This work is purely fanfiction and doesn't have any relation to the property of Marvel Comic.
I don't own Marvel Comic.
All rights are reserved to those Companies.
Rated M, 18 and Above for Violent and Sexual Content.
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Marvel: Genesis Arcana
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Few people laughed.
Few people cried.
But most were silent.
By Julius Robert Oppenheimer.
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[The Prelude]
Earth. Ruins of New York City.
*I'm going to tell you a story.*
"Why… Why ME, GODDAMMIT?!" The man screamed in barely restrained fury, one hand gripping his most prized possession, a mysterious and powerful notepad, while the other clutched a broken pencil, its jagged edges digging into his palm. Tears streamed down his face, mingling with the dirt and blood smeared across his cheeks. His eyes, once full of life and curiosity, now brimmed with anger and desperation.
*But I will be blunt and honest. This story, well… it doesn't have a very satisfying ending*.
"NEW YORK HAS FALLEN, I REPEAT NEW YORK HAS FALLEN."
*In fact… it doesn't seem to have an ending at all.*
Half a day… that's all it took for Planet Earth to lie in devastation. The Moon was completely destroyed, leaving a gaping void in the night sky. The majority of the Inhumans were either dead or had fled to deep space, seeking refuge from the unimaginable horrors that had befallen their home. The Earth was turned into a wasteland, cities reduced to rubble, and the sky perpetually darkened by the ash and debris that hung in the atmosphere.
*This story is about a "seemingly normal-looking" guy from our world who was suddenly tossed into a world of superheroes.*
"SAVE US!"
*A marvelous world where magic, science, and technology coexist. An exciting world filled with heroes and villains. A universe teeming with all kinds of extraordinary individuals.*
"HELP ME!"
*A place that would have seemed like a dream to anyone from our world.*
"Report! What is the status of the other team?" Nick Fury's voice boomed over the chaos as the downed Helicarrier shook violently, explosions reverberating around them like the thunderous applause of a merciless audience. The command center was in shambles, the once advanced technology now sparking and malfunctioning, screens flickering with static.
The S.H.I.E.L.D. Director turned to look at his right-hand woman, Maria Hill, only to see her face drained of color, her eyes wide with terror as she stared out the observation window. The horizon was a canvas of destruction, painted with the fiery strokes of a world in ruins. The towering skyscrapers of New York were now twisted metal and shattered glass, and the streets were filled with the cries of the injured and the dying.
*And in this person's hand… well… is one of the most powerful objects in this new world Or Universe perhaps…*
Felicia Hardy was on the outskirts of what remained of New York, her agile form darting between the ruins. Her mind raced as she clutched the small device in her hand, a tracker that was given to her by a friend that beeps intermittently, guiding her to her destination. The Black Cat had always thrived in chaos, but this was different. This was survival.
*Have I mentioned the subsequent chaos and destruction that follows?*
"MAKE IT STOP!"
*Not the kind of chaos you're thinking of. Like a hurricane ravaging an island, or a forest fire spreading throughout a mountain and shit.*
"Mommy? Daddy?"
*No… I'm talking about the kind of chaos that made the Resonance Cascade from Half-life look like a fucking fart in comparison.*
Ben Grimm, known as The Thing, lifted a massive piece of rubble, his rock-like muscles straining as he cleared a path for The Invisible Woman. Susan Storm quickly rescued a child and their mother from the debris, her force fields shimmering as she shielded them from further harm. Her heart ached as she looked at the frightened faces of those she saved, knowing she could only do so much.
The Thing turned back to the battlefield but suddenly stopped in his tracks, his jaw dropping. Susan, still carrying the child, noticed his odd behavior and asked, "What's wrong, Ben? Why did you stop?"
He just kept staring into the distance, his mouth hanging open.
Susan Storm-Richards quickly turned to look in the same direction. Her eyes widened in disbelief as the reality of their situation sank in. There, hovering above the remains of the city, was a colossal… thing, it's a dark silhouette blotting out the sun.
*Unforeseen consequences, my fucking ass…*
Gamora was filled with an unfathomable amount of fear. The fierce warrior, and member of the guardian of the galaxy, known for her bravery and skill, now found herself paralyzed by the sheer scale of the catastrophe unfolding before her. The alien assassin tried to suppress the horrible memory of today as She clutched her blades tightly, ready to fight, yet knowing that even her strength might not be enough this time.
*Now… I know what you're thinking.*
"Is there anyone out there?"
