A Free Radical [SI in Marvel/MCU]

Felicia perched on the window frame, her silhouette a sharp, elegant cutout against the faint city lights. The room below was dingy, a mosaic of peeling paint, cracked linoleum, and shadows stretching like claws toward the corners. She breathed in the stale air, catching the sharp tang of blood beneath it, a warning she ignored.

Her gaze swept the scene with clinical detachment. Levi was slumped against the far wall, his chest rising and falling in shallow, measured breaths. Blood pooled beneath him, a dark stain creeping outward, but his expression wasn't panicked. If anything, he looked faintly amused, his lips quirking into a smile that had no business being there.

What an infuriating man.

"What's a heartbreaker like you doing in a shithole like this?" she asked, stepping lightly into the room. Her voice was a blade, polished and teasing, masking the unease prickling beneath her skin. She shouldn't be here, hadn't planned on coming. But something about him had lingered, gnawing at the back of her mind. Call it curiosity. Or maybe something a bit more, if she were feeling honest.

Levi cracked one eye open, the faint flicker of amusement dimming the exhaustion etched into his face. "Wellness retreat," he rasped, his voice hoarse but steady enough to land the joke. "You caught me in the middle of my transcendental meditation."

Felicia's lips twitched, but she held the smirk in check, her movements precise as she closed the distance. "Very Zen, though it looks more like you're on one of those disgusting cleanses," she said. Her gaze flicked downward, taking in the ragged bandage clinging to his abdomen.

He's not acting like someone about to bleed out. He's too calm. He knows something I don't.

The dark stain had spread in a puddle around him, but it wasn't just the blood that caught her attention.

The edges of the wounds were knitting together, pale pink tissue shimmering faintly beneath the gore—unnatural, wrong. Her gaze lingered despite herself. But instead of pulling back, she leaned closer. He was a riddle, and riddles were her weakness.

Her instincts whispered danger, sharp and insistent. At twenty-eight, Felicia had learned the hard way to trust those instincts, especially when dealing with men who were more than they seemed. And yet, curiosity, the kind that had driven her through years of heists and risks, urged her to stay and figure him out.

Felicia cautiously crouched beside him, her gaze lingering on his face. Levi didn't fit into any of her boxes. Not one of the fools who played hero, not a criminal who thought they ran the world. He was something else entirely. A locked safe, and she had always been good with locks.

"That's… not normal," she murmured, her voice lowering into something guarded. She pulled back slightly, her glove hand hovering between reaching out to confirm he was fine and retreating.

"I'm not like other guys," Levi murmured, his lips twitching into a self-satisfied smirk. "This body is full of surprises, play your cards right, and I might show you a trick or two." He gave an exaggerated wink and his smirk bloomed into a full-on insufferable grin, looking too proud of himself.

She huffed softly despite herself, shaking her head. "Sure," she said, her voice dipping into dry amusement. "And I'm not like other thieves."

He coughed faintly, the sound more laugh than wince. "You're… definitely complicated," he said, the words slurred but laced with something that felt like recognition.

Complicated didn't even begin to cover it.

Felicia crouched beside him, her gaze drawn to his face once again. He was pale, his breathing shallow, his blood painting the floor, but there was a quiet steadiness to him. It wasn't just composure; it was something more assured.

"Why'd you do it?" she asked finally, her voice soft but steady. "Back in the alley."

"Do what?" Levi's eyelids fluttered, his exhaustion pulling at him, but his voice carried faint curiosity.

"You saved me," Felicia clarified, though the words felt strange on her tongue. She rarely needed saving. Never asked for it. "You didn't have to."

Levi shrugged faintly, a movement that made him wince. "Seemed like the right thing to do."

Her sharp gaze narrowed, searching his face for some tell, some flicker of calculation. "No angle? No reason?"

"I felt like it. That's all the reason I needed. You didn't deserve what that had in mind over some scumbag's anniversary gift for his third mistress," he said simply. His smirk returned, faint but real. "And, hey, my inner child had a great time living out his Home Alone fantasy."

"'Inner' child… right," Felicia let out a quiet huff of laughter, though the warmth of it didn't linger. Her gaze flicked back to the wound. One that should have killed him, closing as if it had merely been an inconvenience. That prickle of unease returned, sharper now. Levi Wilder wasn't normal, wasn't safe. And yet she didn't leave.

She rose to her feet, brushing dust from her gloves in a motion more reflexive than necessary. "Alright, Tiger. If you're serious about cashing out, I can help. Call it payback."

Levi's brow lifted faintly, though his eyelids were already drooping. "Help?"

"I know people," she said, smirking faintly. "I can fence the goods for you. I know people. It will get you a far better return than you could manage on your own. After that, we're square."

He hesitated, his smirk softening into something quieter. "You don't owe me anything. It wasn't a transaction. I just didn't like the alternative."

