CHAPTER 02
Amidst the hustle and bustle of one of the world's most famous cities, where it's denizen were awake every second of the year – The never-sleeping city of New York, where crime and pleasure abound, it's inhabitants rushed to their targeted locations. The horns of traffic, the curses of vagrants and the whispering of its people were all a testament to its nature.
Walking among millions of people was a man in jean pants and coat buttoned all the way to his neck. He was no different from the millions of his city's people – atleast the way he looked.
With measured steps, he walked the streets around his hood where everything was as it was… atleast to the neighbors.
But he could tell. Little differences here and there he saw in its infrastructure. There were things; buildings, shops and other little settlements that he saw but couldn't remember them always been there. It was just simple but subtle differences.
He walked through the neighborhood, branching in and out of routes he was familiar with till he was a ways from his block. Finding himself in a crowded main road - one of the many in this city – he realised that while things were different, it wasn't a jarring difference. Sure there were some alien aspects he hadn't seen before; likely billboards about some tech billionaire, some scientist making a revolutionary discovery, news about weird sightings around the globe and the most eye-catching mutant uprising propaganda, querying what should be done to this allegedly 'Homo-Superior' species.
Scoff*.
He couldn't help but let his distaste seep through his mouth. He could see what the government were doing, something he was used to and unfortunately something the government was quite good at – subtle manipulation.
Giving the public an illusion of choice while at the same time letting out biased information thereby indirectly manipulating what little choice they gave.
Fucking hypocrites. He didn't know when but he had always had a bone to pick with the government.
Not to say said mutants weren't inadvertently making their situation less favorable. But granted they were pretty much fighting a losing war which was only amplified by the fact that some of the most influential figures of their species were a terrorist, leading a cult or managing a club while arguably the one with a somewhat right head on his shoulders and sincerely tried to help was a closet control freak.
"Bloody wankers, the lot of 'em," he muttered.
"Yer right 'bout that. Freaks the whole bunch of 'em. Cursed things I tell you. Make yer wonder what'er 'er did to be forsaken so." Turning a 90 he saw the… man who interjected his thoughts. Fat, greasy and a face full of moles with a height barely above 5 ft with rows of teeth looking like he'd being popping Adderall and crack for the past two decades.
For a moment he paused both due to his interjector's visage and also the fact that they were talking about two completely different things but not feeling the need to clarify he let out a 'hmm' and just continued looking around.
Not minding if his listener was listening, the man continued, "Heard they blew up a few houses in some scuffle yesterday in D.C. Just went in and killed some innocent folks jus minding they business. These ain't just terrorists, they savages. Hope the government passes the bill for they arrest then I'll do them a solid and burst out my doubles, hahaha."
He didn't have any particular reaction to that news since he saw it this morning and also he couldn't be bothered to care about the mutants act of terrorism and the humans act of violence to anything that didn't resemble the norm. He was just getting in touch with his new reality so didn't have it in him to care about what probably in a million chance wouldn't affect him. He wasn't about to go meet the government and fight for mutants right nor was he about to find the Brotherhood and tell Eric to seize his acts of violence and superiority complex. Not only was that dreaming way above the normal scale, because last time he checked he was still normal, but the aim was way off target… and he wasn't about to start dreaming an unrealistic dream despite being in an unrealistic world.
Seeing his conversation partner still talking without him even paying the slightest attention he couldn't help but grimace. While even in his youthful form he wasn't a killer looker, the man opposite him was taking the ugly look to an entire new level. Normally he wasn't quick to judge someone nor was the act of judging someone something he liked but apparently his curator managed to land a winning streak.
He was tempted to leave but he still wanted to know how this world was projected, what comic iteration was this? And what other change would he have to keep an eye out for.
He wasn't interested in getting to know the players of this story as that would be frankly going against his new resolve, and even if he could, not that he would, there was absolutely nothing he could do to influence the story nor it's characters.
To have influence, one must have a modicum of strength and the last time he was aware he was still human, not a mutant or its scientifically induced counterpart, not a tech savvy, definitely not a secret soldier experiment - no thank you, and definitely not the orphan billionaire who won the genetic lottery of the century. He had neither and he was happy with it.
He had only being here for a few hours at most, he wasn't born here, so being jealous about him not having 'special' powers wasn't something that occurred to him.
What the eyes doesn't see, the heart doesn't lust after.
While he knew about them, not seeing them was the same as them not existing. A Schrodinger's cat scenario if you will.
It wasn't denial but more along the line of indifference. Apart from his situation which was somewhat special he was nothing special in the grand scheme. They were literal time travelers and dimension jumpers in this part of the multiverse. The Marvel X-Men universe was just that… marvelous.
Asking a few questions along with his disinterested replies to his unwanted but manageable company, he was glad to say he didn't get anything worth knowing which was understandable given that what happens in the extra-natural part of this universe tends to stay, for the most part, amongst the specially gifted.
Apart from that, he was able to glean a huge amount of unnecessary important: Ruckus, his informant, was racist… and homophobic. A combination the likes of no other.
After the conversation started getting uncomfortable for him, he left Ruckus to his own and wandered around. Crazy how just yesterday he resigned himself and now he was in an entirely different world.
He walked around for a while since he couldn't just go back home. He was back in 2001, a different one but still, you don't just stay indoors in '01. He would know.
A few hours of walking and getting whatever surprise he still had in his system out, he turned back and started his return journey which was almost 45 minutes out. He really needed the walk as it helped him get his head in order and planned out a course of action.
An hour later, since he took his time, he pushed open the door of his house and walked it. Taking off his coat, he hung it besides his door and made abeeline for the fridge. With a beer in hand he plopped down on his couch and started sorting his thoughts in order of importance.
First of all, this universe has nothing to do with him. He didn't want to die early in his second chance.
Secondly, who was he? He didn't mean it in a philosophical kind of way but in a literal sense.
Did he swap places with his doppelganger, or did he transmigrate? His house was clearly the same so did he transmigrate with his house or was he an anomaly?
He had his cards with him and all his documents were the same but the only thing different was that he finished college almost two years ago at 23. He checked for any friends or family contact on his phone and while there were some, his call log was at least 2 months old and that was okay since he was disinclined to reform old bonds with people he likely wouldn't know - even his new parents. He had a second-class degree in Biology, not sure how that was going to help but sure.
Thirdly; how to proceed from here.
To this he had absolutely no idea. What did he want to do? He wanted something normal, no ambitions, no lofty aim. To this he came up blank. He worked mostly odd jobs to make ends meet but he never had a sense of constants. If he wanted a job now, he had to think of one that he could do for a while before something better came up. Maybe bartend – he did know his way around a bar that's for certain.
And lastly – well he'll shelve that one for now.
Looking at the time, it was almost 4 O'clock, he decided to cook something up. The whole cluster-fuckof what happened today annihilated his appetite. Making something light to go with his lacking appetite, bacon and eggs, he started to browse the internet for any event that would help him know what X-Men-verse he was in, but what he stumbled on nearly made him choke on his meat…. God that sounds so wrong out of context.
An article under the search word 'historical events', blew the sails out of his fresh-into-the-river boat.
'Captain America 1918 – 1945'.
