It was in the late evening. The skies above Peaceful Grove Cemetery were dark and gloomy, mirroring the somber mood of the funeral occurring below. Rain splattered continuously on the mourners but since they held dearly onto their umbrellas, they were spared from being soaked mercilessly.
Dressed in black, the mourners had a disturbing uniformity but the current atmosphere brought about different types of facial expressions from each individual. The ladies in the procession exhibited puffy red eyes, moist with torrential tears trickling down their pale faces. The men donned stoic expressions as they tried to calm down their partners and friends. The clergyman, Father Montgomery, read the eulogy with a heavy expression and furrowed brows yet his tone remained calm and compassionate. It wasn't his first time sending off a departed soul to potentially meet the Almighty Lord in heaven. As he would like to say, "We are all bound as one, as His children, as sons and daughters."
The world had lost a kind soul, a dedicated and caring mother, a lifesaver of the sick and impoverished, it had forever lost Veronica Petersen. She had been an exemplary nurse at the well-known hospital, New York City Medical Center (NYCMC). She was even dubbed the modern-day "Florence Nightingale," due to how deeply caring she was toward her patients and clients. Even the most troublesome patients couldn't help but be infected by her kindness and caring attitude. However, despite her positive and angelic character, she was suddenly afflicted by a stubborn cerebral tumor.
Doctor Stephen Strange, a successful and intelligent neurosurgeon, even with his medical experience and genius intellect couldn't help in saving Veronica, a colleague he had worked with at NYCMC. With his arrogance and certainty that most medical conditions could be handled by him, the death of Veronica came off as a blow aimed at his inadequacy. It somehow tainted his perfect, know-it-all persona. Clenching his hands, Doctor Stephen Strange lowered his gaze to the teary-eyed beautiful woman standing beside him. His eyes showed some remorse and gentleness that wasn't previously there.
Unlike Strange, Dr. Christina Palmer was emotional and a natural empath. She had been too familiar with Veronica. She had been a dear friend, the only friend she could really bond with, in this god-forsaken city where people only cared about themselves. She couldn't believe Veronica had left her alone. Why did she have to be useless and unable to aid her? Dr. Palmer beat herself up, partially blaming herself for her friend's demise.
Despite the coldness brought by the chilly rain, her tears remained warm as they continuously cascaded down her reddening cheeks. A small hiccup left her trembling lips. Her heart was being torn inside out and her body shivered incessantly not due to the cold winds but due to the sheer sadness eating her alive. She didn't even react when a long arm draped around her shoulders while their fingers tried to lightly tap her into calmness, to alleviate some of her sorrow. She gave Stephen an upturned appreciative glance for his kind gesture before her gaze began searching for someone amidst the grieving masses. Her dark eyes then landed on the broad attractive back of a tall young man standing at the forefront, just before a casket being held carefully by the pallbearers.
'Joe deary.'
The name of the young man surfaced in her mind as her expression mellowed a little bit. She couldn't begin to imagine what he was feeling right now but even at such a short distance, she could instinctually hear his silence —his coping mechanism. Joe Petersen was ultimately the most affected of all among the mourners as that was her lovable mother being buried.
Joe Petersen was a relatively tall young man for his age, standing at 6'2 just shy away from being 6'3 but that didn't matter. What mattered was: that he was insanely blessed with the "good looks" genes. He had short, unruly black hair that perfectly encapsulated his attractive face. His eyes were deep blue, reminiscent of the oceanic wonders and mystical aspects of the sky. His nose was slim — stubborn even— and his lips were lusciously red. As the mourners grieved incessantly, their silent sobs like a heart-wrenching tune in the background, they didn't know of the changes currently happening inside Joe Petersen. A new soul had entered the vessel and seamlessly merged with the original soul of Joe Petersen.
'W-What is h-happening?'
'W-Who am I?!'
'Who are all these people around me?!'
Various chaotic thoughts run through the messy mind of the new resident. It was then that the new memories of his current vessel and his past life began to merge, creating a coherent thought process. His identity became apparent.
