Chapter 7 This is a game, I will definitely win

"Let's see if luck really does favor the bold," he muttered, and plunged his hands into the makeshift Faraday cage.

The world went white.

Pain lanced through every nerve in Indra's body. It felt like being struck by lightning while simultaneously being dunked in liquid nitrogen. His muscles spasmed, his lungs forgot how to breathe, and for one eternal moment, he was certain he'd made a terrible, fatal mistake.

But then... it passed. The agony receded, leaving him gasping and shaking, but very much alive. And clutched in his trembling hands, still crackling with residual energy but oddly quiescent, was the Tesseract.

"Holy... shitballs..." Indra wheezed, staring at the cube in disbelief. "I can't believe that actually worked."

Distantly, he became aware of Romanoff's voice shouting in his ear. "—you copy? Did it work? The portal, is it—"

Indra looked up. The sky was clear. No vortex, no pouring Chitauri. Just blue New York sky, marred by smoke but blessedly alien-free.

A laugh bubbled up in his throat, half hysteria and half pure, unadulterated triumph. "It worked," he rasped into the comm. "The portal's closed. I've got the cube."

There was a beat of silence. Then, "Hold your position. We're coming to you."

As the adrenaline began to ebb, leaving bone-deep exhaustion in its wake, Indra sank to his knees. The Tesseract pulsed gently in his grasp, almost like a living thing.

"You and me both, buddy," he murmured to it. "I think we've earned a little rest."

It wasn't until several minutes later, as the whine of repulsor engines announced the arrival of Iron Man, that Indra remembered his tablet. Awkwardly fishing it out with one hand (he wasn't quite ready to let go of the Tesseract just yet), he saw a barrage of notifications on the screen:

"Unprecedented probability shift detected!"

"New skills unlocked: 'Cosmic Tinkering,' 'Tesseract Handling 101'"

"Achievement Unlocked: 'Savior of New York'"

"Luck increased by 50 points!"

A grin spread across Indra's face, equal parts exhausted and exhilarated. Oh, the possibilities...

The next few hours passed in a blur of debriefings, medical check-ups, and terse conversations with men in suits who seemed deeply interested in how exactly he'd managed to shut down an alien invasion. Indra answered their questions as vaguely as possible, sticking to his hastily constructed backstory of Indra Srivastav, the reclusive tech genius. He pleaded shock and confusion whenever the questioning got too specific. It wasn't entirely an act.

Eventually, he found himself in a quiet corner of what remained of Stark Tower, nursing a cup of coffee and staring out at the battered but unbroken skyline of New York. The enormity of what he'd just been through was starting to sink in.

"So," a voice said from behind him. "A concerned citizen with a penchant for creative frequency modulation, huh?"

Indra turned to see Natasha regarding him with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. He offered a tired smile. "Would you believe I was just in the neighborhood?"

"Not for a second." She moved to stand beside him, her own gaze fixed on the city below. "You know things. Things you shouldn't know. And you can do things—impossible things."

It wasn't a question, but Indra felt compelled to answer anyway. "Let's just say I'm... not from around here."

Romanoff nodded, as if this confirmed a suspicion. "Asgard?"

"A little further afield than that."

She turned to look at him then, her green eyes piercing. "Are you a threat?"

The question hung in the air between them, laden with unspoken meaning. Indra knew that his answer here, now, could determine the course of his entire future in this universe.

He chose his words carefully. "To this world? No. Never. I'm... I guess you could say I'm just a tourist. One who happened to have some skills that came in handy today."

"A tourist," Romanoff repeated, skepticism evident in her tone. "With an intimate knowledge of thermonuclear astrophysics and alien artifacts."

Indra shrugged, a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "I read a lot?"

That actually elicited a snort from the usually stoic spy. "Right. Well, Mr. Srivastav—if that is your real name—I hope you realize that we can't just let you walk away after everything that's happened. There will be questions. A lot of them."

"I assumed as much," Indra sighed. Then, mustering his courage, he added, "But maybe we could help each other out."

Romanoff's eyebrow arched. "I'm listening."

"I have knowledge—valuable knowledge about things that are coming. Threats bigger than the Chitauri." It wasn't strictly a lie; he did know about future events from the movies. "And while I can't tell you everything, I might be persuaded to share some of that information. In exchange for... let's call it operational freedom."

"You want to bargain?" There was a dangerous edge to Romanoff's voice now. "After everything we've just been through?"

Indra held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Not bargain. Collaborate. I'm not looking to profit here, I swear. But I can't exactly fulfill my... tourist obligations if I'm locked up in some SHIELD facility, can I?"

For a long moment, Romanoff said nothing. Her face was unreadable, a mask honed by years of espionage. Indra waited, his heart thudding in his chest. He knew he was taking a massive risk, but the potential payoff—access to the Avengers, to their resources and protection—was too great to ignore.

Finally, she spoke. "I'll talk to Fury. No promises, but... if your information checks out, we might be able to come to an arrangement."

Relief washed over Indra like a tidal wave. "Thank you," he said, meaning it with every fiber of his being. "You won't regret this."

Romanoff fixed him with one last, inscrutable look. "See that I don't." And with that, she turned and walked away, leaving Indra alone with his thoughts and the spectacular view.

He let out a long, shaky breath. Phase one: survive the Battle of New York—complete. Phase two: integrate into the Marvel Universe without getting dissected or imprisoned—tentatively underway.

A wry smile tugged at his lips as he pulled out his tablet, scrolling through the wealth of new data it had accumulated. Luck points, skill trees, achievements... it was like the universe's most elaborate RPG, and he was the player.

His fingers danced across the screen, allocating points and unlocking potentials. Who knew what chaos theory could accomplish with a fifty-point boost? And more importantly, how could he leverage these new abilities to solidify his hastily constructed identity?

As the sun began to set over the battle-scarred city, casting long shadows and painting the sky in hues of flame, Indra's mind whirled with possibilities. He had saved millions of lives today, yes, but he had also saved himself. Carved out a niche in a world of gods and monsters.

Now came the hard part: staying alive long enough to reap the benefits.

A notification flashed on his tablet: "New Quest Available: 'A Stitch in Time' - Prevent three major catastrophes before they occur. Reward: Enhanced Precognition."

Indra's eyes gleamed. The road ahead was fraught with danger, but also ripe with opportunity. And he, Indra Srivastav—interdimensional traveler, newly minted superhero, and master of his own destiny—was more than ready for the challenge.

The game was most definitely afoot. And this time, he intended to win.