pencil skirt-clad ass) walk out of class, and left the entire class just sitting there- throbbing from their arousal.

"I-I think I just turned lesbian." Peter heard Betty Brant whimper out- covering her blushing face with her palms as she whispered in a much smaller voice, "And I'm so fucking wet right now."

And Peter blushed as he heard a few other girls throughout the class murmur much of the same.

"I-I think I just turned straight." He heard Flash whisper quietly and again, and also a few others agreed with him.

"And I think I just came a little in my shorts." Ned muttered out loud in an almost trance-like state. And everyone, even Peter, murmured in agreement with that one. "First a smoking hot German trucker gal, now a smoking hot British giantess. What are the Europeans putting in their water?"

"Whatever it is, I want some of that." Betty piped up, and the rest of the girls echoed the sentiment.

"Wait... did anyone remember to take a pic of Ms. Bayonetta!?" Ned immediately shouted in alarm, and the whole class groaned as no one remembered.

And Peter's thoughts came to a screeching halt. Speaking of taking photos, where was Aunt May's DSLR camera?!

He must have left it at Scarlett's apartment! Oh, he hoped that she wasn't curious enough to check what's inside. A hundred or so photos of his physics teacher and her eight-year-old kid was going to look incredibly creepy. And he didn't want that kind of first impression from someone who had just moved into town!

[Black Widow's Manhattan Apartment]

"Well, well, well." Natasha whispered to herself as her interest was piqued as she scrolled through Spiderman's photos in the DSLR camera. SHIELD had chosen this specific apartment because it afforded a good unobstructed view of Schmidt's own loft, and when she saw Spiderman with a camera, it immediately roused her suspicions. And like always, her hunch was right.

"Why was the 'friendly neighbourhood Spiderman' following my target around?" She muttered to herself. Her green eyes narrowed at the sheer number of photos of Johanna Schmidt and Klee in the camera's files. It was a good thing that she had decided to take the camera. Apparently, this 'Spiderman' had taken photos of everyone that Schmidt had talked to last night.

"Practically doing my job for me." She muttered to herself as she continued to look through the photos. "What did Schmidt do to earn Spiderman's attention? SHIELD had Spiderman marked down as a small-time vigilante."

Schmidt and Klee strolling through the park. Klee gobbling down a mountain of hotdogs. Some guy in a Captain America costume. A late night shopping trip for clothes for said guy. And finally, the 'Captain' apparently being a guest in Schmidt's loft.

"No sign of my primary target…" She whispered as she continued clicking through. "No sign of Dr. Zee."

Director Fury could not have stressed to her just how important Dr. Ziegler's Biotic Technology was.

If Stark's Arc Reactor technology was the key to limitless clean energy, then Dr. Angela Ziegler's Biotic Technology was the key to curing every known health condition on the planet, short of death. Just the prospect of having either technology had every single government and organisation willing to kill for them, SHIELD included. But where everyone else in the world would try to force Stark's and Ziegler's tech out of them, SHIELD would be there for them with a helping hand and an encouraging smile. 'Give them the soft sell.' Director Fury had informed his agents. And for that reason alone, Natasha knew that SHIELD had a better chance at acquiring those technologies more than anyone else.

But their problem was that Dr. Zee wasn't under SHIELD's thumb, and worse still, Angela's Biotic Technology was already out there being used by other people.

"The Biotic syringe that had made me fertile again was proof of that." Natasha muttered to herself as she placed a palm over the spot where she was injected by that Biotic syringe. As far as SHIELD knew, the only people who had been in contact with Dr. Zee were Ziegler and Stark, and neither knew where she could be. Only one person knew for certain where Dr. Zee was and that was her baby's father, but he- much like Dr. Zee- had disappeared into thin air.

Natasha frowned as she gently stroked her pregnant belly.

She had a bad feeling about all this. In her tenure as a Black Widow, she had taken part in a lot of things that could be considered conspiracy theories, and this was looking to be yet another one of them. There was a niggling feeling at the back of her head. Something about Angela Ziegler and Lucifina Zee that didn't make sense… SHIELD was missing something very important and it was right in front of their faces.

Natasha was certainly tempted to go out there and start an actual investigation for those secrets.

But she knew that she couldn't.

