Capítulo 9: Is it MCU or Not?
So, basically, I am in the MCU, I suppose. But if I remember correctly, I was an experimental subject of Oscorp, which didn't even exist in the MCU world. The first thing I have to do is get better clothes, not like I will be moving with my wear-and-tear spider suit. And people will point me out as a freak if they see my get-up.
As I step out of the alley, triumphant with my newly acquired loot, I can't help but chuckle to myself. I turn to the now-bewildered robber and flash him a mischievous grin.
"Looks like the tables have turned, huh?" I quip, holding up the stolen clothes.
The robber stares at you, wide-eyed and speechless.
"Hey, don't worry," I say, trying to lighten the mood. "I left you some socks. Gotta have some decency, right?"
I can't help but laugh at my own joke, but the robber doesn't seem to share my sense of humour.
"Okay, okay," I say, raising my hands in surrender, "no need to get your stolen undies in a twist. I'm outta here."
As I walk away, I can't help but chuckle at the absurdity of the situation. Who would've thought I would end up robbing a robber and cracking jokes in an alleyway?
The good thing is that, due to my mutation, I look a little older to wear these clothes, but I still have a baby face. I then spotted a small clothing shop.
As I slipped into the fitting room of the small clothing store, I couldn't help but feel a rush of nervousness. The cramped space seemed to amplify the sounds of the bustling street outside.
I reached for a full-sleeve T-shirt, a dark hoodie, and a pair of leggings. As I pulled them on, I couldn't help but feel a sense of normalcy wash over me. It was strange how something as simple as changing clothes could make me feel like a new person.
The shop assistant, a friendly-looking woman with kind eyes, suggested a skirt. I hesitated for a moment before deciding to give it a try. Surprisingly, it felt right. Maybe it was the flexibility it offered, or maybe it was just the fact that it made me feel a little comfortable.
After grabbing a pair of sneakers and a bag to complete my new look, I took one last look in the mirror. The person staring back at me was almost unrecognisable and even more beautiful. Sure, I am in love with myself, but it's a pity I am the same girl.
As I made my way out of the store, I couldn't help but feel a sense of relief. But as I stepped out onto the bustling street, I was hit with the harsh reality of my situation. I was a mutant, an experiment of Oscorp, with no legal identity to speak of.
I knew I had to do something about it, and fast. But the question was, how?
Well, actually, there are three ways to legalise my identity. First, going to the police and reporting being lost, but there will be a lot of inspection and even the risk of exposing myself as a mutant. Another way is by attracting the SHIELD with my spider identity and legalising myself. But I will lose my freedom and even have a risk from HYDRA.
And lastly, just utilise the database I got from SP//dr. And just hack *ahem* access the citizen data and add my own identity. Which is the safest way and even possible. I went to an internet café and paid money to get access to the device.
I settled into the dimly lit corner of the internet café, the glow of the computer screen casting a soft light on my face. I accessed the database I got from SP//dr from my brain, my fingers dancing across the keyboard with practiced ease.
My fingers flew across the keys as I quickly established a series of looping IP addresses to mask my trail. "Let's see what fresh identity I can whip up." I muttered under my breath, worrying my lower lip between my teeth.
Hacking into the citizen database, I expertly combed through records, copying details to construct a whole new background for myself—a "lost child" from some tragic hospital incident years ago. False birth certificates, school records, hospital records—I was meticulously crafting an entire fictional life from scratch.
Every few minutes I looked over my shoulder, eyes darting around the dim cafe, ever watchful for any prying eyes. If anyone discovers my illegal cyber activities, it could mean utter disaster.
Finally, after what felt like hours, I was done. A sense of satisfaction washed over me. I had done it. I had created a new identity for myself, one that would allow me to blend in with the rest of society. At last, I leaned back with a heavy sigh. "That should cover my digital footprints...for the time being." I also removed my signs of entering the internet cafe and frozen the camera for 1 hour, so I will not be discovered in any possible way.
I quickly pulled up some news sites to get caught up on recent events. Tony Stark is still not found and determined to be dead. Like hell, he would die.
Damn... there is even a whole X-Men thing here; that's to prove it's not MCU. But at least the Mutant Registration Act was stalled. Thank fuck for small mercies.
