Capítulo 1: Confusion, Acceptance
Waking up felt like slamming into a wall.
My eyes snapped open, my heart already hammering in my chest. The ceiling above me was white. Too white. I shot upright and scanned the room. This wasn't my room. None of this was mine.
"What the hell—" I barely got the words out.
The bed wasn't mine. These clothes weren't mine. Hell, this whole apartment wasn't mine. I ripped the covers off, scrambling out of bed, feet hitting the cold floor. My eyes darted around. A couch I didn't recognise. Dull cream paint on the walls. It was all wrong—every inch of this place.
I ran a shaky hand through my hair, trying to control my breathing. "Okay… okay… calm down. Just… calm—"
Just then a blue screen. It was floating in midair. Right in the middle of the room, it appeared. Bright, unnatural.
[Welcome, Player]
"What the actual fuck?" The words tumbled out before I could stop them, and I stumbled back, heart pounding like a drum. The screen just floated there. Didn't move. Didn't disappear. It just… waited.
This couldn't be real. It had to be a dream.
But the chill in the air was real. The hardwood floor under my feet? Real. The way my breath hitched, was real. Too real.
I blinked hard, hoping it would vanish. But it didn't. It just sat there, glowing. Flickering slightly before new text appeared:
**You have one new quest!**
[Answer the door.]
My stomach flipped. I heard heavy knocking echoing through the apartment.
Instinct kicked in, but my legs felt like lead as I moved. I stepped out of the bedroom and into a small kitchen-living room space. It was pristine—like a model apartment, only just lived in. The countertops gleamed, spotless, and the stainless steel appliances looked fresh out of the box.
A few mugs sat neatly by the sink, no sign that anyone had ever used them. There was a small dining table tucked against the wall, two chairs pushed in perfectly, except for one, slightly askew.
Another heavy knock.
The front door was directly ahead, solid and unblemished, the paint smooth and clean. I hesitated, eyes darting around. The blue screen flickered behind me, its glow casting faint shadows across the room.
[Answer the door.]
This couldn't be real.
I looked at the door again, heart pounding in my chest. The floor beneath my feet was cool hardwood, polished and reflecting the soft light from the overhead fixtures. Above the kitchen sink, wide windows let in a bit of morning light, though the blinds were partially drawn. The walls were a fresh, neutral cream, with no crack or chip in sight. Like this place had been made and barely touched.
Another knock—even louder this time. Whoever was on the other side wasn't leaving.
I ran a hand over my face, trying to steady my breath. This wasn't my apartment. I didn't know who lived here, or why I was here.
Swallowing hard, I took a few more steps toward the door, my pulse thundering in my ears.
No way out. I had to see who—or what—was behind it.
With a shaky hand, I reached for the doorknob. My heart pounded as I twisted it, half-expecting the worst. But what stood on the other side of the door wasn't anything I could've prepared for.
Standing there was… a furry?
No. No, it was too real—too raw to be someone in a costume.
The thing before me looked like some twisted cross between a hyena and a cat, but wrong in all the worst ways. Brown, scruffy fur covered its lanky, misshapen frame, clinging to its body in uneven patches, almost as if it had been dragged through the dirt. It hunched slightly, shoulders rounded forward, giving it an unsettling, predatory posture.
Its eyes were the first thing that truly unsettled me—bright, almost glowing yellow, wide and unblinking, staring at me with a kind of manic intensity. They were too human, too knowing, darting as if constantly searching for something to pounce on.
The creature's maw hung open slightly, revealing jagged, oversized teeth that looked like they could tear through metal if they needed to. Its lips twitched, pulling back slightly into what might have been a snarl—or a grin.
There was something… feral about it, something wild and chaotic. It moved in jerky, quick motions, as though it was constantly on the edge of lunging. And yet, it just stood there, waiting, breathing heavily through its mouth, a soft growling sound in the back of its throat.
I took a step back, instinctively clutching the door tighter. Whatever this thing was, it wasn't human.
I didn't get much time to dwell on that thought before it lunged forward, barging past me with surprising force. The door was yanked from my grip, slamming shut with a loud bang that rattled the walls. Deep claw marks scraped through the wood where its gnarled fingers had raked across it.
I stood frozen in place, my heart hammering in my chest, as the creature stalked past me like I didn't even exist. Its heavy breathing filled the room as it made a beeline for the fridge, moving with an unsettling, jerky kind of grace. My eyes stayed locked on the clawed hand that reached for the fridge door, its long, yellowed nails tapping against the handle before it ripped it open.
The thing rummaged through the contents of the fridge with no hesitation, tossing aside bottles and containers like they meant nothing. It stopped when it found what it was after a slab of red meat.
It pulled the meat out and sniffed it, a low, guttural growl escaping its throat before tearing into it with its jagged teeth. Blood dripped down its chin as it chewed, yellow eyes darting to me every few seconds as if daring me to move.
I didn't. I couldn't.
I had no idea what this thing was, or why it was here—but it clearly wasn't planning on leaving anytime soon.
With the slab of meat still in hand, it casually made its way over to the small table with two chairs. It dropped itself into one of the chairs, lounging like it owned the place. Its clawed feet—or, rather, paws—were kicked up onto the table, leaving faint scratches on the wood.
