Chapter 319 - My SI Stash #19 - Earth's Mightiest Hero by Noodle Espionage (MCU)

-A pretty chill SI MCU fic with the pacing not being too slow nor too fast. Also the author seems to be inspired by The Spider & A Twelve Step Program to Omnipotence so it's definitely going for that yoink the superhero's powers route~

Synopsis: Jordan, your friendly neighborhood comic book fan wakes up in the Marvel Universe before the events of Iron Man. Join him as he embraces his new life and struggles to obtain power so that one day he might stand at the forefront of Earth, defending the planet from dangers only he knows are out there. (Self Insert)

Rated: T

Words: 31K

Posted on: fanfiction.net/s/13612640/4/Earth-s-Mightiest-Hero (Noodle Espionage)

PS: If you're not able to copy/paste the link, you have everything in here to find it, by simply searching the author and the story title. It sucks that you can't copy links on mobile (´ー｀)

-I'll be putting the chapter ones of all the fanfics mentioned, to give you guys a sample if you wan't more please do go to the website and support the author! (And maybe even convince them to start uploading chapters in here as well!)

Chapter 1-3 (exceptional)

My eyes blurrily opened. Ah f.u.c.k, I groaned. I had a splitting headache as I gradually came to, the lights above me glared down. What the hell? I tried to raise my hand to block the light, but it felt so heavy, I struggled to lift it to bear, instead it just flopped back down beside me.

"Jordan! You're awake, my beautiful boy", I heard sobbing as warmth engulfed my hand.

"What's going on?", I groaned. "Where am I?"

"Shh shh, mum is here, you just relax, I'll shout for a nurse, you just rest, you hear me?"

With that, my mind once more lost clarity.

It could have been a few seconds or several hours before I came to again,

"He'll be alright ma'am, he's young and strong, responding well to-", the nurse was cut off by the woman who had been holding my hand earlier.

"Jordan! He's awake, he's awake!"

I felt better this time around, I was able to fully open my eyes to be greeted by a middle-aged woman, she was Caucasian, petite figure with brown hair, but more immediately noticeable was the tears streaming down her face. Just as I was about to speak, the door opened to an African American man in an NYPC uniform. He'd been holding two coffees but upon seeing me, he dropped them without a care in the world before rushing at me.

'Wait, stop! I haven't done anything wrong officer!' I wanted to shout in alarm before I was swept into his bear like arms. He held me tightly, and after a moment I realised he was openly sobbing. I was lost for words, so I just hugged him back, not sure what do to with myself.

He must have felt my response because his hug grew tighter before he parted, wiping his eyes on his sleeve,

"I can't believe you're awake, son." He beamed at me. I felt moved, this stranger- wait no. He wasn't a stranger. Memories were coming to me. Gradually these thoughts pieced themselves together. His name was Sterling Davis and he was my father. Images, feelings and various emotions flowed through me as I looked at him - memories. Unfamiliar, yet, they now felt like they were my own. Eventually I just looked him in the eyes and said,

"Dad". He grinned. Truly smiled with so much happiness I was taken aback. I may have been clueless as to where I was and what was happening, but I knew this man's love and the woman who'd come to crouch by his side, my… mum's love was real, and for now, in that moment, that was enough.

Two days later

I'd been discharged from hospital that morning. I'd claimed memory loss at most of the doctor's questions, which wasn't wrong I supposed. However, when I'd sat there in my hospital room, sifting through 'my' memories as much as possible, I'd slowly been able to answer more of the doctor's questions such as who I was, my address and phone number. With that, he was convinced all my memories would come back with time and all I need was a relaxed recovery period.

It'd been a strange couple of days, coming to terms with the thought that I, Scott, was no longer in my own body. I was 28, single and worked in a tech store selling laptops, printers and TVs, you know, the usual shit. Now I was 15-year-old Jordan, son to loving parents and generally a good kid.

My time in the hospital, when Jordan's parents hadn't been all over me providing a distraction, was suffocating. Not literally mind you - but coming to the realisation I had been stripped of my former life, my identity and thrust into a new one was rough. I'd spent a lot of time wondering, hoping if when I awoke next, I'd wake up back as Scott.

Even though Jordan's memories were happy, those many would aspire to have, they weren't mine. I felt like an imposter every time his dad came to check up on me between work shifts, every time his mother came in with freshly baked goods just to see a smile on my face.

Two days sat in a hospital bed has eased the gut wrenching feeling of being somewhere new, and alone. It helped I was generally quite pragmatic, moping around wouldn't solve my situation. The question was, could anything?

To have suggested the idea of reincarnation to me before would have made me laughed. Yet here I was, not just somewhere else born anew, but living another's life. It wasn't quite reincarnation, but transmigration?

Did that mean I'd died as Scott? I'd raked my brain, but I had no recollection of my final memories before I woke up here - and I was positive I hadn't had any pre-existing health conditions.

It felt weird to think I was dependent on others again, to constantly be checked up on. I was used to chilling out with my friends. I hadn't loved my job, but I earned enough to support my hobbies, which were meeting my boys for drinks and getting high to discuss recent movies, comics and fit girls.

But Jordan was different, he ran track for his high school, actually studied before an exam and was friends with some popular kids at school. Perhaps more alien than being in a new body with a different height, weight, looks and haircut was walking in the shoes of that life.

