I left Mars with a half wrecked Olympus Mon and went back to earth after an hour of testing things out on Mars.

The planet had a visible scar, one that could be seen from out of space after I was done with why I went there.

Sometimes I still wonder how it was that I came to possess such powers that dwarfed the combined might of Earth, a planet. 

As I was, I could massacre everyone on the planet by simply destroying it and it wouldn't take much out of me. Not that I was going to do that. 

What I was trying to say was that I had surpassed 99.99% of everyone on earth and those who belonged in the point .01% were either still young or weren't born yet. Some do not even exist on this universe's Earth. I checked. 

While it was true that I was strong, there were still powers connected to Earth that dwarfed that of mine. Well I have never been arrogant so I was clear on that front. And given my code of never going to look for trouble, I expect a somewhat steady sailing through. 

I need to sleep. 

I've had less than three hours of sleep ever since I evolved, and though the biological need for sleep was long gone from my system, it was a routine that I will always endeavor in. 

… 

Like that a week passed since the day Ororo left for home and I spent the days that followed trying to get used to smaller things and not feeling like I was some sort of spatial blanket spread over New York. 

It got bad that I had unconsciously warped myself to a museum during the night. If not for my body's subconscious fight or flight reaction, then I would have woken up bound in cuffs and have my face plastered on the news. 

The moment one of the security men pointed a gun at me, he found himself bound in metals around the museum which immediately jolted me awake. 

It was like trying to control my emotions all over again. 

Normally, the degree of control I had over the conscious and subconscious part of my body and mind was very high, humanly impossible, but since becoming the Space Stone, the degree of control, or rather the lower point of it increased and since I let my body function normally, except when in a fight, without exerting control in any of its functions, the loose control affected my abilities which now had a huge boost, especially my spatial ones. 

The others had been quite worried after I had mistakenly teleported them in their sleep to different places around America. Thankfully I had been keeping an eye out on any other occurrence since my first museum visit and was quick to react by bringing them back, but I was living with three top tier assassins and a veteran soldier who immediately knew the moment their location was changed. 

That had required some explaining but all was good since the hiccups only seem to happen when I'm asleep, now after a week I had finally put the clip on my control. 

"What's up, Clint?" I called out to Clint who actually took the time to visit me despite his busy schedule. 

"Well I was bored so I figured I would drop since it's been a while." Well…that was a reason as good as any. 

"And Fury just let you?"

"It's not like I do anything other than training the newbies and whooping some arrogant metas' ass." He said with a shrug. It's been a while since Clint and I sat down and just talked over drinks. Felt like too long in my opinion. 

"Right." I said and dropped some bottles between us. Pizza was already on its way and there was a game on. 

"Just like old times."

"Just like old times."

We both said at the same time and laughed as we clinked our bottle together. 

"So what have you been up to lately? Anything weird." He asked after taking a sip from his beer and a slice of pizza. 

"Well nothing much. That's if you exclude fighting a Nordic God and also permanently scarring Mount Olympus. Other than that, my day's been pretty much laid back." I put on a thinking expression as I listed a few of the things I had done, not entirely going into details. 

"Wait back up for a sec. You said you fought a God?" He said while looking at me as if I was smoking pot but as if not seeing the expression he was making, I nodded. 

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I asked him as he continued staring. 

"You said you fought a God? For real?" He asked again, this time making me surprised. 

"You seriously believe that?"

"Well are you lying?"

"No."

"I thought so. You are not the type to lie, not when you are speaking so nonchalantly, but still, gods?" He looked between me and the game as if debating which one to focus on before he tuned it out and dedicated his attention to me. "So how were they? Were they draped in white linen with golden inlays or what?"

This was interesting. I know Clint was one to keep a secret but I also knew that he would have to tell Fury about it somewhere along the line, whichever he did, it didn't bother me. Not like Fury could do anything in regards to the knowledge of god's being real. 

"Well Thor was like, almost 7 ft tall, and his hammer had a very mean swing to it." I didn't know how to describe Thor so I just said what my first impression of the demigod was. "And no, he didn't wear any white linen, gold plated fabric."

"No gold huh? Bummer. Well how strong was he then… wait. You FOUGHT a God?"

Now that was the reaction I was hoping to see. 

"Yes I fought him but I won't be going into the details. As for how strong he was, well he was pretty dang strong." He was strong, not anywhere near where I was but that didn't mean he wouldn't fold most of the baddies, Alpha and some Omega level mutants currently on earth. 

