The Marvel universe was a strange place — one where aliens and magic existed as casually as traffic jams. But from what Maya could tell, Hollywood in this world ran about eighty or ninety percent identical to the one she remembered from her past life. Same films, same stars. Ms. Marvel was a hardcore Star Wars nerd. Young Spider-Man and Iron Man took out Ebony Maw the exact same way they had in Alien. Some things were just constants.
Which made the current situation all the more baffling.
How had her glorious autobiographical screenplay Manhattan Supergirl been butchered into Léon: The Professional?
Maya knew both scripts well — and that was exactly the problem.
Supergirl was essentially a celebration of Maya pulling off one impossible thing after another while a bunch of little kids watched in awe. Léon, on the other hand, was a story about a little girl falling for an older hitman, and the hitman dies for her.
What kind of creative leap did it take to travel from Point A to Point B? Luc Besson, what is going on inside your head? Honestly, with that imagination, you'd make a fortune writing web novels. Why are you wasting yourself on cinema?
Meanwhile Jack, in what appeared to be the dawn of a long-awaited career breakthrough, was on a roll. He was still talking to Jennifer, animated and self-satisfied: "Apparently the moment Besson read the script, he said on the spot that this film was going to shake the world and spark conversations everywhere."
Maya slumped back onto the couch. The script was already sold. The French were already casting. What was there even to do? The only silver lining was that even if Léon became a worldwide phenomenon, no one would ever connect it to Maya.
After a long pause, she finally spoke. "Jack. Jennifer. Do me a favor — don't ever tell anyone that Manhattan Supergirl had anything to do with me."
"Why not? The publicity would only boost your profile," Jack said, genuinely puzzled. He knew Maya was never shy about getting her name out there.
(If Maya could hear that thought, she'd have gone red.)
Maya straightened up, assumed her most dignified expression, and said with full gravity: "Jack, I want to be known for my contributions to the advancement of human science. Fame that has nothing to do with scientific achievement has never been something I've sought."
Jack stared at her with visible skepticism. Then why did you enter the school district violin competition — the one that didn't even give out prizes?
Eventually, Maya decided it was better to spell it out. After all, even Natalie Portman had spent years dodging questions about the film that made her famous. Americans treated that kind of content the same way people back home treated certain banned substances — with very little tolerance and a lot of discomfort. Maya had spent real effort building her reputation. She was not about to let it get wrecked by that French director's choices. Especially when it wasn't even her fault — Maya Hansen was completely innocent in all of this. She refused to be the next Iron Man, the Marvel universe's undisputed king of taking the blame for everything.
"Jack, this is non-negotiable," Maya said carefully. "European filmmakers love using provocative material as a stand-in for depth. Like a web novelist who's been churning out flops for ten years — they can't write a good book, but they can still tell one when they see it. Léon: The Professional — even the title — doesn't sound like an uplifting coming-of-age story. We need to be cautious."
Jack, who had spent fifteen years on the fringes of an industry where he'd seen every kind of career implode, understood the logic. He turned to Maya with a nod that was almost respectful.
"You're right. You really are something else, Maya — you'd never let short-term gains cloud your judgment. Don't worry. Not a word from me. If the film does well and gets a warm reception, then maybe I'll mention where the original concept came from — to boost your image at the right moment."
Maya nodded calmly.
Internally: Americans. Can you be any more direct? 'I'll save it for when it benefits your image.' I'm literally a child. A little tact wouldn't kill you. Though I'll admit — hearing that I'm better than Tony Stark does make me just a tiny bit happy. Just a tiny bit. Barely noticeable. Really.
After dinner, TV, and a bath with little James, Maya retreated to her room.
Tonight, she decided to spin the Bronze roulette.
Earlier, when she'd beaten up William Beck and his crew, she'd noticed something: her chakra control had become remarkably precise. The damage she'd dealt had matched her mental calculations almost exactly. Before each strike, she'd already mapped out where it would land and what it would do — down to capillary-level accuracy. The first two hits had been slightly off, but after that, the actual results were nearly indistinguishable from her planned outcomes.
It had only been two or three days, but Maya was now confident in her diagnosis: her natural talent was somewhere between Karin and Sakura. Not quite either, but with her own distinct character. And as a self-taught ninja with no master, she had her own solution.
She'd do what the protagonists in Naruto did. Specifically — Naruto himself.
Naruto had gone about it wrong from the start. He shouldn't have spent six years trying to learn the Three Body Technique at the Academy. He should have focused on chakra control first — the Three Bodies would have followed naturally. Instead, he'd wasted half a decade hammering at a transformation he couldn't do.
In Maya's assessment, the correct training sequence for a ninja was:
Chakra control → Basic Three Body Techniques → Increase chakra reserves → Develop elemental jutsu suited to your nature → Build a personal jutsu arsenal.
Of course, people with broken cheats didn't need to worry about any of that. The Sharingan kids got everything in one package — more chakra, better control, and boosted combat power, all from a single dōjutsu awakening. And the Mangekyō was even worse. Your deepest desire, crystallized into a unique technique. Obito, desperate to escape reality — Kamui. Shisui, wanting to end the Uchiha-Konoha conflict — Kotoamatsukami. Itachi, who'd seen what was coming and could only beg for more time — his Tsukuyomi turned seconds into years.
Maya didn't have anything that broken. But she had unusual talents, especially after integrating the Third Hokage's physique. Her chakra control was already solid enough. Time to tackle the Three Body Techniques — which, come to think of it, were also kind of busted in their own right.
Ten influence points per Bronze spin, twenty-two consecutive pulls — and her influence points hit zero.
Maya finally pulled one of the Three Basic Jutsu — specifically, the Transformation Jutsu. One third of the set.
That bastard Jia Baoyu — did he really need to split a single Bronze skill into three separate pulls? Maya's inner chibi was throwing a tantrum.