*How could a single, unassuming person from a seemingly normal world cause so much chaos in the universe?*
"Get the civilians to safety!"
*How could such a being affect the lives of billions and billions of people throughout the entire universe?*
"We have a Black Hawk down, I repeat We have a Black Hawk down."
*You could even say that this person could make God cry with such power.*
"Jarvis, are there any signs of him or the other Avengers in the vicinity?" Tony Stark asked through the communication link, his voice tense. He flew above the wreckage, his suit scanning the area for the missing man. His HUD displayed countless alerts, each one indicating more damage and more casualties.
"Yes, sir. It seems he is near Central Park," the AI responded quickly.
"Good, prepare the—" Before Ironman could finish, Jarvis interrupted, "Sir! An unknown energy signature is approaching the planet's atmosphere."
"An unidentified object?"
"Sir… I don't know what I'm looking at…"
*Look… I can't tell you how this story ends… or if it even does…*
"You okay… you okay…"
*But I can tell you how it began.*
"Stay with me goddamit! Don't you dare go to the light!"
*Or at least… to the point when we realized we were in the thick of it.*
Kitty Pryde was freaking out. She tried to stay calm, but fear got the best of her and she found herself in the middle of a battlefield. The situation worsened when she realized one of the monsters was after her. The creature, accompanied by another, was gaining on her with every second. Its growls and roars echoed through the streets, a terrifying reminder of the relentless danger.
The X-Men were ambushed, the monstrous attackers overpowering and massacring half the group, including Scott Summers and Ororo Munroe. Now, they were chasing Kitty. She phased through walls and debris, but she knew she couldn't keep running forever.
Kitty tried to contact the other, but the communications were down. Static and broken signals were all she could hear, increasing her sense of isolation and despair.
She had to run and hide.
Her breathing was heavy, her heart racing.
Her legs were aching.
Kitty began to think she wouldn't make it.
Suddenly, a bright light flashed over the city, illuminating the devastation. The light was so intense it cast sharp, eerie shadows across the broken landscape.
*Sometimes you need somebody to tell you to stop and reevaluate what the fuck you are doing.*
Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, dragged the unconscious archer, Clint Barton, out of a pile of rubble. She felt the cold winter wind blowing against her skin, her red hair swaying in the breeze. She couldn't believe their plan had failed. They had everything meticulously planned, and it wasn't supposed to end this way. But here they were. Their base had fallen, the majority of the Heroes were dead, and their final option had also failed. Their only hope, a man with a notepad, was nowhere to be found.
"Come on, Barton, we need to get moving," she whispered to the man, carrying him on her shoulders.
She began to walk. Her feet dragged, she could barely stand, and her muscles screamed for rest. But she couldn't stop. If she did, she wouldn't wake up again.
The Widow then stopped, listening carefully.
Footsteps.
Many footsteps.
They were not alone.
*And other times it takes a kick to the face to snap you out of the bullshit you are in.*
Thor clutched the remains of his hand, the pain so intense it blurred his focus. The wound wasn't healing, an unprecedented occurrence for the God of Thunder. His usually radiant aura was dimmed, and his strength waned with every drop of blood that fell to the ground.
He was bleeding, his armor cracked, his helmet torn, and his mighty hammer broken.
For the first time, he felt fear.
His eyes locked on a massive object hovering above Earth. The size of a planet could have been mistaken for the moon.
But it looked wrong.
In his long life, Thor had never seen such an unnatural object in the skies.
Suddenly, a crack of thunder echoed throughout the sky, but this time, it was not from his doing.
*And sometimes, all you need is somebody to wake you the fuck up and tell you to get your crap together when shit hit the fan.*
America had fallen… scratch that the entire planet has fallen.
These were the words of Thaddeus Ross, the former general of the US Army. Speaking on screen to the world, his voice was full of anguish and despair, his words like poison. The entire world was watching the downfall of a superpower.
Thaddeus Ross's face was pale, his eyes red, and he had a haunted look. The weight of leadership had aged him years in mere days.
The Secretary of State, now the de facto President of the United States after the president and his entire cabinet were massacred, spoke with disbelief.
He still remembered the screams, the death, the destruction, and the carnage.
All of this happened in a single night.
The entire planet had fallen, a tragedy etched into history.
*In this story, he was that person.*
"I never asked for this, but you… Fuck you for what you did." The man screamed, his hands clenched tightly around the notepad. "COME AND GET ME BITCH!."