'I am Joe Petersen and this body also shares the same name as my previous self. Did I just transmigrate into my alternate/parallel self?' The new Joe thought in wonder and shock, his pupils slightly widening in realization.
'Did I selfishly or inadvertently kill this parallel Joe?' Joe Petersen's hands shook and his arms tweaked before a hurt expression superimposed on his sad face. He was a normal soul from Earth and he has never killed anyone. Could transmigration be considered killing or was it natural for someone to just take over someone's body?
Contrary to how he had felt from a reader's perspective, Joe felt awful inside after having first-hand experience. He wasn't that cruel enough not to acknowledge the existence of the other person, even if they were possibly his parallel version.
'We are one.'
'We have become one.
'We are Joe Petersen.'
'We are both her son.'
'We both lose her.'
'Don't doubt yourself. You are me and I am you.'
As if to answer his confusion and questions about morality, the lingering thoughts of the former Joe Petersen invaded his mind to lessen his worries and it was then... two became one, reinforced, upgraded, stronger, and otherworldly.
"I am...Joe Petersen." A low murmur escaped his red lips, the sound of his voice masked by rain splashes as they hit the solid ground.
Unimaginable sadness. Anxiety. Anger. Fear. Determination. Confusion.
A lone tear escaped his eye as a wave of emotions crashed over him, sending tremors through his knees. He crumpled to the ground, his body unable to bear the weight of his grief, as the casket containing his mother was lowered into the fresh grave.
'Mother, so even in this universe, fate decrees that you will also leave me due to the same hateful disease.'
'Why is fate so cruel to both you and me?'
'What did I do to deserve this?' Joe bowed down, his balled fists hitting the mud. His black suit got dirty with mud but he didn't care.
The surrounding mourners watched the young man's saddening actions, his silent cries gripping their hearts with even more emotions. Some aunts in the crowd intensified their wails due to the scene. Despite all that, Joe Petersen wasn't seeking theatrical applause even though his actions were slightly exaggerated. He was genuine in his approach. He was hurting. Hurting to the point he felt his soul tearing. His death hadn't left him an emotional mess compared to his mother's.
Joe Petersen's face, etched with despair, tilted upwards. His eyes, devoid of focus, watched the relentless rain of dirt fill the void where his mother lay. His ears became numb to the sounds of the shovels in action.
Memories begin cropping inside his mind. Her carefree and gentle laughter. He could almost feel her slender fingers ruffling his unruly hair. He could hear her stern but caring voice as she advised him. He could see how she dedicated herself to the hospital, all to pay the bills and keep him in school. She had been a hard-working woman, diligent and smart.
"May she find peace in the loving Father's embrace," Father Montgomery recited in a sorrowful tone. "And from death, shall she be given a new life." The last of the wet black soil thudded softly onto the gleaming wood of the casket, sealing the grave shut.
And that finally spelled the eventual departure of Veronica Petersen. The send-off had ended. All the mourners momentarily looked to the skies as if at that moment, the deceased soul of Veronica was really ascending to heaven and they swore they saw a glimpse of her ever-so-brilliant smile.
After that, the mourners moved toward the grave to offer their last heartfelt condolences to the young man who had just lost his only parent, before dispersing. Before long, there were only five people left in the vicinity.
Joe Petersen slowly rose from the ground while muttering silent prayers for his mother. And then with a swipe of his arm, he wiped his snot before inhaling sharply.
"Oh, Joe..." A beautiful young woman with blonde hair falling freely on her shoulders and sad green eyes, painfully cried out in distress when she saw his hurting expression. The air around her was one of amiability and friendliness. She seemed like an easygoing person. It pained her even more to know that Joe was in much agony.
She widened her slender arms and gently embraced Joe Petersen. With her arms wrapped around his neck, she pulled his crying face to her shoulder. She didn't care that she was struggling to hold onto his tall figure.
She didn't speak any words, letting Joe let it all out on her. He could have her lent shoulder any time he wanted.
