Five hours after getting sucked through a tear in the fabric of the universe, I found myself sitting opposite Detective Sparda of the Summit City Police Department.

He looked like an older version of his comic book counterpart, and I probably wouldn’t have recognized him at all if not for the distinctive scar over the bridge of his nose and the fact that he shared a name with a fictional character.

The Marcus Sparda I knew was created by my late father to patch up a plot hole, not this flesh-and-blood man across from me. But there he was—living, breathing, talking.

I could still recall the important details of his origin story, even though he was mostly a supporting character in the Vision universe, briefly played by Paddy Considine on the big screen.

Born in a crime ridden neighborhood of the Tri-Cities, Sparda was a dedicated officer, whose career had been shaped by the death of his mother many years ago at the hands of an unknown super-powered criminal. Despite a harsh childhood and the violence rampant on the streets, Sparda had never given into cynicism or taken justice into his own hands.

Standard stuff, really.

In the end, he was driven by the need to help those the system had abandoned, while he searched in vain for the killer’s identity.

Of course, I knew exactly who was responsible.

It was odd—having knowledge others were willing to kill for and had devoted their lives to uncovering. All of it, just floating uselessly around in my head.

Well, maybe it wasn’t all useless anymore.

Right now, however, I was more worried about Sparda’s secret ability, the one he’d kept from everyone in his life, including his girlfriend…whose name I can’t recall.

The detective was a human lie detector.

Nothing mind blowing, but useful in his profession.

“Ma’am?”

I brought my attention back to the present, suddenly aware of the detective’s silence, and forced my bouncing knees to a dead halt.

Focus, idiot.

I didn’t recall all there was to know about him, but the limits of Sparda’s powers were easy enough to remember: the detective could only spot an outright lie and not when someone was shading the truth or withholding something.

Easy. Just don’t lie and you’ll be fine.

“I’m sorry,” I said, before the silence could grow any more awkward. “Just trying to wrap my head around all of it.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Not a great day to be you, huh?”

I struggled to pull off a wry smile, but I was afraid I only managed an awkward grimace. “I’m still alive, so there’s that.”

“True,” he said. “How’re you feeling, otherwise? I noticed you haven’t said, or asked, much. I’d be crawling up the walls.”

“I’m still trying to make sense of it,” I replied. “An explanation would be great, though. So far, no one’s been able to tell me how I got here.”

Sparda tilted his head to the side. “We’re investigating, but I’ll be honest with you…in cases like yours, there’s almost never a satisfactory answer.”

“So I’m not the first person it’s happened to?”

“I meant more generally. We’ve got enough weird going on that it all kind of falls into the same category. This isn’t half as strange as some of the things I’ve seen on the job.” The detective glanced down at the notebook in his hand, which was crammed with arcane scribbling. “The good news is, you were given a clean bill of health by Nostrum. That’s the woman who visited earlier while you were in quarantine. The one in the, you know…”

“Tights?” I suggested.

“Those,” he agreed. “We usually try not to involve them, but we had to make sure you weren’t carrying a deadly pathogen from another universe. It’s a miracle that you aren’t.”

“And she’s got powers? Like, actual super powers? Because all she did was touch me.”

It was expected of me to at least ask that much. My mind was racing at a mile a minute, trying to figure out my next step, but I couldn’t lose sight of the present and rouse Sparda’s suspicion. If it meant playing the dumbstruck tourist, I was happy to take on that role for a while.

I’d read enough comics featuring Nostrum to know exactly who she was. I’d recognized her the moment she’d stepped into the room, despite the differences in her costume. She was never a lead character, except for a short run some years ago in which she was an army medic who was exposed to a variation of the ZK-Factor, granting her the ability to diagnose with a single touch and heal all but the most devasting injuries.

Nostrum had popped in for a few seconds while I was in quarantine, which was really just a fancy way of saying I’d been put in an isolated interview room and told in no uncertain terms that while I wasn’t under arrest, I couldn’t leave. She had flounced in and touched the back of my hand briefly, before leaving again without so much as a reassuring word.

