Prologue: Stranded

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“I’m dead and this is my limbo because what else makes sense…?” Jacob Li Paul muttered under his breath, looking at the numerous decrepit one-storey buildings around him.

It was the afternoon but from the way the clouds darkened the sky, obscuring any sunlight, one could be led to believe that it was already nighttime. The only thing letting Jack know for sure that it wasn’t night yet, was his power's passive.

From the roof of the tallest building that he climbed from – a dilapidated, abandoned fire station – everywhere he looked, the young man was greeted by dilapidated buildings and streets. The roads were filled with little chink, with some having a major fissure the thickness of a wrist, running through the asphalt. The walls of the surrounding buildings weren’t faring better either. They were dirty, filled with what looked like gunshot cracks. Trash littered the sidewalk as what seemed like dirty sewage water was flowing at the edge between the sidewalk and the road proper.

On the horizon, Jack could see a plume of black smoke rising above black and gloomy giant skyscrapers – colossal structures of metal and concrete – leisurely billowing out and reaching toward the sky. An intense flash of red-ish light painted the area, buildings, apartments and skyscrapers around in an orange hue. Idly, he vaguely recognized in the background the distinct sound of police sirens mixing with that of fire trucks and ambulance sirens, creating a chaotic symphony of noise.

The picture this scene painted wasn’t encouraging for his prospects…

“... Seriously, what the fuck! Where the fuck is this place from…?” Jack sighed, setting down the newspaper that he picked from the road.

Gotham Gazette, it read at the top of the page, in giant capitalized letters. The fact that he never heard in his life of a city called Gotham that was situated in America – a city this big and large from the look of it – was another indicator that he wasn't in Valence City anymore…

The date written in the article was another small indicator.

2011.

Supposedly a whole ass nine years in the past.

There was a possibility, however small it may be, that the newspaper was outdated, that maybe it was one of those fake newspapers not dissimilar to the Onions.

However, something in him – a feeling or sixth sense whatever he might call it – was telling him that it was not the case.

After all, given that not even five minutes prior to waking up in a dirty, dark and moist disease-ridden alleyway, he was fighting for his life along with many other supes.

They were all fighting for survival. In a fight with the fate of the entire world and the entirety of the star system as they know it in the balance. A fight which saw every hero, villain and rogue, whether major or minor ones – ally themselves to defend and fight against V, the harbinger of End.

A fight for survival. A last stand. One that Jack, one of the survivors, managed to witness them win. But at a great price.

A pyrrhic victory in summary.

The last thing he remembered before he died lost consciousness was seeing the moon destroyed, splintering into multiple pieces while Earth. his homeworld and dimension collapsed onto itself.

Jack wondered if the resulting plane or planetary collapse was the reason behind his new predicament. Was it the resulting energy clash generated by the collapse that transported him to what looked like another universe? Or was it something else entirely? Like a weird power interaction? Also, he wondered if he was the only one that was displaced. He remembered there being people in his immediate surroundings. So he couldn’t help but wonder if he wasn’t the only one who landed here or if they were all displaced but didn’t land at the same place, thoroughly scattered through the multiverse…

However, Jack couldn’t keep dwelling on it for too long as the weight of his situation started to dawn on him.

He was alone. In a city he’d never been in before, one which from the looks of it didn’t look safe. He was alone, stranded in another universe. This situation wasn’t good.

Anxiety twisting his guts, behind his riot assault helmet, his brown eyes shone in a vibrant red light – an ethereal flame blazing on his pupils.

The telltale sign of a power activation.

Before he could give himself to his panic attack and fully activate his power, Jack clamped down hard on his emotions, stopping his power from activating, burying his anxiety and concerns deep inside his guts, in the same place where he’d buried his grief and sorrow during the events of the last stand.

Now wasn’t the time to panic. He needed to focus, to prioritize. He already took a cursory look at his surroundings. Now what he needed to do, was take stock of what he had – of what he would work with going forward.

Jack clicked on the small button situated near his left eardrum, and with a hiss of pressured air, his helmet opened itself from top to bottom, mecha-shifting to let out his face bare to the open air for the first time since he arrived here.

A compacted, black riot gas helmet with ominous glowing protective red lenses rested around his collar. Accompanying his costume ensemble was a full body-fitting black spandex that was knife-proof. Over it, he wore a set of dark blue tactical armor composed of a chest piece, legs, arms and knees protection pads.

