Marvel: Pay to Win Gambling 15

Chapter 15: The Drunk and the Damned.

[Name: Susan Storm]

[Age: 30]

[Nickname: Invisible Woman]

[Race: Mutate]

[Ability: Invisibility, Force Field Generation]

How… literally how did Reed Richards manage to make someone like her fall for him?

She looked like the dictionary definition of a bombshell. Even with smeared eyeliner, messy hair, and a stench of alcohol clinging to her like perfume, she was still one of the most stunning women I’d ever seen.

It was absurd. Like someone had cranked the beauty slider on this world all the way up.

Susan, Ororo, Jean—every one of them looked like they’d stepped off the cover of a magazine that cost more than my monthly rent.

I know that I don’t pay rent, figure of speech.

“You should really work on your drinking habits,” Jean muttered with a sigh. “Every time something goes wrong, you drink yourself halfway to the ER.”

Susan gave a dry laugh. “Easier said than done, Jean.” She slouched in her seat across from us, eyes bloodshot. “You’re not dealing with a man who sees you but ignores everything you do for him.”

“Only if you knew,” Jean replied, her voice edged with something bitter. But it bounced off Susan like rain on concrete. She was too far gone to process anything beyond her own thoughts.

I kept quiet. Rule one: don’t get in the middle of relationship talk. Especially not between two women. That’s how you end up regretting your entire day.

“I was too drunk to thank you properly,” Susan mumbled, more aware now, but still very much drunk. “But I appreciate your help. I might’ve seriously hurt him if you hadn’t stepped in.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have,” I said, passing her a citrus-heavy drink. Something to help ease the hangover she was going to regret in a few hours. “If I’d recognized you back there, I might’ve let you handle it. Guy had it coming.”

I’m all for people shooting their shot, but there’s a line. Cross it, and you deserve whatever comes next.

“Surprised you didn’t recognize her,” Jean said, sounding amused. “Susan’s on practically every screen in the city. If anyone competes with Stark for media saturation, it’s her.”

The Fantastic Four never really gave a damn about keeping their identities secret, so it made sense. But I wasn’t exactly keeping up with pop culture before all this. And the memories I’d gained didn’t seem too invested in it either.

“Lived a pretty focused life,” I shrugged. “Didn’t have much time for the news or TV.”

Jean gave me a look but didn’t say anything. She turned to Susan instead.

“So. Reed again?”

That question made me consider leaving. But this wasn’t just any relationship drama—it involved Reed Richards, which made it more like watching a science experiment fall apart in real time.

“He’s buried in work,” Susan said, her tone sharp. “And it’s not even something important. Not government-funded, not security-related. Just a pet project he’s obsessed with.”

Maybe staying was the right call after all.

“Something about antimatter. He’s trying to map out this theoretical dimension—Negative Zone, he calls it.” Her shoulders slumped. “He’s barely left the lab in months. Didn’t even remember our anniversary.”

“You’re engaged?” I blurted, then regretted it the second Jean glared at me.

“The only thing Reed’s engaged to is his lab,” Susan said. “The most I was to him was a girlfriend.”

“You mean…”

“Yes.” Her grip tightened around the glass before she tossed back the lemon drink in one go, face contorting as it hit.

“I broke up with him,” she said after a beat, wincing through the aftertaste. “On our anniversary.”

I never really got what Susan saw in the guy. Sure, Reed’s a genius. But that can’t be the only thing. Right?

Then again, maybe people don’t need reasons. Or maybe the reasons don’t make sense until it’s too late. Either way, trying to make sense of love was like trying to measure fog.

The silence that followed dragged on a little too long. Even Jean didn’t have anything to add. The air felt heavier. And me? I was just wondering when I could make a quiet exit.

Thankfully, the bartender saved me.

“Sorry, folks,” he said, giving me a nod. “We’re way past closing. I’m gonna have to ask you to head out.”

Storm had mentioned there was a citywide curfew lately—something about Hammer causing trouble again. Most bars were shutting down early.

I stood up as soon as he finished, eager to escape the emotional fog settling in.

“Appreciate the help, mate,” I said.

The girls probably thought I was thanking him for staying open late.

But really, I was thanking him for the out.

“That’s what I do.” He gave a shrug, settling back against the counter like we hadn’t just shared a moment of clarity. He knew what I meant. And he didn’t need to say more.

“Will you be able to get back on your own?” Jean asked gently.

Susan nodded. “I will—”

She might’ve sounded confident if she hadn’t immediately tripped over her own feet, crashing toward the floor like a scene from a low-budget rom-com. Jean moved fast, catching her before she faceplanted, but the message was clear.

She wasn’t making it home alone tonight.

“I think I should drop her off,” Jean said, glancing at me with something like guilt in her eyes.

“Should I come with you?” I asked. “It’s late.”

It was well past midnight. Mutant or not, she was still a woman walking the streets in the dead of night. And while I didn’t claim to be some white knight, I wasn’t heartless either.

Susan let out a laugh. “What’s your cell?”

“Huh?”

Caught me completely off guard with that one.

“I’ll call if we run into any trouble,” she said, dry sarcasm thick in her voice. “But for now, I’d rather have Jean with me.”

She hiccuped mid-sentence, eyelids fluttering like she could pass out at any second. She wasn’t being rude. She was hurt. Angry. Exhausted. And wasted.

“Don’t mind her,” Jean said softly. “But yeah… I think it’s better if I take her myself.”

I didn’t push. “Give me a call if anything comes up.”

“I will,” she nodded.

