A sı in marvel that metagames potential power booats to his actual advantage for once hope you like it!!!
Words: 140k+
Link: -https://m.fanfiction.net/s/13612640/1/Earth-s-Mightiest-Hero
( Jordan, your friendly neighborhood comic book fan wakes up in the Marvel Universe before the events of Iron Man. Join him as he struggles for power so that one day he might stand at the forefront of Earth, defending the planet from dangers only he knows are out there. (Self Insert) )
Author's Note: This is a Marvel fanfic, but in places, I've altered characters; powers, origin stories, the timing of events and locations for this story to work. I've tried to include as many cool things from across the marvel universes as I can which has required multiple liberties to be taken. Hope you enjoy it, reviews are appreciated.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything Marvel. It would be cool if I did, but I don't.
Chapter 1 – Hello, World!
My eyes blurrily opened.
Ah fuck, I groaned. I had a splitting headache as I gradually came to, the lights above me glaring down. What the hell? I tried to raise my hand to block the light, but it felt so heavy as I struggled to lift it, instead, my arm just flopped back down beside me.
"Jordan! You're awake, my beautiful boy," I heard sobbing as warmth engulfed my hand.
"What's going on?" I groaned.
"Where am I?"
"Shh shh, mum is here, you just relax, I'll shout for a nurse, you just rest, you hear me?"
With that, my mind slipped into unconsciousness.
It could have been a few seconds or several hours before I woke again,
"He'll be alright ma'am, he's young and strong, responding well to-" the nurse was cut off by the woman who had been holding my hand earlier.
"Jordan! He's awake, he's awake!"
I felt better that time around, I was able to fully open my eyes to be greeted by a middle-aged woman, she was Caucasian, had a petite figure with brown hair, but more immediately noticeable was the tears streaming down her face. Just as I was about to speak, the door opened to an African American man in an NYPC uniform. He'd been holding two coffees but upon seeing me, he dropped them without a care in the world before rushing at me.
'Wait, stop! I haven't done anything wrong officer!', I wanted to shout in alarm before I was swept into his bear-like arms. He held me tightly, and after a moment I realised he was openly sobbing. I was lost for words, so I just hugged him back, not sure what do to with myself.
He must have felt my response because his hug grew tighter before he parted, wiping his eyes on his sleeve,
"I can't believe you're awake, son." He beamed at me.
I felt moved, this stranger- wait no. He wasn't a stranger. Flash thoughts were coming to me. Gradually, those thoughts pieced themselves together, making more sense. His name was Sterling Davis and he was my father. The thoughts and their accompanying images, feelings and various emotions flowed through me as I looked at him - memories. Unfamiliar, yet they now felt like they were my own. Eventually, I just looked him in the eyes and said,
"Dad"
He grinned. Truly smiled with so much happiness I was taken aback. I may have been clueless as to where I was and what was happening, but I knew this man's love and the woman who'd come to crouch by his side, my… mum's love was real, and for now, at that moment, that was enough.
Two days later
I'd been discharged from hospital that morning. I'd claimed memory loss at most of the doctor's questions, which wasn't wrong I supposed. However, when I'd sat there in my hospital room, sifting through 'my' memories as much as possible, I'd slowly been able to answer more of the doctor's questions such as who I was, my address and phone number. With that, he was convinced all my memories would come back with time and all I need was a relaxed recovery period.
It'd been a strange couple of days, coming to terms with the thought that I, Scott, was no longer in my own body. I was 28, single and worked in a tech store selling laptops, printers and TVs, you know, the usual shit. Now I was 15-year-old Jordan, son to loving parents and generally a good kid.
My time in the hospital, when Jordan's parents hadn't been all over me providing a distraction, was suffocating. Not literally mind you - but coming to the realisation I had been stripped of my former life, my identity and thrust into a new one was rough. I'd spent a lot of time wondering, hoping if when I awoke next, I'd wake up back as Scott.
Even though Jordan's memories were happy, those many would aspire to have, they weren't mine. I felt like an imposter every time his dad came to check up on me between work shifts, every time his mother came in with freshly baked goods just to see a smile on my face.
Two days sat in a hospital bed has eased the gut-wrenching feeling of being somewhere new and alone. It helped I was generally quite pragmatic, moping around wouldn't solve my situation. The question was, could anything?