Either she was a raging bitch or in quite the hurry. I assumed the latter.

It made sense that Nostrum’s skills would be in high demand given the size of the Tri-Cities area, and she was also one of best healers in the Sentinels, which was the Vision universe’s premiere crime-fighting team.

Depending on whether I was in the Cinematic Universe, the main comic book timeline, or some other variation, the Sentinels could range from oppressive government lackeys to hardcore vigilantes, or anything in between.

Dad had always preferred to write them as acting outside the formal structures of governance, but within the sanction of the state.

“They’re called ultras. I’m guessing you don’t have people like that where you’re from.”

“Not to my knowledge,” I replied, bringing myself back. “Is it the same everywhere?”

“Mostly. How ultras are dealt with varies. In some places it’s better; in others…” He grimaced. “Let’s just say governments have learned to tread carefully, given what a single rogue ultra can do.”

“Well, I’m glad I didn’t end up somewhere horrible,” I replied. “And if I haven’t already said it, I’m grateful you took me seriously. I don’t know what state I’d be in if no one believed me.”

Sparda shifted in his seat, suddenly looking uncomfortable.

“You do you believe me though, don’t you?”

“I do,” he replied. “Like I said—I’ve seen stranger things.”

I didn’t doubt it for a second. I truly was grateful to have crossed paths with him. His ability to tell truth from lies made things easier in some way, while harder in others.

“Have you ever heard of something like this happening before?” he asked. “On your world?”

“You mean getting dragged into an alternate universe?” I barked out a laugh, struggling to keep the lingering hysteria out of my voice. “I would know if it had. Maybe no one’s been around to see it or it’s being covered up. It would’ve made headlines.”

“You told the first responders that one moment you were running, and the next you were here—on Earth.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“I didn’t put it quite like that,” I said. “It wasn’t instantaneous. I saw the air…rip in half and fell into whatever the hell it was. I don’t really remember what happened in between, but suddenly I was somewhere else. I couldn’t recognize the buildings or the street names. But I do come from Earth, just not this Earth.”

“So there’s some similarity then, but not much.”

I frowned. “There’s no Summit City where I’m from.”

“What about Ashburn or Victorsfield?”

“Are those cities?”

“It’s one great, metropolitan sprawl,” he replied. “We call it the Tri-Cities. Summit City is sandwiched between Ashburn and Victorsfield, but you could step over from one city to the next without even realizing it.”

“There’s no place like that on my Earth.”

It was technically the truth. I hadn’t denied knowing about it, just that there was no place like the Tri-Cities where I was from.

“And yet we seem to have no trouble understanding each other, even though our worlds are so different.”

“You’ll have to ask a linguist about that.”

“I suppose so,” Sparda said. “For the sake of my record, your full name is…?”

“Ruha Fletcher,” I replied. “I’d have shown you some ID, but I was out for a run when it happened, so I didn’t bother bringing anything along.”

“You’re not a minor, though?”

“Twenty-one. College student.”

“Ah. What were you studying?”

His casual use of the past tense caught me of guard, but it was true. That was in the past now, separated from my life in a way that couldn’t be measured in distance.

 “Law,” I replied after a moment. “That’s three years down the drain right there, unless I get back home.”

Sparda gave me a sympathetic glance. “What about family?”

I shrugged. “None, really. My father raised me, but he passed away. My mother and I are estranged.” I paused and levelled my gaze at him. “Do you really want to know all of this, or are you gearing up to say something, because that’s what it feels like.”

Sparda breathed out—half laugh, half sigh.

“If I haven’t lost my shit yet, I’m not about to,” I continued. “I’d much rather you get right to it instead of running in circles.”

“Alright, alright,” he replied, raising his hands in mock surrender. “The truth is…I’ve got nothing to go on right now. Normally, I’d look into your past—find out who has an interest in hurting you. For obvious reasons, that won’t work here, because anyone with a motive is beyond my reach, unless we assume that the source of your problems in on this end.”

