12 August 2013 (19:54 PM):- HYDRA Research Base, Sokovia
Deep within the forgotten sublevels of a HYDRA base, buried beneath the soil of Sokovia, a single cryogenic pod stood untouched by the decay around it. Within, a young man floated in a viscous, bioluminescent gel, his body still and serene, as if sculpted from moonlight and marble. He appeared no older than nineteen.
Even in stasis, his presence was unsettlingly perfect. Silver hair drifted around a face of sharp, elegant lines, catching the faint glow of the gel and casting a soft halo. His was a beauty not born but engineered, a living weapon crafted for a purpose he was yet to discover, and it was utterly out of place in the cold, industrial tomb of a HYDRA vault.
For a long moment, the only sound was the low hum of failing machinery. Then, the young man's eyelids fluttered open.
The first sensation was not sight or sound, but a violent superimposition of memory. A life that wasn't his slammed into his consciousness—the life of a boy named Kaven. Nineteen years old. An orphan from California who had clawed his way through life with stubborn grit.
He saw flashes: the flickering fluorescent lights of a library during late-night study sessions; the hollow silence of an empty dorm room; the quiet pride of small triumphs no one else ever witnessed. Then came the final memory—the squeal of tires, the blinding glare of headlights, and a sudden, crushing oblivion.
And now… this.
He blinked, his new eyes adjusting to the soft green glow of the pod. A gasp tore from his throat, but no air came—only a thick, cold fluid. Panic flared, but some dormant instinct took over, and his lungs processed the oxygenated gel. Staring back at him from the curved glass was a stranger's reflection: silver hair, flawless skin, a face too perfect to be his own.
"What the f**k…" The words were a muffled thought, a silent scream in the fluid, his mind reeling.
The realization struck him not like a storm, but like a physical blow: he wasn't Kaven anymore. He was a passenger—no, a prisoner—inside someone else's body.
His senses slowly came online, each one a fresh horror. The low, guttural hum of the base's life support. The oppressive chill of the gel clinging to every inch of his skin. And, most terrifyingly, the faint, rhythmic echo of footsteps. Distant, but drawing closer.
He pressed his palms against the inner wall of the pod, the glass slick and unyielding. The footsteps grew louder, more distinct. Someone was coming.
Move, he pleaded with himself. Come on, move!
Something deep within the body answered. Not a thought, but a feeling—a raw, untamed power coiling in his veins, begging for release. He knew, with an instinct that defied logic, that he could shatter this prison.
But when he tried to command his limbs, they responded with clumsy, agonizing slowness. It was like learning to walk again. His muscles, though perfectly formed, felt alien and uncooperative. Every desperate motion was awkward, sending bubbles of displaced gel swirling around him. The disconnect between the immense power he could feel and his inability to control his own hands was maddening.
The pod was not a prison. It was a womb. And as the footsteps stopped just outside, he knew that if he didn't break free now, this perfect body would become his tomb.
Kaven could feel it. That strange pull inside him, raw and restless, pressing against the edges of his new body like a caged beast desperate for release. He didn't understand it—didn't know what would happen if he let it out—but the pressure was rising, climbing higher with every panicked breath.
And then it broke.
A crack of thunder tore through the silence, and the world erupted.
The pod shattered in an instant, glass and metal exploding outward as if struck by a storm. A shockwave of invisible force slammed into the walls, denting steel and splintering monitors into sparks. The floor groaned under the weight of the blast, deep cracks spiderwebbing across the concrete.
In the centre of the chaos, Kaven floated—suspended above the wreckage, silver hair drifting weightlessly around his face. Power radiated from him in pulsing waves, bending the air, warping the light. His body trembled, not from weakness now, but from the sheer force straining to be controlled.
His chest heaved as he looked around, wide-eyed and terrified. He hadn't just broken free. He had announced himself.
And somewhere beyond the shattered doorway… footsteps were still coming closer. Kaven's chest rose and fell in ragged breaths as the last echoes of the blast faded into silence. Shards of glass and twisted steel clung to the walls, still dripping with streaks of glowing gel. Monitors sparked and hissed, wires dangling like torn veins from the ceiling.