*And his name?*
*Vincenzo "Vine" Lazaro Chow.*
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The Waking World.
Unknown Location.
Ah, the Marvel Universe…
Like DC, the Marvel Universe has been a cornerstone of pop culture in our society for almost a century now. Its stories, characters, and themes have captivated readers and nerds worldwide. I mean… shit… who hasn't? From the mighty Avengers to the uncanny X-Men, from the cosmic realms of Asgard to the gritty streets of Hell's Kitchen, the Marvel Universe is a vast tapestry of interconnected narratives.
I remember back in those days, yes… very boomers of me, that I would sit down and watch cartoons with my father. Back then, it was just good old Spider-Man and the X-Men cartoon. That was until they started making their own movies. But, you know, it wasn't until I saw the first Avengers movie that I was fully invested in the comic book universe. It's funny how a movie about a group of heroes saving the world can have a big impact on your childhood.
Nowadays, Marvel films or TV shows are either hit or miss. But still… The ones that really stood out were the Avengers movies. You can tell that the filmmakers poured their hearts and souls into making those films. The acting, the dialogue, the effects, the music, everything was done to perfection.
Shit… It's hard to believe that the first movie, The Avengers, came out almost a decade ago. So much has changed since then.
But let me ask you this: Have you ever wondered how many characters actually exist in this fictional universe? Hundreds? Over a thousand, perhaps?
WRONG!
Well, that's not quite right… The exact number of characters is still debated, but it is estimated to be over… by Stan Lee glasses… eight goddamn thousand.
Regardless… Each character, whether a superhero, villain, or supporting cast member, adds to the richness and depth of this expansive world. Today, however, our focus is not on these celebrated icons but on a "seemingly ordinary" protagonist from our world who was thrust, Isekai style, into this extraordinary universe—a man who became the unlikely bearer of one of the most powerful artifacts ever known.
So… that brings us back to the story. To begin the narrative, let first introduce one of the characters from this universe: a certain psychic red-headed beauty and clone created by a certain asshole named Nathaniel Essex. Through chance and fate, she and many others after her became entwined with the life of our lovely protagonist, an average dude who never asked for power but found himself wielding an artifact… capable of rewriting reality itself…
Let's get started… But first, let's establish where on earth this one particular character is in this universe.
"GAH?" A feminine voice rang out through the room in hysteric gasp.
Oh? And It Looks like this particular character just woke up from what seemed to be a bad dream…
The room she was in was dimly lit, the heavy curtains drawn tightly shut, allowing only a sliver of dawn to seep through. She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the unfamiliar surroundings. The bed beneath her was soft, the sheets warm and comforting against her skin. Panic began to rise as a vision of her dream—an Earth on fire with the scattered remains of a team of defenders either dead or on the run—flashed in her mind before vanishing.
She sat up slowly with both hands on her temple, her head throbbing with a dull ache. The room was silent, save for the faint hum of the heater. She glanced around, taking in the minimalist decor: a sleek wooden desk, a single chair, and a large mirror on the opposite wall. Her reflection stared back at her, a stranger's face with wide, frightened verdant-color eyes.
Her fiery locks fell to the sides, framing her delicate features, the ends curling slightly. The strands were the color of copper, with a slight tint of red. Hmm… a pretty and cute-looking face, if a bit pale, with freckles sprinkled across the bridge of her nose. But it was her eyes, deep emerald green, that drew the gaze. They were large and expressive, with long lashes.
Heh, Well, well, well... she certainly is a looker alright. This young woman looks remarkably like her younger-looking counterparts in this universe, though this version boasts a noticeably more… mature figure. This… bombshell of a woman… wore only an oversized white shirt that fell to her mid-thighs, subtly highlighting her soft yet strong curves. A simple shirt that somehow accentuated her abundant pair of rack and voluptuous figure, effortlessly drawing the attention of any onlooker. The material clung to her body as if it wasn't hers, perhaps borrowed and hastily put on. Old Nate, may be a total bastard, but one has to admit, he knows his craft when it comes to creating a strikingly perfect and beautiful clone.
Now… It was hard to believe that this seemingly normal young woman, who seemingly appeared to be in her mid-20s to early 30s, was a clone. In canon, she was known as Madelyne Pryor, a clone of one of the main characters in the X-Men story created by Old Nate. In that timeline of events, her life had been a tumultuous one, marked by circumstances far beyond her control. Her existence would have been fraught with manipulation and heartache that would destroy her sanity and turn her into a vengeful villainess known as the Goblin Queen.
