Ethan Kane had always been a Marvel fan. Not just any fan—a true believer, as Stan Lee might say. His shelves were filled with comics spanning decades, from the Kree-Skrull War to the tragic Dark Phoenix Saga. On this particular night, he was poring over a Fantastic Four issue, one of his favorite team's ongoing feud with Doctor Doom keeping him up later than he intended.
As he read, a thought lingered: What would it really be like to live in their world?
With that, sleep claimed him.
The sunlight was too bright. Ethan stirred, groaning, and reached for his phone to check the time. But it wasn't where he'd left it. The nightstand was gone—replaced by an old wooden table he didn't recognize. The walls, once a familiar shade of blue, were a faded cream, adorned with vintage movie posters he had never seen before. A desk cluttered with items he didn't recognize.
"What the...?"
Rubbing his eyes, Ethan sat up, his breath hitching as he noticed the room's unfamiliarity. His bed felt different too—firmer, like it had been pulled from a spring mattress from a 90s sitcom set. His pulse quickened, panic clawing its way into his chest.
His heart quickened as he stumbled to his feet, his bare toes meeting cool hardwood. It didn't make sense. He hadn't fallen asleep here. He stumbled into the hall, his breath catching at the old wallpaper and mismatched furniture. This wasn't his house.
"What the...? Mom? Dad?" he called out, but even his voice felt foreign in this setting.
He stepped cautiously into the hall, his senses heightened. The house was eerily silent. When he found the kitchen, two strangers stood there—a man and a woman, chatting over coffee as if everything were perfectly normal. They turned to him and smiled warmly.
"Morning, sweetie," the woman said. "Breakfast is ready."
Ethan froze, staring at them. Sweetie? These weren't his parents.
The man's brow furrowed at his silence. "Something wrong, son? You don't look so good."
"Who... who are you?" His voice cracked.
The man frowned. "What kind of question is that? Ethan, are you feeling okay?"
"No," Ethan said bluntly, backing away. "No, I'm not."
He turned and bolted for the front door. He heard the strangers calling after him, their voices edged with confusion and panic, but he didn't stop. He needed answers—and air.
The street was alive with activity, but something was off. Cars looked older, their boxy frames from another era. Newspapers on a corner stand bore dates from the mid-90s. People hurried along, but the air had an electricity to it—a tension that prickled the back of Ethan's neck.
He walked in a daze, the city buzzing around him, but his mind stuck on the surreal scene he'd just fled.
"Okay," he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair. "This has to be a dream. There's no way this is real."
But if it wasn't real, why did the pavement feel so cold under his bare feet? Why could he taste the faint tang of smog in the air?
He didn't have time to dwell. A loud boom ripped through the air, shaking the ground beneath him. He whipped around, and his jaw dropped.
Two blocks away, a battle was raging. Flames licked at the sky as cars and debris rained down. Ethan's stomach twisted when he saw them—actual superheroes.
The Fantastic Four were locked in combat with none other than Doctor Doom. The Human Torch zipped through the air, hurling fireballs. The Thing charged headfirst, his fists meeting Doom's gauntlets in a thunderous clash. Reed Richards stretched across the battlefield, trying to disarm Doom's weapons, while Sue Storm's force fields shielded civilians.
It was mesmerizing—and terrifying.
"This can't be real," Ethan whispered, taking a shaky step back. But the scene was impossible to deny.
As he stared, trying to process the madness, something new happened. A translucent screen appeared in his field of vision, faint and flickering like a hologram.
[Ability Detected: Energy Manipulation (Doctor Doom) – S-Rank]
[Ability Detected: Elasticity (Reed Richards) – B-Rank]
[Ability Detected: Pyrokinesis (Johnny Storm) – A-Rank]
Ethan blinked, his breath catching.
"What... is this?" he muttered. He reached out, but his fingers passed through the screen like smoke. It floated there, listing abilities as he focused on each character.
When Doom raised a hand to blast the Human Torch, the screen flickered again.
[Do you wish to copy this ability?]
Ethan froze. Copy it? The words pulsed faintly, waiting for a response. His heart raced as he stared at Doom's power. S-Rank. That should be as good as it got. But then the weight of the situation hit him.
This wasn't a game. This was Doctor Doom—a man so dangerous that even the gods would tread carefully around him. If Ethan copied that power, it would put a target on his back so big, even the Fantastic Four might come after him.
"I can't... not until I understand what is goin on here," he muttered, taking a shaky step back.
His thoughts spiraled. What even was this screen? Why him? How was any of this possible? The questions battered his mind, each more pressing than the last.
Before he could think further, a blast of energy tore through the air, slamming into the street just feet from where he stood. The force sent him flying, his body smashing against a parked car. Pain exploded in his ribs as the world spun.
He coughed, tasting blood, and dimly heard people screaming around him. He forced himself to his hands and knees, his vision blurring. He barely registered Doom turning toward him, his cold metal face scanning the crowd.
For a terrifying moment, Ethan thought Doom saw him. But then Doom turned back to the Fantastic Four, unleashing another attack.
Ethan didn't wait to see what happened next. Clutching his side, he staggered to his feet and limped away as fast as his legs could carry him.
Ethan woke hours later in a hospital bed. The sterile white walls were a far cry from the chaos of earlier, but his body throbbed with every breath, a reminder of just how close he'd come to death.
He stared at the ceiling, his mind replaying the battle over and over. The excitement he'd felt at seeing superheroes in the flesh was gone, replaced by cold, unrelenting fear.
"This isn't a dream," he muttered. "This is real."
He turned his head to the window, where he could see smoke rising in the distance. Another battle. Another reminder of how fragile life was in the world of Marvel if you weren't a hero or villian.
His hands trembled as he remembered the pain and fear he felt when he was hit by that blast. As he was think he noticed a blue dot at the edge of his sight. When he focused on it the screen from before—the system activated.
[Ability Detected: Energy Manipulation (Doctor Doom) – S-Rank]
[Ability Detected: Elasticity (Reed Richards) – B-Rank]
[Ability Detected: Pyrokinesis (Johnny Storm) – A-Rank]
[Do you wish to copy this ability?]
It was still there, faintly flickering, waiting. He swallowed hard, a steely resolve settling over him.
"So if I don't use this, I'm dead right?" he said quietly. "But how does it work? I need to figure it out. Fast."