To have suggested the idea of reincarnation to me before would have made me laugh. Yet there I was, not just somewhere else born anew, but living another's life. It wasn't quite reincarnation, but transmigration?
Did that mean I'd died as Scott? I'd racked my brain, but I had no recollection of my final memories before I woke up here - and I was positive I hadn't had any pre-existing health conditions.
It felt weird to think I was dependent on others again, to constantly be checked up on. I was used to chilling out with my friends. I hadn't loved my job, but I had earned enough to support my hobbies, which were meeting my boys for drinks and getting high to discuss recent movies, comics and fit girls.
But Jordan was different, he ran track for his high school, actually studied before an exam and was friends with some popular kids at school. Perhaps more alien than being in a new body with a different height, weight, looks and haircut was walking in the shoes of that life.
Once I was back 'home' and finally alone after telling my parents I needed some time to rest, I opened 'Jordan's' laptop and typed in his password: SexyLady123. One I'd have to change before I cringed myself to death.
Moving on swiftly, I'd needed to confirm some odd things I'd seen in my memories. It was only a few moments later I was staring at the news articles on-screen in disbelief.
"Holy shit," I whispered to myself.
As if waking up and finding myself in someone else's body wasn't enough, it also appeared I was in a completely different world, yet a world I was all too familiar with. The icing on the cake was when I confirmed that the year was 2007 and that amongst the largest grossing companies in the world were Roxxon Industries; Stark Industries, Oscorp, Pymm technologies, the Baxter Foundation, Life Foundation and H.A.M.M.E.R.
"I'm in the Marvel fucking universe. What. The. Fuck." I spoke aloud in disbelief. A few moments of silence went by before the largest shit-eating grin spread across my face. If I was here, regardless of the how, it must be for a purpose right? I was already having fantastical thoughts, would I become a superhero? An Avenger? Or perhaps a member of the X-men?
I took a moment to think back on the memories belonging to this body, but I was drawing up blank. Jordan had been hit by a car on the way back from a friend's house around the corner, a classic hit and run. Except I'd hit my head badly on the fall, enough to put me in a three-week coma according to everyone around me.
A shit experience to be sure, but nothing that'd result in gaining superpowers. Could I be… Carman? Capable of moving cars? Or Tarmachead? Capable of freely controlling tarmac as if it were liquid? That'd be pretty lame.
I sighed and leaned back in the office chair. I supposed if nothing obvious came to mind I'd have to run some tests.
I breathed out in annoyance. I'd been staring at the pen on my desk for the previous 20 minutes. Nothing, not even a shimmer. I scratched another line from my list. I'd tried super strength, telepathy, super speed, firing beams of energy from my eyes and forming blasts of energy from my hands. Fuck, I'd even tried to fly. And now, telekinesis.
Nothing. What was the point? How cruel could anyone be to put me in a universe full of the most absurd powers and abilities where literally anything was possible, just to make me a spectator? No, I refused to give up so soon. I'd come up with more ideas that I could attempt and start my trials again later.
"Jordan!" I heard my name being called from downstairs. Sighing, I tucked my chair back into my desk and headed downstairs. What met me was my mum, Christie, and my policeman dad, in civilian clothes, who stood next to two uniformed officers.
"Hey kid, since you've officially been discharged from the hospital, uncle Jefferson and his buddy want to ask you a few questions about the night you were hit, you ok with that?" dad spoke, breaking the tension in the room.
"Jordan, you're looking better already," the first cop said. He was a carbon copy of my dad, just a little taller with short, cropped hair rather than my dad's curlier, afro-like hair.
It took me a moment, but I realised it then. The double-take must have been visible on my face as he quickly said, "If you're still not feeling well, we can come back tomorrow."
Dad, Sterling, spoke up quickly, "no. you know how it is, faster you know what to look for, easier it is to catch them."
Jefferson Davis, who I was still reeling about being my uncle snorted and retorted, "Look, I know you're hurting, Sterling. So am I, kid's my nephew. But you know the reality of these situations, you've worked enough of them. It's been over three weeks; the case is cold."
