Where am I? A boy in a white t-shirt and pants sits alone in the corner of a dim, unfamiliar room. He scans his surroundings, noticing several others nearby—all dressed like him, all silent, their eyes distant. The bleak setting feels like a jail. Was I kidnapped? he wonders. But why? He hasn't done anything wrong, and he has no family who could pay a ransom.
He looks down and sees handcuffs around his wrists.
"Hey...!" he begins to call out, intending to ask the others what's going on. But suddenly, a fierce pain surges through his head, cutting off his words. Memories begin to flood his mind—vivid, foreign scenes he doesn't recognize. Clutching his head, he cries out, the agony twisting his face. The others in the room glance his way, but they stay where they are, almost as if they're used to this.
Images flash before him, one by one. They're memories, yet they don't feel like his own. He sees fragments of a life belonging to someone named John Allerdyce. That's not his name—his name is Donald Smith, a waiter in a five-star restaurant. He recalls his modest life—just enough to get by, simple and familiar.
But now, John's memories overwhelm him. John Allerdyce was a high school student whose family had moved to the U.S. And he'd had a secret—a power. A year ago, he discovered he could control fire. John had told no one, not even his parents, because he knew how they felt about mutants. His family feared and despised anyone with unnatural abilities. Six months ago, though, he'd had no choice but to reveal his power. His mother had accidentally left the stove burner on, nearly causing a fire, and John had instinctively extinguished it.
Instead of gratitude or relief, his parents looked at him with horror, as if he were some kind of monster. That night, John left home, unable to bear their fear. He'd planned to start fresh, find a job, and live on his own. But the very next day, soldiers came for him. They sedated him before he could defend himself, leaving him powerless and imprisoned.
The door suddenly opens, and two soldiers step inside. They're dressed in black, covered head to toe except for their faces, rifles in hand, ready to react at a moment's notice.
One of the soldiers hears a voice on his walkie-talkie asking, "What happened?"
"Just the usual shouting," he replies.
The first soldier scans the room, his eyes lingering on each prisoner. Then he nods to his partner. "Let's go."
They exit, locking the door behind them.
Donald adjusts himself against the wall, sitting back and steadying his breath as he takes in the shocking reality: he's trapped in John's body, haunted by memories of a life he never lived but that somehow feel real.
Mutants... The thought settles heavily, and he realizes he's in the Marvel universe.
Damn it, he curses silently, over and over. Why Marvel? Why did I transmigrate here? He didn't ask for this. Sure, he'd been a fan of comics, anime, and other fandoms, even at 24. But that was just for fun—he never wanted to be part of it. This wasn't some fanfiction. Not everyone ends up as lucky as Rimuru or gets some cheat system to help them survive.
And now, he's a mutant in the Marvel universe. He knows all too well how mutants are treated here. The prejudice and hatred mutants face make even the worst cases of racism seem mild in comparison.
He looks around, taking in the state of the others. Just a glance tells him everything he needs to know—they're all beaten down, practically hollow.
He dives into John's memories, searching for details—anything useful, like dates and events. As he pieces things together, he can't help but start cursing again. Damn it.
In the memories, there are mentions of Stark Industries and Captain America comics. So it's not just a mutant-only X-Men universe—it's some kind of full-on Marvel version, or maybe an alternate universe. Fantastic, he thinks bitterly. Now, I don't just have to survive Sentinels, Apocalypse, and the Phoenix Force. But now I've got to worry about SNAKE S.H.I.E.L.D., a planet-eater, a purple sweet potato who is into universe family planning, and killer AI wanting to eradicate humans.
Damn it, he thinks. Why did this have to happen?
Why me? How did this happen?
He forces himself to breathe, trying to stay calm.
Based on John's memories, it's around March 2006. John was captured back in October 2005. And right now, Tony Stark is running Stark Industries and looks exactly like Robert Downey Jr.
He tries to recall his abilities: it's fire manipulation, but he can't actually generate flames. Wait a minute—I know someone in the exact same situation. Pyro. Yes, Pyro. Damn it, I'm Pyro. Which means... no other powers.
What am I supposed to do? I can't survive like this—a bullet could kill me. Should I try Kamataj? But what if I don't have the talent? Another thing is, that bald-head might exile me to some other dimension. Wait a minute, why hasn't she come for me? Or he, since it's a "he" in the comics. Shouldn't she have sensed someone messing with the timeline?
Or… maybe nothing's changed. Maybe John didn't survive in this timeline, and maybe... I won't either. No, don't think like that. I need to survive. But how? They'll never let me use my powers here.
Then, suddenly, he hears a voice.
Ding. Gacha system is online.
******
Authors pov
I am changing the plot and protagonist.
The mc will not be Parker.