Avengers One's

Drifter

No one needs to know me. I'm just me. I don't have a name, often just called the wanderer or the lost child.

I look fine for a wanderer. Most are freakishly skinny and malnourished. I'm of weight and it doesn't seem that I  need a lot of food to keep me going. I would love to know why.

Maybe I'm a mutant and can like, go years without eating or something fun like that. Or I'm just really fucking weird.

I'm just seriously weird.

By the time I wander anywhere near NYC it's been a year since I started my wander. Well, since I ran away. I figured there would be missing persons reports within the first week of me testing my parent. I never believed him when he said 'love you.' Because there really is no such thing as love. Two weeks passed no such report. Three months, I decided well, guess this is a permanent thing now. Let's go for a fucking adventure. Now here I am in the New York City area, laughing my ass off at some idiot outside of a bar.

The drunk guy, took half a step out of the door and fell over. When he said something about a guy named Jarvis I figured he somehow managed to get his phone working. No, just to his wrist.

Now here I am 'helping him to a bench' while taking his wallet from an outside pocket, taking the cash and cards before taking a quick look at the-oh shit. Tony Stark a man that has everything is drinking in an old bar. Well, was drinking and now is sitting on a bench while I, a run away that has no home picks through his wallet and pockets. Fail. He has a really nice Rolex, but he won't by tomorrow.

Five hundred cash, plus the cards. About time I got some half decent luck as to steal from a rich guy. They run the world, leaving all of us poor kids and people to fend off the tigers on our own. Something starts to whir in the sky, a flipping Iron Man suit. What the hell? The guys attempts to stand up, the suit disassembles and reassembles around him. That was really Iron Man himself.

After watching the sky where he disappeared much longer than I should have a make my way back to where I have been staying. Behind a dumpster.

Sleep tonight now, worry about that when I wake up. I'm probably dreaming.

Waking up behind a dumpster sucks. Just saying in case you didn't know. In case you're basically normal. In case you believe love is real and don't run away and fin- never mind.

After leaving my ally and wandering down a street to where I saw an early-opening café. Let's try a card.

Ordering a pancake stack with sausage and juice I smile when it comes, my mouth waters, this is the most food I've had since Thanksgiving. Some old lady took me in, gave me a place to stay. She passed away a few weeks later. The funeral was beautiful, her kids, grandkids and her one great grandchild came, they talked with me. Told me about her when she was younger.

Back in this time now, the pancakes are half gone when the door chimes signalling that another patron is coming inside.

Resisting the urge to turn and see who it is, and if I know them, I continue shoving food into my face.

Pancakes are amazing.

Soon, the food is gone and my stomach is full. Going up to pay and laugh as the card works.

But I also feel bad. Stupid morals.

As I leave the diner I have to pass the other patrons.