However, this is not that timeline, in this new reality… this… composite universe, this version of Madelyne Pryor… Or should I say… Our Maddy… would find herself on a different path… a better path, a golden and seemingly bright path that would hopefully lead to a better tomorrow. A Tomorrow, where she could perhaps forge her own identity, free from the shadows of manipulation and madness.
And the first step on that path began with our protagonist.
The red-headed clone slowly swung her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet touching the soft carpet. She stood, her knees wobbling slightly, her balance unsteady. She gripped the edge of the bed for support and took a few tentative steps towards the window. As she did so, a sudden chill ran down her spine, her instincts telling her that she was not alone.
In the dim light, she noticed a figure sitting in a corner of the room. It was a man, seemingly asleep in a sofa chair on the other side of the bed. His eyes were closed, arms and legs crossed, dressed in a simple black shirt and gray cargo pants. Though his face was obscured in the darkness, there was nothing about him that suggested danger. Still, she felt a slight sense of trepidation, unsure of what to make of this mysterious man in the room.
However, As the red-headed clone scanned the room, her eyes fell on a particularly eye-catching item on a desk near the sleeping man. It was a small, bright green notebook with a gleaming golden star and the word "Scribblenauts" on the cover. Though she didn't know how she could sense a peculiar energy emanating from it—a soothing yet alien power. Mesmerized by its glow, she stared at the notebook, transfixed by the golden star. A strange feeling of warmth and comfort washed over her. Drawn to its power, she took another step closer, reaching out, her fingers barely brushing the cover.
All of a sudden Before she could touch it, a hand suddenly grasped hers. Startled, she spun around to find the mysterious man beside her, who had somehow snuck up on her. His hand held hers gently but firmly, his grip warm and soothing almost like the man didn't want to frighten or hurt her.
As she looked up at him, her verdant eyes met his. They were a warm, dark chocolate brown, friendly yet intense, and... tired? She couldn't help but notice the weariness in his expression, almost haunted, with his short dark hair in disarray. Despite his casual clothing, he looked exhausted, like a man who hadn't slept in weeks, with light shadows under his eyes.
What struck her most was his distinctive appearance. A faint scar marked the side of his cheek, yet he possessed a rugged charm, a blend of European and Asian features that made him appealing despite his disheveled hair and stubble beard. There was an uncanny familiarity about his face, though she couldn't quite pinpoint it. Had they encountered each other before? She began to speak, but her words faltered as the man abruptly released her hand.
"Sorry, debutante femme" he whispered, his slightly French-accented voice low and soft. She froze, her body tense, unsure of what to expect. "That was… very rude of me…"
The man let out a long sigh before turning back to the sofa chair and flopping down on it, his head leaning back as he gazed up at the ceiling. One hand reached up to massage his eyes while the other rested on the armrest. In those few seconds, he seemed to age a decade. Sensing his distress, the young woman cautiously took a seat on the bed in front of him.
An awkward silence hung between them as they sat there, neither knowing what to say or do. The only sound was the whirr of the air conditioning. The tense moment made the redhead fidget nervously, trying to think of a way to break the silence. Just as she was about to speak, the man broke it first, his gentle voice cutting through the quiet.
"It's okay... you can relax, you know?" he said gently. "I'm not some evil supervillain or pervert, well… not the gross creepy kind of pervert at the very least. If anything, you're the one who's unnerve the crap out of me..."
Her surprise was evident as she pivoted to look at him, her eyes reflecting a mix of puzzlement and worry. His smile was strained, a mere shadow of its usual warmth, unable to hide the turmoil within. Tension radiated from him, a silent testament to his profound weariness and the weight of his unspoken emotions.
"What's your name?" he asked quietly, his eyes never leaving hers. "Do you remember who you are or what is going on?"
She tried to answer, but her voice caught in her throat. Her memories were still hazy, and she knew enough to understand that her situation was abnormal. She shook her head slowly, biting her lip as she looked down at her lap. The man nodded and took a deep breath, running a hand through his messy hair. Leaning forward, he took one of her hands in his, surprising the clone and causing her cheeks to warm slightly.
"It's alright. Don't worry, Promise I'll explain what's going on," he said, his voice calm and reassuring. "For starters, my name is Vincenzo, but you can call me Vine if you like. As for why you're here, well, it's complicated and a very long story. The short version is that I… save you."