She couldn't get too involved in the investigation if she wanted to keep her baby safe. But at the same time, she couldn't abandon her duties. Not yet anyway. Not while she was still able to fulfil them. She had a three month window at most before she would be forced to cut down on most physical tasks. Another three and she'd barely be able to stand up on her own. And it all added up to make her feel like she was in over her head right now.

"Oh, Natasha…" she quietly sighed to herself. "What have you gotten yourself into this time?"

The list in SHIELD's Persons of Interest was rapidly growing. What was once just Tony Stark had now vastly expanded. Tony Stark, Angela Ziegler, Lucifina Zee, Her baby's father, Johanna Schmidt, and now Spiderman. A winding string of connections between secretive individuals, and she had a gut feeling that she had only just scraped the tip of the iceberg. Could this mysterious cosplayer who had bunked in with Schmidt be yet another strand in this web of secrets? Were Thor and Paimon also connected to this? Was Director Fury holding out intel on her?

"What's next? This cosplayer is secretly Captain America himself?" She sighed in frustration as she closed her SHIELD laptop and unhooked Spiderman's camera and set it aside. He was going to come back for it soon. "Who can say how deep this rabbit hole even goes?"

Times like these, she had to question Director Fury's orders. Not the morality of it, (No, she was long past that point) but the effectiveness of it. The 'Watch from afar' tactic had its limits. There was only so much that remote observation could divulge. SHIELD needed to catch at least one of these persons of interest and make them talk. Stark, Ziegler, Thor and Paimon all knew nothing. And the ones who did (Lucifina Zee, her baby's father and Johanna Schmidt) were all out of reach for them for one reason or another.

Stepping out onto her balcony to get some fresh air, Natasha couldn't help but sigh in dismay.

"Of course…" She grumbled- staring at the lustrous metal ingot laying on the balcony floor. "Of course, there'd be another ingot of Vibranium waiting here for me."

Natasha frowned. It was just another piece of the puzzle.

And it felt like they were dealing with a mastermind of incredible intelligence and sophistication. This whole thing was uncomfortably reminding her of Dreykov who operated the Red Room that forged her into the Black Widow she was today. She'd be willing to bet this Vibranium ingot worth $80 million that- right this very moment- this mastermind was weaving a tangled web of secrets to achieve some grand and far-reaching goal that would change the course of human history.

And they weren't even close to understanding what their ultimate goal was. Taking over the US? Maybe the European Union? The ultimate goal of world domination like some comic book villain?

Natasha had to wonder where this mastermind was right now…

[The Planet of the Soul Stone, Vormir]"We're here." The former Kree Empire Governor Ag'Atha sighed in relief as they reached the summit of this dark mountain.

"Hevnokren will finally pay." Her youngest daughter agreed as they both scanned the snow-covered mountain peak for any signs of their final objective- eager to end Hevnokren's rampage through the galaxy.

Ag'Atha merely pursed her lips and pulled her brown coat tighter around her blue-skinned body. She had been one of the first planetary governors that Hevnokren had taken captive as his trophy slaves. Her family had been one of the first that he had kept in his little 'swine pen' of planetary governors where they fought other once-privileged families for food, beds and a chance at freedom. She had worried that she and her daughters were going to die there- like animals. But thankfully, there was no shortage of slaves who wished to rise above their station and free themselves. As a consequence, underground slave movements were common, and some were even successful. Ag'Atha and her daughter were part of one such successful movement.

"Everyone at the resistance HQ said that it was here." Ag'Atha reassured her even as her own voice was tinged with desperation, "It has to be."

And though Ag'Atha was grateful that all three of her daughters were alive, she will always be indebted to her youngest. Her first two had been tempted back into Sakaar's vicious cycle and became a Sakaarian raider and a slave trader respectively. The temptation of regaining the same life of luxury and wealth is too great for them. Now it was just her and her youngest daughter on this gods-forsaken mountain as they searched around for their objective.

"The Soul Stone is here, mother. Have faith." her youngest daughter encouraged her, "And once we have it, we can make Hevnokren pay for what he did to all of us."

Once upon a time, Ag'Atha believed the Infinity Stones to just be some myth cooked up by starry-eyed occultists and fiction writers. But now it was the galaxy's only hope in slaying the dragon Hevnokren. Because for all of the dragon's invulnerable metallic hide, there was no amount of metal that could shield its heinous tar-black soul. With the Soul Stone in hand, a single snap of one's fingers is all that will take to kill the dragon.

