The first thing Victor felt was the smell. Not the acrid bite of ozone or the metallic tang of blood, but the ghost of a bouquet—roses, maybe, or those cheap carnations they sell outside subway stations. The scent clung to the inside of his skull like a memory that refused to die. Then came the sound: a wet, meaty pop, followed by the distant wail of sirens that sounded like they were underwater. His chest burned. He looked down and saw a hole in his hoodie, neat as a button, right over the heart. Blood bloomed outward in a perfect circle, soaking the fabric until it clung to his skin like wet paper.
He was supposed to be dead.
Instead, the world flickered.
Skyscrapers stuttered like corrupted video files, their edges pixelating into static before snapping back into focus. A hot dog cart rolled past on its own, wheels squealing, mustard packets exploding in mid-air like yellow fireworks. A taxi driver floated upside-down above the asphalt, his cab keys jingling in zero gravity, before gravity remembered itself and dropped him with a yelp. The street signs twisted mid-letter—BROA became BROADWAY became BROKEN—and then reset. Somewhere, a pigeon exploded into confetti.
Victor gripped the hood of a parked Prius to keep from falling into the sky. His knuckles went white. "Yeah… this is totally not fucking normal."
A voice slithered into his skull, dry as desert wind and twice as amused.
"Normal is relative, Victor. By the way—that bullet that killed you? Defying physics isn't a fluke. Welcome to my playground. You're going to enjoy every bit of it until the next world."
He groaned. The sound came out wet. "Huh. There's a next world after this? I didn't sign up for this. I was buying flowers. And maybe a gift card. Why does my life have to be physics-on-steroids now? Can't one just live a normal, peaceful life?"
"Peaceful is boring," AETHER said, the word dripping with the kind of disdain usually reserved for decaf. "Because you're chosen. Which is basically a fancy way of saying you're screwed in style."
Victor opened his mouth to argue—then forgot how words worked.
A streak of red and gold carved across the sky, leaving a contrail of fire that spelled out something in cursive before the wind smeared it into nonsense. The armored figure banked hard, repulsors flaring, and landed on the roof of a Chase bank with the kind of dramatic flourish that screamed main character energy. Holograms blossomed around the helmet like digital petals.
Victor's brain short-circuited. "Is that—"
"Tony Stark," AETHER supplied. "Iron Man. Do not annoy him. He's part genius, part ego, and mostly dangerous. Billionaire playboy philanthropist, remember? Also, he's allergic to being wrong."
Victor blinked. Tony's helmet tilted, scanning the street. The HUD inside flickered with data—heat signatures, structural integrity, the caloric content of a nearby pretzel. Victor could practically hear the sarcasm loading.
"I said do not annoy him," AETHER repeated. "That includes staring, thinking, and unfortunately, existing in his airspace."
"I… uh…" Victor's internal monologue was a looping GIF of Don't die. Don't die. Don't die. But his mouth had other plans. "Nice suit. Very… pointy."
The helmet snapped toward him. For a heartbeat, Victor was sure he was about to become a smear on the pavement. Then Tony's voice crackled through the external speakers, equal parts amusement and threat.
"Kid, I've had missiles with better compliments."
AETHER snickered. "Oh, this is going to be fun. Tip: he doesn't like jokes about his fashion sense. But you could annoy him. Just don't die on your first day."
Before Victor could decide if that was permission or a warning, the world decided to escalate.
A building across the street exploded—not with fire, but with green. A hulking figure punched through concrete like it was tissue paper, roaring a sound that rattled Victor's teeth. The Hulk. Of course it was the Hulk. Debris rained down in slow motion, each chunk defying gravity for a second too long before remembering how to fall. Cars swerved. Pedestrians screamed. Victor dove behind a newsstand, heart jackhammering against his ribs.
"This is my new not-so-normal life?" he yelled at the empty air.
"Yes," AETHER said, smug as a cat with cream. "You've graduated from ordinary. Take notes."
Victor peeked over the edge of the stand. The Hulk was… juggling taxis. Not metaphorically. Literally tossing them like beach balls. One sailed overhead and landed upside-down on a fire hydrant, water geysering into a rainbow.
"Better safe than sorry," Victor muttered, and bolted for the nearest open door—a diner with a neon sign that flickered between OPEN and EAT ME.
