10: Martial Arts?
Read 20 chapters ahead on P@treon.
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Peter's eyes looked at the unfazed John, blood coating his right elbow. Then his gaze lowered to see Flash, groaning on the floor. He clutched at his bleeding nose, scrambling on the running track while cursing his head off.
"You okay, bud?" John said, extending a hand to Flash; his voice seemed much deeper too.
Flash's eyes were bloodshot, and it looked like he might swing at any moment. However, the moment he looked up at John, he stopped.
The curses, the glare, the anger dripping off his face. It all vanished like smoke, replaced by a layer of cold sweat and fresh terror.
"You look a little pale; everything cool?" John asked as Flash got to his feet unsteadily.
"I…It's nothing." Unlike what others had expected, a fist fight, Flash walked away, clutching at his nose.
[Flash Thompson fears you +5 EP]
'What?' John almost tripped getting that notification.
The collision was so sudden that he had been out of it since the moment it happened. He was talking to Peter when he suddenly felt a sting on his back. It was like someone had aimed a heat ray at him.
His body braced itself when a set of heavy footsteps closed in, one similar to an animal charging in, and his elbow shot out on instinct.
By the time he understood what happened, Flash was bleeding on the ground with a busted nose as others whispered their quiet enthusiasm.
'I was just being nice to him by helping him up, rude punk.' John shook his head as the Coach of the football team arrived belatedly, expecting to break up a fight.
The crowd soon dispersed awkwardly as John wiped Flash's blood off his elbow with a wet tissue Peter had pulled out of his bag. The reddened elbow only stung a little when he applied the cream his good friend had handed over.
The pain was like a cold breeze in summer, there for a moment, before completely dying down.
"You stay prepared, huh?" John looked at Peter fumbling with the items in his big bag.
Bandages, pain-relieving spray, gauze, painkillers, and more. Everything was arranged inside the bag along with the thick books.
"I… I have to be." Peter gave a wry smile.
'They probably pick on him when Gwen isn't around. Is that what this was?' Maybe John got targeted because he was with Peter. Someone vindictive like Flash would do that to isolate a person.
If he didn't get the powers, this would've ended badly, very badly. Just thinking about it left a bad taste in his mouth.
'A normal world is already cruel, but the world of superheroes is much worse.' He sighed, leaning against the bench as his shoulders finally relaxed.
"Um…" Peter's unsure voice brought him out of the reverie. "Do you train in martial arts, John?"
"Just Piano and Calligraphy." He said.
"I see." Peter took that as him deflecting the question, but that wasn't the case.
"My mother made me learn them when I was like real young." John laughed; he really didn't learn any martial arts after all. What happened was all thanks to the Hanma physique's heightened senses and durability. "I used to practice till my fingers bled."
"No way." Peter looked horrified.
"I took lessons seriously until my mom, well…" John stopped himself from speaking further.
"Oh… I am sorry for your loss." Peter had interpreted that as John's mother dying.
'It will be awkward if I say she walked out on us when I was 11.' He scratched his cheek.
Well, it didn't matter much in this world. And he doubted his mother would give a shit; she was probably in the Bahamas living it up.
John didn't care either; he was only able to find his love for reading and writing after that damned helicopter left. The only thing he hoped was that his father would move on and ask out that café owner Brenda.
'Don't disappoint me, Pops.' He still rooted for them, knowing full well that he might never see it with his own eyes.
"That's enough of that, let's go. I gotta go to the bank too." John jumped to his feet, regaining his energy.
John parted ways with him with a big smile, but on the way home, Peter couldn't help but think about their conversation.
'I feel like shit.' He sighed into his palms, sitting on the bus.
He thought John was cool, funny, outgoing, and more than that, he believed that John had it easy. The energy, the power to withstand Flash's charge, and the confidence to say what he wanted.
To a gloomy kid, John looked like the guy who had it all. He was someone who wouldn't have to worry about anything. But that wasn't the case.
Peter remembered the tired smile he had at the end of their conversation. It bordered on acceptance and was filled with guilt about something out of his control. Even the most perfect-looking people had their problems, problems far bigger than what he had to worry about.
'I can't stay like this. I have to change too.' Peter focused on the dim beeps coming from his bag.
Inside, hidden in one of the hollowed textbooks, was a device that resembled a radio scanner. It was a modified scanner that could intercept police communications.
He looked around the half-empty bus before pressing the device to his ears, hearing the chaotic crackle and words.
[…Unit 349 come in, Unit… Empire State Bank. I repeat, there has been a terrorist attack at the Empire State Bank.]
"Empire State Bank?" Peter's eyes widened as the bus screeched to a stop at the red light.
John said he had something to do at the Empire State Bank. Calculating the time and the amount of distance covered, the amount of time it would take for the police to notice and issue a call for backup, the result was obvious.
John was at the bank right this moment.
"Hey, kid! Are you nuts?!" The bus driver cursed as Peter opened the bus door from the driver's control panel and ran out.
Amidst the blaring horns from pissed drivers, as the traffic lights turned green, and his thumping heart, Peter only thought of reaching the Empire State Bank.
What would he do there?
He could think about that when he reached the place.
***
John never liked the banks; they felt slow and clunky, with that smell of rotten wait and drying patience. It was like these people were hired to just waste as much time as possible.
He may have been a bit pissed because of yesterday's wasted trip, but there was truth in it. Even now, with the Bank open, he had to stand in line for nearly 30 minutes, then he had to fill out three forms, which he had to stand in line to submit again.
All that just to reissue a card, which would take another hour or two.
"Or you can drop by tomorrow again." The middle-aged lady, clearly fed up with her job, said without even looking up.
'Now I know who to offer up as hostage if this place is attacked.' John sat in the waiting area next to a lanky white-haired old man reading a newspaper.
Leaving the terrible thoughts behind, he pulled up the system panel. The sudden incident with Flash had left him uneasy. Maybe he was getting too complacent since he had decided to not go in dangerous areas.
But life was seldom that convenient. Even if he refused to engage in dangerous situations, the danger would fall on his head. After all, if he was to mingle with people like Gwen and Peter, he was bound to get roped in eventually.
He understood that a bit more because of Flash.
The solution for this was rather simple. Either he locked himself in some bunker and kept uploading the novels, or he could continue as he was and focus on getting stronger.
The answer was simple for John.
'The hermit life doesn't suit me, so pass on that.' He was still in the prime of his youth.
What was the point of living in Marvel if all he saw was four walls? Above all, he understood that he wouldn't be completely safe even that way.
The better way was to continue as he was, make friends and get allies while building power. Of course, he had to be extremely careful, but that was only natural.
If he wanted to enjoy his life here, he had to accept the danger that came with it. That was the trade-off.
John stared at the 305 EP sitting in the balance. With that amount, he couldn't get anything powerful just yet. But he could at least get something that could help him at the moment.
With that thought, he opened the system shop.