Amidst the hustle and bustle of one of the world's most famous cities, where it's denizen were awake every second of the year – The never-sleeping city of New York, where crime and pleasure abound, it's inhabitants rushed to their targeted locations. The horns of traffic, the curses of vagrants and the whispering of its people were all a testament to its nature.
Walking among millions of people was a man in jean pants and coat buttoned all the way to his neck. He was no different from the millions of his city's people – atleast the way he looked.
With measured steps, he walked the streets around his hood where everything was as it was… atleast to the neighbors.
But he could tell. Little differences here and there he saw in its infrastructure. There were things; buildings, shops and other little settlements that he saw but couldn't remember them always been there. It was just simple but subtle differences.
He walked through the neighborhood, branching in and out of routes he was familiar with till he was a ways from his block. Finding himself in a crowded main road - one of the many in this city – he realised that while things were different, it wasn't a jarring difference.
Sure there were some alien aspects he hadn't seen before; likely billboards about some tech billionaire, some scientist making a revolutionary discovery, news about weird sightings around the globe and the most eye-catching mutant uprising propaganda, querying what should be done to this allegedly 'Homo-Superior' species.
*Scoff*.
He couldn't help but let his distaste seep through his mouth. He could see what the government were doing, something he was used to and unfortunately something the government was quite good at – subtle manipulation.
Giving the public an illusion of choice while at the same time letting out biased information thereby indirectly manipulating what little choice they gave.
Fucking hypocrites. He didn't know when but he always had a bone to pick with the government.
Not to say said mutants weren't inadvertently making their situation less favorable. But granted they were pretty much fighting a losing war which was only amplified by the fact that some of the most influential figures of their species were a terrorist, leading a cult or managing a club, while arguably the one with a somewhat right head on his shoulders and sincerely tried to help was a closet control freak.
"Bloody wankers, the lot of 'em," he muttered.
"Yer right 'bout that. Freaks the whole bunch of 'em. Cursed things I tell you. Make yer wonder what'er 'er did to be forsaken so." Turning a 90° he saw the… man who interjected his thoughts. Fat, greasy and a face full of moles with a height barely above 5'5, with rows of teeth looking like he'd being popping Adderall and crack for the past two decades.
For a moment he paused both due to his interjector's visage and also the fact that they were talking about two completely different things but not feeling the need to clarify he let out a 'hmm' and just continued looking around.
Not minding if his listener was listening, the man continued, "Heard they blew up a few houses in some scuffle yesterday in D.C. Just went in and killed some innocent folks jus minding they business. These ain't just terrorists, they savages. Hope the government passes the bill for they arrest then I'll do them a solid and burst out my doubles, hahaha."
He didn't have any particular reaction to that news since he saw it this morning, and also he couldn't be bothered to care about the mutants act of terrorism and the humans act of violence to anything that didn't resemble the norm. He was just getting in touch with his new reality so didn't have it in him to care about what probably in a million chance wouldn't affect him.
He wasn't about to go meet the government and fight for mutants right nor was he about to find the Brotherhood and tell Eric to seize his acts of violence and superiority complex. Not only was that dreaming way above the normal scale, because last time he checked he was still normal, but the aim was way off target… and he wasn't about to start dreaming an unrealistic dream despite being in an unrealistic world.
Seeing his conversation partner still talking without him even paying the slightest attention he couldn't help but grimace. While even in his youthful form he wasn't a killer looker, the man opposite him was taking the ugly look to an entire new level.
Normally he wasn't quick to judge someone nor was the act of judging someone something he liked, but apparently his curator managed to land a winning streak.
He was tempted to leave but he still wanted to know how this world was projected, what comic iteration was this? And what other change would he have to keep an eye out for.
He wasn't interested in getting to know the players of this story as that would be frankly going against his new resolve, and even if he could, not that he would, there was absolutely nothing he could do to influence the story nor it's characters.
