Date: October 21, 2011
Location: Queens, Willets Point
The morning after the blackout, Lloyd's landlord, a man named Mr. Ferrari who possessed the lung capacity of an opera singer and the patience of a blast-ended skrewt had banged on the basement door for ten minutes straight.
Lloyd had solved the problem with a masterful blend of diplomacy and deceit. He claimed that a localized electromagnetic pulse from a passing government vehicle had fried the breaker and he then fixed the fuses by covertly fusing the metal back together with a touch of his finger while Mr. Ferrari wasn't looking. The landlord left, confused but placated by the return of his lights, muttering about conspiracies and fucking democrats, Crisis averted.
But the problem remained: Lloyd now had a roommate who ate rebar for breakfast.
"Gibraltar," Lloyd said, adjusting the strap of his heavy canvas messenger bag. "Heel."
The Asgardian Rock-Hound waddled out of the shadows, In the harsh light of day, the creature looked even more improbable.
Its skin was a mosaic of slate-grey plates that shifted like tectonic puzzle pieces when it moved and to disguise it, Lloyd had tied a red bandana around its neck and cast a weak Notice-Me-Not charm.
To the casual observer, Gibraltar looked like a very ugly, very sturdy English Bulldog with a skin condition.
"We are going to a buffet," Lloyd promised.
They took the bus to Willets Point, Willets Point was a blight on the map of New York. Known locally as the "Iron Triangle," it was a sprawling, muddy wasteland of auto-chop shops, scrap yards, and mountains of rusting metal,It had no sewers, zero sidewalks, and seemingly no laws so to Lloyd, it was beautiful.
He stepped off the bus and inhaled deeply. The air tasted of rust, oil, and waste
"Look at it, 42," Lloyd whispered to his pocket, where the Niffler was currently vibrating with excitement. "A graveyard of golems."
He began to walk through the muddy unpaved streets, Cars were stacked three high like totem poles and Men in greasy coveralls watched him with suspicion, cigarettes dangling from their lips, Lloyd simply ignored them.
His Predator's Aura was doing its work; the locals felt an instinctive urge to look away from the pale man in the trench coat.
He wasn't here for car parts, he was here for density, he turned down a narrow alleyway lined with rusted corrugated iron.
He was looking for a specific type of scrap...the kind that had been touched by this world's strange science-magic.
"System," Lloyd murmured. "Scan for high-grade alloys."
The blue window shimmered over his vision, overlaying the grim reality with a wireframe grid.
> [Scan Active]
> Object: 1998 Honda Civic (Rusted). Grade: F.
> Object: Cast Iron Pipe. Grade: D.
> Object: Unknown Aerospace Alloy (Fragment). Grade: B+.
Lloyd stopped.
He followed the marker to a pile of debris behind a chain-link fence, Half-buried in the mud was a twisted piece of metal painted a dull, military grey.
He approached the fence. "Gibraltar. Dinner."
The Rock-Hound didn't need to be told twice, he looked at the chain-link fence.
To him, it wasn't a barrier; it was an appetizer.
Gibraltar bit through the steel wire like it was licorice, He chewed thoughtfully, sparks flying from his stone teeth, and then squeezed through the hole he had made.
Lloyd followed, stepping over the mutilated fence.
He knelt by the grey metal fragment,.It looked like a piece of a shoulder plate from a large suit of armor.
There were letters stenciled on it: H.A.M.M.E.R.
"Hammer," Lloyd read. "A crude name for a crude tool."
He ran his hand over the metal, It was cold, but it hummed, It wasn't magical, but it had been forged with incredible heat and pressure.
"Titanium alloy," Lloyd guessed. "Mixed with... something else."
He tapped Gibraltar on the head. "Eat."
The Rock-Hound latched onto the Hammer tech plating,With a sound like a car crash in slow motion, he sheared off a chunk of the plating, he crunched it loudly, his yellow eyes closing in ecstasy.
> [Pet Growth Alert]
> Gibraltar has consumed [Refined Titanium Alloy]
> XP Gained: 15
> Defense Stat Increased
"Good boy," Lloyd praised.
While the gargoyle feasted, Lloyd scanned the rest of the pile. Most of it was junk but buried deep in the heap, something caught his eye. It was a cylindrical component, about the size of a soda can, with intricate copper wiring exposed at one end.
Lloyd dug it out, It was heavy.
> [Item Identified]
> Object: Failed Hydraulic Servo (Military Grade)
> Condition: Burned out
> Value: High (contains Micro-Mythril traces)
"Micro-Mythril?" Lloyd raised an eyebrow. "The System is generous with its naming conventions, I assume it means platinum or palladium."
He pocketed the servo, this was really salvageable. He could strip the precious metals, or perhaps re-enchant the servo to create a self-opening jar for pickles, the possibilities were endless.
"Hey!"