For a rogue, his entire get up was standard. It carried a mercenary vibe to it. Which he liked. It was practical and covered a lot of his bases and vitals body’s parts while not overly restraining his movements too much. He wasn’t an Augmented with enhanced physical attributes after all, so he needed his armor to not weigh too much. It also helps that the less weight he carried, the better it was for him when using [Chamber].

This way, he could bring out the best of it.

Observations and distracting thoughts aside, he started to consider what's on the order of business, what would be his next step – or first step – now that he's taken stock of your situation.

‘Shelter, water and food in this order,’ Was his immediate thought.

He took out his phone to check his battery and for a signal, unlocking it by using its face detection feature and in passing, taking a good look at his bruised visage reflecting on the screen.

A Tired, beaten and weary face was what greeted him.

With a sigh, Jack concentrated on brainstorming his next course of action.

Obviously, his first priority was to work toward meeting all his needs.

In priority, home or a shelter in his situation. Then water and food. Once he secured those basics three, he could start branching out and working on other things like finding a job, a place to stay, and doing research into the history of the world he was now in. From the local’s supe dynamic to the current ongoing in the city. And looking at… the state of the streets and buildings around him; at the chaos surrounding the area with his ears picking the distant sound of gunshot near his position, but no longer of police siren; at the bleak mood permeating the air – he have a strong suspicion that this task was going to be the most important one if he wanted to increase his optics of survival.

Needless to say, as far as first impressions go, none of what he's seen and heard inspired confidence for next. It also didn’t help that he wasn’t exactly on top of his game. His back was aching, his limbs were slightly throbbing with pain and his spirit was in the gutter.

Usually, he fashioned himself to be an upbeat person, which for a rogue, was slightly unusual but at the same time, good for the optics of being a neutral figure. He’d cultivated his cheerful and easily approachable persona over the years during his budding supe’s career, faking it until it was part of his real life outlook and character. And thanks to this crafted persona, he gained the capacity of being able to bounce back from nearly any setbacks.

Which he always did when faced with obstacles or life-or-death situations in the past. This was how he managed to overcome obstacles in his way without being part of a team. Up until he was considered to be a solid future potential pretender for the S-class status at only 19.

Regaining his bearing, Jack quickly and methodologically took stock of his inventory.

He didn’t have much on his person or a lot of belonging to his name. He only has his supe’s phone, not Genius-tech. 76$ and 20 cents in cash and a 10 cm (4”) adamantium arrowhead in the belt compartment of his supe’s costume. Oh, and said supe’s costume, tactical boots, mecha shift riot helmet and everything.

He would have to work with it, and make it work. With 76$, he reckon that he could spend two or three nights at a cheap motel – one in a seedy part of town, not like everything around him already screaming ‘seedy’ – and still have some changes for food and some essentials.

However, apart from his costume, the most valuable thing on his person was probably his supe phone. If push comes to shove and he needed money, he would sell it for some cash.

He shivered, letting out a misty puff of smoke. The air was slightly cold and humid, probably because it was winter or nearing winter.

Sighing, he shifted on his feet and pressed the button of his helmet. The riot gas helmet snapped back in place with a quiet sound of gear shifting, snugly covering his face.

It was time to go on the move.

---

Jack opted to travel from rooftop to rooftop, jumping over each building, and sometimes briefly opening a chamber to create a telekinesis platform to assist his jump when the distance between two apartments revealed itself to be too big to clear over the normal way with his parkour skills.

Overhead, the sun was barely peeking through the heavy clouds covering the city’s sky as the air carried a faint smell of salt, a clear indication that the ocean, or at least the sea, wasn't too far away from his position.

He leaped, rolled, climbed and opened a chamber each time that he needed the extra boost in reach to cover a distance between two buildings. Eventually, after 20 minutes or so of steady jogging and traveling through rooftops, he reached a larger busy street – the width of four truck stacks side-by-side – with people buzzing around. The streets weren't in a better state than the one he’s seen up until now.

The asphalt was cracked and filled with potholes. Though at least the street wasn’t littered with wrecked cars, dilapidated buildings or walls marred with scorch marks and gunshots.

A clear improvement, albeit not a great one seeing as the streets were still dirty with trash littering around.

Shaking his head, Jack pursed his lips, wondering if it was a good idea for him to climb down and walk around in costume. He wanted to take a scope of the area, explore his surroundings, gather information by middling with the crowd of people and pick up snippets of information that would help him draw a picture of the place he landed.