Once I was back 'home' and finally alone after telling my parents I needed some time to rest, I opened 'Jordan's' laptop and typed in his password: S.e.xyLady123. One I'd have to change before I cringed myself to death.

Moving on swiftly, I had to confirm some odd things I'd seen in my memories. It was only a few moments later I was staring at the news articles on screen in disbelief.

"Holy shit", I whispered to myself. As if waking up and finding myself in someone else's body wasn't enough, it also appeared I was in a completely different world, yet, a world I was all too familiar with. The icing on the cake was when I confirmed that the year was 2007 and that amongst the largest grossing companies in the world were Roxxon Industries; Stark Industries, Oscorp, Pymm technologies, the Baxter Foundation, Life Foundation and H.A.M.M.E.R.

"I'm in the Marvel f.u.c.k.i.n.g universe. What. The. F.u.c.k.", I spoke aloud in disbelief. A few moments of silence went by before the largest shit eating grin spread across my face. If I was here, regardless of the how, it must be for a purpose right? I was already having fantastical thoughts, would I become a superhero? An Avenger? Or perhaps a member of the X-men?

I took a moment to think back on the memories belonging to this body, but I was drawing up blank. Jordan had been hit by a car on the way back from a friend's house around the corner, a classic hit and run. Except I'd hit my head badly on the fall, enough to put me in a three-week coma according to everyone around me.

A shit experience to be sure, but nothing that'd result in gaining superpowers. Could I be… Carman? Capable of moving cars? Or Tarmachead? Capable of freely controlling tarmac as if it were liquid? That'd be pretty lame.

I sighed and leaned back in the office chair, I guess if nothing obvious comes to mind I'll have to run some tests.

I breathed out in annoyance. I'd been staring at the pen on my desk for the last 20 minutes. Nothing, not even a shimmer. I scratched another line from my list. I'd tried super strength, telepathy, super speed, firing beams of energy from my eyes and forming blasts of energy from my hands. F.u.c.k, I'd even tried to fly. And now, telekinesis.

Nothing. What was the point? How cruel could anyone be to put me in a universe full of the most absurd powers and abilities where literally anything was possible, just to make them a spectator? No, I refuse to give up so soon. I'll come up with more ideas that I can attempt and start my trials again later.

"Jordan!", I heard my name being called from downstairs. Sighing I tucked my chair back into its desk and headed downstairs. What met me was my mum, Christie, and my policeman dad, in civilian clothes stood next to two uniformed officers.

"Hey kid, since you've officially been discharged from the hospital, uncle Jefferson and his buddy want to ask you a few questions about the night you were hit, you ok with that?", dad spoke, breaking the tension in the room.

"Jordan, you're looking better already", the first cop said. He was a carbon copy of my dad, just a little taller with short, cropped hair rather than my dad's curlier, afro like hair.

It took me a moment, but I realised it then. The double take must have been visible on my face as he quickly said, "If you're still not feeling well, we can come back tomorrow."

Dad, Sterling, spoke up quickly, "no. you know how it is, faster you know what to look for, easier it is to catch them".

Jefferson Davis, who I'm still reeling about being my uncle snorts and retorts, "Look, I know you're hurting, Sterling. So am I, kid's my nephew. But you know the reality of these situations, you've worked enough of them. It's been over three weeks; the case is cold."

My dad stared at 'uncle' Jefferson with a cold glare that made him flinch backwards. Fortunately, my 'mum' intervened, pulling back my dad's arm. The other policeman chirped up to break the silence,

"ahem, Jordan Davis, do you remember anything at all the might help us find those who did this to you?", I looked at him for a moment before realising he looked familiar… that was Denis Leary who acted in the Amazing Spider-Man 2. Which, if my guess is right, makes him George Stacy in this universe.

Mind overload. Kaboom. Not only is my uncle Miles Morales' father, but his partner is Gwen Stacy's father? Error 404: Brain not found.

Realising everyone in the room was watching my brain fart moment and waiting for me to say something, I garbled out, "I…uh, It was red, four door Ford, at least two passengers, I turned and saw the car speeding towards me cause it was playing loud rap music that I could hear above the volume of my earphones."

Sterling was giving him a, 'that's my boy', kind of look. Uncle Jefferson and Officer Stacey looked relieved that they were now able to leave the house with something.

George Stacy asked, "anything else?"

"No, that's all I remember, sorry."

"No need to be sorry, that's already a big help", Uncle Jefferson smiled reassuringly at me before glancing over at my father. He continued, "thanks for the help, kiddo, we'll take it from here", they both smiled at me as they made their way over to the door.

They left, closing the door behind them for my new mum to turn to my new dad, hands on h.i.p.s, seething fury aimed towards him,

"What the hell was that?" she asked point blank, her face a mask of barely concealed rage.

Sterling went pale, turning to me. "kid, could you give us a minute?"

I nodded, making a quick exit, making a large noise as I walked up the stairs, only to creep back down. Like hell I'd miss the chance to listen to this. I sent a silent prayer up that it wasn't a creaky staircase.

"I said, what the f.u.c.k was that, Sterling?"

I could practically hear my father squirm in discomfort.

"Look, Christie, you never know what little information might help in bringing them to justice-"

"I don't care, Sterling. Our son has been through a harrowing ordeal. He was hit by a car, a f.u.c.k.i.n.g car, Sterling. He hasn't even been out the hospital a day and you bring your boys in blue round to quiz him already! At least they had the decency to feel awkward standing in our home. They knew better, so should you!"