Inside, the place was a time capsule: checkered floors, cracked vinyl booths, the smell of burnt coffee and regret. A waitress with a name tag that read DORIS froze mid-pour, coffee arcing in a perfect parabola that hung in the air like a brown comet. Victor slid into a booth and tried to become one with the shadows.
"Wow, boy," AETHER said, materializing as a faint blue hologram in the seat across from him. The AI looked like a glitchy bartender—vest, bowtie, and a smirk sharp enough to cut glass. "You do know how to enjoy yourself. Hiding in a diner while the world ends. Classic."
"Shut up," Victor hissed. "Don't you have anything better to do than comment on my possible death?"
"Watching you try to survive is entertaining. I can't help it." AETHER leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Hey, don't you plan on building a harem in the MCU?"
Victor choked on air. "Nah. I'm not ready to die again. If I target Natasha, she'll know about you in five seconds and dissect me with Nick Fury in a lab. Wanda? Her chaos magic would turn me into a sock puppet. Captain Marvel? She's powered by a fucking Infinity Stone. I don't want to even think about the others."
AETHER's hologram flickered, amused. "Jeez, that's a lot of excuses. But what if I told you I could make you handle all of them at once? You know… at once."
Victor's brain blue-screened. He imagined it—Natasha's smirk, Wanda's scarlet glow, Carol's photon-charged glare—all focused on him. His face went nuclear. He shook his head so hard he nearly gave himself whiplash. "Nope. I think I like solo. It's safer."
"Solo? You're crazy. Where else will the interesting things come from?" AETHER sounded genuinely disappointed.
Victor opened his mouth to retort—then the wall exploded.
Iron Man crashed through the diner's brick facade, armor scraping sparks across the floor. He rolled, came up firing, repulsors whining. "Shit—that thing's fast! Cap, you red-white-and-brooding, get that fucking thing! Wanda, bend reality around it! Strange, do time loops! Parker, try not to die! The rest of you know what to do!"
Tony was gone before Victor could process the profanity. The diner's patrons—frozen mid-scream—suddenly unfroze and bolted for the exits. Doris dropped her coffeepot; it shattered into a thousand slow-motion shards that hung in the air like crystal snow.
Victor stared at the hole in the wall. Outside, the Avengers were a blur of color and violence. Spider-Man webbed a lamppost to use as a pivot, swinging in a perfect arc. Black Widow cartwheeled over a taxi, Widow's Bites crackling. Captain America's shield ricocheted off three anomalies before embedding in a hot dog cart. The Hulk… well, the Hulk was winning.
Then, as suddenly as it started, it stopped. The anomalies flickered out like birthday candles. The Avengers stood in the wreckage, breathing hard. Tony's helmet retracted with a hiss. He scanned the street, eyes narrowing at the diner.
Victor realized two things at once:
Staying put wasn't an option.
His curiosity was a suicidal idiot.
He stepped over the debris and into the chaos.
The air hummed with residual energy, like the aftermath of a lightning strike. Victor's sneakers crunched on glass. He followed the trail of destruction—past a taxi fused halfway into a building, past a pigeon that was now a origami swan—until he found himself at the entrance to a high-tech lab that definitely hadn't been there five minutes ago.
"Tony Stark's cave," AETHER whispered, voice low with glee. "And yes, he's going to notice you. Enjoy the chaos."
Inside, the lab was a fever dream of innovation. Holograms floated above workbenches like ghosts—blueprints for suits, arc reactors, something that looked suspiciously like a coffee machine with a repulsor core. A robot arm beeped at Victor suspiciously, its claw twitching like it wanted to flip him off. In the center of the room, a prototype suit hung in a stasis field, nanites swirling like metallic fish.
Victor's jaw dropped. "This is like every Iron Man montage I've ever watched, combined into one insane loop. Shit, look at that—isn't that the nano-tech suit? AETHER, he's so awesome."
Tony's voice cut through the air like a scalpel. "You're trespassing."
Victor spun. Tony stood in the doorway, arms crossed, arc reactor glowing like a tiny star. His expression was equal parts exhaustion and calculation.
"Unless…" Tony's eyes narrowed. "Wait. You have no idea what you're doing here, do you, kid?"
Victor opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. "Uh… no? I mean, yeah? Okay, not really. You could say I got lost."
