Chapter 4 Probability Manipulation

The cacophony of battle echoed through the canyons of steel and glass that made up Manhattan's skyline. Chitauri energy blasts crisscrossed the air like deadly fireworks, while the Avengers fought desperately to stem the alien tide. Amidst this chaos, Indra navigated the debris-strewn streets, his eyes glued to the transparent tablet in his hands—his Luck-Based Reality Interface.

"Alright, my little deus ex machina," Indra muttered, fingers dancing across the holographic display. "We've survived our first scrape. Now, how about we try being proactive?"

He pulled up the 'Luck Management' screen, eyeing his newly acquired points. After his improvised arc reactor incident, he was now sitting at a modest 15 luck points. Not exactly world-changing, but it was a start.

"Let's see... what would the most rational distribution be?" Indra mused, his analytical mind kicking into high gear. "Maximizing 'Personal Safety' seems prudent, but it's a defensive strategy. To really make a difference, I need information and influence."

After a moment's consideration, he allocated 5 points to "Discovery," 5 to "Influence," and kept 5 in reserve. Almost immediately, his tablet pinged with a notification:

"Enhanced Situational Awareness activated. Detecting: High concentration of civilians trapped 300 meters northeast. Probability of superhero intervention within the next 5 minutes: 78%."

A grin spread across Indra's face. "Now that's what I'm talking about. Let's go be a hero... adjacent."

He set off at a jog, deftly maneuvering around overturned cars and chunks of fallen masonry. The sounds of distress grew louder as he approached—cries for help mingled with the ominous creaking of stressed metal.

Rounding a corner, Indra came to an abrupt halt. A city bus lay on its side, smoke billowing from its engine. The vehicle had smashed into the lobby of an office building, and rubble from the partially collapsed entrance had effectively sealed most of the exits. Trapped passengers pressed against the windows, their faces etched with fear.

"Well, this looks like a job for someone far more qualified than me," Indra quipped, even as his mind raced through potential solutions. He needed to buy time, keep the civilians calm until help arrived.

Spotting a fallen street sign, Indra hefted it like a crowbar and approached the least damaged window. "Stand back!" he shouted to the passengers. "I'm going to try and make an exit!"

It took three attempts and a lot of grunting, but he finally managed to create a gap large enough for people to squeeze through. "Okay, folks! Women and children first, let's move!"

As passengers began to emerge, Indra kept one eye on his tablet, waiting for that promised superhero intervention. "Come on, come on. Where's our friendly neighborhood—"

A distinctive 'thwip' sound cut through the air, followed by a red and blue blur swinging into view. Spider-Man landed gracefully atop the overturned bus, his mask's eyes widening at the scene below.

"Woah, looks like you guys could use a hand!" the wall-crawler called out. "Or maybe eight of them!"

Indra couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. "Spider-Man! Perfect timing. We've got about a dozen more people inside, and I think the structure's getting a bit wobbly."

Spidey tilted his head, regarding Indra curiously. "You seem pretty calm for a guy in the middle of an alien invasion. First time?"

"Oh, you know, just your typical Tuesday," Indra shot back, surprising himself with his own glibness. "Though I usually prefer my extraterrestrial encounters to be more 'E.T.' and less 'War of the Worlds'."

A chuckle emanated from behind the mask. "I hear that. Alright, let's get these people out of here before—"

A high-pitched whine filled the air, cutting off Spider-Man's words. Indra's blood ran cold as he recognized the sound: Chitauri chariots, and they were closing in fast.

"Incoming!" he yelled, already moving to hustle the evacuated passengers toward the relative shelter of nearby buildings.

Spider-Man leaped into action, firing webs with pinpoint accuracy to create a makeshift barricade across the street. "That won't hold them for long," he warned. "We need to speed this up!"

Indra nodded, his mind racing. They were running out of time, and there were still people trapped in the bus. He needed a force multiplier, something to tip the odds in their favor.

His eyes fell on his tablet, and an idea—crazy, risky, but potentially game-changing—took root.

"I've got five luck points left," he murmured to himself. "Time to go all in on 'Probability Manipulation'."

His fingers flew across the interface as he poured every remaining point into the category. For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then the tablet's screen flashed:

"WARNING: Extreme probability flux detected. Chaotic outcomes imminent. Proceed with caution."

A manic grin spread across Indra's face. "Cautious? Sorry, but I left cautious back in my own universe. Let's roll the dice."

He turned to Spider-Man, who was webbing the last few passengers to safety. "Spidey! I'm about to do something incredibly stupid. Be ready for... well, anything!"

Before the hero could respond, Indra strode out into the middle of the street, planting himself directly in the path of the oncoming Chitauri. He raised his arms dramatically, as if he were a conductor about to lead some cosmic orchestra.

"Hey, you discount 'Independence Day' rejects!" he bellowed. "You want a piece of Earth? Come and get it!"

For a split second, nothing happened. Then, as if the universe itself had been waiting for Indra's cue, chaos erupted.

A water main beneath the street suddenly burst, sending a geyser of water shooting skyward with impossible force. The jet struck the lead Chitauri chariot dead center, sending it into a wild spin. It collided with its wingman, and both vehicles careened into a conveniently placed construction site scaffolding.

The domino effect was as beautiful as it was improbable. Metal poles clattered down like giant chopsticks, spearing engines and snaring wings. Alien warriors were catapulted from their mounts, landing in dumpsters or getting tangled in their own energy tethers.

And through it all, not a single stray blast came anywhere near the bus or the fleeing civilians.

When the dust settled, a dozen Chitauri lay groaning amidst the wreckage of their own invasion force. And Indra stood untouched in the center of it all, his jacket not even singed.