[There is a chapter above this one, containing the prologue. Read it. It is essential, however.]
[Earth Sphere, a few hours earlier]
A bloodied palm slammed onto the door of a yellow bus and slid it open. The owner of the palm staggered in, breathing in and out shallowly.
He dragged himself forward with what little strength remained in him until he reached a narrow table, where he collapsed against it and smeared a wet trail of blood across its worn surface. Another heavy drop fell from his nose to join the spreading stain below.
With trembling hands, he lifted himself and sat on the edge of the table.
Just then, a vaguely familiar dizziness washed over him, and the bus seemed to stretch and contort unnaturally.
"Will! Wil!" a cold voice, deep and coarse, echoed through the brain of the young boy. "Just answer, Will," the voice said slowly, a tinge of evil amusement playing in its tone.
"Not again… not again," the boy cried, clasping both bloodied hands at his temples. He shut his eyes tight. "Get out of my head… get out of my head," he cried, his whole body shaking violently, causing the pain ramming through his body to intensify.
A low, drawn-out sound followed, something between a chuckle and a sigh.
"Ahhhhhhh… you can't outrun me," the voice said, as slow as before, echoing through the fabric of his mind nonetheless.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
The boy flinched as his eyes instinctively flew to the door. His heart began a frantic beat against his ribs, and his entire body shuddered wildly, caught between fear of the voice inside him and whatever might be waiting outside.
Slowly, and as quietly as panic and pain would allow, the boy picked up a bat from the top of a cabinet inside the bus, held it high, and walked toward the door.
"If it's anything out of the blue, I'm not thinking twice," he stuttered inwardly, half in panic.
He took his best fighting stance, but in his current state it looked less intimidating and more like someone attempting a very confused version of ballet.
However, tightening his fingers around the bat, he slid the door open and—
"Jesus, Will!" a female voice yelped.
"Elena?" Will retorted, breathing out and letting his raised hand holding the bat fall back down. That eerie feeling immediately stopped, and everything went back to normal, except the pain exuding from his whole body.
"You shouldn't be here," Will muttered heavily, anchoring his battered self to the door.
"I came to warn you," Elena said, her voice laced with worry and urgency. She glanced back like someone anticipating danger, then turned back to Will. "They are still looking for you. You should let me in."
Will exhaled, shook his head slowly, sighed, then staggered back into the bus. "Close the door," he said.
He went over to his old brown couch, which had long lost its softness, and sat on it with a painful groan that reminded him just how thoroughly he had been beaten.
…
The converted bus was his house. It had been parked in the slum part of Nethros City for what felt like eternity. It belonged to his uncle, who used it for his dirty dealings of cooking meth and other drugs.
After the unnatural and brutal car accident that had taken his parents, his uncle had taken him in, not because he wanted to, but out of obligation, being the next of kin and inheritor of everything his father had owned, including wealth, company, and estate.
Yet despite all that, Will had never been treated like the son of a wealthy man. He was always choked with work and taught with an iron hand how to survive alone at such a tender age, to the extent of sending him away when he turned fourteen to fend for himself.
His uncle left him with only the converted bus and the assurance of paying his school fees.
Claiming that Will was the devil, since instead of being a thing of joy like every newborn baby, he was tragedy.
Will's mum was being rushed to the hospital for labor, but along the way she started giving birth inside the car. The next thing was that an accident happened. Will's father and mother died, and only baby Will survived. It was said to be a terrible accident, as the car was sliced horizontally in half, as though by a huge blade.
Now Will is sixteen, and to add to his dilemma of working tirelessly to sustain himself, he had earned himself four big, good-for-nothing bullies. And today they had done their assignment: him.
All thanks to his lean and poorly nourished body, which made him an easy target.
…
Elena walked into the converted bus and stared around. To the left side was the kitchen area of the bus, with an old counter, a few cooking materials, some snacks, a bag of ice, and cans of water and soda.
To the right was where Will sat, a single couch and then a mattress that together formed the entirety of his living space.
The curtains on the windows, however, were frayed at the base, and the roof of the bus was slumped inward and looked one heavy rain away from giving up entirely.
It wasn't much, but it was definitely pitiful, though not as pitiful as the boy himself.
Will was badly beaten. His silver-white hair was tattered and stained with blood, and his face, once youthful, was now bruised and marked with dark and crimson patches, carrying the clear signs of punches, slaps, and kicks.
"You shouldn't be here," he said again, quieter this time. "Haven't I been punished enough for your sake?"
Elena shut her eyes for a brief second, then opened them. "I… I just wanted to help, Will."