"Oh, and what did you expect me to do, Christie!" He shouted back. "I'm a cop, serve and protect, that's what they taught us, and I couldn't even save my own boy!" He stifled his tears.

"I have been a cop for over a decade, always telling myself that what I do will one day save those I care and love for, making it all worth it! So how do you think I felt when I got the call about Jordan! They said he had died, Christie! Dead for over a minute before he inhaled a breath again! A miracle the doctors called him! I refuse to lose him, even if it makes him feel uncomfortable for a few minutes."

I blanched. Pale in the face. So, this body had died, huh? Did that mean that the original Jordan had died in order for me to take it over? And all this shouting? I felt... moved. It was odd really. I'd had both my parents as Scott, but they were already divorced so they never fought like this over me, not directly anyways. I knew in the back of my mind it wasn't really me they were fighting over, but their Jordan. But for some indescribable feeling, I felt as though I owed it to the deceased Jordan to repay back their affection.

Needing a moment, I took a seat on the stair. For it to creak. Loudly.

F.u.c.k.

"Jordan, come on down." I heard my mother say. I'd been busted. F.u.c.k it, might as well just begin calling them mum and dad really, it's not as If I didn't personally know the distinction between them and my original parents.

I walked down the remaining stairs and turned into the living room where I saw a tearful mum and a frail looking father, quite a tough look for him, given his muscular, overbearing figure.

"How much of that did you hear?", mum asked.

"All of it. But, as much as I appreciate you worrying over me, honestly, it hasn't mentally scarred me or anything, well, at least not yet." I spoke as I looked both of them in the eyes. Dad looked visibly relieved whereas mum just curtly nodded.

A brief pause descended over the room before dad looked at me, "Right, well, first night home. That calls for your favourite meal, right? Pizza from Rozzano's! Large Margaretta for Jordan and something with lots of veg for mum?" he looked over at his wife, a plead on his face, hoping that she wouldn't hold a grudge from the row earlier.

"Actually, dad, I'll have a double pepperoni, feeling something different, you know?", I smiled back at him. I may be in a different body, but that sure as hell didn't mean my choice of pizza topping had changed.

We had a lovely night. The three of us on the sofa eating pizza and watching TV. I know it sounds silly to hear from someone in my position, but I hadn't had such moments in my own upbringing, so I genuinely appreciated it.

Citing my tiredness, I walked back up to my room. I had a dozen more potential superpowers to test out before I went to bed.

Chapter 2

"Jordan, get your ass out of bed, we leave in 15!", dad bellowed from downstairs.

Damnit, why hadn't they woken me before? What sort of cruel parent only wakes you up 15 minutes before you had to leave!

A week had gone by since I'd been out of hospital. Since then I'd scored over two hundred potential powers off my list, but I hadn't lost faith yet.

I had to go back to school today, a place called Norbrich High. From my memories, there was nothing particularly special to say about the place. Distinctly average really. Decent sport program, decent academic pass rate and even celebrated sending a kid off to an Ivy League school on scholarship every now and then.

Today was my first day back, and I sure as hell didn't plan to stay there long. I'd already checked, and Midtown High existed in this universe. I was no genius, but even I could take a guess that if anything 'special' would happen at a high school in New York, it would be that one. It was where Peter Parker and Harry Osborne studied after all.

So, I went to school, barely getting my ass out the door before I got a scolding. Dad and I had a quiet car ride for very different reasons. Him, because he was absorbed thinking about his latest case as usual, and me, because I was attempting to make claws grow out of my feet with nothing but my mind.

Reaching school 20 minutes later I mentally sighed. I'd have to remember to score that one off the list when I got home.

I mumbled and bumbled my way through the day. What can I say? It was boring as f.u.c.k. I'd already been to school in my old life and I hadn't enjoyed it then. I stared out the window, I swung off the back of my chair, I stared at the clock on every wall of each class and counted down the time until I could go home.

Jordan's friends approached me of course. Decent bunch of kids to be fair. But that's what they were, kids. Their concern for me was endearing, but after that, conversation was back to the high school football team; Chad's house party coming up, who's dating who and whether Amy's tits had grown recently.

Full disclosure, if there is anything to make you, as a former 28-year-old feel uncomfortable, it's discussing a 15-year olds b.r.e.a.s.t size with other 15-year olds.

With that, I began to formulate a plan. This simply couldn't continue.

It was a week of hellish, boring repetition of school before I finally approached my parents. I'd have waited a little longer, but I was getting the impression that my classmates and teachers had suspicions that I wasn't quite the same as I was before my 'accident'.

As for why my parents hadn't noticed my personality shift, or my rapidly increased maturity, who knows. Perhaps they were just too grateful to have me back and awake, or maybe they had noticed and just put it down to me having gown in maturity as a result of the ordeal.

Either way, it was time to move on and deal with this issue face to face.

"ahem, uh. There is something I'd like to ask". I was nervous about raising this issue. I'd obviously been an independent a.d.u.l.t previously, making my own life decisions, albeit, often poor ones. I honestly couldn't remember the last time I'd had to ask permission to do something that would have such large impact on my life, so what if they said no?

