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….
And say what you will, but even the local Tony Stark is actually a genius.
Why "even"? Well, the original Tony not from the Cinematic Universe spun all sorts of S.H.I.E.L.D.s on his reproductive organ and never bent under any Fury, rather bending everyone else himself, so much so that the US government was afraid to even squeak.
And he had his own team of supers, and he created the Avengers himself, in partnership, by the way, with Xavier and other Players of world politics, each of whom had a personal and personally loyal paramilitary organization behind them.
And the Avengers he created weren't a team of adventurers running errands for everyone, but rather a coordination council and the highest governing body for Earth's defense.
But okay, that was long ago and not true, practically in the days of yore, when the hero had to be buff, the heroine beautiful, and white characters weren't replaced by black ones for a diversity quota.
The local Stark is also a serious enough fellow and could certainly organize the search and work of scientists in the field of space distortion technologies.
All I need is to convince him to help me. And what could be simpler than making a deal with a man standing with one foot in the grave and perfectly aware of it?
Radiation sickness and, God forgive… ahem… Note to self: figure out who I can now address appeals for strength of soul and patience to.
The Universe doesn't fit, I hate this one, I need an analogue.
So, where was I? Ah yes, radiation sickness and shrapnel shards near the heart (my common sense, forgive me!), this is undoubtedly unpleasant, but quite curable with the use of magic.
And then the need to carry a reactor in his chest around the clock will disappear. Surely for such a magnificent gift, Tony wouldn't refuse to allocate some funds for a new promising direction?
There remained, of course, the pressing problem of Magneto, and after him Stryker, but those were problems of local significance that concerned me only tangentially.
The second one is quite simple to resolve with my capabilities, and the first, one way or another, the X-Men will have to solve first. And Wolverine, as a freelancer.
Speaking of whom…
"Early bird?" a slightly crumpled Logan greeted me as he entered the kitchen. He clearly slept poorly; although there were no bags under his eyes, he didn't look rested, which said something given his healing factor.
"I didn't go to bed," I responded, continuing to read another news article.
"That engrossed in some website?" the man teased.
"I can easily go without sleep for a couple of weeks," I pretended not to understand the hint.
"Physiology?"
"Physiology, magic… cocoa," I saluted the regenerator with my cup and took a sip. Tsk, got cold. Need to brew more.
"Ah yes, magic…" the mutant nodded with expressive "understanding."
"Still don't believe I'm a real God?"
"You fight pretty well, but for a God, you're missing…" he ran a hand from his chin to his mid-stomach.
"A beard?" I raised an eyebrow, finally looking up at him.
"Yeah," the regenerator confirmed, clearly amused. "Also sandals and a toga." The man headed to the fridge.
"Original," I was forced to admit. "Will this do?" I assumed the form of Odin in the snow-white robes of a Roman patrician.
"Better," casting a glance in my direction, Logan opened the fridge door, delving into the study of its contents. "Got beer?"
"Unless it's in Cyclops's room. But you can pour yourself water, I'll transform it," returning to my previous appearance, I graciously offered a solution.
"Into wine?" closing the door and turning to face me, Wolverine raised his eyebrows incredulously.
"Into beer. Can also do ale and mead. Doesn't compare to natural Asgardian stuff, but for our deplorable situation, it'll do."
The mutant silently found a glass, gurgled some liquid into it from the kettle, and handed it to me. An expression of disbelief still resided on his face, but he was ready to test his skepticism experimentally.
Not accepting the dishware, I raised a hand and performed a key-gesture, directing magic. A second later, the water darkened and filled with bubbles, and the smell of strong beer began to spread through the kitchen.
"Hmm…" the mutant sniffed the provided substance suspiciously and, with the look of a man who has nothing left to lose, took a sip.
Doubt reigned on his face for another second, but then it smoothed out, replaced by satisfaction.
"Even if this is another illusion, your illusory beer is top-notch."
"It's not an illusion, but something like alchemy. Transmutation magic, to be specific," I spread my hands, between which the word Magic shimmered in a bright rainbow.
"And a little Divine Miracle, naturally," I couldn't resist winking at the mutant.
"Keep going like that, and I'll actually believe you're a God," Logan graciously agreed, sipping his drink.
"You know, in principle, I anticipated the probability that sooner or later a cute girl capable of twisting me around her little finger would show up and start using my divine power for all sorts of household trifles…" I closed the laptop lid and shifted my gaze to Wolverine with a smirk. "But the key words there were 'cute girl'."
"Well…" Logan thoughtfully tilted his head back and forth, rolling the beer on his tongue, "we're alike in that."
In honor of this discovery, I raised my cup of cocoa, after which, putting on expressions of solemn solidarity, Wolverine and I clinked glasses dignifiedly and paid tribute to our respective beverages.
Alas, such bliss didn't last long, not even five minutes passed before the "game warden came and shooed everyone away."
Storm acted as the aforementioned forest ranger. She suggested that, firstly, we shouldn't set a bad example for the younger generation by chugging beer first thing in the morning, seeing as said "younger generation" was about to run in for breakfast.
And secondly, we should follow her to the underground level to examine and figure out why the hell Magneto needed us.
….
Bonus Chapter on every 500 power stones;
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