And at the center of it all—him.
Hovering a few feet above the wreckage, his body slowly descended until his bare feet touched the cold floor. His knees buckled, and he stumbled forward, catching himself against a half-destroyed console. His heart hammered in his chest, louder than the ringing in his ears.
"What… what the hell was that?" he whispered, staring down at his trembling hands.
He remembered it vividly—the surge of pressure, the thunder, the explosion that tore his prison apart. He had done that. He had unleashed it.
"Thunder…? Telekinesis?" His voice cracked with disbelief. "What the f**k is happening to me?"
Kaven looked around, panic gnawing at him as the reality set in. He wasn't just trapped in a new body—he was sitting on top of powers that made no sense, powers that could level a room with a single slip of control.
And worse—someone had put him here.
The footsteps outside the ruined chamber had grown closer. Whoever they were, they would see this. They would see him.
Kevin staggered to his feet, every muscle in his new body stiff and unsteady, but his instincts screamed one thing—get out. The chamber around him was in ruins, walls cracked, machinery sparking, the acrid smell of burnt wires choking the air.
Through the ringing in his ears, he could hear them—footsteps. Heavy boots, organized, purposeful. They were getting closer. Whoever they were, they were coming straight for him.
Kevin's pulse spiked. He didn't know where he was, why he was here, or what this body even was. But one thing was certain: if they found him now, weak and disoriented, he wouldn't stand a chance.
He pressed his palm against the ruined wall, steadying himself, his silver hair falling into his eyes. His senses—sharper now than ever before—picked up the faint metallic click of guns being readied just outside the locked doorway.
"No… no, I can't stay here," he muttered under his breath, panic clawing at him.
The door groaned as someone began forcing it open.
Kevin clenched his fists, every nerve alive with fear and that strange, uncontrollable power. He didn't know how to use it, didn't even understand it
The ruined chamber door screeched as it was forced open, metal buckling against its hinges. Four armed guards stormed in, rifles raised, their boots pounding against the cracked floor. Behind them followed men in white lab coats, their faces grim, their eyes fixed on Kevin like predators staring at prey.
One of the scientists stepped forward, clutching a device that glowed faintly with red light. He began muttering words—sharp, rehearsed syllables, the cadence of command rather than speech. The sound slithered into Kevin's ears, coiling in his mind like chains snapping shut.
Suddenly, a fog washed over him. His thoughts blurred, his body trembled. He felt it—something clawing inside his head, trying to take control, trying to bend him like a puppet on strings. Panic flooded his chest.
"No… no!" he gasped, clutching his skull.
And then it broke.
Thunder cracked like a wrathful god, and a wave of telekinetic force exploded outward from him. The blast tore through the chamber like a hurricane. The guards were hurled into the walls, their rifles snapping in two, bodies crumpling under the invisible strike. The scientist's words were cut short as arcs of silver lightning erupted from Kevin's body, leaping across the air and charring him where he stood. His scream was drowned in the roar of power.
When the chaos settled, smoke curled from scorched walls, the air thick with the stench of ozone and burnt flesh.
Kevin stood in the center, trembling, eyes wide with shock. He hadn't meant to—he hadn't even tried. The power had answered on its own, shredding his enemies and burning away the fog in his mind.
"What… what the hell am I?" he whispered, his voice raw, his hands shaking as sparks of energy still danced across his fingertips.
Kevin's chest heaved as he staggered back, his eyes locked on the blackened corpses sprawled across the floor. The acrid stench of smoke and blood filled the chamber, making his stomach churn. His trembling hands refused to steady—he hadn't been in control. It had just… happened.
"I killed them…" he whispered, his voice breaking. The weight of it pressed down on him, but instinct screamed louder: leave. Now.
Forcing his shaking legs to move, Kevin stepped out of the ruined pod chamber. Each step was unsteady, like walking for the first time, but he pushed forward. The hallway beyond stretched in both directions, sterile and cold, its metal walls humming faintly with unseen machinery.
He paused, listening. Nothing. No voices. No alarms. No footsteps.