Damn it, toughen up! 'You'll be a superhero one day', I said to myself, y'know when I actually discovered my powers��

In the passing week, I'd crossed out over 400 potential abilities and I was really scraping the bottom of the barrel.

Bubble creation, super metabolism, knowing whether I like the taste of a food solely by looking at it. All scored out. The only thing keeping me going at this point was that I knew for a fact I was in the marvel universe, a world of heroes! Well, none who were public at the moment, but Captain America and others were well doc.u.mented in this world!

"Jordan, what's up, son?", Dad looked happy I was striking up a chat. He must have noticed I'd spent less time with him this week than I usually did, according to my memories.

"I was thinking…. And it was just a thought really…" I trailed off, not too sure how to raise the issue. Both parents were looking at me expectantly now. For f.u.c.k's sake, just spit it out!

"I'm looking for a change in my life. I know it sounds silly, I'm only 15, but with the car accident and the time in hospital, it's sort of put my life a bit more in perspective. I'd like to move school, to Midtown High preferably, and to take up something new as well, like Krav Maga." I blurted it all out in one.

The shock on their faces was palpable. I made a mental note to add that to my list of powers to test, palpability of emotions.

"Uh, well, that's obviously a big move to make, it would bring a large change to this family", mum carefully spoke. She obviously was attempting to tactfully respond, not dismissing my idea outright, but buying time to weight it up.

But I'd prepared for this moment. Watch, and be amazed for my finishing move! "Actually, it wouldn't be a bother, the bus stop down the road goes straight to Midtown high. It'd take me a little longer to get there in the morning, but dad wouldn't need to drop me off, so it'd save you time"

Dad was quick on the uptake. I guess you could expect that from a cop, but he realised my answer seemed a little too rehearsed.

"You've thought about this quite a bit, huh?". I gulped, caught in the act. But I was committed to this.

"yeah, ever since the hospital", I replied. As a minor, I needed them on board for this, that meant honesty… or at least half truths.

"so why are you only coming to us with this now, sweetie?", mum asked.

"I guess I just wanted to make sure this was what I actually wanted, rather than just an emotionally fuelled decision I'd regret." I just sort of spurted it out as an off the cuff excuse, but it obviously achieved the desired effect.

Dad smiled, "I'm proud of you. You've been through more than most your age and you're now looking ahead. You want to challenge yourself in a new environment. You've obviously thought about this, otherwise you wouldn't approach us like this, so It's a thumbs up from me"

Mum glared at him, the 'we should have discussed this privately first' look. But eventually rolled her eyes and relented when she saw the hope and conviction in my eyes.

"Fine, you can move school, if this is how you truly feel. But Krav Maga? Don't think I didn't notice you slipping that into the conversation Mr. Davis". Mum watched me with a stern eye.

"aha, yeah. That's more of a why the hell not, sort of decision." I tried to laugh it off to my parents. This decision hadn't been as clear cut as going to Midtown High. I knew if I were to look for a Colleen somewhere in Chinatown, I'd not only receive top notch combat training but have the possibility of meeting the Iron Fist somewhere down the line. But at what risk? If The Hand existed in this world, and I had no reason to believe otherwise, it would put me firmly on their radar and that was not an option for little old me. Not yet at least.

"mmm hmm mister. Alright, but you aren't giving up your track training, you're good at it, and if you could get even the smallest of scholarsh.i.p.s through it, it'd be a great help to your father and me" she finished.

"of course, mum" I smiled back at her.

"Now, is there anything else you want to throw at us whilst you have us on the backfoot?", Mum jokingly asked me, a glint of amus.e.m.e.nt in her eyes. A glint which swiftly vanished after seeing me hesitate over my next words.

Dad was the one to fill the silence with a snigger and chortle, "this will be good, I can feel it, go on Jordan, surprise us with another crazy life changing decision", he prompted to mum's dismay.

"Well, you know that savings account you have in my name? That college fund?"

That stopped Dad's laughter as he adopted the same worried look as his wife.

I pressed on, "Well, rather than let it just sit there for the next few years, I think it would be smart to invest it, see it grow in value."

Dad raised his hand, indicating for me to stop. "We are aware of how investment works, Jordan. But that's your college money. No money, no college, Jordan. I know you're a bright kid, but just as you could earn more from the fund, we could also lose it all and that's not an outcome we can afford."

I looked down dejectedly, thinking that was the end of the conversation. Of course, it was a tall order to expect parents to be happy with a 15-year-old calling the shots with over ten thousand dollars. Surprisingly, it was mum who came to my aid.

"What were you thinking of Jordan? You must have an idea if you're coming to us about it." She smiled in a motherly, supportive manor, one that showed interest in my thoughts and ideas without promising any commitment. I could work with that, a slow grin beginning to form across face.

"Well, have either of you heard of a recent creation called coin…"

Two weeks. That's how bloody long it took to get transferred to Midtown High. In that time, I'd said goodbye to my 'friends' at Norbrich, saying my parents just wanted me to move and I couldn't argue with them.

The investment conversation with my parents was, beyond all odds, successful. I showed them the e-currency, what it was and how it worked. I told them of my peers and how I believed such a use of technology was only bound to rise for both social and professional use. My parents took a few hours of conversation and convincing, but we got there in the end.

Aside from setting the family and myself up financially, I figured being wealthy would alleviate some of my parent's pressure regarding my athletics and need for a university education.