Just seeing this result in his search made him do a double take that instant. The X-Men-verse was already fucked up but adding whatever version of the Marvel Comics or the MCU out there to it was just like a nuclear bomb with a ten seconds countdown. Being fucked is inevitable.
"Well damn," he muttered while massaging his crown because of the upcoming migraine. Clicking on the article, he did a brief read up on Captain America before exiting his browser. Putting his phone down he started tapping on the table seemingly in thought, but he just let out a breath after a while and cleared his table, did the dishwashing and just sat on his couch fiddling with the remote control.
One of the things he was glad with about this whole ordeal was that this universe had a lot of old movies that his former one did, so with nothing worth doing he just relaxed into the chair as he enjoyed his blast from the past.
Watching movies for a few hours was therapeutic for him as it gave him a sense of normalcy. With him getting bored with the movies, he stood up from his chair and went to his window as look as the never-sleeping city in front of him. But there was something different about this city and the world in general from the one he knew.
Here, the sky wasn't even considered a limit with gods and multi-dimensional entities to universe ending beings running around and playing an apocalyptic game of tag.
He couldn't help but wondered what his purpose here was, since he existed here he had a purpose – that was his belief, but he didn't know on what scale his purpose would rate.
Would he be an audience of this great stage of existence? Or would he leave his mark as one of the remarkable beings in this universe elevating his purposed existence?
He wouldn't be naïve enough to think that he just wound up here without the machinations of an incomprehensible existence because such a thing was simply impossible going against all natural laws of order and causality.
All this didn't bother him as much it should because he was actually grateful to his benefactor. But all he hoped was being able to live a fulfilling life regardless of if he became a puppet in whatever cosmic entity's game.
He once had dreams of faux grandeur but even with his drive all he had was regrets. He once dreamt of being a superhero with cool abilities flying and punching bad guys but now that he was in a position to achieve his childhood fantasies… all he wished was for something mundane. He didn't wish to be known nor did he wished to be acknowledged. All he wished was for something with the least amount of regrets at it's end.
Taking another look at the city and the night sky, he – an irregular, a misplaced existence, retired to bed.
CHAPTER 03
Turns out taking a jog in the morning was a good way to relax strains in the muscle…huh who knew.
Today was one of…another of those weird days where you wake up and start doing random shit. Reason because I had never being the type to exercise… ever. I wasn't that old, at least before yesterday, that I couldn't enjoy exercises but I was kinda lazy wasn't I?
So here I am jogging around the neighborhood after waking up with a random thought popping up in my head about me exercising, and the next minute I find myself in jogger pants, a t-shirt, shoes and hurling my ass out my front as if I was late for school.
Young people never really knew just how much they stand to lose if all their time was spent focusing on school and planning for their future which while important, was not entirely 'ideal'.
Granted, times like now are gold mines for the innovative, but 'ideally' it wasn't the end all be all for success. The future was uncertain, and while some win the lucky lottery, it was more better to just live every moment to the fullest, that way you have less regrets when at the end of your road.
Focusing that much on an uncertain, while probable, future tends to blur away the little things only the present could offer. That's why most motivational speakers would always advice you to focus on what you enjoy doing and work it through to new heights.
Hitting 40 really puts things in perspectives, needs and wants becomes apparent, you start focusing on less things only giving priority to a few. If you can't learn such a simple truth by the time you're 40 then you haven't been living a life.
I swear. Being young again was still weird.
Snapping myself out from my monologs, I focused on the road before me as I contemplated either going farther or take the next turn and go home, which the former won and I continued, extending my lap distance which wasn't a problem since I wasn't tired, probably because of my youth since I'm pretty sure my 24hrs ago self couldn't even run a quarter of what I've ran.
Damn I've really missed my youth.
Even after almost an hour of jogging, I still had enough gas for another hour which I considered either expending or taking my ass back home but once again I went with the first option, because why not?
[An Hour Later]
Maybe pushing myself to my limits wasn't such a smart thing to do because after an hour of the extended jogging, halfway to my house, I ran out of energy and started wheezing until I found myself in front of my fridge chugging bottles of water before I managed to get a normal breath in and out. I was drenched with sweat making my clothes stick to every part of my body outlining my physical features. No buff mass or Olympic-tiered physique anywhere… just normal me without buffed up muscles.
Done hydrating myself, I went straight to the bathroom and took off my sweaty clothes and dumped them with the pile for laundry. Running the relaxing cold water all through my body and immersing myself in its therapeutic chill.
Walking out of the bath with a towel strapped to my waist I walked to bed and just laid down staring at the ceiling. What now? I mean I'm glad about the dimension hopping but the question now was 'where do I now start from'?
Perspective change was cool, existential crisis? Ok. But now what.
Get a job? I probably could but then again what type of job am I looking for? A Biologist degree would, or could, probably get me a job as a lab assistant with good pay or an high school teacher which in any circumstance would be nice but the wrench to that cog was I didn't know shit about Biology. I know the mitochondria, which is the powerhouse of the cell, and the nucleus, which is the cell's heart, but I doubt I could get a job with that knowledge.
I could probably land a job as an high school teacher with my degree but… no thanks. I doubt I could hold myself well against hordes of hormonal raging teens who thinks high school is all about pissing off a particular teacher, which almost sounds a bit hypocritical coming from me but meh.
So that means two respectable jobs straight out the window. Hmm I could go for construction as a labored worker but the stress… yeah no. So that's three to zero.
I don't want to follow the trend of… my previous life? Ok now this shit gets weird and confusing. Since I pretty sure I didn't die, shouldn't this still be my current life as I didn't reincarnate or something.. You know what previous life it is.
Befitting of new beginnings.
Minor existential crisis solved so back to job hunting. Working in a mall or convenience store is out by default, same with security and bookkeeping, so that's six to zero. If I had an hobby then it was highly likely that it's what I would pursue, but sadly last week version of me was an old bone both literally and figuratively. I just couldn't stomach the thoughts of regular exercise like 40% of the human population.
Since no reference from a hobby to go further and other ideas not really appealing, with some I shelved for the time being, I was back to one of my first thoughts of job hunting – bartending, to get me started on some cash before I pushed into heavier jobs. I wasn't going to be passive with my second life and leave it all to chance. No, it was time to put on my big boy pants, quite literally too, and try to live a less regretful life. I'd still try my best to steer clear of all the Marvel bullshit that was going to hit this city. Maybe I should move to another country? Nah not yet. But that would be amongst all other future plans though.
With that settled, I pushed myself off the bed, got dressed in black jean trousers and a blue button-up plain long sleeved shirt with the top button loose and went to get a morning feel. With breakfast of rice and a low budget salad with eggs and my cup of black, I relaxed on a chair as I checked if there was anything of importance in the news but other than the new regular, nothing was of interest so after my breakfast I went out the door and just walked out my neighborhood looking for a place I saw yesterday - a bar – one that existed in my former world and one I frequented.
Walking in with a relaxed gait despite the fact that almost everyone inside had their eyes on me, I went straight to the counter and asked the girl manning it, "Charlie in?"
Giving me a look the asked 'who are you?', she looked pretty sure she hasn't seen me in here once before but she replied after taking her inquisitive look away from me, she returned to cleaning the counter.
