… Aidan Quinn
And just like that, the battle was over.
Not with a bang.
But with a nuclear missile disappearing into a hole in the sky — carried by a billionaire genius turned hero who probably has an AC/DC playlist for every occasion.
I was sitting on top of the same building where everything started for me. The same spot where Raven had cut loose — just a little — and turned the sky into black ink. The same cracked rooftop, stained with alien blood, where the city had taken its final breath before everything flipped.
The missile exploded somewhere deep inside the portal. And then…
Light.
It closed.
Silence.
The sky went back to being a sky. Sound returned. And the city, even wrecked, seemed like it could finally breathe again.
I just sat there, watching, legs dangling over the edge like the world hadn't almost ended five minutes ago.
Raven floated nearby, quiet as ever.
Still hovering, like usual. But the air around her didn't feel as heavy. The shadows still followed her — but now they felt more like a protective blanket than a prison.
She didn't say anything.
And me? I couldn't help it.
Maybe it was my [Communication Talent] kicking in. Or maybe I just wanted to mark the moment.
"You did good." The words came out naturally.
She looked at me, saying nothing, like she was already bracing for another dumb joke. I shrugged.
"No, really. That… that was beautiful. Intense. Kinda terrifying, I'll admit. But beautiful."
She lowered her gaze.
"I just… let go a little."
I laughed.
"'A little'?"
"Yes."
"You covered three blocks in living shadow, froze two squads of Chitauri, muted the air, bent the light, and… made Spider-Man fall on his ass on a nearby rooftop."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Who?"
"Peter. Schoolmate. Nice guy. Kinda anxious. Probably gonna be a decent hero if he doesn't get himself killed first."
She turned back to the horizon.
"That wasn't my limit."
I went quiet.
Not because I was surprised — I knew — but hearing her say it… hit different.
She didn't let go of a lifetime of trauma after a five-minute conversation. [Communication Talent] isn't that OP.
But… you could tell.
She was healing.
"How'd it feel?" I asked softly.
She took a while to answer.
But then, still staring down at the city, she smiled. A real one this time. Subtle. Almost hidden. But it was there.
"Light."
I looked at her for a moment, silent.
And I locked that image in — everything the Six Eyes could record.
We stayed like that for a few more minutes, watching the smoke rise, the sound of helicopters growing louder, the first rescue convoys crawling into the chaos like ants.
The world was getting back to normal — or whatever this world considers normal. People taking pictures, reporters running around, civilians being pulled from debris. Some guy in a suit yelling into an earpiece. Bureaucracy creeping back in like a virus reorganizing itself.
I sighed.
"Well… guess it's time to go."
Raven turned her head slowly, like she felt the moment ending too.
"We helping with cleanup?"
I looked at her, eyes wide like she'd just asked me to scrub a gas station toilet.
"Cleanup? Excuse me? I pay taxes. I mean — technically the old version of me did, but on principle, that's a government job."
She raised an eyebrow, full sarcasm.
"Such a civic-minded soul."
"I know. I'm the poster child for public responsibility. My next move is… disappearing quietly before someone hands me a clipboard."
She let out a short breath — half a sigh, half a laugh — which made me grin too.
Bit by bit, more human. More present.
That's when I saw them.
Jean. Scott. Kurt. Kitty. Rogue.
The X-Men group was coming down from a building a few blocks away, uniforms torn, faces worn out from the fight, but still standing. Still together.
Jean was a little apart from the rest. Staring out at the city. Quiet. Reflective. Probably still processing everything.
I raised a hand, giving her a subtle little wave.
Nothing flashy. Just the kind of gesture that carried a dozen unsaid things.
See you around.
I liked our fight.
You're incredible.
You're gonna dream about me.
All of it in a nod and half a smile.
She saw it.
And even from far away, even tired, even with a thousand thoughts swirling in her head…
She smiled.
Small. Reserved. But real.
Scott called her name. She turned to go.
Raven looked at me sideways.
"Ready to go?"
"Always."
"Close your eyes."
"Only if you're gonna kiss me when I open them."
