Marvel and Beyond

In just ten minutes or so, the woman returned with a tray holding a coffee cup.

"Your coffee, sir." She placed the tray on the table, her eyes lingering on Max once more, to which he only smiled in response.

Maybe she decides to not acknowledge him and walks away.

Max watched her turn away to attend to other matters with Aunt Grey. Instinctively, his eyes wandered to her swaying hips, but he reined himself in, shook his head, and averted his gaze to the cup before him.

'Don't be a pervert!'

He picked up the cup, steaming hot with a creamy layer on top. He breathed out over the surface and tentatively took a small sip.

'Hmmm,' he chuckled at the flavor. Since he had asked her to bring the best the place could offer, he hadn't expected the most common blend. 

Apparently, either she was messing with him, was too lazy to care, or that's simply all the place had.

Whatever the case, he drank it anyway, patiently glancing at the woman now helping the owner.

He exhaled and relaxed into the chair, peering outside. These few minutes of peace were all he needed amid the rush of the outside world and the pressure of thinking about the future.

Whenever he thought of the world, his fists tightened reflexively, haunted by the impending doom, not just once but many times courtesy of Marvel's storylines.

The Battle of New York, a looming threat of invasion or a nuclear strike by humans.

Ultron, a self thinking machine hell-bent on human extinction.

And the biggest and baddest of them all—Thanos.

If somehow he survived all that, the Earth itself would betray them in the end, with Tiamut sleeping within its core, waiting to grow into a full celestial.

So, he was surrounded by doomsday scenarios from all directions.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily, sipping the coffee again to soothe the growing pain in his head.

Boom!

Suddenly, a cracking sound reverberated through the café, shaking him slightly in his seat. His head snapped toward the source of the noise.

"What the—!" he exclaimed, eyes locking onto the shattered remains of a table being held awkwardly by the waitress, her hands trembling, eyes wide with shock, and body frozen in place.

Before the old lady could say anything, the woman blurted out, "Sorry! Sorry, Aunt Grey, I messed up!"

Max watched the little drama unfold with interest, waiting for a sharp retort, but the older woman simply shook her head in exasperation and muttered, "How many times is it now?"

Although her voice was low, Max heard her clearly. He glanced at the waitress in disbelief. 'Did she just say 'how many times'? Don't tell me she's clumsier than her looks suggest.'

He leaned back in his chair and exhaled deeply, shaking his head. 

'Maybe her whole salary goes into refurnishing this place.' He watched as the woman cleaned up the broken pieces of the table.

Still, his thoughts mulled in amusement. 'How the hell did she manage to break that table? I didn't see a hammer or anything.' 

He recalled hearing a heavy strike but couldn't see anything that suggested what caused it.

Weird, he muttered, turning his attention back to his beverage.

A few minutes later, he finished the coffee, taking the last gulp in one long draw. He exhaled deeply and stood up, pulling out a few dollars from his wallet. 

After glancing at the waitress, he left a big tip on the table.

He walked to the door and left as the bell above chimed. Someone called out, "Come again!" but he was already a bit too far to respond.

'Well, I paid for the coffee, so no one's going to complain. No need to go back.'

He marched toward his car, humming quietly and enjoying the great weather. Not too sunny, but warm, with a cool wind brushing past him: a perfect day for outing.

Unfortunately he was busy.

Suddenly, he noticed a man slouched by the side of the street. Hooded, haggard, and seemingly malnourished; a poor soul surviving hell by begging. 

Before him sat a cardboard box with bold letters written on it: "Help in any way."

Max noticed all kinds of things inside: clothes, some dollar bills, even food. Possibly a few days away from expiration, but still useful for someone in that state.

He couldn't see the man's face, and though he wasn't eager to, after a moment of hesitation, Max dropped a few dollars into the box as he walked past.

He wasn't someone who gave to charity all the time, but sometimes, if his heart pushed him, he tried to help, at least when he had enough for himself. 

Maybe in his last life, he couldn't do much, but now that he had a little to spare, a small act of kindness felt acceptable.

With his heart slightly lighter after the gesture, he found his steps easier, some of the tension in his head lifting.

Reaching his car, just as he was about to open the door—

Click.

Something sharp pressed against his back, and the instinctive sensation of someone behind him surged through him.

"Don't start anything stupid. Hands up and turn around, pretty boy."

A gruff and ragged voice sounded right behind him. Max stood frozen, not just from the surprise, but also from the unmistakable edge of the blade pressing into his back.

'Maybe a knife,' he guessed, as his thoughts kicked into overdrive.

Slowly, he raised his hands in surrender and began turning around cautiously. The man behind him stepped back a little.

Max's eyes widened. It was the same man he had just given money to. He never seen his face but the torn hood was similar one.

The beggar now held a large, sharp knife, gripped tightly and pointed toward him; so much for kindness being returned, Max retorted inwardly.

And the man wasn't alone. Max noticed two more muggers, each with knives in hand. Though they trembled slightly, they held their positions, flanking him on both sides. 

Their eyes were filled with nervousness but also unmistakable greed erupted as they scanned his clothes and his car.

Max saw the moment it clicked in their minds, he was a tender, easy target for them. A golden spoon boy from some rich family, ripe for the taking.

'Fuck.' He cursed internally. 'I deliberately stopped here because the area looked fine and hospitable… Curse my fate. And who'd seen this coming.'

He scanned the three men again, muttering curses both for them and for his own rotten luck.

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