Felicia tilted her head, studying him as if he were a puzzle she hadn't decided whether to solve or discard. "And I'm just doing what I want," she replied smoothly. "Besides, you're clearly hopeless without me."

Levi chuckled weakly, though the sound caught halfway through. "Hopeless might be a stretch. But I'm not going to turn down the attention of a beautiful lady."

Felicia moved toward the window, pausing briefly to glance over her shoulder. "Get some rest," she said lightly. "God knows you look like you need it."

Levi's head tilted back against the wall, his faint smirk still visible. "Noted."

She slipped onto the window ledge, her silhouette framed by the city lights. With a fluid leap, she disappeared into the night.

Or so she intended.

Felicia crouched low in the shadows just beyond the window, her sharp green eyes flicking back to the man bleeding out below. Her body tensed as her gaze lingered, caught between caution and something harder to name.

"Bye, Felicia," he whispered, wistfully. The faintest trace of a smile lingered in his face as his head slumped against the wall and he fell asleep.

Her breath caught, and her lips curved into a slow, incredulous smile. He knew. Her name. Her identity. A flicker of unease swept through her, but she let it pass. His voice hadn't carried malice or threat, just quiet acknowledgment. He wasn't trying to scare her. But as easy as it was to follow him and pick up his name, he'd done the same, hadn't he?

She shook her head, a faint laugh escaping as she melted back into the shadows. Whoever he was, he was more interesting than she'd given him credit for. Maybe he could be more than a mere puzzle. Maybe she'd finally found a playmate of her own.

---

Levi woke feeling like a well-used punching bag, a massive improvement over his role as a ballistics dummy the night before. The sharp agony had receded, leaving behind a dull ache that spread through his ribs and newly grown skin, like a lingering protest from his battered body. He ran a hand over his abdomen, pausing at the bright pink polka dots scattered across his skin where gaping shotgun wounds had once been.

The sight reminded him of those "cupping" marks he'd seen in those trendy alternative medicine photos. Maybe the system was secretly into Eastern healing techniques.

Hey, AL. You using alternative medicine on me? Did you clear my meridians? Levi rubbed one of the brighter scars.

[CLARIFICATION] 

> System processes adhere to advanced biological optimization protocols.

> Host's comparison to pseudoscientific treatments is noted.

> And summarily dismissed.

Levi snorted softly, flicking a stray pellet off the mattress. Got it. You're a serious, science-y system. Not a fun and cool magical system.

Bits of dull metal littered the fabric where he'd been lying—shotgun pellets, tarnished and slick with faint traces of blood. Sitting up, he stretched cautiously, testing the limits of his recovery. His muscles twinged faintly, but there was a new tension beneath the soreness, a density he hadn't felt before.

[ALERT]

> Free radical accumulation detected.

> Adaptive energy threshold surpassed.

> Initiating adaptive pathways…

Here we go again… No Whammies, No Whammies. Please, RNGesus, just one SSR between friends.

[POSSIBLE EVOLUTIONS]

(1) Adaptive Hematopoiesis

Description:

> Your bone marrow becomes a hyperefficient factory, enhancing blood production to improve endurance, immunity, and recovery. This adaptation strengthens your body's resilience to prolonged stressors and minimizes risks during future evolutions.

Benefits:

> - Optimized oxygen delivery increases stamina and supports sustained physical activity.

> - Accelerated blood cell regeneration promotes rapid recovery from injuries or blood loss.

> - Enhanced immune system neutralizes toxins, pathogens, and foreign agents effectively.

> - Increased tolerance for free radicals reduces risks of instability during adaptations.

Drawbacks:

> - Temporary joint and marrow fatigue during the adjustment period

> - Increased nutritional demands, requiring elevated iron and protein intake.

(2) Plasma Optimization

Description:

> Your blood plasma is enhanced to optimize nutrient transport, healing, and toxin resistance. This adaptation provides rapid recovery and sustained performance in high-stakes scenarios.

Benefits:

> - Accelerated healing through faster clotting and efficient nutrient delivery to damaged tissues.

> - Rapid neutralization of toxins and bloodborne hazards to improve survivability in hazardous conditions.

> - Improved cellular efficiency reduces fatigue and enhances overall vitality under stress.

Drawbacks:

> - Temporary overheating or inflammation during the adaptation period or heavy exertion.

> - Increased hydration and caloric needs to maintain optimal function.

(3) Vascular Fortification

Description:

> Your circulatory system is reinforced, with strengthened blood vessels and enhanced elasticity to resist trauma and manage high-impact stress. This adaptation maximizes physical durability and recovery from injuries.

Benefits:

> - Reinforced vessels reduce the risk of ruptures, internal bleeding, and vascular trauma.

> - Enhanced shock absorption improves resilience to high-impact trauma or extreme physical exertion.

> - Increased circulatory efficiency boosts baseline stamina and endurance.