But then, the blood-red sky seemed to flash like lightning, and a haunting voice seemed to echo throughout the lands.

"I bid thee welcome. Ag'Atha, daughter of Marino. Li'Krie, daughter of Ag'Atha."

A blonde young woman in purple and black floated down from the blackened clouds and blood red sky of the eclipsed sun forming a halo around her. A black avian creature rested on her slender shoulder. With her left eye covered in a black eyepatch, the girl's lone light-green eye looked at them like a Kree Accuser taking their measure and about to render her judgement.

And immediately, Ag'Atha pointed the muzzle of her stolen Tesseract-Energy Mauser pistol at the newcomer.

"Stay back! We're armed!" She immediately warned the new arrival as she hovered in the air just beyond the cliff like some dark angel of grim portent. "Identify yourself!"

Unfazed by the guns pointed at her, the floating girl simply stared at them dispassionately, her young voice drifting through the winter air like a ghost.

"The shadows of this world hath come to know me- the Cursed Sentinel-Eternal of the Twilight Realm of Vormir. They hiss my name in hushed tones… Fischl, Prinzessin der Verurteilung. We are charged with the stewardship of a primordial quintessence crystalized upon the birth of this magisterium. The indecipherable jewel that mortal minds have named to as… the Soul Stone."

And their eyes widened in surprise. Their intel did not say anything about a guardian for the Stone!

"Please, you must lead us to the stone!" Ag'Atha's youngest pleaded- stepping closer to the guardian. "The fate of the whole galaxy hangs in the balance!"

But that same dispassionate look stayed on the face of this young girl named 'Fischl'.

"Then know this truth: The Stone demands a heavy tithe. For only those who can properly grasp the full gravity of its power may claim the Soul Stone."

Ag'Atha shared a determined look with her youngest before turning their gazes back towards this 'Fischl.'

"We have sacrificed our pride, our dignity and our people to be here today." She answered with a steady voice- glancing to her youngest daughter who nodded in return, "We are ready."

Fischl graced them with a small pitying smile.

"A foolhardy misconception sired from the ignorance of the cosmos' natural order… How very mortal. Mayhaps that will suffice in place of bravery. Know this, mortal: In order to take the stone, you must lose that which you love. A soul for a soul in an everlasting exchange."

And from the way the girl glanced between the two of them with her lone, light-green eye. Ag'Atha knew what she was referring to: One of them had to surrender not just their life, but their very soul. The shock was great enough that Ag'Atha stumbled back like she was struck.

"No… there has to be another way…" she rasped as the gun fell from her hands onto the snow-covered floor of black stone. "We didn't come all this way just to.. to…"

But a reassuring hand was placed on her shoulder, and Ag'Atha looked up to her youngest.

"I'll do it." her daughter whispered.

"Don't!" Ag'Atha begged- clasping her hands around her daughter's forearm, "We'll go back to resistance HQ. Inform them of this development and…"

"It's okay, mother." Li'Krie merely reassuringly smiled at her- staring straight into her eyes.

A bittersweet moment upon them.

"I love you, mother." was all she said. And with those four words, her youngest daughter shook off her grip and broke into a sprint towards the cliff edge.

"NO!" Ag'Atha tried to tackle her child, but tripped over her feet and was forced to watch her daughter's blue-skinned form disappear over the edge. "No! No… Nononononnono…"

And for several seconds, Ag'Atha was alone atop that dark mountain- just sobbing her denial under the dispassionate gaze of the Soul Stone's Guardian, Fischl. Then a pillar of blue and white light exploded from the cliff, and Fischl seemed genuinely surprised- her youthful voice echoing over the roar of the light show. And the very next moment, Ag'Atha felt a warm thing rest at the palm of her closed fist as if it simply materialised there. And with some sense of hopeless acceptance, she opened her hand. And the sight of the Soul Stone greeted her. A glimmering yellow gem like molten gold- smoother like jade and more brilliant than any jewel she had ever seen.

This was Soul Stone… bought with her precious daughters' selfless sacrifice.

"The Soul Stone has deemed you… worthy?"

The Stone's guardian, Fischl, whispered in surprise.