I'd also begun attending Krav Maga classes at a nearby studio. The instructor was former Israeli special forces, a real tough bastard that didn't take shit from anyone. Honestly, it was hard going, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't beginning to doubt my superhero masterplan. I'd long dried up of superpowers to try out. My last real hope was that my X-Gene simply hadn't awoken yet but given that the rest of my manly bits had been affected by puberty, even that hope was slowly waning.

'So why am I attending these classes?', I thought to myself as I got assaulted by one of the older students. I dodge, duck, dip, dive and dodged, but the other boy was larger, faster and far more experienced in the combat system than I was.

Hope. That's all it really came down to. I had hope. I was in the motherf.u.c.k.i.n.g marvel universe. Unlike everyone else around me, I knew what was out there. Superpowers, aliens, infinity stones, magic. I knew what was out there and I wanted to be a part of it. I wanted to have powers and stand amongst Earth's mightiest heroes. To be at the forefront of humanities pursuits into the stars.

I'd spent my previous life sitting on my arse, smoking weed and chatting shit with friends about which hero was coolest and what we'd do if we could save the day.

I now had the chance. I'd discover my powers, my reason for being here, and you bet your left testicle I'd be the first in line to protect this planet.

My head rocked back. My distracting train of thought had resulted in me getting knocked harshly in the face.

"Take a few minutes Davis. Right class, everyone partner up and get to the punching bags"

The instructor continued onwards with the class as I sat my ass down with an icepack.

I don't care if I don't know my powers yet, I refuse to step back and watch this world, no, this universe burn at the hands of Thanos. That's why I was here, why I cared. Even if I didn't have a power yet, I had foresight, and that was a powerful thing.

The class finished and I was picked up by dad in his cop car outside. He took one look at my bruising face before opening his door, rage burning on his face as he eyed the studio, clearly wishing to give the instructor an earful.

"Dad!" I grabbed at him. "Dad, stop! It's just a bruise!"

"Just a bruise!? We agreed to let you learn to fight so long as it didn't interfere with your track training. How are you supposed to run competitively at the weekends if you're black and blue all over!"

"It was just an accident, my attention slipped, and I got hit. It's not a big deal!" Damn it. As much as I loved the feeling of having caring parents once more, those that would stick up for me through thick and thin, who would back me even if I did horrible wrongs… It could get pretty bloody tedious. How was I supposed to train in preparation to become a superhero if my parents devolved into a rage every time they saw a bruise on me!

Dad got back in the car and drove them home.

"your mum will hear of this", was all he said.

The following day, my eye had swollen beautifully. There was no way to hide it. I'd be attending my first day of Midtown High with a face ripely swollen. I stood in my bathroom mirror as I inspected myself. It was still weird seeing my reflection and accepting that it was new - a different body than the one I was originally born with. Previously I'd been Caucasian, slightly flabby with a slightly crooked nose from the time I'd been punched in the school yard and hadn't had my nose reset.

Now, I was a mixed-race teenager with an athletic body. With so little body fat, even my jawline was chiselled. Stubble ever so slowly creeping its way onto my chin and the ability to grow an afro just like my father very evident on my head.

Jordan before me had always kept his hair fairly close cropped both for teenage fashion and his athletics training, and I saw no reason to change that. My hazel eyes stared back at me before I sighed, wondering how my parents would respond to my swelling black eye.

I slipped into some grey slim fit jeans and a black t shirt. It was the most plain of all outfits and perfect to wear when you were going into a new environment of different cliques, unaware of social circles and expectations.

I walked downstairs to hear my mum gasp as she saw my face.

"hey, hey, hey" I said pre-emptively, "it's not as bad as it looks". My comments were for naught as she rushed up, immediately prodding it.

"does it hurt? Dear god, Jordan, you can't go to school looking like that!"

"Mum, it's my first day I can't miss it. Besides, it really isn't as bad as it looks." That was a lie, it stung like a bitch. But one complaint and I knew I'd be bed bound for the day. Oh, the joys of being a teenager again.

"Anyways, got to head out or I'll miss the bus!" I rushed out the house before she could complain anymore, grabbing an orange and an apple from the kitchen counter as I left. Happy body, happy mind, after all.

After a half hour bus journey, I arrived at Midtown High. It was an odd sensation, being at a place I'd seen portrayed in movies and comics all my life. Mainly due to how… underwhelming it was. It was a high school. For a place that held so much fictional significance in my childhood, it was just too normal.

Looking at my schedule, it began with Geography in class B.04 with Mr Jones. Let's hope the day goes by quickly, I grumbled.

Shit, shit, all classes are shit.

I've done it all before. Literally. I've been a teenager once before, sat the exams and passed 'em all. My parents were confused when I said there were some subjects I wanted to change, but no f.u.c.k.i.n.g way was I going to sit through dozens of hours of chemistry, a subject I never previously understood, just because it's what Jordan chose previously.

Sure, his memories gave me a decent grasp of the subject, but I held no desire to pursue it. I wanted to be a superhero, not a damn lab nerd. I mean sure, I'd read comics of super nerds obtaining powers through their experiments, but I was also a realist. I wasn't a genius in my last life, and I sure as shit wasn't one in this life, I'd checked to see and scored it off my superpower check list.