Before we split, I passed my number to Susan. No idea if she even saved it—her hands were barely working, and her focus was shot. She had her arm slung around Jean’s shoulder, leaning most of her weight on her friend as they staggered out of the bar together.

I stayed behind, finishing what was left in my glass. The taste had gone bitter. Or maybe that was just the mood.

Still, I couldn’t help but feel a strange sort of awe. I’d just spent an hour talking to Susan Storm—the Invisible Woman herself. One of the most recognized faces in the city. And yet, there she was. Drunk. Heartbroken. Human.

But I guess that’s just New York.

This city’s crawling with gods and ghosts—X-Men, Brotherhood, Fantastic Four, the damn Avengers. And then the solo acts: Spiderman, Daredevil, Moon Knight. The list doesn’t end.

Too many masks. Too many capes.

Let them fight their battles. Let them save—or break—the world.

I wasn’t here to be a hero or a villain. I was just here to live. And enjoy whatever gifts I’d stumbled into.

With that, I stood and made my way to the exit, mentally clocking out of the night.

“I helped you with the lady drama, brother,” the bartender called out from behind me.

I turned. He was standing there with the kind of smile people wear when they’re trying not to punch a wall.

“But I can’t help you with your bill. I’d appreciate it if you could pay for the drinks.”

Dammit.

“Wait… Are you telling me the blonde didn’t pay either?”

He gave a slow nod. “I can’t comp that much. Sorry, man—you’re on the hook.”

Goddamn it.

There went the last of my emergency funds.

…

…

—Peter Benjamin Parker “Spider-Man”—

“Shit!”

It had barely been a week since Peter had recovered from a broken rib—and here he was again, breaking more bones.

“Get out of here, Spider-Man,” the Lizard hissed, tearing through the webbing clinging to his chest. “Leave now if you don’t want to die.”

Peter gritted his teeth, more annoyed than afraid. The Lizard was in no place to be making demands after trashing two labs right next to his university. Spider-Man wasn’t the kind of vigilante who actively hunted down villains. He focused on protecting the people. That was the whole point.

And if the Lizard hadn’t hurt two researchers, hadn’t caused this much chaos, hadn’t scared the hell out of a crowd in the middle of the day—he might’ve let him go.

But he did. And Peter saw it. He couldn’t ignore that. Not and still call himself Spider-Man.

“Could’ve,” he muttered, brushing off the ache in his chest with a casual shrug. “But I can’t. You hurt people, Lizard. That’s a crime.”

Property damage. Panic. Fear. The whole nine yards. And two innocent people who ended up in the ER.

He was about to throw in a sarcastic remark when a steel pole came flying at him like a javelin.

“Hey! That could’ve seriously messed me up!”

Peter twisted mid-air, slinging himself to the nearest wall and narrowly avoiding getting skewered.

The Lizard wasn’t just dangerous because of how he looked. His raw strength was real. His tail alone could lift hundreds of pounds, strong enough to rip a streetlight out of the ground like it was a toothpick.

And he wasn’t just a brute—he had instincts. Real, primal ones. The kind that made him a born hunter. Even with all of Spider-Man’s experience fighting things like a guy in literal rhino armor, the Lizard was still one of the few that could hold his own… and win.

The creature lunged, shoving his feet into the concrete for leverage, and yanked on the webbed pole Peter had thrown back. Using his own momentum, he launched himself forward, tail twisting mid-air like a whip made of steel.

Peter dodged once. Not twice.

The second hit cracked against his ribs like a sledgehammer, knocking the breath from his lungs and sending him flying backward.

He hit the ground hard and groaned, barely managing to roll onto his side. Pain lit up across his chest, the same place he’d fractured before. The Lizard had noticed. And now, he was aiming there—again and again.

“You missed your chance, Spider,” the Lizard hissed, voice laced with cold satisfaction. “Now you suffer.”

Peter tried to counter with his webbing, catching the Lizard’s tail mid-swing—but the bastard was too strong. Instead of stopping, he used the webbing to yank Peter off his feet, slamming him into the concrete like a chew toy.

Normally, they were more evenly matched. But the Lizard had figured out something wasn’t right—Spider-Man wasn’t at full strength. And that advantage was all he needed to go in for the kill.

Peter felt it before he saw it—a jagged piece of rebar jutting out of a nearby wall. Just the right size. Just the right angle. A perfect spike to impale him on.

“Dammit!” he gasped, struggling as the Lizard coiled him in its tail, aiming to drive him straight through the chest.

His gear was barely holding together from the last fight. The electrical webbing, the backup shooters—gone. If he’d had them, maybe he could’ve gotten out of this.

But he didn’t. And now, he was inches from getting skewered.

Still, he fought. Even when it felt hopeless, Peter never stopped fighting. He clawed, kicked, twisted against the tail.

Then—whistling.

A sharp, lazy whistle that cut through the chaos like it had no business being there. A second later, the Lizard screamed.

Lightning crashed down from above, slamming into its back with a thunderous crack, sending heat and static through the air. The Lizard’s grip faltered—just enough for Peter to break free and launch himself away, barely escaping being pinned to the wall like a bug on a board.

“And here I thought I’d only meet one superhero today~” said a voice, equal parts amused and annoyed.

A tall blonde man stood nearby, hands stuffed casually into his pockets, looking like he’d just wandered in off the street.

“Not sure if I should be impressed… or irritated.”

But Peter was too busy catching his breath to respond. Whoever he was, the guy had just saved his life.

And if that bolt of lightning was anything to go by—he wasn’t your average bystander.