"I guess it has… With this, Hevnokren can finally be killed." Ag'Atha sighed as she continued to shed tears, "My daughter… I will avenge y-"

"Yoink."

A gargantuan metal claw deftly plucked the Soul Stone from her hand. The ground shook as the metal dragon that was Hevnokren himself stood to his full height- almost as tall as the mountain upon which her daughter had tossed herself off of.

"No!" She gasped as she watched the dragon bring the Stone to his toothy maw. And with an almost casual flick like one would toss a grape into one's mouth, the gleaming yellow Soul Stone disappeared into the dragon's massive maw- along with any hope that Ag'Atha held of defeating the dragon. The galaxy was doomed…

"RAAAAGGHH! "

With a deafening roar, the gleaming metal hide of the colossal dragon shone with veins of purples, blues, reds, and finally yellows. And Ag'Atha knew that Hevnokren was just that much stronger now.

"Finally! Do you know how many false underground slave resistances I had started just to lure gullible idiots like you here?"

"I must have watched almost six hundred of you cry and sniffle as you push your family and friends off that cliff only to come back empty-handed. Because for some strange reason, the Soul Stone doesn't just allow any sort of sacrifice. I suppose it will remain a mystery for now. But thanks to your daughter's sacrifice, you've saved me a few week's worth of Divination research needed to locate and extract the Soul this as a token of my gratitude: a quick death."

And Ag'Atha merely closed her eyes- calmly accepting her death. No one will know how badly they lost. No one will know that the galaxy's only hope of victory died today. And most of all, no one will know the sacrifice of her daughter was in vain.

"FO!"

(Frost)

Smacking my lips, I enjoyed the lemony aftertaste of the Soul Stone as it ran its course.

"Four down, two to go. But truly, it is no longer about the Infinity Stones anymore: it was merely the final piece required for Project Fortnite, and now, it is in my possession."

My gargantuan Dragon form looked over to where Fischl was still hovering past the cliff edge. Still posing at that.

I'll keep sending gullible rebellious morons here for them to push each other off this cliff. That should keep up the illusion that the Soul Stone is unclaimed."

Fischl looked doubtful.

"Conducting black-hearted schemes on mortals yet again? Has this crimson river of cruel deceptions not run its course? (What's the point of all this evil acts?)" She questioned. And I sometimes forget that for all her uncontrollable eye-patched chuuni syndrome, Fischl was still a good-aligned waifu.

"Yes, they are not necessary anymore at this point- only funny. And that is a good enough reason for me. Regardless, good job, Fischl. Consider yourself ruler of this planet of Vormir, this planet seems like a good place to build that gothic castle that you wanted yourself. It would make for a good 'boss fight' location."

But Fischl frowned slightly, tossing her soft, blonde hair over her shoulder as she looked at me with her lone light-green eye.

"Under the blood-stained moon, I beseech thee to speak to me in the Fourth Way." She solemnly uttered, "So grant me this small boon, O' Dragon God, grace mine ears and avow to me the decorum worthy of a Prinzessin of darkness and dusk."

That was almost unintelligible chuuni BS. And I can only sigh - knowing exactly what she wanted.

"You want me to say it in Chuuni? Fine… Ahem."

And with a harumph, I hammed it up- I hammed it up to eleven. My large metal wings extended to their full span to block out great parts of the sky from her view- looking like they were holding the eclipsed red sun between them. At this point, my Dragon form was growing to the size of mountains from the energies of the Infinity Stones. And my voice boomed across the dead the world.

"Our dark pact is complete, Prinzessin der Verurteilung. I, Hevnokren, Dragon God of Conquest hereby cede Vormir- this cursed domain of eternal dusk forgotten by time- to your Immernachtreich. And with my four-fold primordial might, I shall raise a castle of shadowed stones and ill omens from which you can survey all your lands."

"Let it be known! Wherever the cursed light of this realm's bleeding star touches, it is yours to rule, O' dark Prinzessin. May you rule forever as the Cursed Sentinel-Eternal of the Twilight Realm of Vormir. So mote it be."

"I want to bear your children!" Fischl immediately blurted out- a healthy blush on her pale cheeks. But a moment or two later, she seemed to realise what she just said and let out an embarrassed squeak- shyly glancing at me with her lone light-green eye. Edgelord-speak was the equivalent of dirty talk for her. What a hopeless chuuni.