The silence was almost worse than the chaos.
Kevin swallowed hard. He knew nothing of where he was—only that it was underground, hidden, and that someone had put him here. Somewhere in this labyrinth, there had to be answers. Who he was now. What this body was. Why they had kept him locked in a pod like an experiment.
But most importantly: a way out.
He moved down the corridor, slow at first, then faster as his confidence returned. He hugged the walls, every sense sharpened, flinching at the faint flicker of overhead lights.
No one came. The hallways were empty, eerily abandoned.
Kevin's thoughts raced. Find out what they did to me. Find a way out. Don't get caught.
His fingers brushed against the smooth wall as he walked, guiding him deeper into the unknown, until the silence itself felt like it was watching him.
The silence pressed heavier the farther Kevin walked. The hallways stretched endlessly, sterile and lifeless, but the deeper he went the more signs of… something… appeared.
Shattered glass panels. Rusted surgical tools. Empty pods like the one he had been trapped in, their insides cracked and bone-dry. Some still had faint outlines burned into the gel, as if others had once been inside them.
Kevin's stomach tightened. He wasn't the first.
The air grew colder as he turned a final corner—and there it was. A massive steel door, half-open, its frame scorched as though it had survived some great fire. Beyond it, a cavernous chamber spread wide, dark and hollow.
The control room.
Kevin stepped inside cautiously. Rows of consoles stood lifeless, their screens shattered or coated in dust. Chairs were toppled over, wires tangled across the floor like veins from a dead machine. The only sound was the hum of a single, surviving computer at the far end of the room. Its screen glowed faintly, casting a pale light in the otherwise empty chamber.
Everything else was abandoned. But that… that machine was still awake.
Kevin swallowed hard, his legs trembling but carrying him forward. His reflection swam across the black glass of the screen as he stopped in front of it.
One computer. One possible answer.
His hand hovered over the keyboard.
Kevin's fingers hesitated above the keyboard, but the strangest thing happened—he knew what to do. His mind worked differently now, sharper, faster, as if the patterns of the machine unfolded naturally before him. Every line of code, every encrypted lock, it all clicked together in his head like puzzle pieces falling into place.
Within minutes, the system opened to him.
A list of files spread across the screen, most corrupted or marked as "ARCHIVED." One stood out, glowing faintly with a red tag:
PROJECT CHIMERA
Kevin clicked.
The screen shifted, filling with reports, schematics, and fragments of video logs. His eyes darted across the words, and his blood ran cold.
Project Chimera was conceived as the ultimate weapon. Designed and engineered by Hydra's scientific division, the experiment combined genetic material harvested from two extraordinary sources: Anthony Edward Stark and the Asgardian deity known as Thor Odinson.
Kevin's hands froze.
"No… no way…" he whispered.
Hydra. Tony Stark. Thor. These weren't just names—they were Marvel names.
His head spun, nausea rising. This can't be real. This is… this is a fucking fanfiction plot.
But the words kept scrolling.
The Chimera vessel exceeded all expectations in physical design and genetic stability. However, the project failed. The body was flawless, but soulless. No consciousness to inhabit it. After years of failure, the project was terminated and sealed in 2011.
Kevin leaned back, his heart hammering. His eyes widened as the final lines burned across the screen:
Subject status: EMPTY. No host soul detected.
Update: anomaly registered. Unknown consciousness integration detected.
Kevin's breath hitched. The truth slammed into him like that truck all over again.
I'm not supposed to be here. This body was empty.
He whispered, almost afraid of the words:
"I… I'm in Marvel. I'm in the Marvel Universe."
Kevin staggered back from the glowing monitor, his knees nearly giving out beneath him. His breath came sharp and shallow, his pulse racing so fast it hurt.
"Marvel… no… no, this isn't—this isn't real," he muttered, shaking his head. But the words on the screen didn't vanish. They glared back at him like cruel truths carved in stone.
DNA of Thor Odinson.
Genetic code of Anthony Edward Stark.
The Chimera Project.
Kevin's chest tightened. He pressed a trembling hand against the cold console, his mind spinning out of control.
