[59] Spartan II Program x Death Dealers

13th March, 2011. 

7 A.M., Prometheus Headquarters, New York City.

The morning sun gradually rose in the east. Its golden glow penetrated the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the opulent, modern interior of Joe's penthouse. 

Joe's eyes abruptly fluttered open. It had become a routine for him to wake up at the exact time. His body has already been conditioned never to miss even a second. Okay, that's a bit far-fetched. 

Joe climbed off the bed, his sleeping robe barely covering his gorgeous physique. He stretched his body a few times, bones cracking and stiff muscles resounding in retaliation. 

Joe's lips curved upward as he looked down at the quiet streets, the few early risers moving like dots among the still shadows of the city. Ever since he moved into the penthouse, he had never gotten enough of the beautiful panoramic views. Calmly, Joe slid the window aside, welcoming the gentle breeze of the morning hour. The air was fresh and warm, filled with hope for the upcoming spring. 

"As I watch the sunrise on a grateful universe..." Joe gazed at the eastern horizon, the fiery sun reflected in his two pupils. 

He then subtly closed his eyes, his strong senses picking up the distant scent of cherry blossoms, the sound of cars and people, and the flapping of the bird's wings. 

He muttered as he opened his eyes. "It's a good day to be alive. I can barely call myself a Die Hard." 

Living in a dangerous universe like Marvel, thoughts of death were inevitable. Everyone dies eventually—it's what we're always told, right? Only in death are people truly equal, and even cosmic beings aren't exempt. The Marvel universe was terrifying that way; there was always someone stronger.

Having enjoyed a few seconds of philosophical introspection and the morning's beauty, Joe stepped toward his wardrobe. He chose a training suit suitable for his morning runs. It was all black and designed by him to handle high-speed movement, friction, and exertion. It was all synthetic compared to some of his nano-infused clothes. It also lacked the camouflage shenanigans. 

The fabric of the cloth was soft and cool against his skin. Joe had been meticulous when he was creating it. 

Joe put on a pair of augmented glasses that displayed his real-time bio readings. 

"It's time to go Sonic," he murmured as he performed a few short jumps like he was fuckin' Goku. 

"Are you going to forget your earbuds again?" A lovely voice suddenly interrupted his warm-up. A realistic hologram of a beautiful young woman materialized in front of Joe. A small smile spread on her face when Joe raised his eyebrows. 

"You've been silent nowadays. Been indulging in those premium services again?" Joe humorously asked. "How do you find them?"

"Take a guess." Minerva tilted her head slightly, placing her index finger on the corner of her lip.

He waved his hand dismissively before clawing at the earbuds charging at the glass table. "Hmph, you're no fun."

"I have been—" Minerva tried to bait Joe into eagerness. 

"I don't care." Joe faked a yawn, having already been accustomed to Minerva's teasers. 

"Now if you will excuse me..." Joe's figure blurred, leaving behind a silver-colored afterimage that looked so surreal. 

"Show off," Minerva sighed softly, shaking her head. 'At least he can control his outburst.'

"Anyway, I wonder how fast you will go today. Will there be any surprises or the same results?" She motioned with her hand and a medium-sized holographic projection recording Joe's live location and vitals formed. It was like a GPS tracker albeit more advanced. 

"This is one of the miracles the quantum-based energy did for you. How lucky must you have been in your last life, Joe." A fleeting lost look appeared on her face before she returned to normal. If only she knew.

***

♪First things first I'ma say all the words inside my head.

I'm fired up and tired of the way that things have been, oh ooh.

The way that things have been, oh ooh♪

Joe grinned wildly as his figure zigzagged multiple buildings before arriving at Central Park. 'Believer' by Imagine Dragons blared in the background, pumping him up with the adrenaline he yearned for. 

Time, as always, seemed to stagnate as Joe passed the familiar homeless grandpa, who enjoyed throwing breadcrumbs to the enthusiastic pigeons. It was a pity they remained unaware of his presence, or he might have greeted them. The sight of pigeons in midair, trying to catch the breadcrumbs, looked cinematic.