"Yeah, he's out back loading up the drinks. Should I call him in?"
"Yes please," I replied as she stopped her cleaning, walked to a door by the side that had stairs leading down, she shouted, "Charlie! Some dudes over here lookin' for you!"
"Be right there in a moment," came a gruff voice, after which the sound of heavy footsteps became louder as Charlie made his way up the stairs.
Looking Charlie over, I realised he didn't look that different from my world's counterpart despite being younger. I've known Charlie for almost a decade since his bar was where I spent most of my evenings, not always due to the drink but the lively atmosphere it always had at night. Talking with bitter people who had gone through what you did or something similar always helped. This bar probably helped me more than I knew with my bitterness and thawed whatever clog of depression I had.
"You called for me son, how can I help ya?" Charlie asked with his accent that I could never put my thumb on. It sounded like Irish with a Mexican mix and a dash of French. His accent was just straight up weird.
"You hiring?" I asked straight to the point. Charlie's wasn't my only resort, just at the top of my list. I saw some bars around during my walk yesterday but don't know if they were hiring so I just decided to start with one I was kind of familiar with before hitting up the rest.
Not going to lie, hearing someone like Charlie calling me son ticked me the wrong way, just mildly, but giving how I currently looked and him not giving shit who I was, he was justified. But still, hearing an almost 50 year old man calling a 40 year old man son was weird.
"For what?" he asked as he gave me a look over.
"The bar," I supplied back while pointing at the bar.
"Dunno kid, can't let run the bar without experience sorry."
"I've got experience." I said and I could tell he was skeptic at my claim while at the same time not outright disbelieving, which was good.
"How long and where?" He asked after a pause, still leveling me the skeptic look.
"Five years, and as for where… let's just say far away from here." Which was all kinds of true as I did learn how not just to pick my drink but also how to mix them since I did frequent this place… frequently.
"Five years you say but not where. You from out State? Coulda sworn you looked New York for a long time."
"Well I've lived here for quite a while but I did move around during the years." I clarified.
Giving me a look that I couldn't quite tell what he meant he asked, "How old are you kid?"
"… 25." I gave a curt reply.
"You 25 and still moved a lot, how long have you lived kid?" He asked with a small laugh at the end.
"Well tell you what, you work the night shift while I chaperone you. Since you said you got experience, I doubt I'll be doing much. Sound alright?"
"Cool. What time for shifts?" I was happy he agreed as this was just a small start for my fulfilling life.
"Hold your horses squirt, do the night first then we'll talk about shifts and pay ok?" He gruffed out his reply as he started walking back to the stairs probably to continue loading his drinks.
Stopping at the door he said, "Be here before 7," and continued down.
Whew, since that was out of the way I waved the bargirl goodbye and left Charlie's.
I looked at the time which was just a few minutes after 10am and since I had hours to burn I started thinking of what to do with all this time since I obviously won't be spending all my day in a bar so I needed something productive to spend my free hours on.
Maybe get a hobby? Hmm that sounds like a good idea but since video games was still pretty old now and old movies didn't really interest him apart from the really good ones which wasn't much compared to a decade from now, the only thing that interested me the most were sports. I was pretty ok with table tennis in my previous life, so pick it up again? I didn't think so. I wanted something new, maybe something I forgot to try before.
I didn't know how long I spent in my head trying to pick a hobby to work on but when I got out of it, I found out that I was at least 4 blocks away from Charlie's. Looking around I saw a gym around the corner and while I was tempted to go in, I felt it was too far from my house. Maybe I'd look for one nearer if I remembered.
With a job and a possible hobby acquired I started walking with a spring on my steps. I didn't care how far I walked as long as I was moving. Maybe I still hadn't connected with this reality since most of my actions were acts of impulse or maybe this was what it felt like to be free.
Downplaying the importance of things unnecessary to me and only focusing on myself felt librating. It felt different from when I was working for my dreams.
Back then, I was working towards something in hopes of it bettering my life and not towards myself to make me better. Back then I did feel a sense of accomplishment and pride in myself whenever I worked or did nothing, but none so librating as this moment. I never needed a dream or ambition to define my existence, I just needed to live.
Guess you learn something new everyday.
CHAPTER 04
After a short walk after I found the gym and I started my return journey back home, I found a gym a few blocks away from my house and a few minutes away from Charlie's which just made me glad.
Job. Check.
Hobby. Check.
So with those out of the way I came back home but I soon found out that I was bored out of my mind. There was nothing fun to do at home, no Netflix to binge watch TV shows, no video games to play, no interesting news on TV apart from the usual mutant bigotry which I wasn't going to be dipping my hands in anytime soon and hopefully never. So with nothing to do I grabbed my cell and started browsing the internet for some Marvel-centric themes like Xavier's School for The Specially Gifted which was apparently a real school, go figures.
With the knowledge and location of a school full of enhanced humans in my cell, I was tempted to just book a flight and go there just to satisfy my curiosity. Who would I see there? Charles was there no doubt but what about the others? Was Logan already there? What of Colossus, Iceman, Kitty, Scott, Ororo and the others? What type of alternate universe was I in?
These questions plagued me and fuelled my curiosity but I snuffed it out with the reason that me going was just shooting myself in the legs…and head.
With Charles habit of snooping around them brains, him finding out shit I know, it wouldn't take long for Magneto to find out. How? Well fuck boy Charles always had a softie for Mr. Metal gear. Their relationship was hella sus. I mean your bestfriend(?) is a world known terrorist with a superiority complex who kills anyone who opposes him and yet you want to tell me you, Charles-Fucking-Xavier, couldn't stop him for more than twenty years, and not to mention the whole sus part about Eric knowing almost every fucking secrets Charles ever knew. Charles had a lot of opportunities to brainwash the dude, and even if it was against his morals, Charles had a neat streak of going against his morals time and time again during the X-Men franchise.
So yeah, no Xavier for now regardless of how much I wanted to see the dude. But after all is said and done, Xavier was an icon.
A living legend who fought his entire life for the mutants freedom and acceptance into society. This was a man who would walk straight into eternal damnation if he was assured of the fact that his sacrifice would benefit all of mutant kind. If we were being candid, the good he did far outweighed the questionable bad he committed by a lot. But even if, I still didn't want my mind to be scanned so no for now.
After a few X-Men related searches, I realized that this place would be fucked way sooner than later and that was only counting the X-Men part, reason being Reed Richards was here. This guy really fit the MAD scientist role to a tee…. Which he was, with emphasis on mad.
With someone who can literally home-brew a cataclysmic event sharing a city with you, you bet your ass you would experience an apocalypse before Christ came.
I couldn't even bring myself to be flustered with these epic individuals around me because the real problem was the cataclysm-inviting group of people and their merryband who left the skies and chose to stay on land. I'm talking about the S.H.I.E.L.D and the Avengers.
They had a freaking mythical god with them, wrath incarnate, a sexy redhead and most importantly the dude who saw Skynet and said, "Cool! But I can do you one better." These guys were just walking apocalypse magnet. And these were just the good people side of the coin. The bad side…
Quitting the browser before I had an aneurysm, I comtemplated going to the gym to check and sign-up but I figured I could just do it tomorrow. With that I slid back into my couch and closed my eyes and just drift off to sleep.