Drawbacks:

> - Temporary stiffness or soreness as vessels adjust to enhanced properties.

> - Elevated energy consumption during prolonged physical stress or exertion.

[SELECTION REQUIRED]

> Choose wisely, Host.

> Adaptive energy is finite, and pathways must align with your evolving physiological profile.

Well, looks like I got a handful of good options here. But what do I need now?

Levi leaned back against the wall, his fingers brushing over the fading scars on his abdomen. They'd been raw, angry wounds not long ago, and yet they still stood out, bright reminders of how close he'd come to the edge. That they hadn't disappeared completely drove home just how bad it had been—how close he'd been to not walking away at all.

Hematopoiesis, he thought, narrowing his focus. Boosted stamina, rapid recovery, immunity to pathogens and toxins. More than just physical resilience, it offered protection against many of the unknowns of the Marvel Universe. It'd give me an edge against all the radioactive critters jumping around Manhattan. Probably help me adapt faster too.

Plasma Optimization was simpler: "baby's first healing factor," plus some toxin resistance and increased vitality. A no-brainer for keeping him going in a fight or a laughing gas attack, but it didn't feel as broadly defensive as the other two.

Then there was Vascular Fortification: tougher blood vessels, trauma resistance, better durability in high-impact scenarios. Perfect for roflstomping mooks and keeping my insides from becoming outsides.

He tightened his jaw. It had to be Plasma or Fortification. Hematopoiesis was great for long-term adaptability, but he didn't yet understand just how bad instability or Aberrations could get. For now, surviving immediate fights while he was still squishy was the priority. Plasma's healing might keep him operational, but it wouldn't stop a knife or bullet from tearing into him. Fortification, though… it could make him harder to even damage in the first place.

The memory of the heist hit like a sucker punch: the gunshots, the blood, the chaos. He wasn't some caped powerhouse, and this world didn't pull its punches. His eyes dropped to the scar, then back to the options in his mind. "Vascular Fortification," he said quietly, but with conviction.

[SELECTION CONFIRMED: VASCULAR FORTIFICATION]

> Adaptive pathway activated.

> Host's circulatory system undergoing structural reinforcement.

> Blood vessels enhanced with increased elasticity and durability to resist trauma.

> Shock absorption capacity improved, reducing risk of vascular rupture during high-impact stress.

> Circulatory efficiency optimized for sustained endurance and stamina.

> Temporary stiffness and elevated energy consumption anticipated during adjustment period.

---

He crouched beside the duffel bag tucked into the corner of the room. Stacks of cash peeked out between the folds of a tattered jacket, alongside a burner phone he'd picked up during one of his less glamorous exploits. He flipped it open, the cheap plastic creaking faintly in his hands, and keyed in a number from memory.

The line rang twice before a clipped, no-nonsense voice answered. "Jessica Jones Investigations."

"Jessica, hi," Levi said, leaning back against the wall. "Name's Levi. I hear you're the go-to for discreet solutions."

A pause, followed by a heavy sigh. "What kind of solutions?"

"The kind that involves paperwork," Levi replied smoothly. "New name. New life. Clean slate."

Her tone sharpened instantly. "You a cop? PI? Mob flunky looking for a quick fix?"

Levi grinned faintly. "None of the above. Let's just say I'm an interdimensional man of mystery."

Another pause—longer this time—before Jessica snorted faintly. "Right. And I'm Wonder Woman."

"I mean, if you can rock that leotard and tiara, more power to you," Levi quipped. "But I'm serious. No questions, no complications. Just cash for a name that works in this dimension."

Jessica's tone turned calculating. "How much cash?"

"Enough to make it worth your while."

Another pause, then a clipped response. "An hour. Bring the money. Don't waste my time."

The line clicked dead, leaving Levi smirking as he tossed the phone onto the duffel. "Friendly. I like her."

---

He grabbed a clean shirt from the pile of clothes he'd stashed, the faint pull in his side a reminder of what his body had endured—and what it had survived. "Alright, AL," he muttered. "Let's see if she's as good as they say."

Levi stepped into the diner, the smell of stale coffee and burnt bacon curling around him like a halfhearted greeting. The place wasn't crowded—just a few regulars scattered at booths and the counter—but it hummed with the quiet energy of a space that kept its secrets. Jessica sat in the far corner, her back to the wall, her coffee cradled in both hands like a shield. The booth gave her a clear view of the door, the exits, and anyone who might think twice about walking in.

[Observation]

> Guarded seating position.

> Strategic visibility.

> Hard to overhear, easy to exit.

> Subject demonstrates appropriate risk mitigation.

Levi smirked faintly at AL's commentary as he slid into the seat across from her. "Nice setup," he said, resting his hands lightly on the table. "Hard to eavesdrop, good sightlines. Textbook. Should I have worn a disguise? Maybe brought a newspaper with eyeholes cut out?"

