Few minutes later.
The chaos on the streets started to simmer down, the blaring sirens still echoing as the police moved in.
They had cordoned off the area, flashing lights cutting through the smoky wreckage.
Officer George Stacy, his face set in grim lines, his mind racing, approached the witnesses, trying to piece together what had just unfolded.
He asked in a demanding yet polite tone, his eyes scanning the wreckage.
"What happened here?"
A woman, still shaken, pointed toward the twisted form of the creature.
"We saw it... a monster. It was huge, like something straight out of hell. Even my makeup got ruined from all the dust flying around."
Stacy raised an eyebrow, adjusting his approach.
His voice grew more urgent.
"Anyone see who stopped it?"
A man stepped forward, eyes wide with disbelief.
"Yeah, a cocky boy. He said he was from some 'blue planet.' Never gave his name, though."
Stacy's brow furrowed. A teenagy? What the hell was going on here?
Before he could ask more, another officer rushed up, breathless.
"Sir... it's... it's changed. It's not a monster anymore. It's human."
Stacy turned sharply, his gaze locking on the creature now turned to a man, unconscious and crumpled in the street.
The red beast was gone.
Suddenly, the screech of tires cut through the silence.
A sleek black van skidded to a halt nearby, debris flying in every direction.
A man stepped out, dressed in a sharp suit, his face unreadable.
He flashed a badge—FBI.
"I'm Agent Carter," the man said, his voice flat and commanding. "This man is in my custody."
Stacy stepped forward, blocking the path, suspicion in his eyes.
"Who the hell are you?"
"I don't have time to explain," Carter replied, his tone icy and final. "This man is a high-risk asset. Clear the area."
Stacy clenched his jaw, standing firm.
"Not so fast. This is a crime scene, and I'm not handing him over without answers. This was supposed to be in our jurisdiction."
Carter's gaze hardened, his words cutting through the tension.
"Is there any bar that can hold this thing, officer? Can you really keep it locked up? Move. Now. Or I'll make you."
Stacy was momentarily speechless, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. But after a long, tense moment, he reluctantly stepped aside, his voice low with warning.
"Fine. But if this goes sideways, it's on you."
Without another word, Carter waved his team forward.
They swiftly lifted the now-human form of Emil Blonsky, Abomination, into the van.
The doors slammed shut, and the black van roared off into the night, cutting through the city streets.
Inside the van, Blonsky was shackled, his neck locked in a strange digital collar that glowed with an eerie red light.
The words "Oscorp Industries" were etched into the device.
Blonsky, who was still semi-conscious, stared at the agent with eyes full of hatred.
Sitting opposite him was Agent Carter, who leaned back, his gaze cold and unfeeling as he studied the man who had once been a weapon of destruction.
Soon, Carter tossed his FBI badge to the ground.
His voice grew colder, more calculated.
"Mr. Emil Blonsky," he said, his tone as sharp as a blade.
"You've done it again and again. You think the boss has a lot of patience? Don't blame anyone but yourself, because what's coming next... is hell. And you brought it on yourself."
Blonsky's eyes flickered open for a moment, but he couldn't respond.
The collar around his neck made it hard to focus, the pain and confusion dulling his senses.
Meanwhile,
In a quiet street, a young voice echoed with frustration.
"Great. I totally overdid it. Now I can't even use my power for a week. Damn it. Is this punishment? Is it because God just hates me or something?"
He was none other than Vincent Valentine, who flung his wig to the ground with a flourish. With a swift motion, he ripped off his black coat and threw it into the nearest dustbin, as if trying to get rid of his entire existence.
Beneath the coat, his handsome, flawless face was revealed, blue eyes gleaming under the dim streetlights and a hint of blonde peeking through his hair, looking like the most tortured soul in existence, even if only he believed it.
"I need more practice...maybe one day I could make genocide look easy." he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt.
Seventeen years.
It's exactly Seventeen years since he'd been pulled into this chaotic world.
In his previous life, he was just an average guy, stuck in a dull routine, 9 to 5, school assignments, sore fingers, and an exhausted mind.
He had no idea what would come next.
That was until the night he went to bed as an ordinary kid and woke up in a new body.
Shorter arms, a shorter... well, everything, nothing about this body made sense.