After a short musing, ultimately, he decided to climb down and risk causing a scene. Though he would keep his helmet on because it gave him a sense of safety and old habits die hard – keeping his identity secret and taking every precaution possible to hide his face from the general public while in costume, was an engraved habit at this point.

His choice made, as stealthily as possible, he climbed down from his spot before blending into the shadows of a nearby dark back alley. Upon seeing him emerging from the back alley and joining the larger street, people around him did a double take. But after a few people gave him surprised looks, all of them went on their own way like nothing unusual was happening.

Either those people thought he was just some kind of weird cosplayer, or they were used to seeing people in costume walking around. Jack was leaning more toward the second hypothesis.

The young rogue spent the next two hours or so exploring and walking around, taking the lay of important buildings like thrift stores, grocery stores, some apartment buildings, a park, fast food restaurants, and the most important one in his opinion, a Job agency.

From his walk, he made several observations. The people walking on the streets looked like regular humans, though they looked a little sullen and gloomy – lifeless. Each with various skin colors and body shapes, and upon focusing on the conversations carried, he could clearly make out that they were talking in English, with an American accent, confirming that he was still well and truly in the U.S.

Apart from that, he heard some mentions about a ‘Joker’ killing Batman’s sidekick then getting caught by the same Batman and thrown into a place named Arkham. He also caught other small snippets of information about things being more dangerous now at night with criminals feeling emboldened by the Joker’s feats and Batman’s failure to stop him.

From his understanding and the conclusion he reached, a gang war was brewing on the horizon. It tracked with the few instances of violence, gun shooting sounds and police sirens that he heard while moving around. All of this happening in broad daylight. He hated to think about how worse it would get at night when criminals are ‘emboldenedʼ.

It also confirmed that this world has supes and he made another mental note to research those names as soon as possible.

When the sun was barely piercing through the sky, Jack decided to call it a day and look for a place to bunk for the night. Once again, as stealthy as he could, he stepped into the nearest shady back hallway and climbed over a housing unit by using the emergency ladder attached to said building.

Once on the roof, he started running before leaping when he reached the edge of the roof, easily covering the two-meter distance that separated the two housing units.

At a steady jog, he reckoned that he was one hour or so from his starting point, which with hindsight, seemed to be the poorest part of the district. Jack decided to search near his starting point for a place to pass the night and rest his legs. Or looking at the edge between his starting point and where he spent his afternoon exploring – a place that looked like a commercial district – might be better.

‘Food for thoughts.’

Was it safe? No. Affordable? Yes. Wise? Well, the jury was still out on this part.

It was while making another chamber and creating a telekinesis platform to clear the distance between two apartment blocks that he picked something in his sphere, making him pause once he landed on the roof of the building.

In the next abandoned and uninhabited apartment building – the distinction was important because he came across a lot of abandoned buildings that were inhabited – Jack picked up the presence of a hidden basement, a kind of underground bunker. A furnished basement if what you were registering from your scan was true.

‘Jackpot.’

---

After climbing down from the roof, he stood at the foot of the uninhabited building with a hidden basement. The ramshackle appearance of the building in all its moldy glory, broken windows, and decrepit walls, didn’t inspire much confidence even when he knew that there was a possibly liveable space below the ground floor.

Stepping inside the place, he walked through the dilapidated apartment block. The interior was somewhat worse than the exterior. Broken shards of glass lay haphazardly on the ground. Everywhere he set foot, he could see faded blood stains spread on the ground along with pieces of broken furniture chaotically scattered throughout the place.

This sight was enough to raise his hackles and stroke the flame of uneasiness in his heart.

Jack bulldozed through this feeling and powered walked to a space where a great amount of mold was gathered.

There, beneath his feet, there was a ladder leading down to the hidden bunker. And the access point to it happened to be a hatch camouflaged as a concrete floor slab from which he could access the place and go down into the basement. With some effort on his part along with an application of telekinesis, he lifted the heavy metal hatch and set it aside, dropping it with a metallic clang sound, revealing a small rectangular opening, wide enough for a person to squeeze through. Some light pierced through the dark opening, allowing him to take in the form of the ladder – rusted – and the concrete flooring at the bottom.

He took the ladder and steadily climbed down, making sure to test the solidity of each step before putting his feet on it. Swiftly enough, he reached the bottom. The place was plunged into semi-darkness, with the only source of light being the one coming from the opening directly above his head. From his scan, he knew that there was a power generator in one of the pieces which served as a tool shed.