"Maybe later. For now, I'm going to take a little vacation stomping unknown universes while I wait for things to keep up with my progress. Everyone seems to need more time…."

"Mercy needs a bit more time prepping Project Fortnite, Johanna needs more time building ships, the Black Widows need more time to infiltrate targets with their new portal powers. The bearers of the Dragon Balls need more time to get tempted by their newfound powers, and the person I have on the inside needs more time to get the wheels of war turning before I can finally have that world-spanning free-for-all."

"A deceitful masquerade of intentions and allegiances, O' Dragon God?" Fischl nodded knowingly, "Is it Lady Zee? The good chirurgeon who thou have both blessed and cursed to be a disciple of Janus? 'Twould be fitting for her to be the grim herald to that foredoomed world."

"No, she's a red herring: The obvious one that will draw everyone else away from the true infiltrator. Not that the world needs anymore pushing towards conflict and war. The Dragon Balls are enough. This infiltrator is just there to arm people. The free-for-all will not be as amusing if only one side has all the weapons after all. In the end, the only reason they need is the possibility of having their wish come true."

"You would not believe how some people are losing their minds over the Dragon Balls like they were the real. But who knows? I might just grant their wish if it was amusing enough. Maybe one madlad out there will get the reference and try to wish for a pair of women's panties."

Fischl only shot me a baffled look.

"A solitary wish, divine and omnipotent, able to quench even the most ravenous desires borne of the mortal soul… And one would wish for women's undergarments?" she exclaimed in utter disbelief, and I couldn't help it but my booming laughter echoed through the world.

"Oh, if only you knew!"

Bonus Scene

[Nagoya, Japan]

They had a gun pressed to his head.

Just him and five of his kidnappers who were dressed like traditional Ashikaga era shinobi. Head to toe in black cloth, they were almost invisible in the darkened interior of the wooden shack. A single flickering candle on the table in front of him provided the only light source in the entire shack as five pairs of eyes watched him carefully. In this darkened shack, his five captors had tied him to a chair, a table laid out in front of him with photos splayed out over the rough wooden surface.

"We will ask you one last time, Toriyama-san." the man's precise British-accented voice warned him- pressing the muzzle against his temple, "What do you know of this item?"

A black-gloved finger impatiently tapped the photo laid out in front of him.

"Please, I do not know!" Toriyama pleaded, "It only looks like a metal replica of my Dragon Ball! That is all I know, I swear!"

The gun's hammer was cocked back with a metallic click that spelled his death. And for a moment, he thought it was all over. But one of his other captors, a woman sitting reclined at the back of the shack, interjected on his behalf.

"Ease up, Tiger-1, he really doesn't know anything." Her laidback America-accented voice advised him, but the gun pressed to his head did not move.

"Is that your expert opinion, Tiger-5?" The one with the gun, that Toriyama now knew to be Tiger-1, verified.

"Yeah." She curtly replied, "His heart beat ain't lying."

There was a long minute of silence as the gun stayed pressed to his forehead, until finally… Toriyama felt the gun pulled away.

"Then this means that our lead has gone cold." Tiger-1 curtly concluded in a disappointed tone as he holstered his gun, "Tiger-3, Knock him out."

"Okie!" Another woman who must have been Tiger-3 walked to him as she pulled out a syringe from her medkit, "Don't worry, Toriyama-kun. You're just going to go sleepytime, and we'll put you back where we found you. A shame you didn't know anything about the real Dragon Balls. It would have been so cool if you were actually super saiyan!"

And that made Toriyama freeze in his chair.

"Wait!" He shouted out. "What do you mean the 'real' Dragon Balls?"

At his question, his five captors paused before looking at each as if holding a silent discussion between them. There was a long silence of measured looks, shrugs, nods- all of which made Toriyama nervous before finally the British-sounding Tiger-1 stepped up.

"One of our own was… granted one of these Dragon Balls." He began- his tone completely serious despite the outlandish claim.

"And overnight…" Another one of his captors spoke up in an Australian-accent, "He suddenly grew as strong and fast as Captain America. He could do all the Cap could do, and then some! Jumping buildings in a single bound, bending steel with his fist. But the transforming blade of solid fire was my favourite. Did you see how it cut through concrete and metal like it was a lightsaber?!"

