Clive Bixby leaned against the counter of his small diner, surrounded by the smells of coffee and pancakes. It was a quiet Tuesday morning in New York City, and as he wiped the counter, he couldn't help but think that life could be better. Each late-night shift reminded him of his dreams—cozy apartments and sunny vacations. He had been thinking a lot about hitting it big.
After his shift, Clive decided to take a chance. With some crumpled bills from his tips, he walked to a nearby casino. The bright lights and sounds of laughter welcomed him inside, instantly lifting his spirits. He had never gambled much, but tonight felt different.
He approached a slot machine, his heart racing as he put in a few bills. With each pull of the lever, he imagined his new life—no more late nights at the diner, a chance to travel and enjoy life. As the reels spun, excitement built inside him.
Then, with a final clink, the machine erupted in cheers. "Jackpot!" it shouted, and the screen showed numbers climbing to an unbelievable ten million dollars. Clive stared in disbelief, his joy quickly turning to excitement as he realized he'd just won big.
"Unbelievable!" he shouted, laughter bursting out as nearby patrons turned to see what was happening. Clive could barely contain his excitement, spinning around in delight, dreaming of all the possibilities ahead.
But then, something strange happened. The joy began to feel overwhelming, almost like a heavy weight in his chest. Clive gasped, struggling to breathe as the happiness turned into panic.
"Okay, just breathe," he said to himself, but it didn't help. The world started to spin, and suddenly, everything went dark. Clive staggered back, his vision blurred, and before he knew it, he collapsed onto the plush carpet of the casino floor, a smile still on his face.
Nearby, a man saw Clive fall and rushed over, worry in his eyes. "Hey! Can you hear me?" he called, shaking Clive gently. When Clive didn't respond, the man quickly checked for a pulse but found none. Panic crossed his face. "Someone call 911!" he shouted. "We need an ambulance!"
As people grabbed their phones, casino staff rushed over, understanding the seriousness of the situation. They quickly assessed Clive, clearing the area and beginning basic first aid while waiting for help. Their faces were serious, knowing this kind of incident could hurt the casino's reputation.
Despite their frantic efforts, Clive Bixby, the man who had just won a huge jackpot, lay lifeless, a victim of too much joy.
As news of the tragedy spread, whispers filled the casino. Clive became not just a winner but a sad reminder of how fragile life can be. His story resonated with those who witnessed the scene—a powerful example of how dreams, when pursued too intensely, could lead to unexpected consequences.
...
...
...
Clive slowly opened his eyes, squinting against the bright fluorescent light above. He sat up on the narrow bed, feeling groggy and confused. "What happened to me?" he mumbled, trying to remember the last moments of his life. "Didn't I faint after winning the lottery?"
As he rubbed his eyes, his confusion deepened. The room around him was small and cold, nothing like his apartment. The gray walls felt unwelcoming, and the air was stale. The bed beneath him was just a cot with a thin, worn blanket. A metal desk in the corner was cluttered with a book, and a flickering bulb cast a weak light over everything.
Clive's heart began to race. 'Did someone kidnap me?'
A chilling thought crossed his mind: what if the casino had tricked him? Had they taken him because he won so much money?...But why would the casino do this to him for just ten million dollars. They could just easily earn thrice or more amount of money in just a single month.
He felt a wave of fear as countless scary ideas rushed through his head.
He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He needed to figure out what was happening. Looking around the room, he felt a utterly uncomfortable.
As he was observing the room, he glanced down, unable to believe what he saw. His hands were smaller and softer—definitely not the hands of a 23-year-old man. Panic shot through him as he took in the rest of his body.
He was no longer the strong diner worker he had been; he was now a 15-16 year-old boy.
'What the hell?' he gasped, realizing the shock of his transformation.
Suddenly, Clive clutched his head as a wave of information crashed into his mind. A sharp pain shot through his head for a moment, but then it faded away, leaving him gasping. He took a deep breath and tried to process what had just happened.
The information transferred to his brain were actually memories, a summary of memories of the body of the person which now he was occupying. Clive realized, after going through the memories, that he had transmigrated and that too in the Marvel Universe. He wasn't kidnapped or anything—he was in the body of a 15-year-old boy who happened to share his name, Clive Bixby.
Clive had always been fascinated by novels and fanfictions where people got a second chance at life in a new world, often gaining superpowers or going on epic adventures. He had envied those characters, wishing he could be one of them. But now, faced with this bizarre situation, he felt anything but happy. Instead, his expression turned serious.
The year was 2005, and the body of the kid he now inhabited was a student at one of HYDRA's secret academies. Yes, THE HYDRA—the notorious organization known for its evil plans and ruthless actions. Founded during World War II, HYDRA was infamous for its experiments and efforts to control the world, often at the expense of innocent lives.
And now that he had become a part of this evil organisation, Harry could be anything but happy.
According to the memories of the previous Clive, HYDRA had several secret academies around the world, hidden from the public. These academies were split into two types: The Ancestral Institutes and The Vanguard Schools. The Ancestral Institutes were for HYDRA descendants, kids from families that had been part of HYDRA for generations. Clive, now in the body of a 15-year-old boy, was enrolled in one of these schools because his parents and grandparents were loyal HYDRA members. As a descendant, he was being trained to become a future leader.
From the age of five to fifteen, kids in these schools were not just taught regular subjects—they were brainwashed. HYDRA's goals and beliefs were pushed on them, making them completely loyal to the organization. With their parents' support, these kids were groomed to become HYDRA's future leaders, keeping the group's goals alive.
On the other hand, The Vanguard Schools were for new recruits—kids whose families hadn't been part of HYDRA before. While they were trained and taught HYDRA's beliefs, they weren't seen as important. They were treated as expendable and were only given real opportunities if they made major contributions to HYDRA's cause.
Clive thought to himself, 'I'm part of the royalty in HYDRA, I guess.'
A tired smile appeared on his face as the weight of the situation settled in. 'I am royally fu*ked, aren't I?'
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