Jack made a bee-line for the room, walking through a narrow corridor with gray concrete walls devoid of finishing, his helmet having a night and heat vision, he easily navigated through the bunker. Arriving in front of a metal door at the end of the corridor, with a clever application of telekinesis, he lock-picked the keyhole mechanic and twirled open the door.

A small living room with concrete walls, furnished with a wooden table and chairs greeted him. There was a pantry filled with cutleries, a fridge, a sofa and a kitchen countertop that hugged the wall with a sink and a microwave sitting toward the edge of it. In the middle of the room, hanging from the ceiling, was a lightbulb. At the other end of the room, there were three brown wooden doors. One led to the bathroom, the other to the bedroom, and the last one to a locker room where the generator was stocked.

He opened the wooden door leading to the locker room and stepped inside the room. The room has painted green walls, filled with some lockers, numerous ammo boxes, a desk where sat upon was a set of transmitter/emitter radios, and a mounted computer.

There, in the corner of the room, hidden by the opened door, between the desk and the wall, was the power generator. It was already calibrated and filled with diesel.

He turned on the generator, and with a quiet rattling noise, it started up with nary a sound.

The light bulb flickered before fully turning on, bathing the place in light.

Behind his helmet, Jack smiled in satisfaction.

---

After climbing back up and putting back the hatch, closing the opening; he decided to take a thorough survey of the place and what he was going to work with.

For starters, he began inspecting the locker room and making an inventory check. Even though he was aware of the contents of it, the result of his personal check was still eyebrow-raising. The locker was filled to the brim with guns. From rifles to shotguns to pistols, revolvers and semi-automatic firearms. Grenades, from smoke grenades, incendiary grenades, stun grenades, fragmentation grenades and EMP grenades were neatly stacked in one of the lockers; while in another one, an array of knives from all dimensions, types, sizes and widths were displayed. Cleaning accessories for the weapons were displayed in unopened boxes.

That wasn’t all. In the ammo boxes, there was an incalculable number of ammunition of all kinds, enough to supply each type of gun and more.

He was a little perplexed and started to wonder who the fuck this hideout used to belong to.

‘A supe,’ He thought with certitude. ‘A mercenary or villain. Heroes don’t have a need for a secret hidden stash house or so many weapons.’

And he said ‘used’ because, from his cursory {scan} using [Chamber], there were little clues pointing to the fact that this place had been abandoned for a while now.

Chief among them being the state of the pantry and fridge. The food and perishables items were spoiled and had gone bad for a long time now.

After finishing his inspection of the locker room – when toward the end he retrieved the 200$ in cash found in a nondescript box he first discovered upon scanning the place – he moved next to looking around the pastry and fridge. The canned foods found inside all dated from around the beginning of the year, March 2011 and he was pretty sure that it was somewhen in October or so. There was also some food, and bread filled with mold that had gone past the point of being spoiled and was rotten. Needless to say, the fridge smelled bad.

Jack found some cleaning supplies in the bathroom, emptied the fridge, and took the time to clean it. If he was going to live temporarily here, he needed the place to be as clean as possible for your use.

It took him a good hour to clean the fridge.

Done with that, a deep feeling of tiredness settled over his shoulder as the weight of his situation started to dawn on him. With practiced ease born of experience, he swallowed his apprehension and doubt and got back to his task of inspecting the place.

The last destination was the bedroom, where, upon stepping foot inside, he was greeted by a pair of bunk beds.

The bedroom was spartan, with only a wooden wardrobe and a small desk at the side of the room. In the wardrobe, there were some spare clothes: notably some t-shirts, jeans, shorts, sheets and blankets, but also a pair of shoes and military boots.

Making himself at home, he removed his armors piece by piece, took out his helmet, and changed into a bigger set of clothes before turning out the light and climbing on the bed.

Looking at the ceiling, Jack started to plan what he would do the next day. Probably going to gather information at a public library or something while also looking out for a potential job and maybe some way of crafting an ID and legal papers.

‘Shelter, water and food.’ He repeated the mantra in his mind. ‘I have fulfilled the first one and the last two are in my grasp. Next will be information, a job, and crafting a new identity. The last one will be the most difficult to accomplish.’

Tomorrow, he'd set out to accomplish the rest of his objectives.

Jack closed his eyes and let sleep take him.