To have influence, one must have a modicum of strength and the last time he was aware he was still human, not a mutant or its scientifically induced counterpart, not a tech savvy, definitely not a secret soldier experiment - no thank you, and definitely not the orphan billionaire who won the genetic lottery of the century. He had none and he was happy with it.
He had only being here for a few hours at most, he wasn't born here, so being jealous about him not having 'special' powers wasn't something that occurred to him.
What the eyes doesn't see, the heart doesn't lust after.
While he knew about them, not seeing them was the same as them not existing. A Schrodinger's cat scenario if you will.
It wasn't denial but more along the line of indifference. Apart from his situation which was somewhat special he was nothing special in the grand scheme. They were literal time travelers, reality warpers and dimension jumpers in this part of the multiverse. The Marvel X-Men universe was just that… marvelous.
Asking a few questions along with his disinterested replies to his unwanted but manageable company, he was glad to say he didn't get anything worth knowing which was understandable given that what happens in the extra-natural part of this universe tends to stay, for the most part, amongst the specially gifted.
Apart from that, he was able to glean a huge amount of unnecessary information: Ruckus, his informant, was racist… and homophobic. An...intriguing combination the likes of no other.
After the conversation started getting uncomfortable for him, he left Ruckus to his own and wandered around. Crazy how just yesterday he resigned himself and now he was in an entirely different world.
He walked around for a while since he couldn't just go back home. He was back in 2001, a different one but still, you don't just stay indoors in '01. He would know.
A few hours of walking and getting whatever surprise he still had in his system out, he turned back and started his return journey which was almost 45 minutes out. He really needed the walk as it helped him get his head in order and planned out a course of action.
An hour later, since he took his time, he pushed open the door of his house and walked it. Taking off his coat, he hung it besides his door and beelined for the fridge. With a beer in hand he plopped down on his couch and started sorting his thoughts in order of importance.
First of all, this universe has nothing to do with him. He didn't want to die early in his second chance.
Secondly, who was he? He didn't mean it in a philosophical kind of way but in a literal sense.
Did he swap places with his doppelganger, or did he transmigrate? His house was clearly the same so did he transmigrate with his house or was he an anomaly?
He had his cards with him and all his documents were the same but the only thing different was that he finished college almost two years ago at 23. He checked for any friends or family contact on his phone and while there were some, his call log was at least 2 months old and that was okay since he was disinclined to reform old bonds with people he likely wouldn't know - even his new parents. He had a second-class degree in Biology, not sure how that was going to help but sure.
Thirdly; how to proceed from here.
To this he had absolutely no idea. What did he want to do? He wanted something normal, no ambitions, no lofty aim. To this he came up blank. He worked mostly odd jobs to make ends meet but he never had a sense of constants. If he wanted a job now, he had to think of one that he could do for a while before something better came up. Maybe bartend – he did know his way around a bar that's for certain.
And lastly – well, he'll shelve that one for now.
Looking at the time, it was almost 4 O'clock, he decided to cook something up. The whole cluster fuck of what happened today had annihilated his appetite. Making something light to go with his lacking appetite, bacon and eggs, he started to browse the internet for any event that would help him know what X-Men-verse he was in, but what he stumbled on nearly made him choke on his meat.
An article under the search word 'historical events', blew the sails out of his fresh-into-the-river boat.
'Captain America 1918 – 1945'.
Just seeing this result in his search made him do a double take that instant. The X-Men-verse was already fucked up but adding whatever version of the Marvel Comics or the MCU out there to it was just like a nuclear bomb with a ten seconds countdown. Being fucked is inevitable.
"Well damn," he muttered while massaging his crown because of the upcoming migraine.
Clicking on the article, he did a brief read up on Captain America before exiting his browser. Putting his phone down he started tapping on the table seemingly in thought but he just let out a breath after a while and cleared his table, did the dishwashing and just sat on his couch fiddling with the remote control.
One of the things he was glad with about this whole ordeal was that this universe had a lot of old movies that his former one did, so with nothing worth doing he just relaxed into the chair as he enjoyed his blast from the past.
