I was reincarnated into the Marvel Universe with a Golden Finger! (MCU AU SI)

[PenSlayer07]

Disclaimer- I don't own Marvel, any characters appearing in this fic aside from my Original Characters. All rights belong to their respective owners.

How do you define success?

"Oh my God!"
Do you define it with monetary values? The amount of digits you see on your screen when you log into your bank account. A number that was most definitely not real, not tangible, not backed by something real. Just a number.

"Somebody call an Ambulance!"
Or do you use some other metric to define success in your life? Maybe the impact you had on other people's lives? Not the money you earned but the money you spent, on bettering the lives of other people?

"Hey! Look at me!"

Or do you use a much more direct metric? Do you measure success by the number of people you saved? Either from emotional damage or from outright death? The number of people who you pulled out of life threatening circumstances?

"We're losing him!"
Do you define success by the number of people you fed? The number you donated? Not to an online website that claimed to pass on that donation to people who actually needed it but to the people in need directly. The amount of time you spent personally helping other people?
"Blunt Force Trauma. Collapsed Lung. Concussions."

Do you define it with personal success? By achieving certain goals that helped your direct family? Do you then go on to achieve success in helping your society? In any way that mattered, be it financial, material or just your presence?

"He's slipping. Hey! Come on, look at me!" He felt a dull impact on his face, as if someone had hit him with a hard, rolled up piece of clothing.

I suppose that success comes in many forms, seen differently by different people with different mindsets. It could be one of the above or all of the above or perhaps, even none of the above.

"Jesus! Where's the guy that hit him?!"

The human mind was something that no one could pretend to understand, such was its complexity. Everyone was slightly different and had a slight difference in their view of life in general, leading to different definitions of success.

But what did all of that matter to him? In the end, success might come in many forms but it was not like he succeeded by any definition of the word. Not by any stretch of imagination, either his or by someone else.

Ah, what a waste!

….

…

Somewhere above the Pacific Ocean

–Andrew Rice–

As the winds buffeted his face, their harshness dampened by his faceplate, he could only grin and conclude that he was wrong. The last thoughts before his death, well, previous death, were wrong. If he could conclude what he was feeling right now, he could only do so in one way.

This was success.

"Woohoo!" He couldn't help but holler as he flew parallel to the ocean surface, creating disturbance on the water surface due to his sheer speed. A wild thought entered his mind, as the winds hitting his face lessened until a cocoon of silence formed around him. The next moment, with a twitch of his finger, he dove straight into the water, heading straight down, trusting his suit to keep his squishy normal human body safe.

The ability to move freely, unconstrained by anyone else, to do what he wanted to do when he wanted to. That was success.

He grinned at his personal definition of success as the HUD in front of him lit up with a litany of information, showing him whatever Philip could scrounge up from both the sensors in his suit as well as information freely available from the internet.

Philip, his best buddy, his pal, his partner in crime, showed up in his chibi avatar in front of him, with a deadpan look leveled at his creator, "You do realise that this was not in the testing manual I set up for you to read. You know, the one you ignored in favour of dumping a prototype into the ocean."

Oh, boy. It would seem Philip was angry here. He wondered why. Hmmm…
"I'm taking over," Philip abruptly said as he felt the suit slow down and begin to angle itself upward.

"No!" He exclaimed, immediately overriding his control and stayed in position as Philip leveled a glare at him, punctuated by a series of red marks appearing on his forehead. It looked quite comical but he knew that he could only push Philip so much until he just disregarded his requests and hauled his ass back to their base.

"1000 Metres?" He tried as a last resort request, enjoying this experience very much. He would have done this ages ago if he knew how much fun this was going to be. He supposed that there was a solid reason why flight had been humanity's dream for so long. Flying in an airplane could never compare to this.

Philip rolled his eyes and a very reluctant "Fine!" came out of the HUD, even as he tried to ignore the multiple bogies being dropped on top of him, heading straight towards him, likely as insurance just in case the prototype failed, never mind the fact that this prototype had gone through tests far worse than this and come out no worse for the wear.

Heading straight down, visibility was near zero, so he had to rely on the suit's sensors and aside from a single malfunction that was due to the whiplash of abrupt turns knocking one of the sensors loose, there were no other issues.

800….

900….

"And, that's enough." Philip, the Fun Police, took over the suit not a second later, not even giving him time to enjoy the inky darkness all around him as they began the return journey, only this time he had a full security escort, with three other vessels, sleek and rectangular, with retractable fins on their bodies to aid in underwater movement, making sure that he reached the home base safely.