The red-headed clone frowned, not fully grasping the meaning of his words. As she stared at the hands holding hers, a flood of questions ran through her mind. Who was this man, and why did she feel so comfortable in his presence? Why was he familiar to her? What did he mean by rescuing her? Where was she, and how did she end up here?
"Hey... are you alright?" Vine's soft voice cut through her thoughts, and she looked up to see his brown eyes filled with concern. "What is the last thing you remember?"
The young redhead looked down towards the floor and closed her eyes as the clone of Jean Grey struggled to recall her memories, but all that came to mind were fragments, disjointed images, and sounds. There were flashes of what looked like a giant bird of fire, then a dark shadowy figure with red eyes and a cruel smile, and an ominous voice calling out to her. A name, perhaps her own, echoed in her ears, but it sounded distant and muffled as if heard underwater.
"Madelyne..." she murmured for the first time, the name feeling foreign on her tongue. "Madelyne Pryor… I think that is my name..."
Vine hums, closing both of his eyes and letting go of her hand as he adopts a thinking pose. "Well… nice to meet you, Madelyne or Maddy… if you don't mind me calling you that, that is…"
Madelyne nodded slowly, her mind still grappling with the fragments of her past. "Maddy is fine," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
"Right… but before we continue this discussion, how about I treat us to a nice warm cup of tea?" Vine suggested, standing up from his seat. "I think we could both use something to help us relax and think clearly."
"Tea?" Madelyne echoed, tilting her head, her voice gaining a hint of curiosity. "Yes, that sounds… nice."
Vine smiled, a genuine smile this time, and nodded. "Great. Just sit tight; I'll be right back."
The young red-head woman watched as the man moved throughout the room, she saw Vine take the strange notebook from the desk before he moved to the kitchenette in the corner of the room, and Madelyne's thoughts began to settle. She watched Vine work, his movements efficient and practiced. There was something soothing about the way he prepared the tea as if he had done it countless times before. The clink of the kettle and the rustle of tea leaves created a rhythm that began to calm her racing thoughts.
Madelyne still has no idea of what is going on, all she knows is that she woke up in an unfamiliar place with a friendly stranger beside her and with no memory of who she truly is beyond a name and fragmented images. She looked around the room, noting its simplicity. There were no personal touches, nothing to suggest who Vine might be, except for that intriguing notebook.
"Here… you go," Vine said softly, handing Madelyne a steaming cup of tea. She accepted it gratefully, feeling the warmth spread through her hands and into her body. The aroma was fragrant, a blend of herbs that seemed to instantly relax her.
"Thank you," she murmured, taking a careful sip. The tea was soothing, its warmth spreading through her chest and calming her nerves. "It tastes… bitter and sweet at the same time? I kinda like it. I think…"
"You welcome I suppose…" The man nodded as took a seat opposite her, cradling his own cup. "I know you must have a lot of questions," he began, his voice gentle. "I'll do my best to answer them."
Madelyne nodded, feeling a little more confident. "You said you brought me here. How? And why?"
Vine took a sip from the cup with his eyes closed as he took a deep breath, setting his cup down on the desk beside him. "Hmm, How do I begin… I think the right question is… what is going on?"
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(Flash Back)
State Home for Foundlings, in the State of Nebraska, of the USA.
"What exactly are you trying to accomplish here, Mr... What should I call you? Mr. Nobody?" The man known as Mr. Milbury, the administrator and proprietor of the orphanage, questioned with a raised eyebrow, seemingly calm as he gazed at the shadowy corner of his office where a man sat with an unreadable expression. "What brings you to an orphanage, of all places?"
…
In another part of the orphanage…
"Gah!?—" The security guard let out a choked gasp as a pair of feminine metal arms tightened around the neck of the security staff, breaking it swiftly and silently. The room remained eerily still, filled only with the distant sounds of the night outside. The robotic assailant, a voluptuous yet sleek figure with no discernible features and gleaming chrome skin surveyed the room with cold precision before moving towards the secure panel with a stolen access card. It had no face to convey emotion but the intent was clear: Lefty like her twins will neutralize every single potential combatant with extreme prejudice and prevent any unwanted interference in any way with the mission at hand.
