"Hollywood writers," Tony Stark grumbled, massaging his temples. "They introduce a Multiverse just to spice up the third act, and I'm the one who has to engineer the containment field."
It felt like being the janitor for a cosmic frat party.
"Jarvis," Tony said, staring at the ceiling. "Create a new file. Project: Arcane. We need to research magic. Not stage magic. Real magic. Chaos Magic. Eldritch Blasts. If this Wanda Maximoff can rewrite reality, I need a suit that can withstand... well, reality being rewritten."
"Searching occult databases now, Sir. Though I must remind you, the scientific literature on 'Hexes' is rather sparse."
"Check the Vatican archives. Check the British Museum. Check Reddit if you have to. Just find me something."
Tony sighed. "And Lucas... he drops these bombs and then vanishes. 'Ultron kills Quicksilver.' Thanks for the heads up, kid. But how? Why? Details matter!"
Meanwhile, at Midtown High.
Gwen Stacy sat in the cafeteria, poking at her salad. The diary lay open on her lap, hidden under the table.
"Wanda Maximoff," she whispered. "The Scarlet Witch."
The more she read, the more dangerous the world seemed. Aliens. Gods. Witches. And her dad—Captain George Stacy—was on the front lines. He was a good cop, but he was just a man with a service pistol. Against a Hulk? Against a Witch?
"I need to be stronger," Gwen thought, her grip tightening on her fork. "Lucas says I become Spider-Woman. How? Do I have to find a radioactive spider? Do I have to... get bitten?"
The idea made her skin crawl, but the alternative—being helpless while her city burned—was worse.
"And Lucas..." she glanced at the empty chair across the room where he sometimes sat during tutoring sessions. "He's just waiting for the stock market to crash. Doesn't he care?"
The Apartment.
Lucas Chen didn't know Gwen was worrying about him. He was too busy preparing for the main event.
It was Day 14. Second Lottery Draw.
He followed the ancient ritual of his people (gamers): He showered. He washed his hands with expensive soap. He prayed to the RNG Gods.
"System," Lucas said, taking a deep breath. "Spin the wheel. Give me something good. Heat Vision? Flight? The Infinity Gauntlet?"
The holographic wheel spun. Colors blurred. The anticipation was electric.
Click. Click. Click.
It slowed down. Passed Mjolnir. Passed Captain America's Shield.
And landed on... a pair of glasses.
[Reward: Superman's Glasses (Item)]
Description: The ultimate disguise. A causal-perception filter used by Clark Kent. When worn, observers—even those closest to you—will cognitively fail to recognize you as your alter ego. The perfect camouflage for the superhero who wants a normal life.
Lucas stared at the floating spectacles.
"Are you kidding me?"
He slumped onto the sofa. "I have the body of a Kryptonian god... and my second power is spectacles?"
He felt like he'd been scammed. He wanted laser eyes. He wanted to fly. Instead, he got the world's most powerful gaslighting tool.
"Fate is mocking me," Lucas grumbled. "First I get the 'Lite' version of Superman. Now I get his fashion accessories."
But then, he paused.
"Wait."
He picked up the glasses. They were simple, black-rimmed frames. Classic. Unassuming.
"I've been going out at night with a ski mask," Lucas realized. "People call me 'The Masked Man.' It sounds like a wrestler. It's lame."
"But with these..."
He put them on and looked in the mirror.
Lucas Chen stared back. Just Lucas. A bit nerdy. A bit quiet.
He took them off.
Lucas Chen stared back. But... sharper. More intense. The jawline seemed more defined. The eyes more piercing.
"Holy crap," Lucas whispered. "It works. It actually works."
It was subtle, but profound. With the glasses on, he looked like a mild-mannered tutor. Without them, he looked like a Greek statue carved from marble. The "Superman Aura" was suppressed by the frames.
"This is genius," Lucas grinned. "I can walk around in daylight. I can save people without wearing a mask. I just take the glasses off to be the hero, and put them on to be Lucas."
"No more 'Masked Man.' No more sweaty balaclavas."
"I can be... The Blur? The Sentinel? I'll work on the name."
He extracted the reward. The glasses felt light, almost weightless.
"Okay, Universe," Lucas said, adjusting the frames. "You win this round. It's not Heat Vision, but it's practical. I can live with practical."
"Now," he checked the calendar. "Tony Stark is still free. Come on, Ten Rings. Do your job. I have stocks to buy."