Jeff woke up with a loud gasp, heart pounding, as his phone screamed right next to his head for what felt like the sixth time. He had already snoozed the fifth alarm five times, and now the sixth one was going off like it wanted to rip his ears apart.
"SHIT!" he shouted, nearly falling off the couch. "God damn it! You loud, annoying piece of—"
He slapped the phone off the armrest, almost throwing it across the room, but stopped it in time and finally turned the alarm off. His throat felt dry, his hair was sticking up like he'd been electrocuted, and his whole body ached like he hadn't moved in years. His eyes were still burning and heavy from days of barely sleeping.
"I swear I'm deleting every single alarm after this," he muttered as he dragged himself to the bathroom.
He splashed cold water on his face and brushed his teeth, trying to get rid of the sour taste in his mouth. He stared at himself in the mirror. His eyes were tired, but at least now they looked a bit more focused. There were still seven hours left.
Only seven hours before he would transmigrate into the Alternate Universe Marvel Cinematic Universe.
He didn't waste time and after taking brushing his teeth and showering, he pulled on a fresh t-shirt and a pair of shorts, grabbed two energy drinks from the fridge, and dropped back onto the couch. He opened his streaming app and went straight to the X-Men movies.
"Let's go, mutants," he whispered to himself. "Show me what you got."
He pressed play and immediately changed the speed to 2x. He didn't have the luxury to watch everything normally. He didn't even know how much of what he watched over the past few days he would remember clearly. But watching again—even quickly—might still help. Maybe he'd recall a character's ability, their backstory, or how they fought. Anything could help.
The next few hours went by fast. Mutants talking quickly, schools blowing up, Magneto making serious speeches, and Wolverine slicing through bad guys. Jeff skipped any scenes he remembered well and jumped past long emotional parts. He focused on the fights, the powers, and the important moments.
The clock kept ticking. Six hours. Five. Three.
Finally, just one hour was left.
Jeff paused the movie, stretched his arms with a loud groan, and stood up. He went to the bathroom again to shower, shave, brush his teeth, and put on clean clothes. He wanted to look decent—like he was going to an interview, or maybe a date. Or something in between.
He grabbed his wallet and phone, then booked a cab.
While sitting in the backseat, looking out the window, Jeff started thinking. He thought about the world he was leaving behind. The people he would never see again.
In the past few days, in between all the movies and prep for his transmigration, Jeff had quietly met up with his close friends. He didn't tell any of them what was really going on. He just hung out with them one last time, made some jokes, laughed with them, and gave his goodbyes without ever saying it was a goodbye.
It hurt. A lot.
He had always been someone who mostly kept to himself, but he did care about a few people. And they cared about him too. Leaving them behind felt like tearing a piece out of his chest.
Still, this was a once-in-a-lifetime chance. A golden opportunity. A real system. A new world. Power. Purpose.
He had to take it.
On the way, he asked the cab driver to stop near a small flower shop by the road. He stepped out and bought three simple bouquets—one for each person he was going to visit. Nothing too fancy, but fresh and nice. One bouquet was white lilies, another was soft pink carnations, and the last one was a mix of colorful wildflowers that reminded him of peaceful fields. He paid for them and gave the vendor a quiet thank you, then sat back in the cab holding the flowers carefully in his lap.
Eventually, the cab stopped at the cemetery.
Jeff got out, thanked the driver, and stood still for a moment, looking at the wide, peaceful area filled with rows of headstones, green grass, and trees that moved gently in the breeze. The place was calm. Quiet. The sky was starting to turn golden as the sun slowly lowered.
He walked slowly through the cemetery, passing by many headstones, going deeper inside. After a few minutes, he reached the ones he had come to see.
Three familiar headstones.
His mother.
His maternal grandmother.
His maternal grandfather.
Jeff stood there in silence, holding the flowers tightly in his hands.
These three people had raised him.
They weren't just family—they were his entire world growing up.
His parents had separated before he was even born. His father had walked out while his mother was still pregnant, and she had never heard from him again. After that, his mother had moved back in with her parents, and together the three of them raised Jeff the best they could.
His grandfather had been the rock of the family. A simple, quiet man who worked at a local garage six days a week, fixing cars and sometimes doing night shifts just to make enough money. Jeff still remembered how the old man's hands were always stained with oil, how he would lift Jeff onto his shoulders when he was little, even after a long day of work.
But his grandfather had died first—hit by a car while crossing the street on his way home. It had been quick. Sudden. A drunk driver didn't see him until it was too late.
