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 capital city , 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.
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 metas humans 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 metahumans 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 metahumans right nor was he about to find the anti-human faction and tell Jason 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 metahuman or its scientifically induced counterpart, not a tech savvy, definitely not a secret soldier experiment - no thank you, and definitely not the rich 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.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 tip that would help him know what world he was in but to no avail
Clicking on some articles, he did a brief read up on some random news 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.