…
I woke up minutes before 6pm, took a bath, threw in a dark blue jean trousers and a black sleeved shirt, some body spray and left the house.
I looked for an ATM machine since I was running low on change and I still didn't know how much I had in my account.
Sliding in my card and finding out I still used the same passcode, I checked my balance and found $3,000 and some change which was quite a lot considering the time. Taking out $500, I left for Charlie's.
I arrived at Charlie's 20 minutes before 7 and walked into bar which welcomed me with a full house and a slow song on the jukebox. Without much fanfare, I looked for Charlie and found him cleaning some glasses.
"You came. Well what you waitin' for? Get your ass behind the counter, I'll be witcha in a sec!" He said as soon as he saw me which made do a reverse back to the counter.
I saw the bargirl of this morning still behind the counter. Reaching her I asked for her name.
"Hey! Name's Draul, what's yours? "
"May. You Mexican or what?" She asked.
"No, but I get that a lot." Which was true. I know I didn't look Mexican nor did I speak so, but people always assumed I was.
With some casual conversation while we mixed drinks, we talked for a bit before she left around 8pm which left me alone for a while before another of Charlie's all-nighters came and we just did whatever barmen like us did; trying to guess which pockets were full and which girls to hit on. Well the later lart was all Locke's, my fellow barman's name.
We worked for a while before Charlie came to check in on us, or me rather. We talked for a while mostly about my pay and shifts. I opted for anytime between 4 - 10pm since I wasn't going to be giving up my sleep for anything.
Never did and never will.
We agreed on 20 per hour for how long I worked. The collective pay wasn't that much but since I didn't have any better option it'll have to do for now.
After talking with Charlie, I left the bar and headed home. Time was a little past 11pm when I got home so I just crawled into bed as soon as I was past the doors. I wasn't that tired but I just craved it at that moment.
…
[The Next Morning]
With the annoying birds at my window doing their morning rituals, I couldn't get more of the heavenly morning sleep. I just crawled out of bed, put on a tracksuit and went out for my new morning routine. I was able to do more than I did yesterday which was awesome in a way.
{10:23am}
With a cold shower and a spare pair of clothes in a bag, I left for the gym I saw yesterday.
I was able to get a membership and a workout routine laid out for me which I was really thankful for, and that was what didn't prepare me for excruciating work that was workout. I mean it was right there in the name but I thought you just went there, lift some metals for a while and then boom! DC level muscles.
But this! This was hell. It took most of my time just to get the right posture for lifting the dumbbells and that wasn't even counting the quotas. God! This was hard.
It was only through pure determination that I managed to get through my work quota, and not wanting to look like a bitch I went back to it after resting for a while.
After working out my hours, I left the gym looking like a bear that went swimming during winter, drenched in my sweat and exhaustion but somehow I felt lighter… or maybe that was just the sense of accomplishment talking.
So with my phantom euphoric feelings, I left the gym thinking of what I was going to do today. Coming up with nothing, I just opted for taking myself out for breakfast. I could probably just whip up something good but it wouldn't be as good as a restaurant's.
Ah! My life really was looking up. Why didn't I just do this in my past life? Thinking about it now, what I was doing now wasn't that different from what I did before. Only a few differences and mentality was what set them apart.
Philosophical thoughts for later, what I need now was a bath and a nice breakfast at a nice restaurant.
So with that out of the way I went home with a plan laid out which was something I would be going by for a long time.
[1 Month Later]
It has being a month since I woke up in the Marvel universe and other than a few things happening, I was living pretty ok.
The first happened to me.
Two weeks after I started going to the gym, I started seeing results that even my instructor was surprised. Since the old routine didn't take that much out of me, I add some more exercise to it. Treadmills, barbells, fitness exercises and a slew of other things. My instructor was first against it but seeing as how I was able to juggle through them all he allowed me do my thing. I did get a few mass in though so that was nice.
The other did leave me stunned for the whole day though.
September 11th, 2001.
… Or most popularly known as 911.
To say I was shocked by this would be an unstatement. As someone who lived through TWO 911s that was a valid reaction. But while the 911 in my former world was said to be orchestrated by Islamic terrorists with Osama Bin Laden at its helm, this worlds' was different but not by much.
This was blamed on the mutants which was something that I found hard to believe. Regardless of if this was some alternate earth in the Marvel universe and Eric was a fool, this was not something a rag-tag bunch of mutants could do. So either Eric was going 'fuck the humans' or there was a new player in the mutant field.
The Hellfire club was out since their mojo was behind the scenes control and money making.
The Marauders and Meta Liberation Front too were one of the popular mutants organizations I knew but they didn't have any drive for something like this. And that was taking in the fact that they might not even be formed yet.
Both Charles and Eric wouldn't allow something like this to happen since all it would do was just increase the negativity and hatred against mutants.
Maybe Eric could because I remembered some versions of Eric that was straight up human-hate centric.
The public outrage was something my previous worlds' couldn't compare to. It was a literal witch hunt for the mutants. Countries were put in states of mass panic as they feared they would be attacked next.
Vigilance and violence was at an all time high. There were even some videos of mutants being lynched in public on the internet. It was just that bad and 911 was just last week.
I was at the gym when it happened. I had to reboot when we heard the news and ran out of the gym just to see smoke in the skies. I just stood rooted there because I knew another plane was coming. While everyone was either spectating the tragedy or making calls to loved ones in Manhattan, I stood there just waiting for the second explosion.
It didn't take an hour for the second plane to hit, signifying the biggest terrorist attack in the Country of America… yet. With the Chitauri invasion, Ultron's attack on Novi Grad, Sokovia and the Universal genocide by Thanos, this attack would remain insignificant, but not yet. Not for the people living now.
With the call for mutant eradication, I wondered what the mutants strongholds would do.
While the event was tragic, it didn't get to me that much. Whether due to the fact that I was in this city during two 911 attacks or that I found it hard in me to worry about things not happening me, I didn't know. Apart from a few gym members who lost people during the attack, I couldn't bring myself to sympathize with others.
Apart from these events, everything was the same for me. I never neglected my routine, not once, even after the attack I showed up at the gym the next day and went to Charlie's when it was time.
Other than that, I was looking forward to my first Christmas in a Marvel-verse. I wasn't that religious in my past life but I did do my best to enjoy the holidays every year. These were the only notable things that happened during my first month in Marvel.
CHAPTER 05
I'm going to die!
This wasn't supposed to happen. This shouldn't have happened, none of this should've happened.
Every moment spent in this room was doing nothing except stripping me of my denial. I couldn't cry because I still couldn't believe this was real, I couldn't curse because there was nobody here to curse at but myself.
I crouched at the corner of the room, holding my knees as I kept thinking of what went wrong but I couldn't come up with anything plausible. The day proceeded like any other.
There was no event happening to my notice nor did I have any plans made out for the day: it was just a normal day like everyday before.
I woke up, went for my jog, had some bread and egg toast for breakfast before going to the gym. I spent my usual extended hours there working my routine over before I left around 1pm and that was when it happened.
I was barely 5 minutes away from my house before I got dragged into the back of the van. Before I could even register what happened I was knocked out.