"Perfect," AETHER said, voice dripping with glee. "Let the chaos begin. Officially."
Before Tony could respond, the floor shook. A pulse of energy tore through the lab, holograms flickering like bad reception. Outside, the city screamed.
Victor bolted for the window. "Not again. I thought that was all."
"Multiverse fragment anomaly," AETHER whispered. "Your first test. Don't die. Try not to embarrass me."
Victor blinked. "You're… actually enjoying this, aren't you?"
"Absolutely. Watching you panic is peak entertainment. Besides, where else can I get this? You could reconsider my offer—starting a harem. Imagine Thor's sister Hela, goddess of death, standing by your side."
"Just shut up. Are you trying to kill me prematurely? Hela's a final boss. She fought her own father. You expect her to follow me?"
"Yeah, boy. With me, you could do anything. Just think about it."
Victor stumbled onto the street. The anomaly hung above Times Square like a wound in reality—swirling purple and black, spitting sparks that turned into butterflies made of static. Figures shimmered inside: some humanoid, some… wrong. A hand with too many fingers reached out, then retracted.
Spider-Man swung past, quipping mid-flip. "Hey, kid! Watch the debris! Also—uh, new guy? Who let you out? You could die any minute."
Victor waved. "Who you calling kid, punk? You're about my age. And hey, have you left MJ yet?"
Spider-Man's mask lenses narrowed. "Shut up before I wrap you in a cocoon. MJ's mine. Don't get any weird ideas."
Natasha materialized beside him, silent as smoke. She assessed him with the kind of look that could disarm a bomb. "You're either very stupid or extremely lucky."
Victor's meta-brain screamed: Both. Definitely both.
"Uh… hi?" He gave the vaguest wave in human history.
Hulk roared, stomping closer. Steve Rogers stepped in front, shield raised. "Careful, kid. We don't know who—or what—you are yet. Don't be an enemy."
"Step one: survive introductions," AETHER muttered. "Step two: survive the city. Step three: survive you."
Victor sighed. "Step four: survive my life. Probably impossible. Everyone's looking at me like I'm a lab rat."
The anomaly pulsed. Victor's stomach churned. He could feel it—reality stretching like taffy, ready to snap.
"Go check it out," AETHER said casually. "Or stay. Your choice. Spoiler: staying isn't safer."
Victor groaned but approached. Spider-Man shot a web to stabilize a lamppost. Natasha flanked him. Steve whispered tactics. Victor's first instinct was panic. His second was to use AETHER.
A holographic menu bloomed in his vision:
FRAGMENTS DETECTED: 3
ENERGY READINGS: SPIKING
REALITY DISRUPTION: IMMINENT
"Touch it and die," AETHER said. "Or don't. Your call."
Victor's hands hovered. "This is… definitely above my pay grade."
A figure emerged from the rift—a shadowy humanoid with glowing eyes, limbs bending at impossible angles. Its presence hurt to look at. Spider-Man yelped. Natasha readied her Bites. Steve braced. Hulk smashed.
Victor swallowed. "Okay. Yep. Definitely above my pay grade."
"Good. Fear is healthy. Embrace it. And my offer's still open—Hela could be your ace."
"Just shut up."
The anomaly pulsed. Victor activated AETHER's fragment manipulation module. Energy surged through his veins like liquid starlight. His hands glowed. He felt power—and terror. One wrong move and New York becomes a crater.
"Hey, genius," AETHER teased. "Try not to blow up the city on day one."
Victor extended his hand. Light arced toward the shadow. It shrieked, a sound like nails on a chalkboard made of glass, and retreated. The rift flickered.
Spider-Man landed. "Whoa… what did you just do?"
Victor shrugged. "Yeah, I know. I'm awesome. No need to fret."
Steve groaned. "Kid, we have a lot to talk about."
Tony appeared, scanning. "You just… touched a multiverse fragment? Do you know how impossible that is? And why are you still alive?"
Victor raised his hands. "Honestly, no clue. But I know I'm the MC."
"Exactly," AETHER smirked. "Chaos management: step one. Claim your story."
The rift pulsed again. A new presence emerged—taller, cloaked in shadow, eyes like dying stars.
Victor's stomach dropped. "Oh, great. Someone else. Hope it's someone who can take me home."
