Adventures of an Employed Planeswalker

(Matt's PoV)

April 25th, 2011. 6:00 p.m.

I decided to make a travel log because I've never traveled like this before and I'm excited about it! Minus the part where I'm a fugitive, but that's beside the point.

I'm in Baltimore now. I visited the Aquarium this morning. I could finally observe the marine animals I studied so much about up close, it was nice. I've also been to some museums: one had cool paintings and sculptures in exposition, and the other was (supposedly) Edgar Alan Poe's house-turned-museum. It was a cramped little house, but quite cozy.

I've scheduled a visit to the Railroad Museum tomorrow and plan to keep going to the next city right after. I don't want to stay in one place for too long, in case somebody notices something.

May 3rd, 2011. Noon.

Took a photo of the white house from afar but I decided to leave Washington DC behind. I did invade their databases and what a haul! Completely worth the visit!

May 4th, 2011. 10:00 a.m.

May the fourth be with us!

May 10th, 2011. 4:00 p.m.

Healing people is very easy now, I've done it hundreds of times. From arthritis, back pains, chronic migraines, and pneumonia to weird occurrences like foreign objects lodged in the brain (tricky to do, but manageable), rare congenital diseases, and the like.

I decided to stop by Pitsburg and plan on going to Detroit, Chicago, and then Kansas.

I bet my ma would've loved to tag along on this trip...

May 31st, 2011. 11:00 a.m.

I need to stop going to restaurants and diners. Too many people pay attention to who sits at the tables to eat and ask what a lone "child" is doing there.

Annoying ass adults trying to patronize me just because I'm a child!

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Ok, so I may have underestimated how dangerous Detroit is. It's not a danger to me, sure, but shit is wild here.

Some statistics show that since humanity has been "freed" from the large threat of alien invasion, some places are relapsing to old habits and here in Detroit that means gang activity is intensifying harshly.

This "rebound" phenomenon is happening worldwide; old rivalries between countries are resurging, crime rates picking up (especially in coastal cities along the Pacific), alliances before thought necessary becoming undone, and little by little people turn on themselves.

Sigh... humanity always has a way to disappoint.

Whatever, I was walking into a gas station at night to buy a Snickers bar (read, take it. I'm broke af and don't want a trail of used cloned cards), and in came 2 respectable human beings trying to make a living on another's dollar.

Now, I am no stranger to taking things. While not a robber, I could be considered a thief for the amount of snacks I nabbed this life. I wasn't like this before but that was when the consequences existed. I won't be robbing banks or shooting lasers at grandmas, but a fucking Snickers bar? I can have that shit, thank you very much. I'll put it on humanity's tab for saving their asses.

Anyway, the gentlemen barged into the gas station pointing guns around, yelling at the cashier, and shit, the whole shebang. I tried going around them as I didn't want anything to do it with and since this was being recorded anyway, the cashier should give the money and file a complaint with the police.

It won't solve the problem, but at least they may not get fired if they have proof. Maybe not.

The problem started when the cashier, a young brunette, was too scared to do what the robber asked. So much so that the robber grew impatient enough to shoot her a few times, jump the counter, and start getting the cash himself.

I was leaving when I heard the shots and I recoiled. I didn't expect them to shoot her like that. I looked back and the one still on the customer side of the counter spotted me. He spoke something about a "shorty seeing too much" and pointed his gun toward me, shooing me away.

You see, I don't like the idea of heroes. They work for free and rarely get the recognition for it. Gratitude is not a quantifiable currency anywhere, especially from a nobody on the streets.

I like when Spider-man sacrifices himself to save the day, not because he becomes the epitome of altruism or anything like that; I love when heroes are pushed to the brink because that's when we see who they are (or who the current writer wants them to be). That's when they truly push themselves and grow past their limits to reach new heights!

That's when Spider-Man stops holding himself back, Superman sweats, and Batman is caught lacking and has to improvise or outsmart an enemy.

So I wouldn't become a hero just for the sake of helping people, I need something else to go with it.

That does not mean I, having the power I now hold, will stand for this motherfucker killing an innocent worker, working the worst period of the day, and calling me a "shorty" to my face. I got enough of this shit in my old life.

Besides, if I rob a robber, does that make me twice or half as bad as them?

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That is how my current crusade against three resurging gangs started.

After dealing with those guys, I got the bullets out of that girl's chest, healed her, and decided to stress test my symbiote coverage by fighting against a gang.

As I said before, my strength is "capped" at around peak human level but the endurance of the Symbiote armor is way past that. Low-caliber guns don't phase me. I think only a shotgun slug or high-caliber sniper shot might hurt me.

This night I'll invade one of their storages. They're getting a lot of cargo with drugs and guns these days, so they are very active in their "transactions".

"Yo, you hear from Jimmy and Oli?" Said one of the soon-to-be... dead?

"Lazy asses! Joe put the fear of God in their asses these days, they gotta be hustling." Am I going to kill these guys? I never killed a human...

"They better. We ain't a fucking charity and they know it! They need to learn to earn their dough." But I hate Batman because the man can't just solve the issue by killing the criminals.

"There they are! Finally, the powder and dope will start flowing freely again." But then again he does that to keep himself in check... If I start killing any petty criminal in the streets what's the point?

As they started unpacking the van with their drugs, I pondered. 'How do I judge who deserves to die and who doesn't?'

I spent more time than I probably should think about this and they were almost finishing up already. Seeing no more time to ponder on this question, I dropped from the high-hanging steel beam with the Symbiote armor deployed and rolled on the ground.

I tried being silent and Symby helped, but I'm not versed in stealth so I made some noise.

"Who the fuck is there!?"

"Dylan, what you yelling for?"

"I heard someone back here, Mark. Come on, get out of there, little rat!"

