Let me set the scene.
Me: wearing stolen WW1 super-armor. Shield made of god metal strapped to my back. A hot dog in one hand. And a clipboard I also stole that says "TOP SECRET: PROJECT VALKYRIE."
The United States Army: confused, suspicious, and honestly, just trying their best to figure out how I got past security with no clearance, no paperwork, and no chill.
"Name?""Benjamin. No last name. Like Beyoncé.""...That's not how this works.""That's how I work."
They made the mistake of letting me into orientation for potential Super Soldier candidates. And I made the mistake of opening my mouth.
Camp Lazarus, 7:00 AM
They lined us up. I was surrounded by grunts, future cannon fodder, and dudes named things like "Tommy Two-Fists" and "Tex."
And then HE walked in.
Slicked hair. Thin mustache. Swagger dialed up to maximum arrogance. Rocking a suit so clean it probably had its own butler.
Howard Stark.
Yes, that Howard Stark.
He strutted across the room like he was God's gift to science and women. Emphasis on women—which makes what happened next deeply uncomfortable for everyone involved.
"You there."Me?"Yeah, you. You've got an interesting energy. Like if a narcissist and a grenade had a baby.""Thank you. I think.""Ever considered modeling for recruitment posters?"
Now let me pause the story real quick for clarification.
I. AM. STRAIGHT.
Girls? Hot.Dudes? Not my thing.Howard Stark? Making me question reality but not my sexuality. Let's clear that up right now.
I stared at him, expression flat. "Listen, Tony's dad—unless you've got a daughter or a time machine that turns me into a woman, it ain't happening."
He laughed. "Relax, kid. Just teasing."
Yeah okay, sure Howard. Put the thirst back in the toolbox.
Anyway. Back to the Chaos.
Howard took blood samples from everyone. Except when he tried to take mine, the needle shattered on contact.
"Huh. That's new."
He ran some tests. The kind of tests where they scan your body, measure your bones, check if your soul is actually made of uranium. You know—casual stuff.
Results?
"This kid's not just enhanced. He's… unstable. Your cells vibrate like they're arguing with gravity."
"That's fair. I argue with gravity all the time. She's clingy."
At this point, I knew one thing for sure:
My powers were doing more than just buffing me up. I wasn't a Super Soldier. I was a Super Glitch.
Later That Day: Training Grounds
They tried to make me run laps. I moon-jumped over half the field and landed in the mess hall like a superhero with ADHD.
They made me do push-ups. I did one and accidentally left a crater.
They made me box a dude named Brickhouse Bill. I punched him once. He flew into a tree and the tree exploded.
So naturally, they promoted me.
Midnight. In the Barracks.
I'm lying on my bunk, staring at the ceiling, thinking three things:
Did I just flirt-fight Howard Stark?
Why is my body humming like an unstable reactor?
Did that hot dog have mustard or regret on it?
Suddenly, my hand sparked. Not in a cute firework way — in a this-could-tear-a-hole-in-reality way.
That's when I realized something:
My power isn't just strength or healing. It's... instability itself. I am entropy in a human form. I am the bug in the code.
I am Benjamin. And I am becoming something... dangerous.
To Be Continued...
Next chapter: Benjamin is deployed on a "non-lethal scouting mission" that turns into a one-man demolition derby. He meets the prototype version of the Winter Soldier, punches a Nazi tank into orbit, and maybe—maybe—discovers that he can warp space by sneezing.