Caffeine Rush (Avengers Fanfic)

Chapter 31: Not the Fastest

After lots of coffee and a few different folk remedy hangover cures being passed around the compound, I could decisively say that I was never attending another Stark party again. It had been two days and my tongue still throbbed just thinking about it. I could be the sober one for everyone else, I would even volunteer to run them back to their respective residences without too much trouble, but I would not be partaking myself again.

I still needed to track down that wizard and redeem my boots from him, but I had been a bit busy with all the background checking, the public induction, and the party and the subsequent recovery after. Despite that, I had a feeling after our last meeting that he would come to me. Sorcerer Supremes liked to stick their nose in things that should be left alone and with one such person having numerous encounters with a new type of enhanced, I had no doubt he would do his research. Not just on speedsters but on me, the real me, from my universe, not just those fabricated documents that SHIELD had no doubt disposed of by now.

Those types of wizards drew their power from the multiverse and adjacent dimensions to conduct their magic, so there was no way that the Sorcerer Supreme hadn't learned about speedsters fast enough to use their abilities to turn the branches of the multiverse into their own personal superhighway between universes and realities. The thought made me consider what it meant to be a speedster, all of the ones I had ever met were obsessed with speed, determined to be the fastest. There was only one champion of speed, and it wasn't me. I knew that, I accepted it, I admired the man who held that title, but I also knew that I wasn't too far behind him. I was faster than many and there weren't many who could rival me. A handful, maybe less. I could spend my life obsessing over a petty rivalry that wouldn't earn me anything but fame and more trouble, or I could do something with my speed and get faster to achieve that goal.

For a long time, I didn't know what the goal was. When I had first started manifesting my speed, my father's very first lesson was not a lesson on speed itself. He had said that each speedster had a spark unique to them, a purpose that fueled their speed, that made their drive to become faster that much stronger. The fastest speedsters were intimately familiar with their spark, nurturing it into a raging fire, my father had known his spark, but I had never known mine. After everything that happened before, I thought it might have been revenge, but when I left, I knew that wasn't it. After I arrived in this universe and didn't utilize my speed to the fullest extent, I simply assumed I would never discover it . . . and I was okay with that.

I didn't need to be the fastest to achieve the goals I held dear. Those that held the title deserved it and I no longer had interest in competing for it. If you race through life, you often find yourself missing out on it and I didn't want to see it passing me by, not anymore. I had people I wanted to slow down for.

Was that a betrayal to my fellow speedsters? To my father? I couldn't be sure. I didn't have a personal relationship with any other speedsters to ask anymore. All I knew was that when I was only a barista, a regular human, the Avengers had still valued and included me. They were my family now and I would protect them always, regardless of the threat or level of danger. Maybe that was my spark, even if it wasn't, it was my goal, it was all I cared about.

They deserved to know the whole truth, the same as Loki.

"Rush," the familiar voice of the wizard echoed through the hall of fallen heroes.

I traced the name of my father on his plaque and stood to face the sorcerer. "My name is Jesse, you may use it, if you wish, Dr. Strange." He said nothing in response. I turned back to my father's podium, his doppelganger's shoes encased behind a box of solid glass. "Did you come to give me those boots or is there another reason?"

"You know why I'm here." Serious tone. He was not here as a friend. Maybe an ally, perhaps wary of a potential fight, but not willing to lower his guard.

"Do I?" I questioned aloud. "You are here because you've learned of my universe, but as to your intent? I am not a mind reader. How could I possibly fathom the mind of a sorcerer?"

"I am sorry about your loved ones," his words were like a knife to my heart, had anyone else ever expressed condolences? I couldn't remember it if they had. "What they did wasn't right . . . but it is understandable. You are a disaster class Enhanced, and their concerns were validated. Look at what you did after you broke out of that prison." No need to hide it now; he clearly already knew. "You caused natural disasters that resulted in thousands of deaths in a matter of hours and almost destroyed your world. You may have prevented some of those disasters from causing too much damage, but that entire planetary population is still dealing with the consequences. What would have happened if you were determined to destroy it?"

After only a short moment of consideration, I replied honestly, "I would not have shown mercy."

"What?" Perhaps he hadn't heard me or hadn't understood.

"If I was determined to destroy that world, I would not have shown mercy. I was answering your question. If I wanted to destroy it, I would not have stopped until that worthless rock was nothing more dust floating through space. A few thousand died, so what? It could have been a million, it could have been more, it could have been everyone. I am not a hero, Dr. Strange, I've never claimed to be one either, I am well aware of my sins, and which are worth forgiving. My father was the hero, but I . . . I am not him." There was no one more aware of that fact than me. Despite any effort I made with the Avengers, despite how many lives I saved, it would always be true. "He would be disappointed."

"You have as much potential for good or evil as anyone else, amplified by your abilities." I could hear him approaching from behind, but I didn't turn to face him. Then a pair of tall lace-up black weathered boots entered my vision, held by his scarred hands. "Do good and make him proud. You are not your father, you are faster."