Jeff had only been ten.
His grandmother was the warm heart of their small home. She cooked, cleaned, and held the family together. Even after losing her husband, she tried her best to stay strong—for Jeff, and for her daughter.
But the grief wore her down over the years. One morning, Jeff had found her collapsed on the kitchen floor. Heart attack, the doctors said. She passed before the ambulance even arrived.
Jeff had been fifteen.
After that, it was just him and his mother.
She had always been sweet, gentle, and full of love—but slowly, her memory began to fade. At first, she forgot small things—keys, names, recipes. Then, one day, she forgot who Jeff was. She looked at him and called him someone else's name.
Alzheimer's. That's what the doctors said. He wondered whether God was playing some kind of joke on his family, always finding new ways to let his close ones die or something.
Watching his mother slip away piece by piece was worse than anything. She was still there, but also... not. Jeff had to take care of her during the last few years of high school. His gave his all to care for her.
Then one night, she simply went to bed and never woke up.
Jeff had just turned twenty.
Now, seven years later, he stood in front of all three graves. The people who gave everything for him. Who struggled for him, worked themselves to the bone for him. They had raised him with love even though they had so little. There were days when there was barely any food in the fridge, but they never let him feel it.
They did their best. All of them.
And Jeff had never gotten the chance to pay them back.
He had grown up, yes—but he never got to take care of them the way they had taken care of him. He didn't get to buy them a house, or take them on a vacation, or even give them a peaceful life in their old age. They died too soon. Each one taken from him before he could make them proud.
He bent down and gently placed a bouquet in front of each headstone. He brushed away some old leaves and dust from the names carved into the stone. His hand lingered a bit longer on his mother's name.
"Hey," he said in a soft voice. "It's me. Jeff."
He let out a small laugh and wiped his nose with the back of his hand.
"Of course it's me. Who else would come out here with flowers and start talking to a bunch of stones like a crazy person?"
He sat down on the grass, folding his legs, resting his arms on his knees.
"I'm going somewhere," he said quietly. "Far away. A different world, actually. A crazy new world. And... I probably won't be coming back."
He stopped to take a breath. His throat felt tight.
"I just didn't want to leave without saying goodbye."
He looked around. The place was empty. Only the wind, the trees, and the smell of flowers stayed with him.
"You always said I had something in me," he continued. "That I was meant for more. Maybe this is my shot. Maybe this is the only way I'll find out."
He looked down again at the headstones. His fingers gently squeezed one of the flower stems.
His his voice dropped, a little unsure, a little broken.
"And… who knows, right? Maybe I'll become strong enough to do something really big over there. Maybe I'll gain some insane power. Maybe I'll even get the power to control time."
He gave a soft, shaky laugh.
"I mean, it's the Marvel Universe. Anything can happen. If I could download abilities of someone like Loki or Kang… maybe—just maybe—I could come back someday. Come back here and... turn back time. Change the past."
His eyes began to sting.
"Bring you back."
He swallowed hard.
"I know it sounds crazy. It probably is. But even if there's a tiny chance—just one in a million—I want to try."
He gently placed his hand on his mother's headstone.
"And if I don't come back," he said softly, "it means I probably died over there. But I'll die trying, Mom. I promise you that. I'll either come back powerful enough to fix this… or not at all."
Jeff stayed sitting on the soft grass in front of the three graves. The names carved on the stones belonged to the people who meant the most to him in the whole world. His hands rested on his knees, and his eyes were still a bit red. But inside, he felt calm now—like all the noise and worry in his head had finally gone quiet.
He felt a bit ready for what was coming.
He closed his eyes and let his mind drift back—not to the sad times, but to the good ones. The happy ones.
He remembered his grandfather's deep, warm laugh as he lifted young Jeff onto his shoulder and pretended to be a giant stomping around the house.
He remembered his grandmother humming while cooking rice and lentils in their small kitchen, the smell of spices and old curtains filling the air.
He remembered his mother gently brushing his hair before school, trying to fix the parts that always stuck up, whispering with a smile, "You're going to do great today."
These were the memories Jeff wanted to keep in his heart. Not the pain. Not how they died. Just the love, the care, and the simple, happy moments they gave him—no matter how hard life was for them.
He sat there for a long time, thinking quietly, his mind moving between the past and the future, between hope and happy memories.
Then, slowly, Jeff willed the golden panel to appear looked at the time.
Only two minutes left.
