**Jotaro POV**
"Best of luck then saving the world."
The words left my mouth with a dry finality. I didn't look back. I wasn't interested in whatever catastrophe they had inevitably brewed. It was always the same with beings like them—cosmic temper tantrums that left cities as collateral damage.
'It's unbelievable that such a belonging exists,' I thought, my mind drifting to the artifact they spoke of. The sheer absurdity of it didn't shock me as much as it should have. In a world where mutants could rewrite the minds of millions, tear planets apart like wet paper, and wrap reality around their little fingers, a legendary relic was just another Tuesday.
"What? Just like that?" Thena's voice cracked, slicing through the air. She couldn't comprehend it. To her, walking away wasn't an option; it was a moral failing. "Does he not care about Earth? Does he not care about its people?"
I stopped. I didn't turn around immediately, letting the silence stretch, heavy and suffocating.
"Thena," I said, my voice low but carrying the weight of a grinding tectonic plate. "Don't mistake my disinterest for weakness. And don't mistake my apathy for mercy. It is not my duty to clean up the mess you and your kind have made."
I shifted my stance slightly and unleashed my presence.
It wasn't a shout; it was a physical force. A crushing, oppressive wave of spiritual pressure descended upon the alleyway. The air grew heavy, tasting of ozone and iron. Thena's knees hit the pavement instantly. She gritted her teeth, muscles straining, her eyes burning with defiance as she tried to push back against the invisible weight. It was useless. She was trying to hold back a tidal wave with a teaspoon.
Sersi reacted instantly, stepping forward despite the trembling in her legs. She recognized the difference between a battle and an execution.
"Sir—Mr. X—please, forgive her!" Sersi's voice was urgent, breathless. "It's just… we are desperate. We're having a hard time, and we need assistance. We can't do this alone."
I watched her struggle to remain upright. Unlike Thena, she wasn't challenging me. She was begging. There was a dignity in that, stripped of pride.
"....Fine."
The pressure vanished. Instantly.
The recoil was violent. Thena collapsed forward, hacking and coughing as sensation rushed back into her crushed limbs. Her palms scraped against the rough concrete, her body shivering from the aftermath.
I exhaled slowly, the smoke of my breath curling in the cold night air. "Here. Take these."
I snapped my fingers.
Two small, crystalline objects materialized in my palm. They were no larger than dice, smooth and translucent, pulsating with a faint, rhythmic hum. Inside the crystal, layered spatial signatures flickered like trapped lightning.
Sersi accepted them with trembling hands, her eyes widening as she felt the impossible density packed into something so small. "What are they?" she whispered, turning the object over in her fingers.
"Anchors," I replied. "Stabilizers. They'll mask your bio-signatures from Deviants. No more tracking. They'll also prevent higher-dimensional scans—like the ones your Creators use—from locking onto your location."
I paused, letting the gravity of the gift sink in.
"Consider them a direct line to me. Crush it, and I'll know. But only use it when shit is getting real. I'm not a babysitter."
Thena stared at the crystals, her breathing ragged. "You just… give us this? For nothing?"
I met her gaze, my expression flat. "No. I trade."
I stepped closer, looming over them. I didn't look at them as enemies, nor as allies. They were assets. Variables in an equation I was currently evaluating.
"In exchange," I continued, my eyes narrowing, "you both work under me. For the foreseeable future."
Sersi blinked, completely flabbergasted. "Work… under you?"
"Yes." I crouched slightly, bringing myself to eye level with her. "No secret missions. No divine commands whispering in your ear. No disappearing into the cosmos to obey creators who won't even bleed for this planet."
My eyes hardened. I needed more than pawns; I needed answers.
"You move when I say move. You stop when I say stop. And when I ask questions—about Celestials, about Deviants, about the things that made you, or anything tied to Earth's future—you answer. No omissions."
Thena's fists clenched at her sides. She was a warrior, a rebel by birth and nature. The taste of submission was bitter in her mouth. But right now, power was the only currency that mattered, and I held all of it.
