Panting, I reemerged from my faint like a drowning survivor, sucking in the air greedily, as if there were no tomorrow. I had a terrible headache; my body still hurt, but not like before. Maybe someone had taken me to the emergency room, and I was sedated.
No, I'm completely wrong! Now that my vision is clear, I see that I am still lying in the apartment among the debris and the corpses of my attackers. Given the ruckus we caused, I thought the police would have quickly arrived, alerted by the neighbors.
It seems that I need to start getting used to the idea that my situation is anything but normal. Everything that was common sense or logic in my previous life no longer applies here, especially not to me.
Indeed, this is the first time that I have taken a life; my job was to save people. But don't get me wrong; I feel no guilt for my actions. If I had to do it again, I would. It was either me or them. It's just that it's so abrupt. I hope it doesn't become a pattern.
Grunting, I began to feel my body carefully. To my great surprise, the wounds that should have been bloody, festering, and infected suddenly disappeared, as if by magic.
Other than a few scars, there was no sign that I had been shot recently. Besides, what time was it? While searching for my phone, which had surely been lost, I picked up the bullets that my body had expelled; they contained no trace of blood.
9:30 a.m., impressive. It took me less than eight hours to fully heal from my injuries. If it weren't for the fact that I had assassins on my tail, I would have cried with happiness, having won the genetic lottery during this reincarnation.
I also noticed a crucial detail that I had forgotten last night. It was the end of 2007, sixteen years in the past. No wonder I have a brick for a cell phone. I laughed.
Having finished taking stock, I made my way to the bathroom, removing my dirty and torn clothes. For a moment, as I posed in front of the mirror, I admired my body covered in scars. This body has been suffering for a long time, it seems. Sighing, I stepped into the shower. I splashed my body with hot water, scrubbing it vigorously to get rid of all the dirt. Thirty minutes later, I was ready to leave, even though I didn't know where I would go.
I had picked the pockets of my attackers; there was nothing of value to take, much less anything that could identify them. Be careful, I guess.
As I was about to leave, I suddenly remembered the piece of paper and the contact details written on it. Since I didn't have any reference points, it seemed like a good place to start.
As I walked down the steps to the ground floor, I noticed that I was the only resident in the building. The lack of complaints from neighbors was now explained. Pulling up my hoodie, I quickly reached the street, casting furtive glances here and there. My senses were on alert for the slightest attack or follower.
"OK! Stay calm, Alex; getting angry won't do any good. Of all places in the world, what was I doing in New York? More specifically, in Hell's Kitchen."
At that moment, my migraine returned with force. My acceptance of the situation began to shatter.
If I'm not resilient, I'm likely to go crazy from the surprise.
Continuing to walk, I still monitored my surroundings. I had been to New York a few times, so finding my way to my destination wasn't too difficult.
"Breathe, breathe. Don't panic; you don't know who's watching you. Start walking slowly again, as if nothing had happened, as was to be expected. Too much is happening to you all at once."
Despite all my self-encouragement, I picked up my pace. I had just seen Robert Downey Jr., or rather, Tony Stark, in a giant advertising poster. For a while, I was stuck on the sidewalk like an idiot, with people constantly bumping into me.
Everything makes more sense now. I was in Marvel, a world defying all common sense, and I was also in a bizarre body, entangled in something inexplicable, in Hell's Kitchen.
You know, I have nothing against fantasy; in fact, I love it. I'm a huge fan of the Marvel franchise, among many others. Sometimes, I even fantasized about having superpowers. But there's a vast difference between whimsical fantasy and reality. The realization that it could happen isn't as thrilling as one might hope.
About ten minutes later, I arrived at the address I was seeking: a post office. Thankfully, I was the only customer. As I approached the counter, I adopted my most innocent demeanor and sported a charming smile.
The attendant, a pleasant lady, greeted me with a smile.
"Welcome, sir. How may I assist you?"
"Hello, I'd like to retrieve an item from my locker."
"No problem, sir. May I see your ID to verify our records?"
I handed over my ID card absentmindedly, curious about the contents of the safe.
"Everything is in order. You may proceed."