My dad stared at Uncle Jefferson with a cold glare that made him flinch backward. Fortunately, my mum intervened, pulling my dad back by the arm. The other policeman chirped up to break the heavy atmosphere,
"ahem, Jordan Davis, do you remember anything at all that might help us find those who struck you?" I looked at him for a moment before realising he looked familiar… that was Denis Leary who acted in the Amazing Spider-Man 2. Which, if my guess is right, made him George Stacy in this universe.
My mind overloaded. Kaboom.
Not only was my uncle Miles Morales' father, but his partner was Gwen Stacy's father?
Error 404: Brain not found.
Realising everyone in the room was watching my brain fart moment and waiting for me to say something, I garbled out, "I…uh, it was red, four-door Ford, at least two passengers, I turned and saw the car speeding towards me cause it was playing loud rap music that I could hear above the volume of my earphones."
Sterling was giving me a 'that's my boy', kind of look. Uncle Jefferson and Officer Stacey looked relieved that they were now able to leave the house with something.
George Stacy asked, "anything else?"
"No, that's all I remember, sorry."
"No need to be sorry, that's already a big help," Uncle Jefferson smiled reassuringly at me before glancing over at my father. He continued, "thanks for the help, kiddo, we'll take it from here," they both smiled at me as they made their way to the door.
They left, closing the door behind them for my new mum to turn to my new dad, hands-on-hips, seething fury aimed towards him,
"What the hell was that?" she asked point-blank, her face a mask of barely concealed rage.
Sterling went pale, turning to me, "kid, could you give us a minute?"
I nodded, making a quick exit, making a large noise as I walked up the stairs, only to creep back down. Like hell I'd miss the chance to listen to this.
"I said, what the fuck was that, Sterling?"
I could practically hear my father squirm in discomfort.
"Look, Christie, you never know what little information might help in bringing them to justice-"
"I don't care, Sterling. Our son has been through a harrowing ordeal. He was hit by a car, a fucking car, Sterling. He hasn't even been out of the hospital a day and you bring your boys in blue round to quiz him already! At least they had the decency to feel awkward standing in our home. They knew better, so should you!"
"Oh, and what did you expect me to do, Christie!" he shouted back. "I'm a cop, serve and protect, that's what they taught us, and I couldn't even save my own boy!" he stifled his tears.
"I have been a cop for over a decade, always telling myself that what I do will one day save those I care and love for, making it all worth it! So how do you think I felt when I got the call about Jordan! They said he had died, Christie! Dead for over a minute before he inhaled a breath again! A miracle the doctors called him! I refuse to lose him, even if it makes him feel uncomfortable for a few minutes."
I blanched, pale in the face. So, this body had died, huh? Did that mean that the original Jordan had died for me to take it over? And all this shouting? I felt... moved. It was odd really. I'd had both my parents as Scott, but they were divorced and so they never fought like this over me, not directly anyway. I knew in the back of my mind it wasn't really me they were fighting over, but their Jordan. But for some indescribable feeling, I felt as though I owed it to the deceased Jordan to repay back their affection.
Needing a moment, I took a seat on the stairs. For it to creak. Loudly.
Fuck.
"Jordan, come on down." I heard my mother say.
I'd been busted.
I walked down the remaining stairs and turned into the living room where I saw a tearful mum and a frail-looking father. Quite a tough look for him given his muscular, overbearing figure.
"How much of that did you hear?" mum asked.
"All of it. But, as much as I appreciate you worrying over me, honestly, it hasn't mentally scarred me or anything, well, at least not yet" I replied as I looked both of them in the eyes. Dad looked visibly relieved whereas mum just curtly nodded.
A brief pause descended over the room before dad looked at me, "Right, well, first night home. That calls for your favourite meal, right? Pizza from Rozzano's! Large Margaretta for Jordan and something with lots of veg for mum?" he looked over at his wife, a plead on his face, hoping that she wouldn't hold a grudge from the row earlier.
"Actually, dad, I'll have a double pepperoni, feeling something different, you know?" I smiled back at him. I may be in a different body, but that sure as hell didn't mean my choice of pizza topping had changed.
We had a lovely night. The three of us on the sofa eating pizza and watching TV. I know it sounds silly to hear from someone in my position, but I hadn't had such moments in my own upbringing, so I genuinely appreciated it.
Citing my tiredness, I walked back up to my room. I had a dozen more potential superpowers to test out before I went to bed.