As Dylan was pointing towards where I was, I wrapped around them using the cargo boxes as cover.

As I got roughly in front of the van, Mark convinced Dylan that nobody was back there, and they continued unloading the cargo.

You know what, if I'm taking a page out of Batman's book and not killing just anyone I find out on the streets, then I can inspire my "handling" of criminals on him further and rough them up to near death instead.

Let them suffer a slow and debt-filled death at the hands of the American healthcare system, with the help of a few chronicle disabilities to make sure they don't turn back to street crime.

{Isn't that worse than just killing them?}

|Yes.|

Ah, what the fuck. Ok, so just beat them up 'gently' and make sure they don't walk again?

{Still bad.}

What if I just erase their memories of ever having turned to crime? I know I never messed with brain chemistry, but what better test subjects than criminals anyway?

{That is the cruelest thing of them all and you know it~}

Ugh. I can't even look through their history because it's 2011. People don't have that big an internet footprint yet.

"What is that!?" Oops.

The Van's headlights turned on and the driver yelled as he saw my form.

As he was about to accelerate and try to run me over, I jumped and landed on top of the van.

I'll beat them up and solve this ethical issue later.

With a rough jump, I fell knees-first on Mark's chest. I felt something crack inside him, and something pelting me on my left arm.

"Who are you!?" I make an effort to keep the Symbiote armor's mouth closed as I don't want rumors about a monster in Detroit.

I simply get up and dash towards him. Dylan shoots me two more times before I reach him - the bullets pinging off the armor - and I throw a straight punch at his midsection that sends him to the ground.

Another thing of beauty is that, even if my body is capped, I can keep it at this cap indefinitely. So, while I may not be as strong, fast, or durable as Spider-Man or even Captain America, I can keep fighting for longer.

Virtually forever.

I hear the cry of tires sliding on the ground and turn to the van. Dumbass is trying to escape with the gates closed.

I walk in the van's direction as it slams itself into the gate... damaging both and stopping it cold where it was.

His heart is still beating fast, so he's not unconscious. The biggest problem is the noise that shit made...

The driver stumbles out of the van and reaches for his waist and shakily points a gun at me. I look, unimpressed.

"I got you now, bitch!" And he shoots.

It's not very effective...

I walk up to him, letting him shoot to his heart's content, and when I come face to face with him-

{Ahem!}

... Face to belly with him, he looks down at me in fear, disbelief, and doubt.

I get you, bro, you didn't expect me to be so short up close. Neither did I. Fuck this drawback to hell and back.

{Gahahahahaha~!}

I punch him in the dick, hard. He doubles over, pukes, and falls to the ground. I let the pain simmer a bit, then simply kick his face to grant him temporary relief.

I can already hear the footsteps getting closer so I run in their direction as well. Let's finish this.

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(Third Person PoV)

"You heard about it, Mac?" A poorly dressed gaunt homeless man spoke to his friend.

"Hear what?" His friend, also homeless if a bit chubbier, turned to him and replied.

"Talk of the town is that the Rascals, Millionaires, and Detroit Union are getting hit by someone. People are saying the feds are trying to root them out before they become a problem again." Bobby spoke in a conspirational tone, a specific trait he always seemed to have.

"Bullshit! You know the feds don't care about these gangs, Bob. They might be fighting themselves... it would be better for everyone anyway."

"Shush Mac! You know what they do to us when we speak ill of them!" Bobby anxiously looked around, searching for non-existent witnesses for their conversation.

"Yeah, yeah." Mac shook his head. God must have it out for him if this is the only friend that stuck around.

"People around the block are getting antsy. If a gang war starts it would be very bad, very bad." Bobby spoke in a hushed tone.

"It would indeed... We might have to move blocks if that happens." Moving blocks was always a pain in the ass; having to get to know the new homeless people, understand their dynamics, and try to fit in was a pain in the ass.

They both got startled out of their thoughts as the unmistakable sound of glass shattering rang in their ears, followed by a grunt and someone falling not far from them. Mac and Bobby looked at each other and got a bit closer.

They soon stopped as another figure, this time significantly shorter and wearing an all-black skin-tight suit. The shorter figure looked at them for a few seconds. They looked at it back.

It gave them a thumbs up and punched the figure on the ground a few more times.

When the downed man stopped struggling the figure looked at it for a moment, then turned around and jumped into the window they fell from.

Mac and Bobby looked at each other, not knowing what to make of this situation.

Mac - ever the opportunist - shrugged, crept up to the downed man, and searched his pockets. He found a pocket knife and a pack of cigarettes, which he pocketed.

While Mac was doing that, Bobby was worried about that figure in black. It was night and their barrel fire didn't light them up that much, but the height they jumped was... was that even possible?

What if it came for them next?

"Stop worrying, you tool. Whoever that was gave us a thumbs-up. Us! Dirty, homeless men. If they wanted to get rid of us, they would have..." They heard more and more noise coming from the building the figure in black went back into.

"... but maybe this time we should bail, just in case..." They gathered what little scraps of cloth they had and hurried away from the alley.

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On the morning of June 6th, a local police officer was shocked.

He was just getting to the police station, ready to take on the day and fight crime (yeah, right) and suddenly a net full of people fell in front of him.

Every person stuck on the net had a piece of paper stapled to their foreheads. It was a criminal record, just like the ones he was trained to make, but filled with criminal charges. It was all neat and organized too, if a bit cramped by the surprising amount of charges. All it needed was the Chief's signature.

The police officer was soon joined by his nighttime colleagues who came out of the station. They looked around for a while, even checking the tops of the nearby buildings when possible, but found no one that could have done it.

When they cut the net, they saw that it was not gently put in the ground at all... some of the individuals around had some serious injuries because of the fall.

What was shaping up to be just another day at the job became a bureaucratic nightmare.