Chapter 1 — Arrival in New York
I'd seen Captain America: The First Avenger a dozen times, but for some reason that night, it hit harder.
The lab scene was playing — lights flashing, gunshots ringing, and that little vial of blue liquid rolling across the floor. When it shattered, I actually winced. "There goes the greatest discovery of the century," I muttered, sinking deeper into the couch.
The scientist — Dr. Erskine — lay dying while the dream of the perfect soldier dissolved with him. I stared at the screen long after it faded to black.
"So many things just… lost," I said quietly. "The serum, Howard Stark's first prototypes, half the science no one ever rebuilt. What a waste."
The TV screen dimmed to its reflection. I could see my own face — tired eyes, messy hair, cheap T-shirt — someone who'd watched one too many superhero stories and believed none of them could ever be real.
"If I could go back," I said aloud, mostly to fill the silence, "if I could just grab the stuff everyone missed — the broken things, the forgotten things — I'd be unstoppable. Genius, billionaire, superhero. All in one."
The air buzzed. Not a sound, exactly, but a vibration that ran through the floor, through my skin. I froze. The room shimmered at the edges, like heat haze in summer.
Then a voice, low and amused, echoed from nowhere and everywhere at once.
"Unstoppable, hmm? That's quite the dream for someone sitting in his underwear."
I jumped up, looking around. "Who said that?!"
The world blurred — colors bleeding into white. I blinked and found myself standing in what looked like an endless expanse of stars. The ground glowed faintly beneath my feet, though there wasn't really a "ground" at all.
And standing — or floating — before me was… someone. Or something.
He (if it was a he) looked vaguely human but shimmered like a mirage. His eyes contained galaxies. His voice rumbled like a thousand echoes overlapping.
"Who are you?" I asked.
"Names are… unnecessary. Call me whatever helps you think straight."
"Alright, fine. 'God'? 'Alien'? 'Overpowered narrator'?"
He chuckled. "Close enough. ROB will do."
"ROB? As in Random Omnipotent Being?"
He tilted his head. "You've read too much fanfiction."
I rubbed the back of my neck. "Okay, this is either a dream, a mental breakdown, or I'm about to be abducted by Marvel's writer's room."
"None of the above," ROB said. "You're interesting. You notice the small things others ignore — the vial, the scientist, the lost potential. You don't just want power; you want what's forgotten. That's… refreshing."
I blinked. "Refreshing enough to do what?"
"To give you a chance," he said simply. "A new world. New rules. The Marvel Cinematic Universe, as you call it."
I stared at him. "You mean—"
"Yes. That one."
"Why me?"
"Because you asked. Because I was listening. Because I'm bored."
"That's not reassuring."
He smiled — or something like it. "Think of it as an experiment. I'll grant you a few abilities to make things… survivable."
I crossed my arms. "Let me guess — strings attached?"
"Only the ones you tie yourself," he said. "Your gifts: the ability to leap through time once every seven days; to absorb the knowledge or powers of the dying; and a body and soul that will evolve to handle it."
"That sounds…" I swallowed, "insane."
"Everything worth doing usually is."
I stared into those starlit eyes, feeling the weight of what he was offering. "And if I refuse?"
He shrugged. "Then you wake up and forget this conversation. Live your life, watch your movies, and always wonder what if."
The stars pulsed brighter.
My chest tightened. "Alright. Let's see what happens."
"Excellent."
The space around me rippled. I barely had time to shout before light swallowed everything.
---
I woke up to sunlight stabbing my eyes. Asphalt beneath my back. Noise — car horns, chatter, the distant cry of a street vendor.
New York.
I sat up fast. Skyscrapers glinted all around me. A huge electronic billboard overhead flashed in bold letters:
STARK INDUSTRIES — BUILDING THE FUTURE.
My brain stopped working for a full three seconds.
Then a taxi screeched to a halt inches from my legs.
"Watch it, kid!" the driver yelled.
I stumbled onto the sidewalk. My reflection in a glass door caught my eye — I looked younger. Eighteen, maybe. No stubble, no eye bags. My body felt lighter, stronger.
The voice from earlier echoed faintly in my head.
"Welcome, Traveller."
Words flickered across my vision like holographic text.
[Initialization Complete]
Abilities Granted:
1. Temporal Leap — travel once every seven days.
2. Soul Copy — absorb knowledge or power from the newly dead.
3. Adaptive Evolution — body and mind evolve to handle what you gain.
I stared at the empty air. "Okay, that's… definitely not a dream."
People walked past without noticing a thing.
I wandered aimlessly for a few blocks, trying to blend in, but everything screamed MCU. The cars, the tech, the skyline. A newspaper stand confirmed it:
"STARK DEMONSTRATES JERICHO MISSILE IN AFGHANISTAN."
"Holy…" I whispered. "I'm in 2008. Tony's about to get kidnapped."
A man nearby collapsed suddenly on the pavement. A few bystanders gasped. I ran over without thinking. "Hey! Sir? Are you alright?"
No pulse. No movement.
Then it happened — a rush of images, sounds, sensations. His memories, his skills, his thoughts at the edge of death surged into me like a wave. I saw flashes of his life: working as a mechanic, tuning engines, fighting in a war.
When it ended, I staggered back, gasping. My hands tingled. My mind… knew things. I could name every part of a carburetor, recall field medical procedures, even estimate wind direction by instinct.
Someone shouted, "Paramedics are coming!" I nodded, stepping aside as they rushed in.
"Kid, you okay?" one asked.
"Yeah," I said automatically. "Just… trying to help."
I watched them drive away, my thoughts spinning.
ROB hadn't been lying. The power worked — terrifying and real.
The wind tugged at my clothes as I looked up at the skyline again. Stark Industries. Oscorp. Roxxon. Every lost secret waiting to be rediscovered.
I smiled faintly. "Alright, ROB. Let's see how far your 'experiment' goes."
Somewhere in the distance, a plane roared across the sky, leaving a thin white trail behind it.
I adjusted my jacket and started walking. I didn't know where I was headed, only that every step now mattered. Somewhere out there, history was waiting to be rewritten — and I was the one holding the pen.
End of Chapter 1 — Arrival in New York