Jessica raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"Or we could use codenames," Levi continued, leaning back with a faint grin. "You can call me Rip Van Winkle."

Jessica's lips twitched—barely—but her tone stayed flat. "You're late."

"Time is just a construct," Levi quipped, leaning back. "More like a set of guidelines than a strict code."

Jessica arched a brow, but her tone stayed flat. "You said you needed a full package. Let's get this over with."

Levi reached into his jacket and pulled out an envelope, setting it between them. "Name, government ID, state license. A bank account with a few years of 'history.' PO box. Clean and tight. Nothing that falls apart if someone squints too hard."

Jessica flipped open the envelope, thumbing through the cash inside before setting it aside. "What's the story?"

"Salt Rock, West Virginia," Levi said, his voice steady despite the odd twinge of familiarity the words brought. "Parents deceased—car accident when I was sixteen. Moved out for college. Marshall University, Information Systems degree. Graduated 1990. Worked as a database administrator—contract gigs, nothing long-term. Inheritance just came through, so here I am."

Jessica jotted down notes in a small notebook, her pen scratching steadily across the paper. "Salt Rock works. Small town, low risk of overlap. Marshall gives you credibility, and contract work keeps your employment history vague enough to hold." She glanced up. "The inheritance. How much?"

Levi hesitated, tapping his fingers lightly on the edge of the table. "A few million. I can get the exact number in a couple of days. I'm not looking to dump all of it in the account right away."

Jessica nodded, her expression neutral. "Good. The bank records will show a steady savings history from your 'contract work.' The inheritance will be a single deposit, recent but well-documented. It'll hold up to scrutiny." She flipped her notebook closed. "PO box will be set up in Manhattan. You'll have a name, ID, and everything else by next week. Seven days, and you're real."

Levi smirked faintly. "And then I'll finally be a real boy!" he said, leaning back in the booth. "I can't wait for my nose to stop growing every time I open my mouth."

Jessica stared at him for a beat, her expression deadpan, before she stood and pocketed the envelope. "If this is some kind of sting, I'll bury you before anyone gets to me."

Levi raised his hands in mock surrender. "Not a cop. Promise."

Jessica stared at him, expression flat, then flipped her notebook closed. "Good. Because I'd rather save myself the headache."

She stood, sliding the envelope of cash into her pocket. Adjusting her jacket, she cast him a final glance. "Salt Rock. Quiet, forgettable. You'll fit right in."

Levi grinned faintly. "Pshh. Nice try. My mom always told me I'm the most special."

Jessica smirked just slightly, her boots tapping against the tiled floor as she walked toward the door.

Levi leaned back in the booth, watching her go as the doorbell chimed faintly behind her. He glanced out the window, the weight of the words Salt Rock settling into a space he hadn't examined in years. It wasn't his world anymore, but it fit well enough.

Alright, AL. One week, and I'm not just a ghost in the system.

[Acknowledgment]

> Objective confirmed.

> Integration into civilian identity frameworks underway.

Levi smirked, shaking his head as he tossed a few bills onto the table and stood. Once I'm a real boy, I can start making real bank. Let's hope Felicia comes through soon.

---

Hammerhead leaned against the hood of a black sedan parked outside the warehouse, his broad frame casting a shadow over the cracked asphalt. The smell of smoke and scorched rubber lingered in the air, remnants of the chaos he'd arrived too late to stop. His sharp eyes scanned the security footage on a tablet in his hands, the grainy black-and-white feed playing on loop.

Two figures, masked. One moved with a dancer's grace. Nimble, deliberate. Black Cat. No question about it.

The other? A wildcard. Taller, broader, less fluid but no less effective. The way he handled himself, taking hits, improvising with the environment. It spoke of someone fearless and adaptable. Someone dangerous.

"Who's your friend, Kitty?" Hammerhead muttered, his voice low and gravelly. His thumb hovered over the pause button, freezing the image of the pair mid-fight. He zoomed in on the second figure, trying to make out more details. Masked, of course. But masks didn't bleed.

He turned toward one of his men, who stood nearby holding a sealed evidence bag containing a bloodstained scrap of fabric. "Get this to our guy at the precinct," Hammerhead said. "I want everything they can pull—DNA, blood type, shoe size if they can swing it."

The man nodded and hurried off.

Hammerhead set the tablet down, his fingers flexing against the smooth metal hood of the car. "Black Cat's trouble enough on her own. Now she's got an associate?" His lips curled into a humorless grin. "Not for long."

He adjusted his tie, stepping back as the car door swung open. "Let Sal know I'm handling it," he said to the driver before climbing into the back seat. His voice turned cold. "And tell him to get comfortable. This won't take long."

The door slammed shut, and the car pulled away, leaving the warehouse in the rearview mirror. The hunt was on.