So, I'd swapped out the sciences for the social sciences, the ones I'd done in my past life. The ones that I was sure with a little re-stimulation I'd be able to ace with the bare minimum work.

Lunch arrived and I grabbed my tray from the canteen. Beef stew with mash potato. Not bad, a far cry better than what Norbrich served up, I inwardly celebrated.

Being the new kid and having pointedly ignored most people in my new classes based on my previous experiences of hanging out with 15-year olds, I ended up eating alone. It's because of that, that I ended up lost in my own thoughts and missed the group of older kids that sat down around me.

"You the new kid, Jordan?"

I looked at them. They didn't seem to look at me with hostility, rather a hopeful expectation and hesitation.

"Uh, yeah, that's me". As soon as I said it, I knew it was a weak ass reply, but I'd been caught off guard, what else could I say?

"Heard you run a 11.36 second 100m. That's not bad at all for your age, you able to run for us at the Friday meet?"

"I guess, sorry, you are?" I said, trying to be polite. This was the most straight to the point and mature conversation I'd had since being reborn into Jason, a sincere hope began blossoming in my heart to make friends out of these guys.

"sorry, yeah, I'm Trevor, student head of track and field here at Midtown High, nice to meet you, Jordan" he smiled back at me, offering a hand to shake, which I did.

"and if you don't mind me asking, what the f.u.c.k happened to your eye?" Trevor gave it a glancing inspection, wincing slightly at the sight. So, I told them, and as I did so, a smile crept onto my face.

Perhaps school wouldn't be so bad here. If I could make some friends amongst the older students, ones who wouldn't judge me based on my age but rather my personal maturity… I could see it working.

With formalities out the way and my confirmation of running relay in Friday's school meet, Trevor turned to his other friends around us, smiling as he did so,

"Who's seen Hannah's tit's? It's not just me, they've grown, haven't they?"

Oh, for f.u.c.ks sake

Chapter 3

Two years went by and I entered my final year of high school.

I'd love to say they passed in the blink of an eye, but they didn't. I attended school as normal. My teachers telling my parents I was acing every class I took and some sort of prodigy in computing. Obviously not true, I had just studied these subjects already and well, I'd gone into the tech sales industry in my previous life so in some areas I knew more than the teacher did.

A few major events occurred in this time. The most notable development was the birth of Iron Man.

Just as it went in the movie I'd seen in my past life; Tony Stark had been targeted and kidnapped by a terrorist group in Afghanistan called the Ten Rings. This was major international news at the time, covering television channels and newspapers for a week as the US military waited to receive hostage demands from the Ten Rings. They never came, and as the weeks went by, the masses believed we'd seen the last of Tony Stark.

I knew otherwise. Three months later Tony appears once more on US soil with quite the impressive story, regaling his daring escape. He laughed and smiled, charismatic as he'd ever been with the media. But I knew, I'd seen the horrors myself that they'd put him through and I knew what I was watching on the news was the façade put in place by a broken man who'd stared death in the face and was desperately attempting to rebuild a sense of normalcy around him.

It's odd, and not something I'd considered until all these events occurred, but here in this world, these people were real. It's isn't like watching the Iron Man movie at home on the sofa with a bowl of popcorn, viewing a scene of torture as just a necessary character-building step to form an onscreen fictional superhero.

To watch news reels and interviews with the man, to know that he had experienced those horrors as a real, flesh and blood human made my skin crawl. I'd entered a mood for a while at that realisation. Especially because I knew what came next.

There I was, going through life as a regular teenager, knowing that Tony's fight with Iron Monger was just around the corner and yet here I was, powerless. I'd sworn years ago that I would step up and face Thanos alongside the world's mightiest, what a joke that now seemed. I had nothing that made me a powered individual, not yet.

Just as I knew it would, Iron Man prevailed, wiping that human sc.u.m, Stane, off the face of the Earth.

Those events only cemented my resolve towards becoming the hero this world needed. Sure, Iron Man had saved the day this time, but I knew that one day that simply wouldn't be enough. More was needed and I knew I'd one day be the person to fill that role. If only I could work out how.

The other major piece of news was the introduction of Peter Parker and his buddies to high school. They were two years below me and exactly as portrayed in the Homecoming movie I'd seen back when I was Scott. Nerdy, geeky and oddly charming in their own weird way. I'd obviously continue to keep an eye on them, but for now they were just regular kids.

Friendsh.i.p.s developed decently, I was no longer in contact with any of Jordan's old Norbrich friends, but at 15 years old I'd made close friends with Trevor and his group of Kyle, Brent and Alex. It'd made my popularity skyrocket within the school, getting me invited to all sorts of older pupils' parties. Fortunately, my parents didn't mind me going out in the evenings, mum was just happy I was getting along with people and dad was chill as a cuc.u.mber so long as there was no booze, smoking or anything crime related.

Hanging out with some older boys meant I drew the attention of the older girls too. Still, I didn't dare pursue any of them. I was a 28-year-old man reincarnated, well 30 now. But going after girls half my mental age disturbed me. Trevor and his mates were always quick to point out their classmates who had the hots for me, but I couldn't help but feel creepy. Like some dirty old pervert stalking younger woman.

Trevor and his mates had obviously graduated high school, but my friendship with them lived on, being invited to the odd college party. Me being a part of their group had got me an 'in' with the following years seniors which I was quick to exploit, making friends in their circles, attending their parties and remaining the envy of many in my own year group.

