Chapter 1: Awakening in Chaos
The storm had been a beast, a snarling monster of wind and rain that tore through Jax Reed's world like it had a personal vendetta. He'd been trudging home from another soul-sucking day at his desk job, the kind where the clock mocked him with every tick, when the billboard—an obnoxious ad for some energy drink promising "unleashed power"—gave way under the gale's fury. It crashed down with a groan of twisted metal, and in that split second, Jax's life ended in a blur of pain and irony. No heroic last stand, no poignant final thought about the adventures he'd never chased. Just a fleeting, bitter chuckle in his mind.
"Well, that's one way to ruin a Tuesday."
Then, darkness.
But darkness didn't smell like mildew and cheap whiskey. Jax's eyes snapped open, his head pounding like he'd gone ten rounds with a hangover. He was sprawled on a sagging mattress, springs creaking under his weight, in a room that screamed "budget motel hell." Rain tapped a relentless rhythm against a grimy window, the sound muffled by curtains so yellowed they looked like they'd been dipped in nicotine. The air was thick with the scent of damp mold and stale cigarettes, a combination that made his stomach churn. He sat up, wincing as the room tilted slightly, his body feeling… off. Not broken, but foreign, like he was wearing someone else's skin.
"What the actual fuck?" he rasped, his voice rough but unmistakably his own, laced with the sarcasm that had been his shield against the monotony of his old life.
He swung his legs over the bed, bare feet hitting cold linoleum, and took in the scene: peeling floral wallpaper that might've been cheerful in the 70s, a nightstand cluttered with empty beer cans, and a flickering TV mounted on the wall, casting blue shadows across a carpet that looked like it had seen unspeakable things. The TV blared a news report about "Butterfly cleanup operations in Evergreen," showing hazmat teams hauling away grotesque, insect-like creatures. Jax's brow furrowed, a spark of excitement cutting through the disorientation. Butterflies? This wasn't his world—not the cubicle prison, not the gray city he'd left behind. This was something else, something chaotic and bloody, like the violent anti-hero stories he'd binged to escape his reality. He smirked, despite himself.
"From cubicle to chaos—five-star downgrade, universe. Thanks a bunch."
Jax stumbled to a cracked mirror above the sink, his reflection catching him off guard. Same tousled brown hair, same sharp jaw shadowed by stubble, same hazel eyes glinting with a mix of bewilderment and dark amusement. But there was a vitality there, a sharpness he hadn't seen in years, like the weight of his regrets had been crushed under that billboard. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling the unfamiliar texture, and muttered,
"Gotham gloom matches my mood, huh?"
The quip felt hollow, a reflex to keep the creeping panic at bay. His old life—paperwork, microwave dinners, and a Netflix queue full of The Boys—felt like a dream fading in the morning light. But this place, this Evergreen, was real. Too real.
A sharp chime cut through his thoughts, and a translucent interface flickered into existence, floating in his vision like a sci-fi hologram. It was cold, clinical, and utterly alien, with text that burned into his retinas.
[SYSTEM: WELCOME, HOST.]
[TRANSMIGRATION COMPLETE.]
[SUPE-SYNERGY ENGINE ACTIVATED.]
[BASE STATS SET: STRENGTH 1, AGILITY 1, CONSTITUTION 1, WILLPOWER 1.]
[AWAITING ACKNOWLEDGEMENT.]
Jax blinked, trying to swat the display away, but his hand passed through empty air.
"Okay, universe, you've officially lost it," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "What's next, a tutorial for my new life as a cosmic pawn?"
The words were barely out when the interface shifted, a holographic figure materializing—a genderless, featureless silhouette that spoke in a monotone that made his skin crawl.
[SYSTEM: TUTORIAL INITIATED.]
[SUMMONING PROTOCOL: TEMPORARY BACKUP.]
[SUMMON SUPES FROM DESIGNATED UNIVERSE FOR 2-5 MINUTES, BOUND TO COMMANDS.]
[RESIDUAL ECHO: PERMANENT STAT GROWTH POST-SUMMON.]
[ROGUE RISK: STRONGER SUPES MAY RESIST CONTROL.]
[DAILY LIMIT: 1 SUMMON, CUMULATES TO 3.]
[DANGER SCALING ACTIVE.]
[NAVIGATE INTERFACE TO BEGIN.]
Jax's mouth twitched into a smirk, but his heart was racing.
"So, Homelander's a tantrum bomb? Noted."
He paced the room, boots scuffing the carpet, and twirled a pen he'd found on the nightstand, a nervous habit forming as his mind grappled with the absurdity.
"Alright, System, let's play your game. What's the catch? I get superpowers, but I'm on a leash?"
The interface didn't respond to his sarcasm, just pulsed with a new prompt:
[SYSTEM: NAVIGATE STAT SCREEN TO PROCEED.]
He focused, and the display shifted, showing a grid of his stats—Strength, Agility, Constitution, Willpower—all at a pathetic 1.
"Great, I'm a superhero with the stats of a wet noodle," he muttered, tapping at the air to test the interface.
It responded instantly, menus sliding into view with options like Summon, Upgrades, and Synergy Points: 0. The weight of it settled over him like a storm cloud—this wasn't a game he could quit. He was in deep, and the system's secrecy rule meant he couldn't even tell anyone.
"Just me and my new invisible overlord. Fantastic."
Needing to ground himself, Jax rummaged through the nightstand drawers, finding a crumpled receipt dated 2026—impossible, considering his last memory was 2025. His fingers tightened around it, the paper crinkling as he muttered,
"Time travel, too? Universe, you're overdoing it."
He tucked it into his pocket, a tangible clue in this nightmare. Next, he spotted a rusty pocketknife, its blade dulled but heavy in his hand. He twirled it absentmindedly, the motion soothing his frayed nerves, a quirk he didn't know he'd keep. Crossing to the room's tiny coffee maker, he tried brewing a cup, but the machine sputtered, spitting out a sludge that smelled like burnt regret.
"Perfect," he grumbled, spilling some on his shirt and cursing as it burned his hand. "Blood's red paint for heroes, but coffee's just pain."
The TV droned on, the anchor's voice cutting through: "Evergreen's recovery continues after the Butterfly invasion. Authorities urge caution…"
Jax's ears perked up. Butterfly invasion? The footage showed twisted, insect-like corpses, and his pulse quickened. This was his kind of chaos—bloody, messy, and ripe for an anti-hero like him. He needed answers, and the motel wasn't giving them. The receipt and the news pointed to one place: a bar, where locals might spill secrets. He grabbed a worn leather jacket from the chair, its sleeves scuffed, and headed for the door, pausing as a faint whisper echoed in his mind—not the system, but something else, soft and cryptic:
"Chosen for balance…"
He froze, glancing at the window, but saw only rain and shadows.
"Great, now I'm hearing voices. Next stop, crazy town."
As he stepped into the rain, the system pinged again.
[SYSTEM: TUTORIAL COMPLETE.]
[PROCEED TO GATHER INTEL.]
[DESTINATION: LOCAL BAR.]
[CUMULATE SUMMONS: 0.]
Jax pulled the jacket tighter, the rain soaking through as he trudged toward the neon glow of Evergreen's streets, a mix of dread and thrill bubbling in his chest. Whatever this world was, it was his now, and he was ready to paint it red.
To supporting Me in Pateron .
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