When I woke up, a lot of thoughts cascaded my mind; was I just kidnapped? Why was I kidnapped? Who kidnapped me? Did I wrong someone dangerous? Will they ask for a ransom?
These were all thoughts that plagued me for a while before my assailants came into my room. The moment I saw them I had a sinking feeling in my gut.
There were two men and a woman, all of them seemingly in their 30s. They wore black-themed soldiers combat gear with daggers strapped to their sides and military-issued semi-rifles in their hands.
No matter how much I looked at them, they didn't look like ransom-asking kidnappers. They didn't even look like criminals. They clearly had high-leveled military training that even a rando like me could tell. I wasn't involved in any government conspiracy as long as I could remember and I doubt the Army or whatever military division they were from were into nabbing unsuspecting civilians.
… These guys are terrorists right? God! This was much worse than I imagined. I could feel myself choking and tearing up as I came to that conclusion.
This WASN'T supposed to happen!
I shivered as I saw the gaze they leveled me – it was disconcerting. Pure apathy emanated from them. As I was sinking into a quagmire of despair, a much older man who I had no idea how he got so close to me spoke as he gave me a studying look.
"Mr. St. Cross I presume?" He asked, more like said, as he continued his studying of me.
I couldn't even form coherent words so I just nodded my head as the sinking feeling grew.
He wasn't American, that much was apparent from his accent. His accent was too natural to suggest otherwise. I couldn't really put my finger on it, even as I tried to remember which country had that kind of accent. It was right there on the tip of my tongue, too familiar even, but I was too scared even remember it.
"Now now. Don't be scared, I haven't even done anything to you… yet."
Oh Lord! Are they going to torture me?
"P-please I don't know a-anything, please!" I choked out in between sobs.
"You truly don't?" He asked, amused by my reaction.
I shook my head with desperation.
"No matters. When we are done with you then maybe you'll have an idea. But then again it still wouldn't matter at the end."
"W-what.."
"Oh where are my manners. My name is Volker Olav,and I'll be your supervisor for the foreseeable future as we work together for the glory of the Reich!"
Wha…
"Hail Hydra!"
"Hail Hydra!"
"Hail Hydra!"
I could feel my face pale at the realization of my conundrum.
Before I could pull myself together I lost consciousness with the stump of a gun being the last thing I saw.
The past few days I've spent here has been a roller coaster of emotions, and none of the positive kind. From fear to anger, to anxiety and depression, then defiance and acceptance.
My mental state was in constant disarray.
After Olav's less than ideal introduction, I woke up in another room with my body feeling stiff allover which made me think I spent more than just a few hours passed out. As someone who exercised and worked-out regularly even if it was a recent thing, I knew how long and on what types of conditions it took for my bones to get cranky and from the way I felt sluggish moving, it would suffice to say I've being out for at least a whole day.
The room I found myself in when I woke up was different from the former room I was in when I was abducted. If the former looked like a warehouse, this one looked like a prison cell for life rejects and experimental subje… yeah let's not think that much.
It only contained a bedframe with wood as the bed and iron as the frame which made it looked like they had poor room service… probably. With the sole addition of a toilet at the side of the wall, the room was… lacking. It didn't even have a light bulb.
With such a depressing accommodation, my thoughts couldn't help but find solace in exploring possibilities and it's consequences. The first thought that came to me was one I had since the beginning: Why me?
No matter how and from whatever angle I looked at, there was no reason for me to be abducted. As far as a person could be, I was pretty normal by every standard.
I wasn't a government agent, nor was I undercover. I was too weak for that and nothing from my records showed anything indicating such. I was not a mutant – that much was pretty clear – nor was I in the scenes of political powers. So unless Hydra was into the business of abducting unsuspecting randos and indoctrinating them into their ranks, then I had the shittiest luck.
The second thought that frequently came to me was one every abducted victim had: What were they going to do to me?
This was the thought that had me panicking and into a spiral of fear and anxiety that no Juice Wrld song could fix. From whatever meta-knowledge I had of Hydra, their go-to therapy guide was 6 volumes of 'Brainwashing Techniques for the Elite' acknowledged to none other than Hitler, and a reference training routine scripted from 3 volumes of 'Get your Homemade Suicide Soldiers' written by Edward Hunter and revised by Bin Laden.
In layman's terms – I was 50 shades of fucked.
I had spent five days in this cell since I woke up and it did nothing to assuage my budding despair which I think was intentional on their part since I was feeling pretty desperate right now. Every morning I woke up with two sets of food and water for the day and nothing else, not even a silhouette of a person.
It wasn't until the seventh day when I was on the brink of insanity that my proclaimed supervisor - Olav - came to visit me.
His face was unreadable, no emotion could be seen. He had those speak-and-a-dash-of-lead expression on his face and that made me all the more terrified.
"I reckon you've had a lot of time to come to your decision, no? The only question you will receive from me is: Will you serve willingly… or will I make you?"
Nice way to start a conversation pal. I looked at him in all his expressionless visage and I just had the feeling that all this was part of a fucked up plan. From the abducting to deprivation of social interaction, deliberating molding the psyche into subservience and a state of desperation but sorry dude, my grandparents and most of my uncles were shrinks so despite how dreadful family get-togethers were, they all taught me something – Psychology itself was just positive brainwashing.
Then again they may very well be the reason why I never saw the government in a favorable light. So when they advised me back then to study psychology, I told them fuck you then and I'll tell you…
"Fuck you!"
I saw his face contort into a scowl and it was a cathartic feeling. He walked up to me and for a moment I couldn't help but think I made the wrong choice but… I've made choices that bore a lot of regrets, this wouldn't be any different.
With a hook to my chin I lost focus for a while before sensations of pain assaulted me and for the next few minutes, I had the most brutal beatings of both lives.
In hindsight, a simple no would've sufficed.
[2 Weeks Later]
After me and Olav's falling out, he started coming to my cell everyday and beating the crap out of me. He only gave me the same choice of back then twice; every seven days. The first week, he did his damnedest to make sure I was miserable.
There wasn't a place in my body he didn't hit – physically not sexually. My throat, my eyes, my nuts, my joints, my sternum, my ribs, my spine – pretty much my whole body was reduced to a mushing mess of pain. It got worse to a point that my daily ration was reduced to one serving and that was the point that broke me down to tears. If you're going to give a living man physical and psychological hell, the least you could do was feed him well right? Apparently, someone didn't tell Olav that vital piece of information.
After the first week, either Olav started hitting lighter or I started becoming a masochist. While I could feel he was hitting as hard as ever, for some reason it didn't hurt as much as it did in the beginning. It still hurt a lot but if I had to scale it, the pain from last week was of the 'Fuck! It hurts!' variety while this weeks' was of the 'It hurts like a bitch' variety. Maybe I'm getting used to it due to the constant trashing? God that sounds way worst.
In other words – these past two weeks has been hell.
This week however was different.
Instead of the usual hours per daily curb-stomp from my friendly neighborhood Olav, today however I was led out of my cell for the first time and it felt weird to me. Kinda like I was living the comfort of my home to the dangers of the wild. It made me feel insecure and if I could, I would rather go back to my cell…? Hohoho! Splendidly done Hydra.