"And if we refuse?"
I smiled faintly. It wasn't a kind smile.
"Then you walk away," I said simply. "You leave with nothing. No anchors. No help. And the next time the sky cracks open and the end of the world stares you in the face… don't look for me."
Silence stretched between them.
Sersi looked at Thena, her expression complex—fear, hope, and calculation warring in her eyes. She was evaluating the situation, weighing the cost of pride against the price of survival. Thena looked away, staring at the wet pavement, jaw tight… then slowly, her gaze drifted back to me.
It was a subtle shift. The rebellion in her eyes dimmed, replaced by a grudging, tactical acceptance. Tamed, for now.
"…You're not an ordinary human," Thena said quietly.
"No," I agreed, standing up and smoothing my coat. "But I live here."
That seemed to matter. Humanity was a concept they claimed to protect, but it was a place I actually lived.
Sersi nodded first. "We accept," she said firmly. "On one condition."
I raised an eyebrow beneath the brim of my hat. "Careful."
She met my gaze anyway, emboldened by the agreement. "You have to take both of us. Responsible for that unforeseeable future. We have died for this planet before. It is the only real value we have left to live for."
I chuckled softly, a dry, rasping sound.
"Fair. I revived you."
I turned away, the conversation over. My mind was already moving on to the next problem.
"Eat," I added over my shoulder, walking into the shadows. "Rest. Call me when you're ready. We start tomorrow."
As I walked, a familiar weight settled in my chest.
'Great,' I thought, a scowl tugging at my lips. 'I made more allies.'
***
The rest of the night was a blur of neon and rain. I traveled through the city's underbelly, observing the decay that flourished in the dark corners of the world. That was when I stumbled upon the organised chaos.
An armed gang war. Three factions tearing each other apart in the streets—three versus three versus four. But there was a pattern to their movement. They were being herded. Hunted.
They were being followed by the Spider-Gang.
"Amusing," I muttered, stepping onto a fire escape overlooking the chase. "I thought they worked in an office?"
I began following them, my steps silent against the metal grating.
The shooting started, and so did the war. Tires screeched, glass shattered, and the roar of engines echoed through the concrete canyon. They drove like demons, swerving and drifting until they reached the industrial district—a labyrinth of warehouses and rust.
I watched from above as they exited their vehicles. They moved with a fluidity that was mesmerizing.
"They are quite athletic," I pondered, observing the way they carried themselves. "Yet with those curves… how can they fight so well?"
It was fascinating, yet distracting. The way their muscles coiled and released under their clothing spoke of enhanced biology, not just training.
"Do they have some sort of sixth sense?" I wondered. They predicted shots before they were fired, moving on instinct that bordered on precognition.
The chase ended in the warehouse district. It was a graveyard of industry.
The place breathed decay. Rust gnawed at steel containers stacked like tombstones for a forgotten era. Broken sodium lamps flickered overhead, bathing the cracked concrete in a sickly, intermittent amber light. Oil stains spread across the ground like old, dried blood, reflecting the distant flames from the burning vehicles they had left behind.
The wind whistled through shattered windows, carrying the acrid, metallic smell of gunpowder and gasoline.
The cars screeched into the open lot, tires screaming in protest before the engines died almost simultaneously. It was synchronized. Disciplined.
Doors flew open.
They moved fast—too fast for civilians. Weapons were raised in a single, fluid motion. Formation tight. Professional.
And still… too late.
From the shadows above, death exhaled.
*Thup.*
The sound wasn't loud. It wasn't dramatic. It was just final.
One of the girls staggered mid-step, her shoulder exploding outward in a wet spray of crimson. The force of the impact spun her sideways, slamming her into the side of a container with a sickening crunch. Her weapon clattered uselessly across the concrete.
"Sniper—!" someone screamed.
*Thup.*
Another body jerked violently as a round punched through her thigh. She collapsed with a scream that cut off halfway as she bit it back, teeth grinding through the pain.