Clearly, he'd been reborn. Great. But, unsurprisingly, his luck was still crap.
His father had died from the shock of his birth, his heart couldn't take the excitement of becoming a parent.
His mother had died from blood loss during labor. So much for a happy family.
Left alone in the world, he'd been taken in by his maid, Cardra, who raised him like a son, until she too ran away with her lover a few months ago.
Now, he was stuck on his own.
But life had a it's own way of showing its true face.
On his 16th birthday, just when his friends were about to throw a cake in his face, Vincent had accidentally unlocked something he didn't fully get, telekinesis and time manipulation.
Just as the cake was about to make contact, time froze. Vincent stepped sideways, almost casually, while the cake flew into the faces of two lovers at the back table.
It was that day his powers had truly awakened.
And when he became buddies with the glasses-wearing guy around town, he knew he was stuck in the middle of Marvel's terrifying mess. Great.
But none of that mattered now.
Today was the worst of the worst.
He'd overused his power until it drained him, mentally and physically. And now he was stuck here, alone, barely able to move.
Vincent kicked the dustbin with frustration, his body heavy with the weight of his failure.
"I suck," he mumbled to himself, staring at the mess he'd just made.
Naturally, Vincent wasn't some over-the-top powerhouse.
Telekinesis and time manipulation might seem overpowered, but in practice, he was nowhere near the level of certain someone who could fly or fire lasers from his eyes.
Right now, his telekinesis allowed him to manipulate objects up to 500 kilograms, though anything at that upper limit came with a brutal cost.
Using this ability for too long would strain his mind and body, a pain that painkillers couldn't touch.
Just today, he'd used it to hold the Abomination mid air, and the toll had nearly floored him.
Beyond lifting, he could also create intense telekinetic impact waves, blasts capable of striking with vicious force.
This ability, too, drained him, but it was powerful enough to make opponents hesitate.
His time manipulation powers were still developing.
Currently, he had four:
Time Acceleration – He could push his speed to extreme levels, surpassing even that of fighter jets, but this speed came with extreme strain on his body.
Time Freeze – He could freeze smaller, weaker creatures in place for a brief moment. Larger, more powerful opponents were much harder to affect, and any attempt left him facing serious backlash, like what he was feeling now.
Time Reversal – This was the one he barely understood. Once, he'd reversed time on a bear cub that had attacked him, only to witness it collapse lifelessly as its heart stopped. The risks of using it weren't fully clear to him yet.
Halo of Time – His fourth gift. Whenever Vincent activated his powers, a massive, blue halo-like cloak formed behind him. This cloak was both weapon and shield. The hands of the clock within the halo could tear through targets like arrows.
The cloak itself could also serve as a shield, deflecting even the strongest attacks. He could expand its reach up to 100 meters, surrounding himself in a deadly aura that warned any who dared approach.
These were the only weapons he currently had in his arsenal, and every use came with a price.
"Why did I park my lifeline here? I'm such a moron," Vincent muttered, dragging his feet as exhaustion weighed on him.
His eyes were barely open, but he wasn't about to give up now. Weary or not, he made his way down the quiet street, every step feeling like payback for his earlier stunt.
At the end of the street, his bike waited, a Royal Enfield, resting in the shadows like it had been left there just for him. A second-hand 360cc Bullet, it wasn't the most powerful thing out there, but it had that classic look he liked. Sure, he'd wanted something flashier, but his wallet had other plans..
He flicked his wrist and checked the time, groaning as his watch confirmed it.
"Great. Eleven o'clock. Pete's gonna kill me if I don't pick him up."
Peter's shift at the convenience store had shuffled to the night somehow, even though Aunt May had told him to skip it. But Peter had insisted, and, with him being the only friend who had a bike, it was on Vincent to get him.
With a sigh, Vincent kicked the bike to life. The engine roared to life, and he swung a leg over, letting the night breeze cut through the weariness as he perched on the seat.
"Hang tight, Parker. I'm coming for ya, But seriously, why's the guy even working? We could just rob a bank, split it fifty-fifty. Nah... Aunt May would have my head."
Just like that, Vincent Valentine forgot to buy roses for his crush, Ms. Susan Storm.
But what could he do?
He was, after all, a responsible friend.