She lifted a hand, shadows already starting to swirl around us. "Or throw you into a dimensional void."
"Surprise is half the fun."
And then the world around us darkened, melting into silence.
The city disappeared. The sky turned to shadow. The light faded.
And we were gone, leaving the heroes and the cameras behind.
...
Queens.
Good old concrete jungle, with the smell of hot dogs, angry honking, and neighbors arguing at 3 a.m. about who left trash in the hallway. Honestly? It was kinda comforting coming back to this everyday chaos — especially considering I technically died earlier today.
The apartment was on the third floor of a slightly crooked building, with stairs that creaked louder than my back after sparring with a shadow demon. But hey, it had charm.
I pushed the door open with a light shove. The lock had a tiny delay, but it still worked. Inside, the air smelled like coffee, reheated pizza, and generic three-in-one men's shampoo.
The decor was… minimalist by necessity. Worn-out couch, TV way too big for the size of the living room, manga piles in the corner, and a bookshelf full of stuff my past self pretended to read to seem smart.
"Welcome to my humble sanctuary", I announced, turning with my arms wide open.
Raven stepped in slowly, like she was expecting the floor to collapse any second. She looked around — not judging, just observing. Details. Dust. Cracks. Colors. Emotions.
"You lived here alone?"
She was clearly talking about the original Aidan Quinn.
The good thing is — I've got all his memories.
"Depends. Sometimes there was company. Stray cats, existential ghosts, mysterious goth girls…"
She gave me that look. The one that says she's debating whether to kill you now or later.
"…Yeah. I lived alone."
I led her to the second bedroom — officially "the room where stuff goes to die until I someday maybe clean it." I cleared out some boxes, pulled back the curtain, opened the window. Dusty, but intact. Nothing a little cleanup and interdimensional shadow magic couldn't fix.
"It's yours now…" I said, giving the doorframe a couple of light taps. "Decorate however you want. Spell books, cursed mirrors, black candles, Edgar Allan Poe posters… whatever makes you happy."
She didn't say anything, but she touched the doorframe with her fingertips. Slowly. Like she was testing if this was real.
Bit by bit, she was letting herself exist here.
I walked to the kitchen, pulled out my wallet, and left a card on the entry counter. Platinum. Company-issued.
"Technically, I make 10k a month as 'dimensional compensation.' So… there you go. Buy whatever you want. Clothes. Books. Black vanilla ice cream with despair chunks. No judgment."
She looked at the card.
Then at me.
Then… ignored it and went to rummage through the bookshelf in the living room.
"Sure, sure, act like you're not interested."
Like any woman could resist that.
Later, when the sun was dipping behind the buildings and the living room light turned that lazy orange color, we headed back down the hall. She'd pulled a few dark clothes from her backpack — which definitely looked like it held another dimension inside it. I held the door open for her.
"If you need anything, just call…" I said. "Water, a blanket… cozy company to chase away nightmares…"
She stopped in front of the door. Looked at me.
For three seconds, I thought she might say yes. Maybe a resigned "whatever." Maybe a "just get in here and shut up."
But no.
The door closed in my face with the gentleness of a punch.
I stood there, staring at the wood.
"Got it. Not a 'no,' more like a 'shut up or I'll turn you into a shadow bat and throw you out the window.'"
From the other side — silence.
But I swear I heard… a quiet laugh.
… Nick Fury
The city was still smoldering in the reflection of the S.H.I.E.L.D. tower's glass windows, but for Nick Fury, the war was already over.
Now came the part that actually mattered.
Sitting in front of six monitors, arms crossed, eyes locked on the 3D projection of the Battle of New York, he replayed the events with surgical precision.
The missile. The portal. Stark. The explosion.
All confirmed. All documented.
He was already drafting mental reports for possible future scenarios. Countermeasures. Protocols. Names to watch. Earth had officially entered a new tier of threats — and humanity still wasn't ready for it.
He zoomed in on the hologram to slow-play a sequence: Thor channeling lightning into a swarm of Chitauri at an intersection.