Watching movies for a few hours was therapeutic for him as it gave him a sense of normalcy. With him getting bored with the movies, he stood up from his chair and went to his window as look as the never-sleeping city in front of him. But there was something different about this city and the world in general from the one he knew.
Here, the sky wasn't even considered the limit with gods and multi-dimensional entities to universe ending beings. He couldn't help but wondered what his purpose here was, since he existed here he had a purpose – that was his belief, but he didn't know on what scale his purpose would rate. Would he be an audience of this great stage of existence? Or would he leave his mark as one of the remarkable beings in this universe, elevating his purposed existence?
He wouldn't be naïve enough to think that he just wound up here without the machinations of an incomprehensible existence, because such a thing was simply impossible, going against all natural laws of order and casuality. All this didn't bother him as much it should because he was actually grateful to his benefactor but all he hoped was being able to live a fulfilling life regardless of if he became a puppet in whatever cosmic entity's game.
He once had dreams of faux grandeur but even with his drive all he had was regrets. He once dreamt of being a superhero with cool abilities flying and punching bad guys but now that he was in a position to achieve his childhood fantasies… all he wished was for something mundane. He didn't wish to be known nor did he wished to be acknowledged. All he wished was for something with the least amount of regrets at it's end.
Taking another look at the city and the night sky, he – an irregular, a misplaced existence, retired to bed.
______________________________________________
So, how do you guys like it thus far? Alright?
Our MC isn't emo or a pessimist, he is as just pragmatic as any level headed person can be.
This chapter shows what I always find stupid and distasteful in 90% fanfictions.
The whole, 'Since I'm here, I'll become the strongest and stand on top of this world' shtick... Like seriously! And then they start making plans in chapter 2 and I'm like... "Unh huh"
So in order not to go that same way, not that I want to, as most fan fiction authors(no diss), I'll try my best to be as strict with the pacing as much as possible... In other words, MC is NOT going to be a walking nuclear threat anytime soon so there's that.
You have anything to say or tell me, let me know in the comments.
Thanks a lot to those who read and followed my story.
Amidst the hustle and bustle of one of the world's most famous cities, where it's denizen were awake every second of the year – The never-sleeping city of New York, where crime and pleasure abound, it's inhabitants rushed to their targeted locations. The horns of traffic, the curses of vagrants and the whispering of its people were all a testament to its nature.
Walking among millions of people was a man in jean pants and coat buttoned all the way to his neck. He was no different from the millions of his city's people – atleast the way he looked.
With measured steps, he walked the streets around his hood where everything was as it was… atleast to the neighbors.
But he could tell. Little differences here and there he saw in its infrastructure. There were things; buildings, shops and other little settlements that he saw but couldn't remember them always been there. It was just simple but subtle differences.
He walked through the neighborhood, branching in and out of routes he was familiar with till he was a ways from his block. Finding himself in a crowded main road - one of the many in this city – he realised that while things were different, it wasn't a jarring difference.
Sure there were some alien aspects he hadn't seen before; likely billboards about some tech billionaire, some scientist making a revolutionary discovery, news about weird sightings around the globe and the most eye-catching mutant uprising propaganda, querying what should be done to this allegedly 'Homo-Superior' species.
*Scoff*.
He couldn't help but let his distaste seep through his mouth. He could see what the government were doing, something he was used to and unfortunately something the government was quite good at – subtle manipulation.
Giving the public an illusion of choice while at the same time letting out biased information thereby indirectly manipulating what little choice they gave.
Fucking hypocrites. He didn't know when but he always had a bone to pick with the government.
Not to say said mutants weren't inadvertently making their situation less favorable. But granted they were pretty much fighting a losing war which was only amplified by the fact that some of the most influential figures of their species were a terrorist, leading a cult or managing a club, while arguably the one with a somewhat right head on his shoulders and sincerely tried to help was a closet control freak.
"Bloody wankers, the lot of 'em," he muttered.