Chewing noisily, it stuffed more of the meat into its maw, blood smearing across its fur. Then, as if this was all completely normal, it spoke. "Fuckin' took you long enough to answer the damn door."
The voice was scratchy and warbled, like its throat was filled with gravel, but the words were disturbingly clear. I stared at it, trying to process what was happening. This thing could talk?
It tore off another chunk of meat, chewing with exaggerated slowness, its glowing yellow eyes locked on me, waiting for a response.
I tried to move, to say something—anything—but my body wouldn't cooperate. My limbs felt heavy, like I was wading through thick mud. When I finally managed to open my mouth, the words came out in a jumbled mess. "Wha—what are y—you—?"
The creature snorted, baring its jagged teeth in something close to a scowl. "What? You don't remember?"
I forced myself to take a shaky breath, but the fear made it impossible to think straight. My hands trembled, and my knees felt like they were about to give out. This thing—whatever it was—wasn't human, wasn't normal, and yet it sat there in my apartment like it was just another casual afternoon.
I blinked, trying to find my voice. "W-who… what are you?"
It leaned back in the chair, throwing its arms up in exasperation. "Great, you fuckin' lost it again! I should've just eaten you."
Suddenly, its entire posture changed. The creature straightened up, its expression hardening, eyes narrowing as its tone shifted from mocking to serious. "Listen up! I'm fuckin' sick of explaining this over and over. You are Jack Harlan. You had an accident years ago in a lab—some chemicals got into your system and messed up your brain."
It paused, losing the edge of seriousness as it stuffed the last chunk of meat into its mouth, chewing lazily before swallowing. "I'm Weasel. That's the only name you're getting, and I'm your only friend. Your family's dead, Jack. Get over it. I'm not dealing with your fuckin' grief again. God."
I was once again lost for words as I stumbled and plopped into the chair opposite 'Weasel'.
None of what he said made sense. My name isn't Jack Harlan; I have friends, family, and a house. None of this can be real.
Oh my god, is this not my body? Did I die and transmigrate into someone else's life? How did I even die? Is that why I see that system window?
Panic gripped me, my mind a whirl of confusion and fear. I tried to make sense of it all, but the more I thought about it, the less clear everything became. The room seemed to spin as I grappled with the idea that everything I knew and had might as well mean nothing, leaving me desperately searching for some kind of explanation.
Weasel got up abruptly and stalked toward the room that contained the bed and the couch. Just as he reached the doorway, he paused and turned back. "Figure your shit out; I need sleep. Oh, also, this isn't our Earth." With that bombshell, he turned and disappeared into the other room.
Just then, another bright blue window appeared in front of me.
**Quest Complete!**
**Rewards:**
- Info Packet
- Random Power
- New Friend: Weasel (John "Jack" Monroe Variant)
**Accept Rewards?**
I stared at the screen, my mind blank for what felt like an eternity before I tapped the screen. As the previous window faded, it was replaced by a new one, dominated by a single feature: a digital slot machine with one glowing slot at its centre.
The machine appeared both digital and uncomplicated. Dominating its interface was a single, large button labelled "Spin," which pulsed rhythmically, emitting a hypnotic glow.
With a mixture of curiosity and apprehension, pushing all my problems to the side for now. I reached out and pressed the button. Instantly, the slot began to whirl, the symbols—a lightning bolt, a shield, an eye—flashing past in a dizzying blur.
As the spinning began to slow, my breath hitched. "Fuck, this could end badly," I thought, anxiety prickling at the back of my mind. What if the power I get is something absurd? Like turning into that one guy from the X-Men who is just... slime?
The slot slowed to a halt, stopping abruptly on an icon of a hand before the machine's screen went blank for a moment. Then, bright and clear, a new message appeared:
**Power Received!**
[power mimicry]
- The ability to copy abilities through physical contact temporarily, lesser version permanently.(weakness are mimicked)
I blinked, a mix of relief and surprise washing over me. "Oh... that's actually pretty good," I muttered to myself, a cautious optimism beginning to take hold.
I tapped the screen again, and the window was replaced.
**Info Packet Received!**
- **Current Universe:** DC Young Justice
- **Current Identity:** Jack Harlan
- **Current Timeline:** 1 month before the show begins
- **Current Location:** Metropolis, private one bedroom apartment
"Oh my god, DC? Fucking DC!?" I gasped, excitement coursing through me. "Wait, I'm in Metropolis? I could actually meet Superman and gain his powers!"
The realization sparked a wild thrill in me: "Fuck it, new world, new me." My old body was likely decaying in my previous universe, and my family and friends had probably mourned me by now.
This might be an opportunity—a fresh start. As the weight of my new reality settled in, tears unexpectedly welled up in my eyes. But these weren't tears of sorrow; they felt like a release, washing away the remnants of my old life.
I let myself cry, not knowing how long the tears flowed, but by the time they stopped, I felt strangely cleansed and exhausted.
I headed into the second room and saw Weasel lying on his back, snoring, with the blanket and pillows kicked off the bed, the mattress was torn up.
I grabbed a pillow and the blanket and made my way to the couch, lying down and quickly drifting off into a dreamless sleep.
Estado de energía semanal
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