"Thank you," I replied, maintaining my smile.
At my locker, I entered the code from the paper. With a click, it opened, revealing a smaller chest.
I hoped it contained something of value. I was still uncomfortably close to my old apartment, and I didn't want to risk my safety for something trivial. When I opened the chest, I nearly screamed in indignation. What was this? A book! And an odd one at that. "They can't possibly want me for this," I muttered in frustration.
"Calm down," I told myself. "Perhaps this is a ledger from a dangerous organization, especially considering my location and the fact that I'm being pursued." Convinced, I began to flip through it. As I did, my hands shook with anger. It was empty from the first page to the last—and there were many pages.
Sighing in frustration, I placed the book in my bag and exited the office.
*****
"Interesting," was the only word the elder spoke upon sensing an anomaly in her mystical perception. Although the signal was faint, it captured her attention. Given her age and the impending future, she considered it her duty, as Earth's protector, to identify all who would play a role in upcoming events, no matter how minor.
This magical signature was unfamiliar to her; it was as if it had just emerged. She sensed indecision, immaturity, and hesitation.
"Let's see who we're dealing with."
Assuming a meditative pose, she scrutinized the futures where this unknown entity appeared.
After her examination, she was, to say the least, disappointed. He was merely an average mutant whose power involved tapping into occult energies to slightly enhance his physical abilities. He wasn't even aware of it. He also possessed some resistance to fire.
A criminal organization had him in their sights, and his demise was imminent in most projected futures.
"It's very unfortunate for you, my dear friend," she mused, then returned to her tea, uninterested.
*****
At the X-Men mansion, Charles Xavier had detected a surge in Alex's power while using Cerebra. However, the power vanished as quickly as it had appeared. This wandering mutant had caught his attention earlier in the year. He had considered recruiting him, but intuition advised against it, so he refrained. Had Magneto shown interest in this mutant, he would have intervened. Fortunately, that hadn't occurred.
Should the mutant pose a danger to others or himself, the X-Men would step in. For now, he seemed to use his powers discreetly. Periodic monitoring appeared to be the best course of action.
**Unknown Location**
In a realm beyond mortal comprehension floated an entity with a radiant smile. The one he had wrenched from his world, Alex, had endured long enough to receive his little gift. When Alex realizes what it is, the revelation will be glorious. The unveiling of the gift caused a stir across the timelines, necessitating his personal intervention to prevent Alex and the grimoire's annihilation.
"Young will-o'-the-wisp, this was my final intervention," he declared. "Make it count. You have a mission. Do not disappoint me."lo
Silently, the presence vanished.
*****
I sat on my dingy motel bed, fixated on the book. Overcoming my initial shock, I resolved to scrutinize it earnestly.
It was a red tome adorned with gothic motifs. For reasons unknown, I felt an inexplicable bond with it. Yet, what captivated me most was the four-leaf clover on the cover—a symbol familiar yet elusive in memory.
Then, it dawned on me. This was getting stranger by the minute—a spell book adorned with four-leaf clovers, a magical artifact out of place and time, and somehow, mine.
As a fantasy aficionado, I'm no expert, but I'm well-versed in the Black Clover lore. The mechanics of magic and grimoires are straightforward.
I suppose gratitude is due to the one who abandoned me here. A zanpakuto might have been his gift, and at the snap, I'd be clueless about Shikai, I mused with a chuckle.
Since this grimoire appears mine, focus is key. An hour of meditation with the grimoire in hand brought warmth without pain. It glowed red, then opened to its first page, where a spell inscribed itself.
Describing this experience is beyond words; it was simply majestic. My soul seemed to ignite in sync with the grimoire, entwining in a fiery union. By the end, we were one.
"Wow! That was mind-blowing," I exclaimed. "Let's see what we've got."
A gunslinger spell: the user mimics a handgun with their index finger, unleashing a volley of small, ultra-fast explosive fireballs that detonate on impact. The spell's power, velocity, and frequency scale with the user's growing reserves, comprehension, and magical prowess.
"Not bad for a start," I grinned. "No need for a real gun now."