…
"Vagabond or Nobody doesn't matter in the end And Well…" The man hummed, his eyes still fixed on the figure behind the desk. "Let's say it's a mix of sheer chance and a need to rectify a mistake that's happening here. You see, Mr. 'Milbury', I've discovered that this place, your orphanage, is a pivotal point in a much larger web. A web that, if left unchecked, will lead to immense suffering for many people. And it's my moral duty to put an end to this... operation."
Mr. Milbury scoffed, "I run an orphanage, Mr. Nobody. I provide homes for children who have none. How could that possibly cause suffering?"
The man leaned forward, his eyes locking onto Mr. Milbury's gaze. "Because, sir, not all these children are mere orphans, are they? Some of them are... special, shall we say? One, in particular, was a boy named Scott. You know the one I'm referring to."
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Meanwhile…
A guard tries to swing his electric baton at the robotic figure, but it's like trying to hit a shadow- the mechanical being anticipates the move and sidesteps with a ballerina-like grace that belies its mechanical nature. The baton clatters to the floor causing the guard stumbles, giving it the perfect opportunity to grab him by the collar and slam him into the wall with a thud that echoes through the hallway. The guard slumps to the ground, his skull cracked and bleeding. The feminine Android, Righty continues, moving silently through the corridors like a ghost in a gleaming chrome shell.
…
A flicker of unease crossed Mr. Milbury's face before he regained his composure. "I'm not sure I understand what you're talking about."
"Let's cut the pretense," the man continued, his voice steady. "I know what you're doing here and who you are. For decades, you've been attempting to create a weapon against your... estranged master. And you've been searching for the perfect genetic pair to achieve that goal."
Mr. Milbury's eyes narrowed, and he leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepling. "You seem to know a lot, Mr. Nobody. But you're mistaken if you think I'm doing anything sinister here."
"It doesn't matter," the man disregarded the unassuming-looking administrator's statement, pulling out a pen and a green notebook while keeping his eyes on Mr. Milbury. "And Yet… that's the pattern, isn't it? You find these children, manipulate them, use them as pawns in your grand scheme,"
…
Nearby…
Bang!
Bang!
The bullet harmlessly ricochets off the neuropolymer shell of the charging robotic humanoid. Long Razor-sharp claw-like tendril retracts from Lefty's fingers like a switchblade, slicing through the guard's bulletproof vest as if it were paper. The guard's eyes widen in horror as he feels the cold steel-like material pierce his flesh. His scream is abruptly cut off as the tendril severs his vocal cords. Lefty tosses the lifeless body aside, the sound of its impact with the floor is barely audible over the frantic beeping of the alarm system that's been triggered.
BEEP!
BEEP!
Meanwhile, her other robotics twin, Righty launched an unfortunate guard in the air with a swift kick, sending him soaring before landing on the ground. Before the guard could recover from the fall, the port on the heel of the feminine robot suddenly opened, revealing a retractable spike. Righty stomped down hard, impaling the guard through the sternum, the spike piercing the heart with a gruesome crunch. With no mercy and no remorse, the robotic duo were efficient in their destruction, leaving a trail of lifeless bodies in their wake.
The twins reunited at the door to the security wing of the facility, their movements mirroring each other with uncanny precision. Lefty, with a flick of her wrist, inserted the stolen keycard into the reader. Her motion was a dance, a ballet of sorts, graceful and precise, with a theatrical flair that would have made anybody nearby raise an eyebrow in appreciation. The light above the door turned green, and with a soft hiss, the heavy door slid open, revealing the path to their final objective.
BEEP!
BEEP!
…
BEEP!
BEEP!
BE!—…
Mr. Nobody flipped through the green notebook as the emergency alarms finally subsided abruptly, the sudden silence in the office replaced by an eerie chill. "But not today I tell you," he murmured, opening the notebook once more. "Today, things are going to be different."
Mr. Milbury's eyes darted to the notebook, his expression a careful blend of curiosity and concern, with a hint of amusement playing on his lips. "Notes, Mr. Nobody?" he asked, watching as the man began to write. "In the middle of all this?"
"Indeed," Mr. Nobody replied, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The moment his pen touched the paper, time seemed to fracture around them, the world freezing in an instant.
It was too late for the administrator, Mr. Milbury's hand darted for his weapon, his fingers wrapping around the grip of a peculiar gun. His arm was mid-air, aimed at Mr. Nobody, when time stopped, leaving him as still as a statue.
"Huh," Mr. Nobody muttered, examining the information that appeared in the notebook. "A clone, of all things. I should have known Old Nate couldn't resist his old habits. Running an orphanage in the middle of nowhere, indeed. Always the sneaky one, that bastard."
