Marvel: Emotion Farming System

This for 8008.

Next bonus at 10k, for obvious reasons.

Go beyond, plus ultra!!!!!

...

In university, John met Gwen. As he had anticipated, she acted as if nothing had happened. The same smile, lame jokes, and discussions about which professor was most likely to get injured because they didn’t pay enough attention to the surroundings.

The only difference he noticed until lunchtime was the closeness between them. Gwen often touched or tapped his arm. Whispered or passed notes to him like they had some inside jokes.

But even if her eyes looked a little red, there was a calmness in them that couldn’t be faked.

’I suppose my worries were unfounded.’ He smiled to himself while waiting by the University’s main gate. Gwen had an errand to run, so here he was.

Amidst the passing students, many looked at the left side of the gate before speed-walking away. There, Flash and his group stood talking among themselves. John didn’t have any dealings with them, so he just leaned against the wall and fiddled with his phone.

However, a revving engine caught his attention. A bright red car, begging for attention, stopped a few feet away from him. A handsome guy in sunglasses and a red-haired girl in a pink sweater and jeans were seated in the car.

’He looks like Harry Osborn from Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man.’ John looked between the flashy Ferrari and the guy who smiled at him.

"John, right? Any idea where Gwen is?" He asked, taking the sunglasses off.

"She’d be here in a bit." John wasn’t sure why this guy was speaking with him. To his knowledge, they hadn’t met before.

"The stoic type, huh?" Harry smirked, stepping out of the vehicle. Flash and his group also started creeping in. "I am just interested because I saw what you did last time; it was a solid elbow."

"Definitely was, right, Flash?" A moment of realization dawned on him as his gaze fell on Flash, stopping him halfway across the gate.

So, the group hanging around the American football field was them?

"Y-Yeah, it still hurts." Flash looked down at the floor; his buddies also stopped moving.

"Wow, that’s seriously metal, dude. I’ve never seen him that scared of anyone aside Uncle George." Harry laughed while looking at the growing crowd.

University students were curious and easy to impress. Get a loud and expensive car with a decent-looking girl, and they’d gather around. That was what happened at the gate of ESU too.

"Harry? What are you doing here?" That’s when Gwen cut through the crowd.

"Gwen! It’s been so long." Harry tried to hug her, but she placed her hand on his face, distancing him.

"Hands to yourself, buddy." She still laughed.

"Cold as ever." He shook his head. "I just dropped by to invite you to my birthday party this weekend; it’ll be a real blast."

"Well..." Gwen glanced at John; he was still waiting for her, and she wasn’t sure if she was in the mood to attend a party for a month or two.

"Oh? OH!" However, Harry had mistaken her gaze for something else. "You can come with John. Your friends are my friends. Unless he is more than a..."

"Shut it, I’ll think about it." She stopped him from speaking and tried to slip away.

"Be sure to come; Peter is coming too. Let’s have fun as we did in high school!" Harry called out as she walked away with John.

"He has always been loud since we were kids." She rubbed the back of her head. "I mean, we are almost like brother and sister."

"I see." John’s short answer made the gears in her brain turn.

’What am I trying to clarify here? Why am I even doing that?’ Her ears burned, making her find a sudden exit.

"A...About the car, what did you think? He really likes that one." The question barely squeezed out of her lips.

"Loud. All that money for two seats isn’t economical." John’s serious answer made her chuckle.

But then she remembered the girl in the front seat. Mary Jane. She kept glancing at John when Harry talked with them. And it didn’t look like normal attention either.

Did they know each other? But how?

"What did you think of the girl?" The words just came out on their own.

"I’ve seen prettier," John said.

"Have you? Who?" Gwen’s eyes narrowed with genuine interest.

And without a word, he turned to look at her and nodded to himself like his words still stood.

"Seriously..." She tried to play it off, but couldn’t stop the corners of her lips from rising. "Where did you even learn to talk like that?"

"From the great romanticists of the internet." His tone turned grand as if he was announcing the arrival of a WrestleMania match. "Thankfully for ordinary folks like me, they strictly adhere to the rule of ’Coaches don’t play.’"

"What are you even talking about?" Gwen laughed, giving his shoulder a playful push.

’My brothers of the internet, I have defended you well.’ John gave a salute in his heart.

Truthfully, he wasn’t sure why Gwen tried to explain Harry’s closeness. It was pretty obvious that lines existed, and he wasn’t even thinking anything of it.

If anything, he hoped Harry thanked God that this was some Chinese fanfic. If it was, a helicopter would’ve landed to pick him up, and he would’ve been forced to face slap the poor guy all the way to Columbia University till he genuflected.

’I am feeling a shawarma today.’ Regardless, he decided to focus on the lunch with Gwen. However, the problem arrived when he went back for the afternoon lectures.

One of their professors had suddenly broken their ankle yesterday, and a new professor was brought in to fill his place.

"Hello everyone, my name is Nadine Roman. I will be in your care for the foreseeable future." The Black Widow had arrived in a beige shirt and a high-waist black skirt.

Her eyes locked with his, observing him with the most appealing gaze ever.

"Please be gentle with me, as I am inexperienced."

***

For the past few days, the servants at the Osborn house weren’t sure of what to do. Every night, Norman Osborn would exit the house and come home smelling like cheap beer and sweat.

The worst part was that he always had a new injury or two along with it. A cut on the head, a black eye, even a broken tooth. He would always walk in after midnight and sit in his room, uncaring what the bloodied and dirty clothes did to the expensive furniture.

His eyes were only focused on the computer as he kept talking to someone.

He had made it clear that they couldn’t tell this to Harry. The house was big enough, with Norman carefully planning his routes and excuses; he easily slipped past his son during the few hours the kid spent at home.

On the computer, Norman followed the formation of the Fight Club, the rules, and how it changed the lives of those rotting in the dead-end jobs. It made them feel alive, made them feel like men again.

He had no words to counter that the method worked; his reddened knuckles were an example of that.

"How many of the people that worked for me felt the same way?" He could not get this question out of his head. How many of them had hoped to walk into his office and beat the crap out of him?

Well, Norman knew who he wanted to beat up at least.

In the novel, Tyler and Marla’s relationship started. The narrator became jealous. But the biggest part was Tyler asking not to mention him in front of Marla.

’Why would he do that when he slept with her? Is this some sort of petty tactic against his friend? Is he trying to teach him something?’

Weren’t they in the fight club together? Didn’t they start it? So, what was the difference between Tyler and the Narrator?

He found Tyler interesting, but he couldn’t agree with everything the guy did. There was always this nagging feeling of randomness in his actions; it gave Norman a bad feeling.

The Narrator’s situation at the job worsened, and the police said his house was sabotaged. Norman passed over that part as easily as the person in question himself.

He was almost certain that Tyler had a hand in that. Then Chapter 6 started, and the question from before was answered.

Norman read about boy scouts, soap making, and suddenly, Tyler intentionally gave the Narrator a chemical burn.

Why would he do that? What was the reason? Was it another bout of randomness?

He leaned in, reading the words that followed.

"It’s only after we’ve lost everything that we’re free to do anything."

...

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