'If I had a drawing book, I could pull a DaVinci right now.' Joe weakly smiled before he zoomed past trees with flowers blooming.

A few milliseconds later, he was somewhere in the East River, his feet barely touching the water's surface like a water strider. The surface tension had nothing on him. 

'Uh, so, this is what that kid in The Incredibles experiences.' Joe thought as he casually flicked an obnoxious, runaway fish on his path. A fishy scent assaulted his nostrils as the wind brushed against his face. Still, it was a welcomed surprise, and he suddenly craved some tuna.

♪Second things second

Don't you tell me what you think that I could be

I'm the one at the sail, I'm the master of my sea, oh ooh.

The master of my sea, oh ooh♪ 

The song just had to reach the part that coincided with his current moment. Joe sang along as he proceeded to cover the whole perimeter of New York City before returning to his penthouse—the starting point. 

His hair was slightly tousled, yet his breath remained steady.

"That was awesome. I never thought covering the boroughs would be the exact dopamine dose I've been missing," Joe thought aloud. He removed the glasses and earbuds, placing them in their respective charging docks.

"You did well under five minutes. All vitals are also normal except for your neurological signatures. Tune down that excitement a bit." Minerva commented, unperturbed by Joe's appearing and disappearing streak.  

She narrowed her gaze at him, disbelief in her eyes. "You finally resisted the urge to raid the Chicken Inn restaurant. I thought you'd be nibbling on some fries or a protein bar right now." 

"Old habits die, Minerva. Old habits die." Joe repeated the mantra as if he had been enlightened. 

"But I'm super hungry. I could swallow your binary bits to oblivion," Joe chuckled lightly, sauntering past Minerva. 

Minerva showed a bland expression to his remark. 

After his bath, Joe skillfully prepared a high-calorie breakfast to compensate for the tens of thousands of calories he burned. That was the catch with going hypersonic—his cellular metabolism was nothing to scoff at. Super speed accelerated his metabolic rate, and the quantum energy flowing through his blood wasn't infinite. Its primary function was to maintain his biological integrity, exquisitely slowing his aging process.

Through a series of tests supervised by Minerva, she had once advised Joe against getting overconfident, like trying to go around the world. If he did try that, then he might as well call Daily Bugle and tell them to prepare his obituary in advance. 

His super speed was only sustainable for short distances and brief bursts. Pushing beyond those limits could reverse his virtual immortality or cause cellular degradation. In theory, limitless quantum energy might counteract these unfavorable side effects, but even that would be useless against the constraints of his genetics—his human body was a prison.

At least, Joe was currently nigh-invulnerable. If he had some reference, it would be Luke Cage or someone like Soldier Boy. 

So I can't suicide through a pistol to the mouth, I guess. Maybe I should try bungee jumping without a parachute.

"By the way, Minerva, between investing in cloned death dealers and the Spartan-II program, which would better suit my current needs?" Joe asked calmly, then gulped down a massive jug of smoothie blended with protein powder, peanut butter, avocado, and other ingredients. It was an extreme form of dirty bulking, but his physique remained unchanged.

"Spartan-II program enhancement shows promise more than the ongoing cloning project. But— it's more expensive and time-consuming. If you categorize it as a long-term project, I'd say..." 

"Go for both of them." 

"You should also work on increasing your revenue. Those two games won't bring in profits forever," Minerva advised.

Joe sighed in satisfaction as he placed the empty jug on the dining table. The table was a mess, with lots of greasy plates heaping on each other.

"It's reasonable. We will go with your advice then," Joe said while wiping the corners of his lips with the serviette. 

"Also, I have something else to report," Minerva announced in a suspenseful voice. 

"What is it?" Joe glanced at her, a curious gleam in his eyes. 

"There was an anomaly in New Mexico. A man claiming to be the promised heir to the throne of Asgard has been detained by the agents of SHIELD."

There was one mighty name that came to Joe's mind: Thor.

The future Earth's mightiest hero had been banished, far away from his divine mead! 

***

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[Word Count 1529]