Much of this was thanks to my success on the track circuit. I was now 17 years old and could run a 10.98 seconds 100m sprint. This made me a young sporting talent of the school and thus quite popular. I continued with it because I knew it would help with my eventual pursuit of becoming a superhero.

Additionally, in this body I was very good at it, despite having no previous interest for athletics as Scott, it's amazing how much fun something can become when you're one of the best at it. But for my parents, it was a sigh of relief, the thought that I'd be able to claim a scholarship of some sort eventually.

Being the final year of school, my peers were all applying to colleges around the country and asking me what my own plans were. Aside from them, the pressure was also building from my parents. I hadn't had the heart to break it to them yet, I mean, what was I supposed to say, 'oh yeah, I'm going to be a superhero so I won't go to university like you've wanted me to since I was 9'. Not to mention it would be pretty hard to convince them when my powers still hadn't made their debut…

No thank you. I'd hold off that conversation for as long as I could. Perhaps when the coin rose significantly in value the conversation would be considerably easier, but that was still several years away. So, in the meantime, I did what my peers did, I applied for the track and field scholarsh.i.p.s at Empire State University and others in nearby counties.

Krav Maga was going well...ish, I thought to myself as I walked into the studio after a long school day. I now attended classes 4 times per week, much to the instructor's dismay. The former special forces soldier immediately noticed my entrance.

"100 push ups, 100 sit-ups, 100 squats, 10km run, I want to see you exercise until you go bald. You're getting fat, Davis." He motioned towards the gym equipment in the corner before turning away from me.

Oh? Did I forget to mention that I was damned shit at fighting? It was clear to anyone by this point that the instructor had completely given up on me as a lost cause. No, more than that, he wanted me out of his class. He felt I was a waste of time.

Sure, I'd learnt the basics. Attack, block, deflect and counter, but that was all, the movements felt unnatural to me. Whenever I saw an attack, I needed time to think of the best response rather than feel the instinctive flow of the melee and naturally counter. It didn't help that my parents wouldn't sign off for me to actually fight in an MMA matchup which was obviously the best way to consolidate your learnings. It spoke volumes that the instructor himself would rather I left his class than get paid for me to sit at the side.

Everyone else in the class was better than me, even the kids that had only recently joined the class. I was the laughingstock of the group. But f.u.c.k that, I knew I was improving and that a single block and counter might one day save my life.

"Why don't you stick to running, Jordan?", a melodic voice spoke up beside me. I turned to see a short girl with long brown hair that fell to the small of her back. A petite, athletic form with a cheeky grin on her face.

"Hey Lana, how you doing?" I smiled back at her. She was one of my good friends from the fighting studio. A legitimately good person that I could count on to have my back.

"not bad, same old shit to be honest. How was your last race?" she smiled at me.

"ain't it always" I replied with a smile before continuing, "alright, I suppose, I'm at the stage where the only way to compete with the front runners is to increase my sprint training to 6 times a week and my aerobics to 4 times per week. Otherwise I'll fall behind."

"oh, so why don't you?" She asked innocently. But we'd had this exact conversation so many times before.

"Because I don't want to be an athlete, I want to do more with my life than run for enjoyment", I entertained her.

"uh huh. Because your combat training is going so well" she teased as she watched me do my squats.

I think she might fancy me. Not in an egotistical, self-absorbed, the world loves me sort of way. But in an objective, we've been friends for a while now sort of way and I think our conversations are going into the realm of flirty.

"Hey, I get by. One of these days, I'll be stronger than everyone in the class combined!", I said with mock fanaticism, making her giggle, lifting her hand to cover her mouth as she did so. I'd said it as a joke, but a part of me truly believe it, my dream was still alive, after all.

"easy cowboy. One step at a time. How are your parents doing? Still persuading you to give up?" As one of my close friends, she'd been round to the house a few times. I'd largely gotten over the age maturity difference in the last few years, I mean, I'd had to, or I'd literally have zero friends. Fortunately, teenagers grow rather quickly, and my now 17-year-old classmates weren't as insufferable as they had been when I'd first joined the school.

But then there was Lana who I'd met at Krav Maga and we just sort of hit it off quite quickly. That'd been a year ago now and It was just really… nice. I could be myself around her, didn't have to dumb myself down emotionally with her or pretend to laugh at fart jokes.

The first time she came over for dinner after Krav Maga had been… awkward. I often get lost in my own thoughts, not thinking things through, just being a little dense at times. As such I totally forgot the implications of a 17-year-old bringing a girl round for dinner.

"So how long have you two been dating?" my mum had asked, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. I'd immediately choked on my mouthful as Lana's eyes widened beside me. Dad erupted in a hearty laughter as mum continued,

"Don't think we haven't noticed how much time you spend together!". Yep, that had been a pretty mortifying experience. Unfortunately, both my parents believe I only enjoy attending the self-defence classes as I'm trying to impress her, which was annoying to say the least.

"Yeah, the parents still badger me about only having time to commit to one sport, blah blah blah. But it's my choice, and I'm happy" I replied.

"If you say so" she said cheerily. "Oh, and I'm afraid I'll have to cancel tonight, Jordan. Test tomorrow at school I forgot about, next week?"

I was a little disappointed, but hey ho what can you do. "Yeah, no worries" I waved her off.

