One Week.
That was how long one Andrew William has found himself lost in a world so very different and yet hauntingly similar to his own. It was quite bizarre finding himself seemingly kidnapped and transported thousands of miles away from where he remembered, as far as he knew at the time. Almost as strange as hearing people talking about some of his childhood favorite comic heroes. The keyword being almost. Since when was talking about nerd stuff out in public socially acceptable? Did he unknowingly step into some Twilight Zone?
Was there a Comic-Con nearby or something he didn't know of?
Things only got weirder from there when he recalled his last memory. Death. A stupid bet, a kid full of spite and vinegar doing reckless stunts to get views on Youtube. Falling down in an endless void of Death Valley.
The impossibility of his survival, the strange city, frequent mentioning of heroes, and most of all the stupidly large Stark Tower in front of his face all hammered home the classic Isekai situation he was such a fan of reading.
Oh, and being 13 again sure was a surreal experience. He didn't even understand why exactly he was de-aged, but he felt like there was a reason for it. At least he hoped so, and it wasn't just a final 'Fuck You' from God.
Really... He was kicking himself for not listening to the old proverb, be careful what you wish for, and really should've added more detail or checked the fine prints. Seriously, last he checked he didn't have the signature Saiyan tail, nor the Speed Force. No Kryptonian strength and heat vision nor moving things with his mind. Hell, he didn't even wake up a filthy rich orphan with a kickass butler!
Stolen story; please report.
He was basically a random hobo in New York because he had no I.D here nor did he have his wallet.
Suffice to say things sucked hardcore, especially so considering he got mugged. Twice! He had no idea why the hell people thought the kid that looked like he got recently mauled by bears and hadn't showered in the past month was a good choice to rob, but he decided to blame it on Kayne West and his Yeezy. These tears weren't a fashion statement damn it!
Andrew also decided to ignore the fact that the rapper didn't even exist in this world as far as he knew.
Still, things weren't too terrible he supposed as whoever or whatever sent him here also gave him a... Gift of sorts.
The Blacklight Virus, or rather, maybe it was better said that he was the virus itself now. Not too dissimilar to a certain genocidal video game character of one of his all-time favorite games as strange and weird as a coincidence it was. Living in the streets of the Big Apple was a lot easier once you learned you didn't really need much to eat or drink to survive.
Oh, and that you were pretty much immune to being stabbed in the face, that sure was helpful. Sure, it hurts like a bitch, but you didn't have to worry about bleeding out, and the fact that he was now probably at peak human physical capabilities didn't hurt.
Andrew might not have been able to fight his way out of a paper bag back in his world, more likely to hurt himself punching someone or tripping over his own feet, but it didn't really matter when you had the strength of Arnold Schwarzenegger, the reflexes and agility of Bruce Lee, and the speed of Usain Bolt just in case you needed to book it. All wrapped up in a 5ft tall and 90 pounds wet small package of pure awesomeness.
He most certainly didn't trip and run face-first into any trees at the local park in his excitement to test out his physical abilities. No, siree. Gosh, he hoped nobody saw- or God forbid recorded that. It would really be a big hit on his ego when he makes his superhero debut.
So, what is a young and upcoming "Metahuman" is to do when they have no I.D, no support, and no fucking clue what they're doing when being paranoid is never enough in such a fucked-up universe were gods, demons, cosmic horrors, and even worse- S.H.I.E.L.D was running around?
Enroll in high school and hope for the best of course.