"You know, since the day I met you, it's like my entire life changed. Crazy and stupid things keep happening everywhere." He said took another sip of his beer. He looked at the bottle for a second before dropping it and grabbing the whiskey. "Better."

"Crazy coincidence huh? But you can't say it's not exciting."

"It's not, Draul. It's not." He gazed absentmindedly at the screen, watching the muted game as he drank his whiskey. "Everyday there are either cases of mutilated metas, or a horribly killed human. Sure barbarity has been a part of the human species since whenever, but now it's like a jungle out there. Guns hardly do shit anymore and then there are punks who think that just because they won a genetic lottery gives them a ticket to do anything."

I didn't think he had it that rough, but then again S.H.I.E.L.D, or rather Fury, was the one who volunteered themselves to be put at the frontline of meta/human war that was currently ongoing behind the scenes. 

"Guess you have it rough, huh?"

Clint shook his head. "No, Draul. I had it worse. I had to kill a 19 year old. A 19 year old for crying out loud for fucks sake. He didn't look like a kid, got some weird animal mutation. His skin could bounce off bullets and he was gonna kill Drumm, so I shot him in the eye and watched the dead animal turn into a young boy." He took a swing of the bottle before looking at me, making me truly see how he felt from the moment he stepped inside the house. 

He wasn't broken, this wasn't near enough to break him, but he was frustrated. Frustrated that a kid had to be drawn into the crosshairs that the adults were supposed to fight. 

"It is like mad street for metas that they have taken to forming groups. They have no hope in the government coming to their aid so they've bounded together in some sort of small kingdom of their own inside the back alleys of the city." By the time he finished his rant, the half of bottle of whiskey was already gone. 

"What's Fury doing about it?" I asked, even though I already knew the likely answer. 

"Doing what he can."

"In other words: nothing."

Clint let out a depreciating chuckle, confirming what I said. Not that I blamed Fury but there was just no way he could actually help. In fact the amount of what help he could provide was servitude or nothing. 

Fury was a government man through and through. It was to the point that his entire thinking was wired around the concept of what kind of benefits he could receive. It was a very bad thought process for someone, anyone, who wanted to help someone. But conversely, it was this thought process that made him the best spy on the planet. 

Fury couldn't help, he knew that. Hell, the reason why he would put himself in the black metahuman war was because of the potential of recruits in S.H.I.E.L.D that he hoped he could pick up. 

I was on no moral ground to judge the man because what he was doing was the right thing when taking in his position and his idea of what was right. 

I was no better, well I think I am, since I did do a little good for the life of millions, but that didn't mean I cared. Yes, I would oppose it if the government of the world was to put the genocidal option on the table, but that was just what any sane person on the planet would do. 

Just because I could say 'fuck it' to a meta dying in a ditch somewhere didn't mean I'll do the same when humans say 'let's kill all the metas'. 

I was a son of a bitch, but I was not a monster. 

"It sucks but that's the job, I guess. We take care of the shit no one else does… Ugh, I think I need to request a raise, haha." He groaned out as the whiskey finally hit him in the spot. 

"So what is it? You're tired? It's crap but like you said, who's gonna do it if not you? Not me, that's who." I said which seems to get a genuine laugh out of him. 

"Yeah, I can definitely see that."

I wasn't going to tell Clint about Krakoa for the same reason why I never told anything to Fury: he was a spy to the core. And besides, Krakoa was not my concern so there was no way I would go snooping around it's business. The only reason that I would get a problem with its future resident would be if they encroached on my private land. 

The way I don't go snooping around other people's business was the same thing I wanted other people to do: don't meddle in mine. 

"Do you have anything to do later in the day?" I asked. 

"Except checking in, nah, I don't think so. Why?"

"We need a bros day out. That's why." I said as I stood up and took the last slice of the second box of extra large pizza. 

"I thought that's what we were having." 

"It's a bros day out, not a bros day in."

He groaned at the plain fact and dusted the bits of pizza on his body off. "Since it's apparently a bros day out, what are we going to do? Hit the bar, pick up some girls?"

"Hit the bar, yes. Pick up some girls? No. I'm dating someone so no can't do. Why even suggest that when you are the same?" He didn't say anything at what I said but he seemed to catch wind of something that made him pause. 

"You are dating someone?" He asked, almost in disbelief. 

"Yes."

=======================

Can't wait to find out what happens next? 

Read up to 30 chapters ahead at pa*treon.com/Draul_TheOminous