Then: Steve Rogers directing evacuations like a true captain. Off to the side, in the corner of the footage, the X-Men — working like a parallel task force.
Fury frowned.
"Charles still playing hero in the shadows…" He muttered to himself.
Next recording: the Fantastic Four. Johnny Storm blazing through the air, Susan Storm throwing up forcefields, Ben Grimm punching a path through the chaos.
That, he expected. They were already on the "unpredictable assets" list — right alongside street vigilantes, Asgardians, and… others.
But then, one of the monitors flashed red.
"Anomaly detected." The voice of the central AI filled the room.
He tapped the keyboard and zoomed in.
It was shaky footage, captured by a civilian drone before it was taken out by electromagnetic interference.
But the image was clear enough.
On the roof of a building near Stark Tower, a young woman hovered. The space around her was growing darker — not from natural shadow, but from something absorbing light.
Tendrils of black energy sprouted from nothing, wrapping around enemies, blocking attacks, bending space.
Fury's one good eye widened slightly. That wasn't tech. And according to S.H.I.E.L.D. sensors, there was no traditional magical signature present.
He activated biometric cross-reference, enhancing the image of the girl — and the boy standing next to her.
The results came in fast.
TARGET IDENTIFIED:
Name: Aidan Quinn
Age: 17
Residence: Queens, New York
School: Midtown High
Background: No registered powers. No criminal record. Low-profile.
Recent note: Connected to omega-level gravitational distortion and energy absorption event.
Unknown companion. Name: unconfirmed.
Nick went silent, tapping his fingers on the desk.
"…Where the hell did you two come from?"
He could always tell when something didn't fit the catalog.
And that pair wasn't just off the catalog.
They were from a whole different database.
Fury stood up. Pulled a communicator from his coat pocket.
"Hill. This is Fury."
The reply came in seconds.
"Director. Ready."
"I need you to track down and make contact with a kid named Aidan Quinn. Student at Midtown. Tied to a girl who can wipe out three city blocks with a blink."
A pause on the other end.
"Romanoff could handle this…"
Fury frowned.
"Romanoff's on leave."
Hill didn't say anything, but he could practically hear the silent disbelief on the other side.
"Yes", he confirmed with some annoyance. "She fought aliens. She fought politics. And she fought my better judgment. She deserves two days of peace."
He hung up.
Turned back to the paused video.
The girl hovered, eyes glowing dark violet.
The boy next to her was smiling — like he was exactly where he wanted to be.
Nick Fury didn't like surprises.
But he knew when an unannounced threat could also be an untapped weapon.
And Aidan Quinn…
He was going to have a chat with that kid.
Very soon.
… Aidan Quinn
Saving New York from an alien invasion? Check.
Surviving my favorite goth girl's semi-apocalyptic power release? Easy.
Sleeping with her in my arms afterwards, like the emotionally accessible creature I clearly am?
Denied. With a door to the face.
And now, guess what?
Waking up at 7 a.m. to go to school.
Because apparently, even after watching gods fight in the sky and nearly becoming cosmic radiation, the education system still thinks it's crucial to review trigonometry before conquering the multiverse.
Sure, the world might be teetering on the edge of dimensional collapse, but Midtown High? Still standing strong… and surprisingly packed with canon waifus.
Which is exactly why I showed up, by the way.
You really think I rolled out of my very warm bed — where I left Raven alone in the apartment — just to review chemistry? Hell no.
I came for the waifus.
Midtown High.
The place where teens pretend to care, teachers pretend they're in charge, and me? I pretend I'm here for any reason other than the concentrated waifu density of the Spider-Verse.
Is the school full of nerds? Yes. Is there bullying? Also yes. But if you look closely, you'll realize: this place is a hidden gem of Marvel's teen universe.
MJ Watson. Gwen Stacy. Liz Allan. Betty Brant. Cindy Moon. Felicia Hardy — just transferred in. Rumors not confirmed yet, but I'm watching.
It's like a waifu distribution center, full of emotional arc potential and long legs.
I walked through the school gates with the confidence of someone who definitely didn't do their homework — and had no plans to start now.