“I find that far more likely than the opposite,” I said. “Even if it doesn’t make any sense. What interest would anyone from this world have with me?”

Sparda inclined his head. “Right. And what that means is I can’t promise you’ll ever be able to go back home, and even if you do, it probably won’t be any time soon.”

I swallowed and looked away briefly.

Objectively, I knew I was here for a while, if not permanently. Parallel universes didn’t feature as a major plot point in the Vision universe, and even when they did, it was the result of some disaster or accidental phenomenon.

I couldn’t think of a single ultra with the ability to send me back home—at least not without resorting to magical shenanigans. There were a handful of individuals, like Magus Prime and Umbra, whose abilities were so undefined and versatile that they could possibly pull it off. However, there was nothing in my knowledge of the Vision universe that convinced me of the possibility—at least not enough to try to approach them, even if they would bother with me at all.

Umbra would probably throw me into some dark dimension to be torn apart by her shadow beasts. She’d done far worse to people for far less.

“I know this hasn’t been the easiest day,” the detective continued, “but given the circumstances, you need to start thinking about what happens next. You have no identity here—no relatives, property, or source of income. And frankly, you’re not prepared for what’s waiting for you beyond these walls.”

Is it that bad?

Sparda must have read my expression, because he nodded grimly. “There’s a good chance you can go months without running into an ultra or getting caught in the crossfire, but there’s enough of them around that it’s inevitable.”

“Okay. So what do you suggest I do?”

“I’ve reached out to a friend,” he replied. “Her name is Mara Afzal. She’s a social worker. Mara has helped out a lot of people who’ve had everything taken from them. Nothing quite like the situation you’re in, but you’ll be surprised to find how many people have lost their homes to ultras. Like I said—it’s a harsh world out there.

“I’ve told Mara a little about you,” Sparda continued. “She’ll look into getting you some legal status here in Verra…that’s the country you’re in, if you were wondering.”

I nodded, even though I already knew that. “How likely is it that she can help me?”

“I’m not a lawyer,” he replied, “so I can’t give you a definite answer, but you certainly fit the criteria of a refugee. Mara has contacts in legal clinics all over the city. I’m sure she can arrange for a professional to take a look at your case—some discrete and trustworthy.” 

“And does she know…about my situation?”

“I had to tell her where you’re from, yes,” he replied. “But she knows not to share that with anyone else. I want to urge you to do the same.”

“Is there any reason why? Am I in any danger?”

Sparda pursed his lips. “It’s just a precautionary measure. I don’t want the wrong kinds of people taking an interest in what happened to you,” he said. “I’ve labelled your case under ‘ultra phenomenon’. It’s a dustbin category for cases without any explanation. Hopefully, no one will pay too much attention to it.”

“Except the person who brought me here. If they’re from around here, they’ll certainly be looking for me.”

“True,” he replied. “But we don’t actually know if it was deliberate, a mistake, or some random event outside of human agency. I can’t imagine someone would go through all the effort of brining you here, only to screw up and lose you at the last second.”

I nodded slowly, knowing there was nothing to say until we had concrete facts. “So that’s it then? I stuck here for the foreseeable future?”

“Unless something miraculously drops into my lap.” Sparda gave me a lopsided smile. “Just take it one day at a time. This place isn’t so bad.”

“I suppose I don’t really have a choice.” I raised my head quickly to look at him. “I don’t want to sound ungrateful. I know you didn’t have to do all of this—call your friend and everything.”

“It’s nothing. Mara’s always eager to help. She works with several charities in the Tri-Cities, so she always has a place for someone who needs it.” Sparda paused and pulled out his phone. “Speaking of—looks like she’s here. C’mon.”

I stood up and almost sat back down as my legs grew weak and rubbery. Blood rushed to my head momentarily and my vision darkened, but soon enough it passed and I drew in a deep breath.

Sparda was watching me. “Okay?” he asked.