The shout broke his concentration.
Lloyd sighed, he stood up slowly, brushing the rust from his coat.
Three men were standing at the gap in the fence. They were big, they were dirty, and they were holding lengths of lead pipe and a crowbar. The leader, a man with a beard that looked like steel wool, stepped forward.
"You know you're trespassing, pal?" the leader growled. "This is Santos's yard."
Lloyd looked at them with mild disinterest. "I saw no signage. And the fence was... open."
"Yeah, cause you cut it," the man spat.
He slapped the pipe into his open palm. "That's destruction of property and that bag looks heavy, hand it over, and maybe we don't break your legs."
Lloyd looked at the bag, then he looked at Gibraltar, who was currently hidden behind the pile of scrap, noisily finishing the titanium plate.
"I am afraid my bag contains only personal effects and a very irritable rodent," Lloyd said politely. "However, I can offer you a coupon for a free pest control consultation."
"Get him," the leader grunted.
The three men advanced,they were clumsy. They moved without grace, telegraphing their intent , to a wizard who had duelled Death Eaters, this was like watching toddlers try to wrestle but Lloyd was tired and he wanted to test his new tank.
"Gibraltar," Lloyd said softly. "Guard."
The chewing sound behind the scrap pile stopped, a low, grinding rumble vibrated through the mud.
The leader paused. "What's that noise?"
Gibraltar stepped out from behind the debris, he didn't look like a dog anymore. With his belly full of titanium, his rocky skin had taken on a slight metallic sheen.
He stood two feet tall at the shoulder, wide as a barrel, with glowing yellow eyes that locked onto the men.
He opened his mouth and let out a roar.
It wasn't a roar of flesh and vocal cords.
It was the sound of a landslide. GRAA-KRRAAAKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The men froze.
"Is that... a badger?" one of the lackeys asked, his voice trembling.
"That ain't no badger," the leader whispered.
Gibraltar charged.He didn't run like a dog. He bounded like a living boulder.
He didn't attack the men; he attacked their weapons.
The Rock-Hound slammed into the leader, not biting him, but headbutting the lead pipe in his hand. The force was incredible and the pipe bent at a ninety-degree angle, and the impact sent the man stumbling backward into the mud.
The second man swung his crowbar. Gibraltar didn't dodge but caught the crowbar in his mouth.
He bit the solid steel tool in half and swallowed the end piece and burped, a puff of grey dust hitting the man in the face.
The man screamed, dropping the handle. "It ate the crowbar! It ate the damn crowbar!"
"He requires iron for his digestion," Lloyd explained helpfully from the sidelines. "Your contributions are appreciated."
The third man looked at his friends, looked at the glowing-eyed rock monster, and made a calculated decision, he dropped his weapon and ran.
"Demon!" he screamed. "Demon dog!"
The other two scrambled up from the mud, slipping and sliding in their haste to escape. They fled through the hole in the fence, leaving their dignity and their weapons behind.
Gibraltar watched them go, then turned his attention to the bent lead pipe lying in the mud. He sniffed it disdainfully, lead was soft, he preferred the steel.
"Good boy ," Lloyd critiqued, walking over and patting the gargoyle's rocky head. "Though your disarming charm is a bit messy."
He looked down at the mud, In the scuffle, the leader had dropped something else.
It wasn't a weapon, It was a piece of paper.
A flyer.
Lloyd picked it up, It was slick with mud, but the text was legible.
STARK WORLD EXPO 2011
The Future is Now.
Flushing Meadows, Queens.
Lloyd stared at the image on the flyer, It showed a massive blue globe and the man...Stark, flying above it in his metal suit.
"The Future," Lloyd mused.
He looked at the Hammer tech scrap Gibraltar was eating and then he looked at the flyer.
"These wizards," Lloyd whispered, tapping the picture of the suit. "They are holding a tournament, a showcase of their wands and golems."
A slow smile spread across his face.
"Expo," he said, tasting the word. "An exhibition Where people bring their rarest creations to display."
In the Wizarding World, going to a World Cup or a Triwizard Tournament was expensive. But here? It seemed open to the public.
"System," Lloyd asked. "Is there loot at this 'Expo'?"
> [Logic Assessment]
> Event: Stark Expo
> Content: High concentration of advanced technology, rare alloys, and potentially unstable energy sources
> Risk: High (Security)
> Reward: Very High
Lloyd folded the flyer and put it in his pocket.
"Gibraltar," he said. "Finish your titanium. We have a new destination."
He looked toward Flushing Meadows in the distance.
"If I am to build a zoo," Lloyd said, "I need to see what the competition is breeding."
He patted his pocket, where the Niffler was sleeping on a bed of stolen screws.
"And you, 42... you are going to have a field day darling."
Authors Note
Well guys Hope you enjoyed it .
It's really rare to see a good hp marvel fic.
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