…
A little while later…
Both Lefty and Righty left the security office, their mission accomplished. The twin's silver-gray curvaceous metallic bodies were stained with copious amounts of crimson leaving a trail of blood as they moved, a stark contrast to their gleaming, sterile appearance. With their hands clasped behind their back, they moved gracefully through the corridor that was littered with dead security personnel and the occasional unconscious forms of the orphanage brainwashed staff, each one expertly incapacitated without unnecessary lethality. The alarm was silenced, and the security systems were now under their control and neutralized. The only thing to do is to regroup with their beloved creator and wait for further instruction.
…
"And here we go," Mr. Nobody declared. As he finished writing, time resumed its normal flow, and a cloud of smoke enveloped the seemingly ordinary man, obscuring him from view.
As the smoke cleared, the figure known as Mr. Milbury was revealed, and his appearance dramatically transformed. The unassuming facade was replaced by a striking figure—tall and lean, with pale skin and vivid red hair, clad in a white and red bodysuit. His eyes, now a piercing crimson, widened in shock as he discovered his hands empty, the gun previously held now inexplicably vanished. He attempted to move, to invoke his powers, but found himself immobilized and devoid of ability.
"What have you done to me?" the clone of Mister Sinister demanded his voice a mix of rage and dread.
Mr. Nobody leaned back in his chair, his gaze sweeping over the transformed figure before him. "I merely made some adjustments," he stated calmly. "You see, I possess a unique talent to... "Rewrite" reality, so to speak. And I concluded that you would be more compliant without your powers and weapons."
"Impossible," the clone hissed. "No one holds such power. You're deceiving me."
Mr. Nobody shrugged, jotting down directives in his book once more. A device resembling a video camera materialized from thin air in front of him, causing the clone's eyes to widen. "Believe what you will. But the fact remains, you are now powerless and at my mercy. Though you won't recall any of this by night's end, are you 'capable' of answering my questions? Mr. Milbury, or should I say, Mister Sinister?"
The clone of Mister Sinister, still grappling with disbelief, strained against his unresponsive body, his eyes ablaze with anger and humiliation. "You presume to control me? You have no comprehension of who you're dealing with!"
Mr. Nobody arched an eyebrow, unimpressed, as he activated the camera. "Oh, I assure you, I do. Sometimes I even wonder if I'm simply foolish or suicidal. But ultimately, it's irrelevant. You're hardly in a position to issue threats. Let's start with a simple question. What is your true name? Not this 'Milbury' charade."
The clone clenched his jaw, attempting to resist, but the compulsion to speak the truth was overwhelming. "Nathaniel Essex," he spat out as if the words were poison.
"There now, that wasn't so difficult, was it?" Mr. Nobody remarked, a hint of satisfaction in his tone. "Now, let's continue with this... interview, shall we?"
…
"Damné…" Mr. Nobody muttered, rubbing his eyes and vacating the administrator's office. He gripped the camera tightly, leaving behind the lifeless clone of the Sinister, slouched in the chair. Two blood-spattered female androids, positioned at the door, fell into step behind him like a shadow. "That took longer than expected..."
"What is our next objective?" One of the androids asked, her voice echoing slightly in the sterile corridor.
"Stay close," he ordered, his voice echoing in the antiseptic corridor. He handed the camera to the android on his right. "Let's find out why this infernal notebook of mine led us to this godforsaken place to begin with."
"Da, Comrade Lazaro," Lefty and Righty responded in unison, their Russian accents slightly accentuated. "We are ready to proceed, as you order."
After a brief moment of scribbling in his notebook, the man cast a sidelong glance at his blood-splattered robotic assistant, a smirk playing on his lips. The twins stood tall, hands clasped behind their backs, their sleek, curvy neuropolymer bodies on full display. He let his gaze linger, appreciating the way their luscious forms moved, the subtle shifts hinting at the powerful machinery beneath. "Ladies, once we're done here, I'm so putting you both in for a… thorough cleaning. Then, I want to run some diagnostics for those unique "sensors" of yours once again."
The robotic twins giggled, their Russian accents growing more pronounced. "Of course, Master Vine. Whatever you require."
"Just don't tell Emma, I said that."
[End of Prelude]
[==========]
AN: Yep, you guessed it, Folk. It's ze one pair of character from Atomic Heart.