“Tired,” I replied. “It’ll pass.”

He nodded and turned, circling around his desk to lead the way. I rubbed my sweaty palms together before following Sparda through the police station. We made our way to the lobby, and on our way out of the building my eyes caught something pasted on the notice board.

WANTED BY THE DEPARTMENT OF ULTRAHUMAN AFFAIRS

BLASCO KÁRMÁN AKA THE PROFESSOR

UNLAWFUL FLIGHT TO AVOID PROSECUTION – MURDER, HUMAN EXPERIMENTATION

IF YOU HAVE ANY INFORMATION CONCERNING THIS PERSON, PLEASE CONTACT THE DUA’S LOCAL FIELD OFFICE AT 1-888-CANT-HIDE (226-8443).

The man in the picture was almost ordinary in appearance; he had narrow features and horn-rimmed classes perched on the end of a crooked nose. His bloodless lips were pressed into a thin line and his hair was combed neatly to side.

The name on the wanted poster almost made me stop in the middle of the lobby, but I forced myself to move on, shooting a glance at Sparda to see if he’d noticed my interest. However, the detective was focused ahead, and I breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

Blasco Kármán, along Antona Zukovsky, was one of the two minds behind the ZK-Factor, a compound capable of creating ultras. Bastardized versions of the ZK-Factor were always circulating on the black market—not half as safe or effective. The true article, on the other hand, was a priceless commodity. It was almost always successful in manifesting superhuman abilities, and powerful ones at that. However, the only people who knew how to manufacture the ZK-Factor were Kármán and Zukovsky themselves, and it seemed at least one of them was a criminal in this universe.

That didn’t surprise me at all. Their research was always more important to them than the wellbeing of their patients.

The secret to the ZK-Factor lay in Kármán’s own blood, which he had discovered could manifest abilities in others if properly processed and treated. Knockoffs used other active ingredients to cause the manifestation of abilities, which were not nearly as safe.

Well, at least the psycho’s not a celebrity in this world.

We exited the building and crossed the parking lot in silence. It was late evening and the light was beginning to wane, but I craned my head around, trying to absorb as much as I could of Summit City. My eyes caught on a building in the distance, rising like a needle towards the sky. Even though I couldn’t make out any distinctive features, I suspected it was the headquarters of Deletos Enterprises—the face of corporate evil in the Vision universe.

However, I didn’t have long to look at it as I caught sight of a woman on the other side of the street, leaning against a blue sedan. She looked to be in her thirties, hair cut short around her neck and solidly built, though she only came up to my nose. She immediately pushed off the car and waved at Sparda.

The detective grinned as we drew closer. “Mara,” he greeted. “Thank you for coming. It’s been a while.”

“It sure has,” she replied, giving him a hug. “But you’ve only got yourself to blame. You know you’re welcome to visit any time.”

The detective nodded and gestured to me. “This is Ruha.”

I stepped up awkwardly to shake her hand. She had a strong grip and made a point to meet my inquisitive gaze steadily. I could see a silent reassurance in her eyes, as if she wanted me to know that everything would be fine.

“It’s good to meet you, Ruha,” she said. “I’ve been told a little about your situation, but we’re going to do something about it.”

“Thank you,” I said quietly. “I’m sorry if this is a bother…”

Mara smiled. “It’s kinda what I do,” she said. “With your permission, Sparda, we’ll be heading out. It’s already late and I want to get Ruha set up.”

“Right, of course.” Sparda turned to me and reached into his pocket, pulling out what looked like a business card. “Here’s my number. It won’t do you much good until you get yourself a phone, but give me a call when you do. I’ll keep you updated if anything comes up in the investigation. And if there’s any other trouble, do call me.”

I slipped the card into the pocket of my running pants. “Thanks,” I said. “For everything.”

He shrugged. “I haven’t really done anything yet. Take of yourself.”

And with that, he was gone, jogging across back across the street towards the police station. I turned back to find Mara watching me.

“Ready to go?”

I nodded.