"Yer right 'bout that. Freaks the whole bunch of 'em. Cursed things I tell you. Make yer wonder what'er 'er did to be forsaken so." Turning a 90° he saw the… man who interjected his thoughts. Fat, greasy and a face full of moles with a height barely above 5'5, with rows of teeth looking like he'd being popping Adderall and crack for the past two decades.
For a moment he paused both due to his interjector's visage and also the fact that they were talking about two completely different things but not feeling the need to clarify he let out a 'hmm' and just continued looking around.
Not minding if his listener was listening, the man continued, "Heard they blew up a few houses in some scuffle yesterday in D.C. Just went in and killed some innocent folks jus minding they business. These ain't just terrorists, they savages. Hope the government passes the bill for they arrest then I'll do them a solid and burst out my doubles, hahaha."
He didn't have any particular reaction to that news since he saw it this morning, and also he couldn't be bothered to care about the mutants act of terrorism and the humans act of violence to anything that didn't resemble the norm. He was just getting in touch with his new reality so didn't have it in him to care about what probably in a million chance wouldn't affect him.
He wasn't about to go meet the government and fight for mutants right nor was he about to find the Brotherhood and tell Eric to seize his acts of violence and superiority complex. Not only was that dreaming way above the normal scale, because last time he checked he was still normal, but the aim was way off target… and he wasn't about to start dreaming an unrealistic dream despite being in an unrealistic world.
Seeing his conversation partner still talking without him even paying the slightest attention he couldn't help but grimace. While even in his youthful form he wasn't a killer looker, the man opposite him was taking the ugly look to an entire new level.
Normally he wasn't quick to judge someone nor was the act of judging someone something he liked, but apparently his curator managed to land a winning streak.
He was tempted to leave but he still wanted to know how this world was projected, what comic iteration was this? And what other change would he have to keep an eye out for.
He wasn't interested in getting to know the players of this story as that would be frankly going against his new resolve, and even if he could, not that he would, there was absolutely nothing he could do to influence the story nor it's characters.
To have influence, one must have a modicum of strength and the last time he was aware he was still human, not a mutant or its scientifically induced counterpart, not a tech savvy, definitely not a secret soldier experiment - no thank you, and definitely not the orphan billionaire who won the genetic lottery of the century. He had none and he was happy with it.
He had only being here for a few hours at most, he wasn't born here, so being jealous about him not having 'special' powers wasn't something that occurred to him.
What the eyes doesn't see, the heart doesn't lust after.
While he knew about them, not seeing them was the same as them not existing. A Schrodinger's cat scenario if you will.
It wasn't denial but more along the line of indifference. Apart from his situation which was somewhat special he was nothing special in the grand scheme. They were literal time travelers, reality warpers and dimension jumpers in this part of the multiverse. The Marvel X-Men universe was just that… marvelous.
Asking a few questions along with his disinterested replies to his unwanted but manageable company, he was glad to say he didn't get anything worth knowing which was understandable given that what happens in the extra-natural part of this universe tends to stay, for the most part, amongst the specially gifted.
Apart from that, he was able to glean a huge amount of unnecessary information: Ruckus, his informant, was racist… and homophobic. An...intriguing combination the likes of no other.
After the conversation started getting uncomfortable for him, he left Ruckus to his own and wandered around. Crazy how just yesterday he resigned himself and now he was in an entirely different world.
He walked around for a while since he couldn't just go back home. He was back in 2001, a different one but still, you don't just stay indoors in '01. He would know.
A few hours of walking and getting whatever surprise he still had in his system out, he turned back and started his return journey which was almost 45 minutes out. He really needed the walk as it helped him get his head in order and planned out a course of action.
An hour later, since he took his time, he pushed open the door of his house and walked it. Taking off his coat, he hung it besides his door and beelined for the fridge. With a beer in hand he plopped down on his couch and started sorting his thoughts in order of importance.
First of all, this universe has nothing to do with him. He didn't want to die early in his second chance.
Secondly, who was he? He didn't mean it in a philosophical kind of way but in a literal sense.
Did he swap places with his doppelganger, or did he transmigrate? His house was clearly the same so did he transmigrate with his house or was he an anomaly?