Following behind the two mannequins of a guard while unraveling the intrinsic mesh of Hydra's brainwashing, I couldn't help but feel a cold chill run down my spine. What other seemingly natural and logical event had they set up to lower the psychological defense of my mind?
Reaching that point, I stopped my thoughts from going further because I knew if I continued on, I would only stress out my mind by putting it on guard at all times thereby weakening it when I'm faced with my physical hell. If there were going to brainwash me then the least I could do was resist till I no longer couldn't. A testament to how fiercely I valued my freedom.
With a few minutes of walking and turns, I found myself in front of a door to what looked like an office and was led in by another set of guards. The room I walked into was something more like a living room rather than an office.
Straight ahead sat a rather mean looking man with a woman with sharp features at his right and Olav at his left. The moment I was brought to the front of the sitting man, I felt like I just reached a checkpoint in my life.
As I stood before the honestly scary looking man, we all fell into silence while I had to deal with the disgusting feeling of having myself raped by his eyes.
He watched me for a while before he turned to look at Olav and asked, "Is this him? He looks rather unremarkable."
Is that the type of compliment you give someone you just saw?
"While that might be so sir, we ran the tests and it came out positive." Olav responded with a polite and submissive tone that just made my skin crawl.
"Is that so? Then I take it we are now able to proceed without failure of his demise." The man responded without missing a breathe.
"E-excuse me. Demise?"
With my interruption, all three pairs of eyes labeled their sight at me making me quite nervous.
"Mr. St. Cross, from what I've heard, you've been refusing our offer…" I snorted at that, "… and while it is admirable and mildly amusing, it seems you were under the impression that you had a choice. While you would have spent the remains of your miserable life living as a mediocre amongst countless others, with us you actually have the chance to stand for something greater than yourself. So believe me when I say that even if it takes us breaking every single appendage in your body, you WILL fold. Am I understood?"
These fuckers, even though I was seething I couldn't risk an outburst because I know that what he said was true, but then again why me because I don't see them giving Bucky Barnes the same treatment, or maybe this universes' version of Hydra was… more polite? Less violent? I'm not buying it.
"Why me?" Out of over seven billion people on this planet, why me. It was something I could never wrap my head around.
"I guess you would in fact, want to know why you are here." Yes I would, Einstein.
"Don't worry, soon you'll know. All in due time I suppose."
CHAPTER 06
Hell.
If there was any way to describe what I've been through these last few weeks, it would be that analogy.
A day after I talked to the scary Hydra dude, I was put through the most extreme training regime I've ever experienced in both lives and after that, I would be taken to the medical facility where all types of test and experiments were ran on me.
Sometimes a four inch needle would be inserted into my spine while I was awake and they would draw out my spinal fluid or sometimes they would expose me to extreme temperatures and watch me writhe in discomfort as I struggle to preserve my life. Biting cold, scorching heat, wrecking pain; all were conditions I was made to go through just for them to compile more data.
Whether there were trying to see my limit or for what ever reason, they always stopped when they were absolutely sure I couldn't take it any more even if that meant leaving me with an inch of my life. Conditions that would have killed a normal human ten times over were all thrown at me just to see how much I could endure.
There was only one thing I gained through this whole ordeal. Whether it was a blessing or a curse, I couldn't tell – a Regeneration factor. Making it all too obvious of my mutant abilities.
It wasn't something I was told since they didn't tell me anything and I couldn't understand German or was it Russian. Either way, I was able to find out about my regeneration factor since there were a lot of discrepancies with me and their tests.
As far I could remember, the only medication they gave me was during the first few days of my experiments. For the following weeks, they only pushed my limits above the norms of what was possible and not once did they give me any sorts of medication, not even an aspirin pill.
So it got me thinking, since there were so sure about my identity as a mutant, which I had to eventually believe as I was still alive, I had to have an ability that they really wanted or something they needed for whatever plans they had because having a simple regeneration ability just didn't make any sense to me and that brought me to my experiments.
Somehow I was able to survive being put in a burning pit, which was the most traumatic experience I've ever had. Having your skin being burned while you screamed with a burnt throat and melted eyeballs was an horrific event of unheard proportions, but having to go through it three more times was most traumatizing. It was after the third burning experience that made me realize that there was something seriously wrong with me.
On the first day of my first burning experience, all of my flesh were meshed together with pain being the consolation prize for every subtle movement I made, to the point that even Deadpool looked more like Ryan Reynolds in contrast to me looking like the Hunched-Back of Notre Dame… on fire.
I couldn't even cry with my melted throat since all I could feel was pain. It wasn't until the third day that the I was able to see once more and breathe without feeling pain but my skin was still charred but not as much as the first day. Now I just looked like Deadpool.
I was back to pristine condition by the fifth day and also resumed my training and experiments.
After that event, every night before I went to sleep, I would cut myself to see if the regeneration was a time effect because of a drug I was given or I somehow had a regeneration factor, which I did, but not even comparable to the levels of the Wolverine and Deadpool as those guys were basically pseudo-immortals.
Finding out about my regeneration factor helped clear some things about my case. The reason I was pushed that far was to see how much I could handle, and possibly heal from, but I had a feeling that was not all I could do. I didn't want to believe Hydra abducted me just for what, health potions? But whatever it may be, for now I was glad with the regeneration factor I had. Whatever Hydra really wanted from me could be figured out in due time.
Back to my regeneration, I was able to find out that it always kicks up faster anytime I underwent my training.
Take for example, the first time I cut my hand to figure out how long it took to heal, it took up to three hours for a long gash across my palm to heal. But after my Shedrach experience, I was able to heal from the same gash with almost ninety minutes. A difference of over an hour was an overwhelming breakthrough when considering the fact that that nature of injury would take a human at least two weeks to fully heal from.
Apart from the knowledge that my regeneration was able to increase in potency, I was made known to the startling fact that I was getting stronger. While it was a given when regarding the type of training they put me through, this type of strength wasn't something that could be gained from any type of training even withstanding how hardcore it might be.
While I wasn't Super Soldier level strong, I believed I was at least a quarter or a fifth of the way there, at least from what I saw in the movies.
My strength, speed, reflexes, awareness were all getting a boost in parameters with the only explanation that if they weren't drugging my meals with an Uber-level steroid, then my mutant gene was giving me a super-human physique. Of course my physique wasn't all that great since Olav always whooped my ass when it was time for 'physical conditioning', as he so smugly put it.
This was all I was able to find out these past few weeks amongst the plethora of physical abuse and experimental tortures: regeneration and a low leveled super-human physique.
Except for these things, nothing else was different for me. I still didn't know if I was still in New York or even in the States. If my mental calendar was still functioning well then I had spent at least two month under capture, which would make it November outside wherever I was, and I was already missing my normal life.
The little chats with May, the bubbly crowds at Charlie's, my everyday at the gym, the occasional walks through the city – these were all things that I started craving during my days here and all it took was a freak happenstance to lose it all.
An event where I lacked a choice or opinion for change. An occasion where I was naught but an inconsequential piece of a villains grand plan which was an almost guaranteed failure.
My life, one amongst several billions, deemed unremarkable and mediocre, reduced to a madman's check piece on a board of lunacy, all for a discounted moment of a false sense of achievement. What gall.