Elena was everything the world seemed to favor without effort. She was beautiful, admired, wealthy, and surrounded by attention.
While Will existed at the opposite end of thatspectrum, he still admired her. But unfortunately for him, Jake, the leader of his bullies, had decided she belonged to him, which meant that even the smallest interaction between her and Will was enough to earn him more beating.
Today, however, Will had made the questionable decision to stand up for himself, and while it had technically made a difference, that difference came in the form of receiving twice the punishment he usually endured.
He was brutally injured. Some of their punches and hard kicks had injured above his eye, his nose, his mouth, his back, his stomach, and even his left temple after they mistakenly pushed him too hard against the wall.
Will tilted his head slowly until it cracked, and a sharp pain went through him, but he swallowed it. He was not going to sell himself short in front of a girl. Still, he really needed some help, which she had just offered.
"Fine," he said, nodding toward the counter where a small routine had been established over time: ice, cloth, bowl, tools for bully damage control in a life where such damage was frequent.
Elena understood at once, then went over and got them. She walked toward Will, handed him the ice, which he placed on his aching head, then dipped the cloth into the bowl, squeezed it lightly, and gently started to clean Will's face.
"Hphm," Will grumbled, wincing as the fabric brushed a particularly sensitive spot above his eye.
"You shouldn't have stood up to them," Elena said. "You knew it was a death wish." She gently wiped the blood from his nose ridge. "And your stubborn ass did it anyway."
"And what would that make me, huh?" Will retorted. "Hopeless, poor, nerdy Will… argh!" he yelped. "Be gentle," he complained with clenched teeth and shut eyes.
"Hahahahaha, of course I will," she answered, but that wasn't her voice. No, it was the other voice, cold, very deep, unsettling, and coarse, and each word came out slow and dragged.
A sharp chill seared into Will's spine as his eyes shot open at once. His entire body started to shiver. Everything had distorted once more, but now it was worse.
The interior of the bus bled into a suffocating red, and it stretched unnaturally like some tunnel leading to hell. The curtains turned black and badly frayed, and the roof at the far end had collapsed.
But that was not all.
Something was happening to Elena. Her once fair skin began to harden into something green and leathery, while her blonde hair thickened, lengthened, and darkened into a heavy mass. Her delicate features broadened unnaturally, and her fingers swelled into thicker shapes. From beneath her lower lip, now dark as charred ash, two teeth pushed outward.
"What's wrong, Will?" her mouth moved, but the deep voice echoed everywhere, slow and terrifying. "You look awful."
Will was now breathing frantically, his chest rising and falling in brutal waves of panic. "Get away from me!" he shouted. "Get, get away!"
With his leg, he pushed his weight backward. The couch leaned over and fell, and Will tumbled with the motion. Ignoring the pain, he scrambled up and made to run, but that was the very end of the bus.
"Why are you running, Will?" Elena said, walking closer with slow steps toward him. "Just answer me, and I will put an end to your misery." The voice, deep and coarse, ricocheted through the distorted bus.
Will recoiled against the wall of the bus. "Stay away from me," he cried. "Stay away."
The pain exuding from his body was nothing compared to the panic flaring in his soul. He kept pressing against the wall of the bus as though trying to phaze through it.
"What in the She-Hulk's name are you?" he cried. "Just stay away from me. Stay away from me."
"Will! Will!" the voice called. "Just answer me, Will!"
"No! Stay away!"
But she kept stepping forward slowly, her green, monstrous-looking body moving unnaturally.
She stretched out her hands towards him evilly. A dark uncharacteristic smile curving through her cheek.
"No, no, no!" Will cried, shutting his eyes as his heart pounded more heavily.
But then she grabbed him by the hand.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaargh!" Will screamed, his voice tearing out of him with such force it seemed to shake the very air around them.
Elena flinched.
"Will!" she called, gripping his shoulders now and shaking him. "Will!"
His eyes snapped open. But everything was okay. Elena was still Elena, her blonde hair, her fair skin, her uniform, everything was normal.
The bus had returned to its cramped, worn reality, the curtains still frayed, the air still stale, nothing twisted, nothing red, nothing wrong.
Will's heart was still pounding heavily. His breaths came in and out like thick tidal waves. His body trembled violently, and sweat ran down his face. The edges of his eyes held blood as he looked around wildly.
"What's wrong, Will? What's wrong?" Elena asked, her voice now completely her own, filled with concern. "You scared me."
Will stared at her for a moment, wide-eyed, trying to separate reality from whatever nightmare had just consumed him.
"Let go of me," he snapped suddenly, his voice sharp and unsteady. "Don't touch me!"
He tore himself free from her grip and bolted for the door.