His heart started beating faster, but he didn't do anything and just sat there quietly, breathing in the warm midday air. The sun was high in the sky now, shining brightly.
Everything around him felt calm and still.
And inside, he felt calm too.
His mind, which had been full of thoughts before, now felt quiet.
Thirty seconds.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting the smell of the grass, flowers, and sunlight fill his lungs. A quiet smile appeared on his face—not because he was happy or sad, but because he felt full. Full of love, full of memories, full of peace.
Ten seconds.
He opened his eyes again and looked at the three gravestones.
"I love you all," he whispered.
Then as the last ten seconds passed by, the golden panel disappeared.
At first, nothing happened.
Then everything started changing.
A soft, golden light began rising from the ground around Jeff. It gently wrapped around his body. It was warm and glowed like mist made of sunlight. At first, it was dim, like a small flame. But soon, it grew brighter and brighter, until Jeff looked like he was sitting inside a glowing golden bubble.
The light flashed once more, brighter than before—and disappeared.
Jeff's body gently tipped over and fell onto the grass with a soft sound.
He was gone.
There was no pain. No scream. No sound.
Just peace.
The sun continued shining above him, lighting up the place where he had spent his final moments. The phone beside him slowly dimmed and turned off.
The wind blew softly across the grassy hill.
Somewhere far in the distance, a bell rang quietly.
---
Hell's Kitchen, New York City – Midnight
Jeff woke up with a loud, choking gasp, his whole body screaming in pain. It wasn't just a small ache. It was sharp and burning, like every part of him was on fire. The pain hit him so hard it felt like he had been hit by a truck.
Cold rain hit his face, falling steadily. But it didn't feel soft. It felt like needles stabbing into his skin. He blinked quickly, trying to clear his eyes, but they stung and wouldn't focus properly. The world around him was spinning.
Then came the awful smell.
Rotting garbage. Blood. Wet concrete. A strong, sour stench that made his stomach twist.
Where was he?
He looked around and found himself lying in a narrow alley somewhere in. A rusted, green dumpster covered in graffiti stood nearby. Trash was everywhere, soaked from the rain. Rats scurried away as he tried to move.
He looked down.
His shirt was soaked in blood. A deep, ugly wound marked his stomach. Blood kept leaking out. Moving made it worse. His left arm had a long, open cut. He could see the skin torn and muscles underneath.
This wasn't what he expected.
He had been waiting to transmigrate. He had prepared for it. He counted the hours. Watched Marvel movies. Said his quiet goodbyes. He was supposed to wake up in the Marvel Cinematic Universe ready to start a new life.
But not like this.
Not already bleeding out in a dark alley.
As he tried to steady his breathing and gather his thoughts, a sharp headache struck him without warning and a flood of unfamiliar memories surged into his mind.
Gunshots. Screams. A chase.
His head ached a little as he processed all the memories. The person whose body he had tramnsigrated into also had the same name as his which was Jeff Morgan.
But the Jeff whose body he had occupied now was different. This Jeff had seen violence. He had lived a rough life as a member of a small gang in Hell's Kitchen—the Grinders.
The pain made more sense now. The memories told him what had happened.
A knife to the stomach. A bullet scraping his arm. Chased through the streets.
His friends—Luca, K, Benny, and Tino—had all died during a surprise attack by the Red Blades, a rival gang.
Only this Jeff had escaped.
He had hidden in this alley.
And that's when the transmigration happened.
Now, the new Jeff—him—was inside this injured body, holding onto life by a thread.
Still Jeff.
But a different Jeff.
A groan escaped his lips as another wave of pain hit him hard in the stomach. He turned slightly to his side, gasping for air. His teeth clenched tight from the fire burning in his gut.
He pressed one shaky hand against the open wound. Blood oozed between his fingers, warm and thick.
He almost screamed.
But he didn't.
He couldn't make a sound.
They were still looking for him.
The Red Blades. They weren't far. Maybe a few streets away. Maybe closer.
If they found him now—bleeding, weak, barely holding on—it would be the end.
They'd kill him.
He had no strength. No weapon. No allies. Nothing.
He leaned back against the wall, chest rising and falling. He let out a slow, shallow breath, careful not to make too much noise.
He didn't know how much longer he could stay awake.
Or how much longer he had before one of them found him.
It could happen any second.
He had to do something.
Right now, there was only one thing that could save him.
The system.
Gritting his teeth, Jeff quickly willed the system panel to open.
The moment he had the thought, a golden panel appeared before his eyes.
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