Even a mentally unstable man, who dreamt of nothing but an unbalanced reality, had a much better sense of freedom than I who dreamt of tranquility for my fleeting life.
What unfairness must I suffer before I was granted the ticket to live a self-fulfilling life. If gods exists, then where have I erred for such punishment of injustice across the vestiges of reality that even travelling across universes to a world which was birthed forth by a man's fictional ideas I still suffer.
Was my resolve really that laughable that they found it amusing to spit on? Or was my determination that horrid that they look at me with disgust and squash whatever will I have to end such a disgraceful existence? Or are they simply looking for something to amuse them in their nigh-eternal life. Is so, then I have only but one query – why me?
Out of several billions, why pick a broken man at the end of his journey, toss him into a universe of wonders with insinuated promises of a life without bars, only then after giving him a taste of liberation you drown him in a sea of torture. Snuffing whatever spark of enlightenment he had only to lead him into the ink black canvas of the abyss.
If mortals of legends who erred against gods were cursed for their ignorance and folly, then what have I, a man who neither cursed nor blasphemed, done? If the casting of Lucifer out of heaven by God – from the Abrahamic religion, the curse of Lycaon by Zeus – from the Greek mythology, and Pandu by Rishi Kindama from the Hindu myths were acts of rebellion against these deities then when did I rebel?
Truly the acts of man are naught but amusement in the eyes of God.
If wishing for a peaceful life was my crime against the gods and I was cursed so, then if I rebelled would my existence be smote? If living as life goes on was my blasphemy against the gods, then if I strived for mine own desire will I be pardoned or condemned? If accepting of the presented reality was foul and taboo in the eyes of the gods, then would I be forgiven or will my grace abound?
For whatever deity gave me this curse or unlikely blessing, will I be forsaken if I dream once more?
[Unknown POV]
A miracle was said to be something which occurred when you lost all avenue of hope. If so, then what was presented before me was a miracle among others.
A true gem amongst all natural treasures.
An impossibility that was made possible with the advent of the X-gene a few centuries ago. The key to the truth of Darwin's theory of evolution. A man with the ability of possibly endless growth – the power to adapt to ANY stimuli, be it environmental or physically inflicted.
Not even the X project had such potential prospects. Those freaks that could fly, strengthen their muscles, control magnetic particles were all deemed lesser or greater failures in front of such potential to evolve and adapt almost infinitely.
Just his blood, tissues and spinal fluids were rare gems. But what if he evolved further, what kind of potential will the newly harvested specimens open up?
Two months and he could already endure a burning pit of 500C for an hour before the risk of death. Absolutely marvelous!
He could already survive the cryotherapy chambers at 200F for over ninety minutes before his brain showed signs of failure or damage. And he could heal from both extreme conditions in record time of two days. This was the greatest discovery towards the next step of evolution man has ever made.
If they were able to crack his gene code, then super soldiers could be easily created and that would be an even lesser achievement. He could create the perfect undying army.
I-039 was truly a lucky find. It was pure luck that they found him and even then, they thought his ability would be one of the many cataloged in their database but this…this was the secret to godhood.
His code could allow man to step into the fabled domain of gods. This just showed that their goals were true and noble. For they alone could never die like the fabled hydra of legends, and now with this they could truly create a truly undying army. A truly evolving army. A nigh unkillable soldier like the Draugr of the Old Norse legends.
With his discovery they were able to learn what man with their limited technology could not.
Every living thing and none living thing vibrates at different frequencies. For humans these vibrational frequency had a range where they all fell under. No human vibrated the same as another but they all fell into the same range of vibrations. There was a vibrational frequency range that all humans fell under, irrespective of their origin, and this was why mutants were said to be another specie of the human race – they vibrated at an higher range of frequency. All of them. No matter how mundane their abilities were, they all fell in their own range of frequencies.
They were able to find this out due to one of their subjects having the ability to read frequencies. She could read the words from a static radio as if it was being spoken to her directly. With further study they were able to figure out from her that everything vibrated at different frequencies. Everything.
But she alone had the wonderful ability of telling them apart as she was able to identify the basic form of an object while just listening to its frequency even while blindfolded. Taking it further, she was able to differentiate between humans and mutants due to their different vibrational frequency after much trial and error.
When she was being transported she read a frequency that would spike up to mutant levels and then drop back to human levels after a while. This description was what intrigued them and they sent her out for days to pinpoint this frequency. They were able to learn that their target would go to the gym everyday where his frequency would fluctuate between human and mutant levels. They observed him for a week before they decided to 'recruit' him to their cause.
It was all on a whim that they decided to take him… but this… this was monumental. The universe was still on their side after all!
The ultimate power for the ultimate army.
Hail Hydra!
Thud.
The sound of a body hitting the floor was heard as a man slid across the concrete floor as he let at a groan seemingly from the impact of the blow he suffered.
"Get up, we're still not done yet," Another man much older, presumably in his late 50's, barked out at the downed man without any form of compassion. And as if in response to the older man's call, the younger one stood up with a focused expression casting his face as he peered at his opponent.
"Good. Now attack me again," The older man instructed while he went into a more relaxed stance in contrast to the opposing youth.
Without waiting for any signal, the youth rushed at his opponent with a straight hook from his right, a basic technique, but the moment his opponent brought up an arm for the perceived strike, with a fascinating display of dexterity, he cocked his fist sideways meeting the block with his wrist instead of a fist, and without wasting a moment from the collision, he grabbed the arm with his opened fist and swept with his leg in an attempt to unbalance his unshaking foe while at the same time directing another fist towards his opponent's stomach in a bid to capitalize on the foresighted opening.
But with but an inch from impact, displaying greater dexterity and mastery, the old man raised a leg and took a step back, missing the leg sweep by an hairs length and twisting with his blocking arm, he caught the incoming first and before the young man could react to the splendid foil, with a spin on his forward heel, he delivered a round-house kick with his retracted leg, sending his young fighter into a disoriented frazzle, then without missing the rhythm, he delivered an axe-kick with a powerful force to the back of young man's skull, bringing the stunned man back to the ground with another thud.
"Still not learning much, are we? You focus too much on a chain of attack instead of adapting mid-fight, making you lag in concentration once your rhythm is broken." He lectured the downed man with an even tone seemingly uncaring about the damage from his strike. "Again!"
Letting out an huff after shaking of the effects of the two kicks, the young man once again focused on his older counterpart, erasing the expression of discomfort and pain for his face as he took a few moments to look at the seemingly at-ease old man.
Clack.
Clack.
With measured step, he walked closer, his eyes not betraying his target, and as he got closer he accelerated his pace, but still within rhythm, in a fractioned moment closing the gap between them, and with a slight push from this feet, his body lifted into the air with his momentum as he brought a flashing kick aiming for his adversaries' neck which was promptly blocked by the more experienced man with a low grunt, with credit to the force behind the kick.
Not slowing down, he dropped to the ground and in a burst of ferocity he whirled a 360 spin on the floor effectively breaking the old man's footing, and with a flip he landed on his feet and threw a punch directly to the old man's face who staggered a step back all the while not taking his eyes of the young man.