A new set of photos was laid out in front of him. Impossible scenes that as Tiger-4 had just described: A large man with a blade of fire for a hand- slicing through concrete, crushing steel rebars with a single hand. They could not be anything else but Photoshopped. And yet… Toriyama knew deep down that they were genuine.

"Yes, Tiger-4." Tiger-1 gave a long suffering sigh before staring at Toriyama, "We were all there when Razorfist demonstrated his gifts. And the night when he received those gifts, he dreamed of a great dragon and its herald… can you guess what she had divulged to our brother?"

"That there are seven Dragon Balls." Toriyama whispered in realisation. "That he was to gather them all and receive one wish. Just like how they functioned in my original manga… And you thought that I had something to do with it."

It made sense. If the story of a manga was discovered to be real, then the mangaka would be the first to be questioned. But an important question remained, and he couldn't help but ask it.

"Why… are you all so open about it?" Toriyama wondered out loud.

"Because no one would ever believe you anyway." Tiger-5 chuckled. And he knew her to be right.

Manga was manga, this was the real world. A real world that had a shadowy organisation of ninjas, an underworld of magic that the normal population knew little about, and a hunt for a magical wish granting artefacts that spanned the globe. It was straight out of a manga. He could tell the tale tomorrow to all the media in Japan and they would think him under the influence of drugs, delusional, or worse, insane. But at the same time, he knew that a choice was presented to him. Like that famous American film, he could take the 'blue pill' and allow this Tiger-3 to drug him and return him back to his quiet life as a mangaka, or… he could take the 'red pill' and see how deep this rabbit hole goes.

It took him half of a heartbeat to make his decision.

"Please!" He bowed his head low to the wooden table- begging his captors, "Allow me to join you in the search for the Dragon Balls!"

"You want to do what now?" Tiger-5 puzzled as she looked at him in utter confusion. But their leader, Tiger-1, crossed his arms and seemed to seriously mull it over.

"So, you wish to join our ranks…" Tiger-1 mused- staring at him. "You would not be the first. However, that isn't our decision to make."

The one who could only be Tiger-2 stepped up. A large man in the same black outfit.

"C'mon, Tiger-1." He elbowed Tiger-1, "You know the Boss well enough to know that he would be overjoyed to have Toriyama-dono willingly join our ranks."

"And what would he do in our organisation?" Tiger-1 prompted with a scoff, "Chronicle our adventures and… draw a manga of our story… Oh."

And even with his head bowed low, Toriyama allowed himself a small smile.

"The world will be telling of this Adventure for the Dragon Balls in history classes all across the globe." He cajoled his would-be employers, "And they will continue to do so for a thousand years after we have all turned to dust."

And all four of this 'Tiger' team looked to their leader. It would seem that it was four against one.

"Boss would like that." Tiger-5 gently reminded Tiger-1 as she placed a hand on Toriyama's shoulder. And Tiger-1 looked increasingly pressured until finally…

"Fine, untie him." Tiger-1 relented with sigh- gesturing for Tiger-5 to untie him, "We'll inform the master of this new development."

Then everyone's eyes turned their attention to him. And Toriyama sensed that things were reaching a climax.

"Are you prepared to forsake your old life to join our order? However temporary?" the lead ninja questioned in a gravely serious tone, his dark eyes standing out from the pure black outfit that he wore. And waiting for his answer, Tiger-1 offered his hand to him.

The moment of truth.

Because despite having been kidnapped, Toriyama had already made up his mind. He would be a mangaka turned historian. He was witnessing inauspicious events unfold that would no doubt shape the entire world. Moreover, it was an eerie echo of his life's work. So, it was only fitting that he would be the one to record and immortalise these events. Yes… In both fiction and non-fiction, he- and only he- would be the one to bring Dragon Ball to life. In a single motion, he shook Tiger-1's offered hand.

"I am." He answered with as much determination as he could muster.

"Then welcome to the Ten Rings, Toriyama-dono." Tiger-1 greeted him- sounding like he was smiling under his mask.

"Razorfist is going to flip out when he hears about our new in-house mangaka. This is so anime." Tiger-2 gushed excitedly, and Toriyama smiled as well. Yes, it was indeed 'so anime.' And if the Dragon Balls ever fell in his hands, he would use them to wish for a pair of girl's panties. It was only the right thing to do.

-