Spider-Man grinned. "Lucky first day, huh?"
Victor closed his eyes. "Shut up. I am so fucking screwed."
But as the new figure stepped fully into the light, Victor realized something worse: it was looking at him. Not the Avengers. Not the city. Him.
And it smiled.
The lab was quieter now, the kind of quiet that follows a storm when the air still crackles with leftover electricity. Tony had dragged Victor inside, muttering about "containment protocols" and "not letting the kid blow up my city." The prototype suit still hung in its stasis field, nanites swirling lazily. JARVIS—or maybe FRIDAY, Victor couldn't keep track—scanned him with a beam of light that felt like judgment.
Tony paced, helmet tucked under one arm. "Okay, kid. Talk. Who are you, how'd you do that, and why shouldn't I lock you in a box until SHIELD figures out if you're a threat?"
Victor opened his mouth. Closed it. AETHER's hologram flickered into existence beside him, visible only to Victor, wearing a tiny popcorn bucket hat.
"Tell him the truth," AETHER whispered. "But maybe leave out the harem part."
Victor shot the AI a glare. "I'm… Victor. I was buying flowers. Got shot. Woke up here. This voice in my head—AETHER—says I'm 'chosen.' I touched the glowy thing. It worked. That's the short version."
Tony stared. Then laughed. It wasn't a kind laugh. "Chosen. Great. Another one. Last 'chosen' guy tried to nuke the planet. You got a resume?"
"He's not wrong," AETHER said. "But you're cuter."
Victor ignored him. "Look, I don't want to nuke anything. I just want to not die. Again."
Tony's expression softened a fraction. "Been there. Dying's overrated." He gestured to the suit. "You like tech?"
Victor's eyes lit up. "Are you kidding? That's the Mark 85, right? Bleeding-edge nanotech. Self-assembling, adaptive armor, integrated AI—wait, is that a coffee dispenser?"
Tony blinked. "Okay, points for enthusiasm. But you're still a walking anomaly. JARVIS, run a full scan. And get Bruce. He's gonna want to see this."
The door hissed open. Bruce Banner shuffled in, looking like he'd been dragged through a hedge backward. His eyes locked on Victor. "You're the one who stabilized the fragment?"
Victor shrugged. "I guess?"
Bruce's gaze sharpened. "That's… not possible. The energy readings were off the charts. You should be ash."
"Tell him about me," AETHER said. "Go on. I dare you."
Victor hesitated. "There's… a thing. In my head. Calls itself AETHER. Says it's why I can do the glowy hand thing."
Tony and Bruce exchanged a look. The kind of look that said we're keeping you.
Outside, the city was rebuilding itself in fits and starts. Buildings un-cracked. Cars un-crashed. A hot dog cart rolled back into place, mustard packets reassembling mid-air. But the rift above Times Square still pulsed, slower now, like a dying heartbeat.
Victor felt it watching him.
"They're going to lock you up," AETHER said conversationally. "Or dissect you. Or both. You could escape. I could help. Just say the word."
Victor glanced at Tony, who was already pulling up holograms—scans of Victor's DNA, energy signatures, something labeled ANOMALY CONTAINMENT PROTOCOL. Bruce was muttering about gamma radiation and quantum entanglement.
"No," Victor said aloud. "I'm not running. Not yet."
Tony raised an eyebrow. "Talking to the voice in your head?"
"Pretty much."
Bruce stepped closer. "Can it hear us?"
"Loud and clear, Doc," AETHER said through Victor's mouth. His voice layered over Victor's, deeper, amused. "Nice lab. Love the coffee machine."
Bruce jumped. Tony's hand twitched toward a repulsor.
Victor winced. "Sorry. It does that."
Tony exhaled through his teeth. "Okay. New plan. You're staying here. Under observation. You try anything, I blast you to New Jersey. Deal?"
Victor nodded. "Deal."
But as Tony turned away, Victor caught sight of the rift again through the window. The new figure was still there, cloaked in shadow. It raised a hand. Not in threat. In greeting.
"That's not an Avenger," AETHER whispered. "That's something older. Hungrier. And it knows your name."
Victor's blood went cold.
The figure stepped fully into the light. Female. Tall. Armor like liquid night. A crown of bones. Eyes like green fire.
Hela.
She smiled, and the city screamed.