With his punch connecting with a loud bam, he twisted himself in a semicircle cutting himself a sharp 180 as he brought his other hand's elbow to the side of the old man in retribution. Seemingly not having enough, he grabbed the man's arm, preventing him from gaining distance unintentionally, as he twisted the arm in a fluid motion and threw the old man over his shoulders slamming him hard into the concrete floor.
With that, he disengaged from the man and made distance once more while still training his eyes on him.
"Nice strike. You implemented on your first failure, knowing I would stop your attack head on, you built up your momentum with the first while charging it into the second without losing your rhythm. It looks like I'll have to start hitting a little bit harder now eh." He finished with a chuckle as he got up, clearly the attack didn't do much to him. "I would advise you to be cautious. Wouldn't want something breaking now, do we?" He asked, or more like said, and the grin on his face didn't help but insinuate otherwise.
Cracking his knuckles, with a small smile on his face, he walked loosely towards the young man who gave him such a nasty elbow to his chin. While he wasn't that hurt, that didn't mean the elbow was as effective as it looked. It stung like a bitch, and for that, he'd collect his recompense in broken bones.. And who knows, maybe an eyeball too.
Standing right in front of the living duffel, he at least had to give it to him for not stepping back or outright trembling when he came close. Then again, considering what he's been put through, he wouldn't be that scared of broken bones, but it still didn't mean it wouldn't hurt him.
Pain. As long as he could still feel it, still experience and dread it, he could be controlled just like the rest. No one gets used to pain, their tolerance only increased giving them a faux sense of security, deluding themselves further unto they succumbed to an even greater pain.
As long as one could feel pain, they would be reminded of their mortal frailty, even him too. That was part of the reason why that blow irked him so.
Another was the thrilling chill that courses his body as he breaks his bones after bones, knowing fully well that they'll heal before the morrow, and tempts him more to see how far he could push him before he could no longer heal.
The screams and tears as he cried out that one time where he shoved a heated, searing red barbed poker down the boy's throat down to the hilt, were mesmerizing. How he writhed and screamed as the rod burned his innards, preventing him from moving too much as he couldn't even pull the poker out because of how deep it lodged in his throat.
It took the boy almost forty-five minutes before he quieted down in a pool of his own blood, sobs and gurgles.
He waited for another thirty minutes for the boy to regain a smidgen of respite before he shoved his whole fist inside his mouth and yanked out the poker I in one move, breaking the jaws and wrecking his insides once more with the retrieval and all he had to do was wait a second before another melody of tortured screams echoed through their training field.
Finding himself drifting along the fun memories, a sharp pain to his left eye jolted him out of his reverie as a fist connected with his abdomen and another to the right side of his face in quick succession. With staggering steps, he held his left eye and he felt the sharp sting, making it harder to see quite well.
With the piercing pain from his eyes and hot one from his face, he launched forward with a scowl on his already terrifying face, he thrust his arms forward with equal ferocity but it missed its target as the young man vaulted backwards in retreat.
Quickly regaining his bearings, he turned only to meet a lariat to his abdomen as it sent him tumbling down the ground, wheezing as he gasped for air.
"It seems like you've been getting rather cocky, eh boy." He said with a snarl on his face. "But don't worry. I'll beat the subservience back into you!" With that he rushed once more at the boy as he threw a barricade of punches at the boy who tried his best to block and deflect the onslaught, but unfortunately he was vastly inexperienced in contrast to the man in front of him as he received blows that shook his head from their impact while doing his best to mitigate most of the damage away from his body.
He barely had formed his next thought before he felt his airflow cut off finding himself locked in a choke hold, before he could even muster up the strength to brace himself for the inevitable, the contagious pain rushed through him as he was slammed on the ground, cracking the floor under him.
"We are not done just yet boy!" The still fuming old man roared as he bent down and grabbed the battered young man lifting him up but that turned out to be the wrong move as the young man drove another fist into his one good eye finally bringing him to his knees as he clutched his clearly damaged eye while roaring in pain, making his already terrifying visage more dreadful like that of a raging berserk beast of the wilds.
Because he was still holding his eyes as he suffered from the stinging pain that came back with double the intensity of what it was before, he didn't see nor comprehend the axe-kick that dug into the back of his skull, forcing him face first into the ground.
Seeing his opponent down, spurred by impulse, he went again for his head only to be stopped by a bored voice, sounding slightly amused.
Raising his head, he saw a man in a doctors garb, wizened features and a head of white. By all, such a man shouldn't be up and about much less running an experiment since he looked like he would just keel over if he was so much as prodded with a light nudge. But yet he had such a deep and steady voice and with the way he walked, with no sway to his gait, would make people think he was that young.
"I think that's enough I-039. While I admit that it would have been a little bit amusing to watch your squabble, unfortunately I have far more pressing things at hand." With that he turned around and paid no more attention to the fighting duo. He walked to the stairs leading upwards and called one last time without stopping. "Don't keep me waiting."
With that, his persona was gone leaving a quietly heaving young man and an old man laying on the floor while groaning in pain. The young man took a last look at his tormentor and left for the path the doctor took.
He walked up the stairs and found himself in a huge hallway with a lot of door and soldiers with guns manning them. Without a pause in his steps, he walked down the halls, not even thinking of what was behind those doors, and came in front of an elevator.
Using the elevator, he went three floors below which was the farthest he's ever went during his entire time held in this place.
Stepping out of the elevator, he walked a bit down before he came to a stop in front of a door.
Regulating his breathe for a few seconds, he pushed open the door and walked in finding the doctor there tinkering with some test tubes while cross checking the data on a screen.
The room he walked in looked like an operation room or a room for a critically conditioned patient, with lots of mechanical equipment and tubes and a whole slew of things he didn't know.
Without announcing his presence, he went and stood quietly at the side without making a sound.
After almost half an hour, the doctor raised his head and saw the man standing quietly at the side with shallow breaths.
"The first drawer on the cabinet besides your bed, there's a tube marked with your name. Ingest the contents and lie down."
Without even a question, he walked towards the cabinet and withdrew the marked tube and ingested the contents without any sign of apprehension.
The solution in it was mostly tasteless with a tangy aftertaste, and with it's ingestion came a surging heat in his stomach.
Laying on the bed, he waited for the doctor to come do his check and find out which fucked up thing they drugged him with again.
The heat in his stomach became slightly unbearable as he began to twist and turn on the bed but not out of pain, but extreme discomfort like he had worms and roaches moving in every part of his body with little jabs of electricity every so often.
The doctor, uncaring about his discomfort, connected some wires and other medical apparatus to him and then started going over the data.
"Mixing your DNA with a spliced portion of that of a starfish and a lizard in an attempt to somehow increase your regenerative factor to the extent of regenerating missing limbs bore a 74% success according to the calculations, but looking at it now, its chance of success is less than 30%. Hmm, if your ability wasn't just a representative factor of your mutant cell, but rather that of both your physical and microscopic parts articulated together, then while your cells can adapt, your body on the other hand lowers the success rate due to quality or maybe quantity, or maybe both? Another failure. Well at least I have new speculations, so maybe it wasn't all a failure."
The doctor continued his research, forgetting about the writhing man a few feet away.