"Thor. Freaking Thor. And Tony Stark. Iron Man. What the f**k—" His voice broke, laughter bubbling out, half hysterical, half terrified. "This… this is insane. This is a fanfiction plot. A goddamn fanfiction plot."
But the computer files were clear. They had built the perfect body—a vessel with divine blood and genius intellect. And it had no soul… until he arrived.
Kevin clenched his fists, staring at his reflection in the monitor. The silver hair, the flawless skin, the inhuman beauty. It wasn't him. It was never him.
"I'm… inside a body made from Thor and Tony f**king Stark," he whispered, the words tasting unreal on his tongue.
For a long moment, he just stood there, reeling, the enormity of it all pressing down on him like the weight of the universe. This wasn't just a second chance at life. This was something else. Something terrifying.
And somewhere, out there, the Avengers were real.
Kevin pressed his palms to the console, staring down at the flickering text as if it might change, as if it might all vanish and prove this was some insane dream. But it didn't. The truth was brutal and simple.
He was in Marvel.
The Marvel Universe.
His gut twisted. His mind reeled with everything he knew from his past life—the Chitauri invasion, Ultron, Sokovia, Thanos snapping half of existence away, gods, monsters, cosmic horrors. All of it.
And he was here. Inside a body that wasn't supposed to exist.
"Holy sh*t…" he whispered, dragging a trembling hand down his face. "I'm screwed. I'm so screwed."
A bitter laugh escaped him, echoing in the dead room. He could practically see the dominoes: Loki invading with an army, Ultron trying to wipe out humanity, Thanos—f**king Thanos—snapping half the universe.
And him? He wasn't an Avenger. He wasn't a hero. He was just Kevin, some reincarnated college kid who got unlucky enough to play truck-kun bingo.
But then his eyes flicked back to the files. DNA of Thor. DNA of Tony Stark. The words dug into him, igniting something deeper. Maybe this body wasn't just a curse. Maybe it was a chance.
He swallowed hard.
"Alright… okay… breathe. First step—figure out where I am. When I am. If it's before all that sh*t goes down, maybe… maybe I can prepare. Hide. Train. Whatever."
His voice trembled, but his gaze hardened.
"Because if Thanos is out there… if Ultron is out there… if Hydra is out there—then I need to survive. I have to survive."
The monitor hummed, its glow reflecting in his silver eyes. Kevin pushed himself upright, legs still unsteady, but his resolve burning stronger than before.
He wasn't just Kevin anymore. He was something new. Something dangerous.
Kevin's fingers danced across the keyboard, cutting deeper into the archives. He ignored corrupted experiment logs, ignored weapon blueprints, ignored everything except what mattered most—time.
Finally, he found it.
A system record, still active.
System Log: September 2013
Kevin froze. His breath caught in his throat.
"2013…" he whispered.
Memories of movies and storylines from his old world flared in his mind like warning lights. 2012 was New York—the Avengers versus Loki. That's already happened. Which meant…
The Chitauri invasion is over. The Avengers are formed. Tony's already Iron Man. Thor's already been to Earth. The world knows gods and aliens are real.
His palms grew clammy. And if it's 2013… then the Mandarin fiasco in Iron Man 3 should be happening—or just happened. SHIELD is still alive, Hydra's still hidden inside it, and Ultron is still years away.
Kevin leaned back in the chair, his silver hair falling into his eyes, his heart hammering.
"That means I've got… time," he muttered, almost disbelieving. "At least a couple of years before Ultron. Before Thanos. Before… all of it."
Relief washed through him, sharp and shaky. He wasn't in the middle of a catastrophe—yet. But the clock was ticking.
His gaze drifted back to the glowing screen. The words "PROJECT CHIMERA" glared at him like a scar. A body made from Thor and Tony Stark, waiting for a soul. His soul.
Kevin swallowed hard, a mix of dread and strange excitement flooding his chest.
"Okay… I don't know how I got here. I don't know why. But I do know one thing." His voice trembled, but his silver eyes burned with determination.
"I have time to prepare. And I won't waste it.