In the main hallway?
Her.
Red hair. Headphones. That distant look that says she's either contemplating the meaning of existence… or just trying to ignore Peter nervously rambling behind her.
MJ Watson.
Right behind her, Gwen was messing with her phone. Liz was laughing at something Flash said. Betty was sitting with a tablet in her lap, probably writing a piece titled "Mysterious Girl with Shadow Powers During the Invasion" — who, maybe, just maybe, I know pretty damn well.
Ah… Midtown.
Center of academic excellence.
And alternate route to teen romance with spin-off potential.
"Morning, ladies", I murmured, flashing my best lazy grin. "Apologies for the delay — the romantic comedy lead has arrived."
Gwen looked me up and down.
"Have you always been like this… or is this new?"
"I'm like wine. I get better with chaos."
Peter walked past with a slight nod and a weird look, like he was trying to figure out where he'd seen me. Can't blame him — seeing someone standing next to a shadow entity on a rooftop while alien ships explode tends to leave an impression.
In class, the teacher started talking, but my brain had already wandered off to scout for affinity points, romantic tension, and alternate routes.
Yeah, I'm that kind of otaku.
But with flair.
My life was now a mix of anime, sci-fi, and emotional chaos.
And now?
Now I was ready to conquer the real battlefield:
High school… full of waifus.
...
Chemistry class.
Or as I like to call it: emotional alchemy disguised as teenage science and formulas no one will use outside a lab or zombie apocalypse.
The teacher was rambling about covalent bonds with forced enthusiasm, drawing molecular structures on the board like she was casting ancient spells. The room smelled like markers, hormones, and sleep deprivation. The fluorescent lights flickered slightly — kind of like everyone's will to live.
And there we were.
Peter, two rows ahead, throwing those little side glances at me.
He'd turn slightly, pretend to mess with his notebook, then glance back again.
Nervous energy in his eyes.
He'd recognized me — or almost. Maybe by my outline. Maybe my hair. Maybe just because seeing someone from school casually chilling next to a cosmic shadow witch during an alien war kinda sticks with you.
But what he didn't have was certainty.
And asking directly? Risky.
He could out himself without meaning to.
Smart guy like him? He knew that.
So he kept doing the dance: look, hesitate, stay quiet. Trying to find the right moment.
And me?
I had bigger things to focus on.
MJ.
Red hair down. Absentmindedly doodling in her notebook. That soft perfume you only noticed when she turned her head. The kind of girl who could shut you down gracefully and still leave you daydreaming.
Even before the Company — even before I became me — Aidan Quinn had a thing for her.
Nothing serious. Nothing too forward. But there had been something. The looks. That subtle tension.
All I did was level up the game.
I leaned slightly, sliding my chair just a bit closer. Kept my voice low — just for her.
"If chemistry is about bonds… shouldn't we be doing a little hands-on experiment right now?"
She glanced sideways, eyebrow raised, that smirk on her lips hanging right between "you're an idiot" and "maybe…"
"You're more confident than usual."
"Maybe it's 'cause I survived an alien invasion yesterday. Reevaluated my priorities. Kissing moved way up the list."
She chuckled — quiet, but real. Didn't say no.
"And you think surviving an alien attack gives you clearance?"
I leaned a little closer — not touching, but close enough to make it count.
"I think it's under review."
Her eyes held mine a second longer than they should have. And right in the middle of all the talk about electrons and carbon chains… MJ smiled.
Subtle.
But totally in sync.
And that was more than a yes.
That was a maybe soon.
And coming from her? That was basically a contract.
Peter turned again. Saw me smiling at MJ. His brow furrowed, like something suddenly clicked — or got even more confusing.
Then the teacher called my name.
"Mr. Quinn?"
"Yes, ma'am?"
"Can you give me an example of an ionic bond?"
I grinned.
"Sure. Me and MJ, if she keeps ignoring me. Full energy transfer, and I'm left negatively charged."
Laughter broke out.
MJ hit me with her eraser.
The teacher sighed.
Chemistry class?
For me, it was just another test lab…
…for human reactions.