Joe had already noticed who was embracing him, trying to comfort him. It was someone so familiar yet so distant. He was between the arms of Gwen Stacy!
Gwen Stacy. A very important character in the Marvel Universe, both in the comics, cinema, and animation. Through her presence, Joe Petersen finally had a general idea about the universe he was in. As for which version it was, he didn't have any idea. Not like it brought him any form of comfort anyway as whatever version he might find himself in, cosmic danger will always be there. Existential threats, Cosmic horrors, alien invasions, a mad titan, a time-traveling conquerer... there were just many death-guaranteed events in this multiverse of madness!
And it was only his current infinite grief that shadowed his sense of urgency and panic.
"Joe..." A woman with fiery red hair tied at the front with a black hairband joined the embracing duo as she softly circled her bare arms around them. Her beauty wasn't any less than Gwen Stacy's.
Mary Jane. The name of the young woman cropped inside Joe's mind which brought him even more questions than ready answers.
After the two beautiful women felt that they had comforted Joe enough, a thin but muscular guy with slightly handsome features squarely looked at him.
The other guy's eyes seemed to hold pure, unadulterated pain. It was the face of someone who had once lost it all and they had their life falling through the gutters before they had the opportunity to live through the guilt. He was quite familiar with suffering; he was within its circle of inevitability.
"Bro..." Peter enveloped Joe in a heartfelt but awkward embrace, conveying both empathy and solidarity in their shared grief. In that brief moment, a silent understanding passed between them, born of their mutual experience of loss.
Peter Parker. That was the name of the guy who knew suffering as if it were his closest kin. There was never a day to rest before tragedy came knocking on his door. The Web of Destiny deemed it so.
Patting his shoulder, Peter Parker leaned back, pursed his lips, and summoned all of his will not to tear down right there and then.
Joe Petersen nodded in understanding. As for whatever Peter Parker he was interacting with, only time will tell. The "Peter Parker" in front of him looked like an amalgamation of The Amazing Spider-man's Andrew Garfield and Insomniac's Peter Parker.
"Joe dear, come here." Another woman beckoned gently, not with pity but with maternal warmth as if she was directly addressing her son. Funnily, the woman wasn't that old, probably in her early thirties. She had an air of maturity that was miles ahead compared to the younger women present.
From his jumbled memories, Joe found out that she had been best friends with his late mother. She was yet another person of interest in this remaining circle of mourners. It was none other than Christina Palmer. Joe obediently threw herself into her expectant arms, his head brushing against her ample bosom. Christina released a sad laugh which deeply contrasted with her teary eyes. She looked graceful even in that moment.
She ruffled through his obsidian hair, making them wilder, as she hugged him tightly. Joe didn't have the energy to enjoy her soft body as he caught the masked annoyance of the man beside Christie. He had an inborn arrogant demeanor coupled with his intelligent grey eyes. While his face wasn't as remarkable as his, he had a certain charm to him.
Well, if it wasn't the future Sorcerer Supreme in the flesh — Dr. Stephen Strange — and he was giving him that stinky eye for being in Palmer's warm embrace.
Joe knew about Strange more than he knew about himself. His arrogance was on the levels of Tony Stark, if not more. But it seems he has yet to have his world overturned after having that accident that forever changed his fate.
After a few minutes, Christina reluctantly relinquished her hold on him.
The small group seemed not to care about the rain as they shared their condolences with Joe. They were there for him and what else could he do but be grateful?
'What a rough start.' Joe lamented as the group left the cemetery. He didn't know what the future had in store for him. However, he promised himself, promised to his dead mother, that he would change the universe. For his loving mother, Joe swore to, at least, find the cure to most illnesses and bring happiness to those suffering from all forms of cancer. It was not a matter of being a hero or a matter of pride.
It was just a promise.
With his eyes still brimming with sadness, even though he tried to rein it in, a newfound feeling arose.
He needed POWER and he was lucky to have the means to chase such an abstract concept. As if on cue, deep within his soul, something mysterious stirred awake.
It was in the shape of a shiny black USB drive!
***
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