He had his cards with him and all his documents were the same but the only thing different was that he finished college almost two years ago at 23. He checked for any friends or family contact on his phone and while there were some, his call log was at least 2 months old and that was okay since he was disinclined to reform old bonds with people he likely wouldn't know - even his new parents. He had a second-class degree in Biology, not sure how that was going to help but sure.
Thirdly; how to proceed from here.
To this he had absolutely no idea. What did he want to do? He wanted something normal, no ambitions, no lofty aim. To this he came up blank. He worked mostly odd jobs to make ends meet but he never had a sense of constants. If he wanted a job now, he had to think of one that he could do for a while before something better came up. Maybe bartend – he did know his way around a bar that's for certain.
And lastly – well, he'll shelve that one for now.
Looking at the time, it was almost 4 O'clock, he decided to cook something up. The whole cluster fuck of what happened today had annihilated his appetite. Making something light to go with his lacking appetite, bacon and eggs, he started to browse the internet for any event that would help him know what X-Men-verse he was in, but what he stumbled on nearly made him choke on his meat.
An article under the search word 'historical events', blew the sails out of his fresh-into-the-river boat.
'Captain America 1918 – 1945'.
Just seeing this result in his search made him do a double take that instant. The X-Men-verse was already fucked up but adding whatever version of the Marvel Comics or the MCU out there to it was just like a nuclear bomb with a ten seconds countdown. Being fucked is inevitable.
"Well damn," he muttered while massaging his crown because of the upcoming migraine.
Clicking on the article, he did a brief read up on Captain America before exiting his browser. Putting his phone down he started tapping on the table seemingly in thought but he just let out a breath after a while and cleared his table, did the dishwashing and just sat on his couch fiddling with the remote control.
One of the things he was glad with about this whole ordeal was that this universe had a lot of old movies that his former one did, so with nothing worth doing he just relaxed into the chair as he enjoyed his blast from the past.
Watching movies for a few hours was therapeutic for him as it gave him a sense of normalcy. With him getting bored with the movies, he stood up from his chair and went to his window as look as the never-sleeping city in front of him. But there was something different about this city and the world in general from the one he knew.
Here, the sky wasn't even considered the limit with gods and multi-dimensional entities to universe ending beings. He couldn't help but wondered what his purpose here was, since he existed here he had a purpose – that was his belief, but he didn't know on what scale his purpose would rate. Would he be an audience of this great stage of existence? Or would he leave his mark as one of the remarkable beings in this universe, elevating his purposed existence?
He wouldn't be naïve enough to think that he just wound up here without the machinations of an incomprehensible existence, because such a thing was simply impossible, going against all natural laws of order and casuality. All this didn't bother him as much it should because he was actually grateful to his benefactor but all he hoped was being able to live a fulfilling life regardless of if he became a puppet in whatever cosmic entity's game.
He once had dreams of faux grandeur but even with his drive all he had was regrets. He once dreamt of being a superhero with cool abilities flying and punching bad guys but now that he was in a position to achieve his childhood fantasies… all he wished was for something mundane. He didn't wish to be known nor did he wished to be acknowledged. All he wished was for something with the least amount of regrets at it's end.
Taking another look at the city and the night sky, he – an irregular, a misplaced existence, retired to bed.
______________________________________________
So, how do you guys like it thus far? Alright?
Our MC isn't emo or a pessimist, he is as just pragmatic as any level headed person can be.
This chapter shows what I always find stupid and distasteful in 90% fanfictions.
The whole, 'Since I'm here, I'll become the strongest and stand on top of this world' shtick... Like seriously! And then they start making plans in chapter 2 and I'm like... "Unh huh"
So in order not to go that same way, not that I want to, as most fan fiction authors(no diss), I'll try my best to be as strict with the pacing as much as possible... In other words, MC is NOT going to be a walking nuclear threat anytime soon so there's that.
You have anything to say or tell me, let me know in the comments.
Thanks a lot to those who read and followed my story.