After the class which ended with me getting my ass kicked across the matts and back, I found dad's cop car sitting outside for me. I opened the door and hoped in,

"No Lana tonight, then?"

"Nah, she's got to revise for a test" closing the door and buckling myself in.

"You'd have time to study too Jason if you focused on only the one sport…"

"ughhhh not tonight, pleasssse" I groaned. "You know my grades are good already"

"No such thing as too high a grade though, is there? And running quick isn't enough to get you a good college scholarship place by itself these days"

I was about to retort, but dad's work phone rang. He looked over at me and mimed shush in my direction, one finger placed over his lips. I nodded back. These were his work calls, normally about a case of his which contained classified information, so he was supposed to be alone for them. Obviously, he didn't have issue with me listening in, it's not as if I ever care about the latest lab reports or court date summons.

I was just about to zone out before I heard the first line,

"Hi, this is officer Misty Knight, Harlem precinct. I heard you wanted to get in touch about those vigilantes?"

My ears perked up immediately. I remained still and continued to look out the window, I didn't want my dad to be aware that of the dozens of his work calls I'd overheard, there was one I was interested in. Misty Knight! Haha I just know it, this is going to be juicy!

"Hi, yes, this is Officer Sterling Davis speaking. Over the last few months, I've noticed multiple reports of crimes being stopped in the act by three masked men. I'd heard you were watching them for a while?"

"Yes… that's right, on the streets they are known as the Sons of the Tiger. Stopped or prevented dozens of street crimes from muggings and carjacking to r.a.p.es. Even saw a slight decrease in criminal activity when word of them on the streets spread"

My eyes widened. Yes! A lead! Sons of the Tiger… they were fairly minor Marvel characters, but I had heard of them! I was honestly surprised to learn of their existence, not that it gave me any headway in working out exactly which universe I'm in.

I'd like to think it was the 616 verse, but how could it be when I recognised Robert Downey Jr. as Tony Stark or Chris Evans as Captain America, as seen in my school history textbook. To further complicate it, George Stacey had been an actor from an entirely different cinematic universe. What the f.u.c.k was I supposed to do with that information?

But I was ecstatic. Discounting Iron Man, who seemed wildly unreachable from my current position, this was my first instance of hearing of modern-day superhero activity! It was information I might be able to do something with, rather than just watch it unfold on the news! In my excitement I almost forgot to continue to pay attention to the conversation.

My dad replied, "and did you ever discover the identities of these… Sons of the tiger?"

I could practically hear Misty roll her eyes over the phone. "nope, once I learned that they only fought criminals and left their victims incapacitated for the police to pick up, I stopped following them"

My dad's grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles going white as his seething anger threatened to overtake him.

"Why? they are criminals, acting outside the law. If they truly wished for the community to be a better place, they'd join the police, not slink around in the dark!"

Misty was rising to my dad's bait now, dammit. "Well, officer Davis. My Harlem precinct is stretched thin enough as it is. Why would we waste police resources on catching those helping us do our jobs! Now, protocol demands I send my complete files on them over to you, but before you chase after them, perhaps you should consider meeting some of the young girls these men have saved from some rather desperate situations. Perhaps then you'd be a little more open minded! Now, if there's nothing else, I believe this conversation is done."

Dad was silent for a moment before replying, "I'll be awaiting the doc.u.ments then", hanging up.

He turned to me. "Sorry you had to hear than son. I'm just frustrated that the case could have been closed by now if she'd bothered to have seen it through like she was supposed to" he frowned.

I was surprised to say the least. I hadn't seen this side of my dad before. He was normally so calm and collected. Yet these vigilantes made him so angry. I couldn't remember the exact details, but I'm pretty sure my dad has a criminal brother in the comics, but that wasn't related to vigilantism, was it? Honestly, as far as I was aware my parents hadn't existed in anything Marvel related which just threw another spanner in my 'which universe am I in' problem.

If only I'd somehow known that one day, I'd be sent to the Marvelverse and such information would come in handy, I'd have scoured every comic out there.

I stopped momentarily, in thought. I might not know why my father was getting angry… but I did know the story of the Sons of the Tiger and more importantly, how their story ended.

Perhaps this had been my power all along, staring me right in the face? Sure, I'd always recognised the fact that my knowledge of future events in this universe was an unquestionable benefit, I'd chosen to move to Midtown High for exactly that reason, to get close to future heroes. But what if I could use knowledge of heroes to obtain their powers?

I'd just have to be in the right place at the right time. What would count as freakish accidents for most, I could actively pursue, knowing the results already. If I were alone, I'd manically laugh, what was one power in the face multiple?

"Feel like replying, Jordan?" Dad asked, breaking me out of my reverie.

"huh?" I asked, dammit, perhaps getting sucked off into tangent thoughts was my superhero weakness.

"I asked how you were"

"Yeah, I'm good"

"No, I mean, it's been two years since the collision and we've barely spoken about it. I know Uncle Jefferson never found those that did it, so you had no real sense of closure and- "

"Dad, its fine. Honestly, I think it bothers you and mum far more that it does me. I barely think about it, I made a full recovery, I'm happy, that's all that matters"

"If you say so", he sighed.

For dad, it was the usual silence, this time contemplative at once more being shut down mid conversation. For me, I was desperately trying not to let my excitement show on my face.