Cheating My Way Through Marvel and Beyond

Hawkeye and Black Widow were among the top-tier fighters in the world—peak human combatants, trained to perfection in strength, speed, and precision. Yet, according to Black Widow's firsthand account, Jack was on an entirely different level.

The kind of oppressive strength he exuded? It sent a shiver down her spine.

The last time she felt anything remotely similar was when she encountered the legendary Winter Soldier.

And that was a bad day for her.

Given her instincts, it was no wonder her first reaction upon meeting Jack was to draw her gun and shoot.

After analyzing the encounter, Black Widow reported the incident to Nick Fury, including her theory—Jack was either an experimental result of some underground military project or something even more dangerous.

Fury wasn't one to ignore potential assets or threats.

With the vast resources at his disposal, he had Jack's entire life story investigated in a matter of hours.

Most of it seemed normal—except for two peculiar events.

One, a shooting incident in Jack's childhood where his parents were killed.

Two, another shooting just recently, at the home of an erased figure—Isaiah Bradley.

A man that technically didn't exist.

Nick Fury leaned back in his chair, exhaling sharply. "A super soldier before Captain America?"

Black Widow raised an eyebrow. "That's classified history, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Dirty secrets from the past. The government pumped Isaiah full of serum, had him fight their wars, then tossed him in a lab for thirty years when they were done squeezing him dry."

Fury's voice carried an edge of resentment. He had little patience for men in power who used soldiers like disposable assets.

But Isaiah's story alone didn't explain Jack. The old super soldier wouldn't have been able to extract the serum on his own.

Something else had happened.

Fury's gut told him Jack's transformation was the result of an accident—maybe during one of those shootings. Either way, one thing was certain: Jack had broken past human limits.

And Nick Fury just happened to have a project that needed people like that.

"Romanov," Fury said, turning to Black Widow. "Your next mission—get close to him. I want a full psychological profile. Strengths, weaknesses, desires. I need to know exactly what kind of man he is."

Natasha nodded. "Understood."

With that, she left Fury's office, her mind already working on the best way to approach Jack.

Fury, meanwhile, turned his gaze toward a top-secret file on his desk—the Avengers Initiative.

The world would need protectors. And Jack MrThrustalot just became a name worth watching.

Meanwhile…

Jack had spent the last of his mission rewards—500 points well spent.

He now had proficiency in cold weapons (Level E) and had even designed himself a custom Tang sword.

The system was surprisingly thoughtful about portability. The sword's handle housed the entire blade in segmented form. A simple flick would snap it into place, the joints hidden beneath an intricate dragon relief design.

Matte black with a razor-sharp silver edge, the weapon cut through standard metal like butter.

Only specialized alloys could withstand its bite.

Jack smirked, running a finger along the hilt.

"Now this… this is a weapon worthy of a man named MrThrustalot."

Tony's Basement Beatdown

Jack stood over Tony, who was sprawled across the training ring, gasping for air.

"Alright… I think… I think I'm finally starting to improve."

Jack took a long sip from his water bottle. "Tony, the only thing improving is your ability to get your ass kicked faster."

Tony waved a weak hand. "Details, details…"

Then, as if the last few rounds of getting beaten senseless never happened, Tony suddenly grinned. "Hey, Jack—come to a charity reception with me tonight."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Tony, I'm not your arm candy. You gonna buy me dinner first?"

"Oh, please, you wish." Tony smirked. "I'm Tony Stark. I don't need a date at these events. I just show up, and women trip over themselves trying to get a taste of the Stark experience."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Yeah, they're definitely lining up for the experience, alright."

Tony ignored him. "Look, you're young—what, twenty-two? When I was your age, I was partying every night. You should live a little. Come on, let's have some fun before I head to Afghanistan next week.*"

Jack stilled.

"Afghanistan."

The moment Tony said it, Jack knew. The plot was about to kick off.

The cave. The terrorists. The birth of Iron Man.

It was the moment Tony Stark would go from billionaire playboy to armored hero.

Jack debated warning him… but ultimately held back. This was fate. Tony had to go through this.

So instead, he just smirked and said, "Alright, fine. But if I don't see at least three supermodels, I'm billing you for emotional damages."

Tony grinned. "Deal."

The "Charity Reception"

Jack quickly realized he'd been fucked over.

"Tony, you lying bastard. You told me this was a charity event."

Jack scanned the room. The place was filled with military brass in full uniform, and instead of supermodels, all he saw were grumpy old men in suits.

"Where the hell are the Hollywood actresses?"

Tony shrugged. "Oops. Must've mixed up my schedule. But hey, no reason we can't have fun—c'mon, let's hit the casino."

Casino Games & A Familiar Voice

Tony threw a stack of chips at Jack. "Go wild, Thrustalot. The second you start gambling, I guarantee you'll have women all over you. I'd let you pick first, but let's be real—they're not gonna take their eyes off me."

Jack snorted. "Oh yeah, the billionaire genius thing really makes up for the fact that you still get your ass kicked by me every morning."

Ignoring him, Jack casually tossed his chips onto number 1 at the roulette table.

Tony groaned. "Dude, really? Betting everything on a single number? That's not guts—that's stupidity."

Before Jack could reply, a smooth, familiar voice cut in.

"Oh, come on, Stark… If it were me, I'd pick number 2."

Jack turned his head.

A redhead in a sleek black dress had just pushed his chips over one spot.

Her lips curled into an amused smile.

Natasha Romanov.

And just like that, the game had really begun.