As they breached the ocean's surface, he had the fortune to witness the beautiful orange skyline behind him as the sun set, bathing the water around it in an orange glow. His suit, along with the rescue units around him had their stealth modes switched on as they made sure to glide close to the ocean surface on their way back home.

Well, home was kind of a misnomer here. It was home base. There was a distinction in his mind and while he knew what was needed to turn a dwelling into a home, he was not sure if he was ready to let anyone except Philip into this new slice of life he had carved out for himself in this hell of a world.

He noted the ETA being two minutes this time instead of 3 on the way over, which meant Philip had moved the Home base for some reason.

"Philip, Any update on priority items?"

The year was 2012. Exactly three years since he was dumped into this universe with an ability that was borderline absurd, a Fine Tuned body and access to a junkyard that had so much E-waste that it had taken him just hours to build his first product, a taser with enough juice in it to either stun a human or melt down metals, for a short period of time.

Three years that he had spent preparing to survive the incoming avalanche of crises that the planet was about to face. At first, he was laser focused on survival. It helped that his ability allowed him to build self defense tools very easily at first. He built and built and built, creating a safe shelter for himself, drinking recycled water, breathing in recycled air, eating whatever he could safely get and later on, growing his own food.

He'd become a hermit, of sorts, focused on creating the biggest, strongest wall he could between the eldritch threats in this universe and his vastly stronger but still squishy self. He'd let himself go, to the point that at one point, he was just eating boiled food that he grew in his base, just because he felt that going out for spices was too risky.

Sure, at that point, he had his robot friends who could have gone out and fetched stuff for him, but the chances of them being discovered, even in stealth mode and then being tracked back to him were too high. His paranoia and in hindsight, an unhealthy bond with his creations had forced him further into isolation, so much so that he lost so much time, so many opportunities to leverage his abilities.

He blatantly refused to acknowledge the attachment he'd developed with Adam, his first ever robot, a small eight legged bot that could traverse through all the smaller tunnels that had naturally formed between the various heaps of trash he had to sort through the junkyard on the daily to find something useful. He had to let go of Adam because Philip was adamant on that being a necessary step of therapy.

If he had just used his time to branch out, to expand his reach, he could have been somewhere else on his progress path. Shaking his head, he banished those thoughts of the dark times, times when he did not have Philip to anchor his mind to reality instead of an evergrowing, ever strengthening, evolving wall of weapons that he wished to aim at any threat that dared come close.

Phillip's rapid rattling of the status updates brought him out of his own mind, "The Tesseract remains in SHIELD Custody, in the Mojave Desert. Still unable to find any unusual energy signatures in any of the Three Sanctum cities or in Kathmandu that could match the Tesseract in intensity. ⅓ of the Berserket staff retrieved. Gravitonium traces retrieved from Ian Quinn's labs. Terrigen crystals retrieved from San Juan. Kree City entrances sealed off. Charges placed for controlled demolition."

"So the same as before, huh?" He mumbled to himself as the suit slowed down, gaining altitude in an upright position before the suit's propulsion was cut off as he plummeted straight down, seemingly towards the ocean, only for the suit to cross an invisible field, slowing it down.

A small hatch opened up out of thin air, as he was lowered into the Hangar they built for this purpose. The hatch closed above him, as the home base's stealth returned to hundred percent as the ship began moving with only a slight jitter indicating movement.

Fixing that was on his list but it was constantly getting pushed down for their preparations for the war that was coming. A war that he could only slightly delay by negating the Chitauri Invasion and had been a heated topic of debate between him and Philip, on what to do with that can of worms.

For now, both of them agreed that preparing for the worst was for the best, which is why the home base that was more a large yacht, was a hub of activity with Philip using every scrap of resource they had at their disposal to churn out more units, all so that they could deploy them in case the invasion spilled out of control.

What that control meant was a point of contention between them but that was not something they could resolve immediately. His suggestion of bringing in another party, a third party to resolve that had been accepted and Philip and he were going to review the candidates later this week, once the prototyping for his personal suit was done and it could move into final production.

"FYI, all future joyrides have been disabled until Phase 2 of safety protocols are thoroughly tested." Philips announced joyfully through the PA system they had installed in the base. He really needed to name this thing someday.

"You know I can just disconnect you, right?" He grumbled out loud as the final piece was detached from his body and he began moving towards the sanitation chambers, a necessary precaution to make sure that the clean rooms inside the home base remained, well, clean.

 

[Despacitoleo]

Yay wonder if he'll make a mech

 

[shakeval]

A mecha inside a mecha with his suit inside that