Then my brow furrowed as I read about some scientific hotshot named Reed Richards poking around cosmic radiation. "Sounds like potential bad news waiting to happen."
Then there was a whole news story reporting about the military pursuing some "green monster" as an asset. I snorted derisively. "What else is new in this twisted freak show of a world?"
I shut down the terminal and wiped away every trace of my activities before initiating a system restore to the last backup.
With a fresh identity firmly in place, it was time to start putting down some legitimate roots in this world. If I was going to pull off this whole secret superhero gig, I needed to construct an airtight civilian life first.
Priority one: earning some income through honest means. No more muggings or petty thefts. That wasn't the heroic path I was striving for now.
Then, find a home. Then apply for high school, as I have to roleplay my fake identity, and finally graduate university and search for a backer to lend me funds for my project, and among the funds, some will assist my superhero gig.
From the word super hero, I remember that I have to repair my suit and even start my superhero life from scratch. What should I name myself?
"Ghost Spider." This name suddenly popped into my mind, as I cannot name myself Quantum Spider as it will possibly reveal my quantum manipulation ability. But I gotta think of something unique. I should leave that for later.
{A/n: If you have any suggestions, please comment.}
As I returned to the alleyway again, I felt a faint buzz in my mind. Then I quickly recovered. Damn fuck, it's Charles, the mind fucker.
<Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters>
In a spherical room, a person is sitting with a helmet attached to their head. And that person is Professor X, or Charles Xavier.
With a weary sigh, Charles lifted the intricate Cerebro headpiece off, placing it gently on his desk. Rubbing his temples, he tried to make sense of what he'd just experienced.
This was no mere headache plaguing him. It was a psychic discordance, like the jarring tones of a piano string plucked and left to reverberate endlessly.
'Most peculiar indeed... I detected an omega-level mutant signature, unprecedented in its power. But then it simply vanished without a trace, as if it didn't exist anymore.' The heavy metallic door creaked open, snapping Charles from his reverie. Hank McCoy stepped inside, ducking his tall, furry frame to clear the entryway. Concern creased his beastly features.
"You called for me, Professor? Is everything alright?"
"Ah, Hank..." Charles steepled his fingers, quickly recounting the events that had him so disconcerted. "Some days ago, I sensed an alpha-level mutant awaken, only for their abilities to suddenly, violently, surge to that of an omega-class."
The weight of such a loss hung heavy between them. Another innocent life is claimed by humanity's fear and hatred of mutantkind.
"I can only theorise they were the subject of some cruel experiment that triggered an explosive second mutation," Charles continued, his mouth pressing into a grim line. "One, their body simply wasn't prepared to withstand. A terrible, senseless loss."
Hank shook his shaggy head, all too familiar with the dark reality mutants faced daily. "Another innocent victim at the hands of human bigotry. When will this cycle of violence end?"
Charles' eyes took on a distant look as he envisioned the world he fought for. A world where humans and mutants could co-exist in peace and acceptance.
"Have faith, my friend," he said softly. "One day, the world will embrace mutantkind. We'll keep striving towards that better path, no matter the cost."
Refocusing, Charles turned back to the Cerebro console, deftly adjusting the array of dials and switches with his powers alone. But what he detected next caused his breath to catch in his throat.
"By all rights, that mutant should be dead, and yet, I've acquired that same omega signature. They're still alive, Hank! But...something is obstructing my psychic contact."
The professor's face twisted in intense concentration, sweat beading his brow as he attempted to breach whatever force was blocking his mind. Suddenly, a brilliant flare of power lanced through his consciousness, staggering him.
Charles gasped, reeling from the overwhelming surge as if struck by a psychic shockwave. "Incredible—a power like nothing I've felt before, raw and untamed."
He met Hank's concerned gaze, his eyes burning with renewed determination.
"We must locate this mutant at once before their immense abilities consume them. Or worse, before they fall into the wrong hands and make the mistake of believing mutantkind is a threat to be neutralised,
Hank nodded firmly. "Say no more, Charles. We'll find them. He or she would not have to face any more cruel situations." The two shared a look weighted by the gravity of their mission.
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