[... It replicates. It escalates.
Defense officials argue that no single individual—no matter how brilliant—should possess privately controlled military-grade technology capable of destabilizing global security. The concern is not whether Tony Stark is a hero. The concern is whether any one man should have unilateral control over a weapon system that nations themselves cannot counter.
Is this about freedom? Or accountability?
As other governments race to develop their own armored programs, the—]
Dozens of TVs played the same channel. The blue eyes of a man wearing a hood kept staring at the screens without blinking.
In the small town of Puente Antiguo, New Mexico, the night was at its peak, wrapped in sand and silence. At the outskirts, wearing a black hood, a homeless man stood still, watching the news as if it was the only thing anchoring him to reality.
[... Hammer Industries tomorrow night will display their new products at the Stark Expo...]
Bzz. Bzz.
The moment did not last long as the TVs began shutting off one after another. It was closing time after all.
"Tsk." Looking at the screens going dark, Damon clicked his tongue before stepping back and leaving the area. "..Can't they close a little later sometimes?"
"Anyways... tomorrow is the day, huh?" Damon stopped in his tracks as he looked up at the dark sky stretching endlessly above him.
The horizon was swallowed by sand and darkness as Damon sighed, and when he closed his eyes, he saw it again—the pitch-black void inside his consciousness where a golden wheel with eight spokes floated silently.
The Dharma Chakra.
Floating there in absolute stillness, glowing faintly, the symbol of the fan-favorite overpowered shikigami stared back at him as much as he stared at it.
Yes, yes, the one and only—Eight-Handled Sword Divergent Sila Divine General Mahoraga. The Big Raga himself.
Three days ago he had been nothing more than a normal weeb with an idea to write a fanfic about a man with Mahoraga's abilities finding himself in the Marvel world. It sounded fun, something ridiculous and overpowered to pass the time, but who knew that before he would even finish writing a single chapter he would be sucked into his laptop and thrown straight into the very world of Marvel itself?
The world where gods walk among men, where a billionaire playboy acts as a hero in a suit of futuristic weapons, where spy agencies claim to protect the world while being infested by a super-evil organization, where super soldiers, aliens, magicians and monsters casually exist like it's normal.
A complete mess of a world.
Finding himself in this world, inhabiting the same 5'10 body with the same handsome face he had written for Damon, he had refused to believe it at first. Getting sucked inside a laptop? Into a fictional universe? Who would believe something that absurd? Damon didn't. He slept on the streets the first night convincing himself this was nothing more than a dream, only to wake up again with TV shows talking about Iron Man and the attack on Monaco.
Homeless, without an ID, without money, Damon spent the entire day questioning reality again before being forced to sleep outside once more, only to wake up and find himself still stuck in the Marvel Universe. Accepting reality was strange, almost suffocating, but he needed to. Days passed. He remained homeless. Without food, without shelter, without a shower. Only God knew how he managed that.
Two full days went without him eating anything before he heard a faint clicking sound in his head and suddenly the ache in his stomach, the hunger, the craving for food—everything disappeared as if it had never existed.
After that, whenever he closed his eyes, Damon would find himself staring at the golden wheel hovering inside his consciousness.
The Dharma Wheel.
Mahoraga's ability. The same ability he had given to his fanfic protagonist—the power to adapt to any and all phenomena, the key ability that made Mahoraga so terrifying. Not just absurd adaptation but ridiculous regeneration as well, along with a small personal upgrade he had shamelessly added, allowing Damon to possibly wield the powers of whatever he adapted to.
"Overpowered..." Damon muttered under his breath as he stood in the middle of the empty road with his eyes closed, watching the golden wheel turn slowly inside him. If he used it right, he could even surpass Thanos in this verse.
Honk. Honk. Honk. HONK!
SKRRRREEEEEE—KCHH!
Damon's eyes snapped open at the sudden screech of a vehicle stopping just a few feet away from him. A large SUV stood right in front of him, horn blaring, headlights flooding his vision with blinding white light.
"Ugh." He instinctively raised his hand to shield his eyes from the glare.
"MOVE!" A high-pitched shout came from inside the car, clearly a woman's voice filled with panic.
Damon immediately stepped aside, realizing he had been standing in the middle of the road like an idiot, too busy fantasizing about future dominance to notice reality.
"MOVE FAST!" The panic in her voice only intensified as he finally cleared the headlights and his vision adjusted enough to see clearly.
At the driver's seat sat a beautiful woman with panic etched across her face, and the moment Damon saw her properly a wave of familiarity struck him so hard that his eyes widened on instinct.
'Natalie Portman...'
There was also an older man sitting beside her, equally familiar.
Stellan Skarsgård.
Damon almost called out to them, but before he could form the words she slammed her foot on the accelerator and the car sped past him into the town, leaving nothing but dust and tire marks behind.
"Natalie Portman... no, Jane Foster. And Dr. Selvig." Damon swallowed as realization slowly settled in.
Grrr...
Thunder echoed across the sky as Damon lifted his gaze upward, watching storm clouds gather in the distance, lightning flashing within them. In the desert behind him, tire marks carved through the sand where Jane had driven in from.
"This..." Damon's voice turned unsteady as the pieces connected inside his mind. 'The storm... the panic...'
He stared at the forming tempest in the distance and felt a strange chill run through him.
"It's the start, isn't it?"
The beginning of Thor