Dimensional Nomad

he first thing I noticed was the light—soft, warm, and unnaturally bright. It didn't hurt my eyes, but it was a stark contrast to the darkness I'd been accustomed to. My thoughts were hazy, scattered like dust on the wind. For a moment, I felt disoriented, as though I'd been rudely yanked out of a deep, comfortable sleep.

Then came the sound.

The muffled voices, speaking in gentle yet frantic tones, pulled me further into awareness. It took a moment for my senses to click, but when they did, my brain—both familiar and unfamiliar—sprang to life.

What's going on? Where am I?

Suddenly, I was being lifted, swaddled in something soft and warm. My skin tingled as fresh air hit me for the first time—wait. First time? I tried to move, but my limbs felt weak, awkward. I blinked up into the face of a woman—tired, sweaty, smiling. Her brown eyes locked onto mine, and her expression turned tender as tears glistened on her cheeks.

"He's perfect," she whispered, her voice trembling.

Another voice, deeper, joined hers. "You did great. Look at him—our little boy."

The realization hit me like a truck. No, scratch that—like a meteor crashing into Earth.

I'm a baby.

No, wait—I'm being born.

Memories, sharp and vivid, came flooding into my mind—memories of my old life. Growing up in a world where superheroes flew across the sky and aliens invaded Manhattan on a Tuesday. A world where Thanos snapped his fingers and half the universe turned to dust. A world that existed in comic books, movies, and TV shows.

And somehow… I was in it now. Marvel. The Marvel Universe.

But it wasn't just the knowledge of where I was. I felt it. A clarity that I'd never had before. My mind wasn't just awake; it was powerful. Thoughts connected faster than I could process them, as though I had access to an unlimited library of knowledge. Every fact I'd ever learned in my previous life was perfectly filed, perfectly clear.

I could calculate probabilities. Visualize structures. Understand complex theories about physics, chemistry, and biology, down to the quantum level.

It was overwhelming.

But instead of panic, I felt… excited.

It didn't take long to confirm my suspicions.

I wasn't just born into Marvel—I was reborn. My memories, my knowledge of every major event and hidden twist of this universe—it was all there, clear as day. But it wasn't just knowledge that I'd been gifted with.

My brain was different. Better. Smarter. The first few months of infancy proved that much. I was a baby who could pick up on languages, identify patterns, and understand things without any real effort. It was a Reed Richards kind of smart—no, not smart. Genius. Something about this new body, this new brain, pushed my natural intelligence far past human limits.

And the powers? I didn't understand them yet—not fully. But I felt them. A core of raw energy inside me, like a star waiting to burst. Whenever I cried or got frustrated, there was a brief moment where I felt it ripple out, vibrating in my chest, my hands, my mind. It was dormant for now, but I knew that one day, it would wake up. It was mine.

I had the memories of a future I wasn't supposed to know. I had the intelligence to become something extraordinary. And I had the power to back it up.

I was no ordinary kid. And this was no ordinary world.

By the time I turned two, my parents were convinced I was some kind of prodigy. I started walking ridiculously early, my baby babble turned into full sentences, and my fine motor skills were already beyond most toddlers. I had to play it down sometimes—pretend to struggle with basic puzzles or cry when I wanted a snack. Otherwise, I knew I'd raise too many red flags.

My parents were good people. My dad worked a steady job as an engineer, while my mom stayed home to take care of me. We lived in Queens—a decent house, modest but comfortable. When I looked out the window and saw the city skyline in the distance, I felt a thrill shoot down my spine.

Peter Parker lives somewhere out there.

It was surreal to think about. The kid who would become Spider-Man—one of the strongest, most tragic heroes in the Marvel universe—was probably learning to ride a bike or watching cartoons right now.

The knowledge I had about what was coming… about what could happen… sat heavy on my shoulders. The Avengers. The Infinity Stones. Ultron. Thanos. Kang. It was all out there, waiting to unfold.

And I had to prepare.

The real breakthrough happened when I was four.

I'd taken an interest in my dad's garage. It was filled with tools, spare parts, and a couple of dusty machines that hadn't been used in years. I'd sit on the floor for hours, watching him work on one of his old projects—usually something small, like a clock or a broken coffee maker. He let me hold the tools sometimes, thinking it was cute.

What he didn't know was that I was paying attention to everything.

The mechanics. The systems. The way gears and circuits fit together like puzzle pieces. By the time I turned five, I was taking apart my toys and putting them back together, but better. Faster. More efficient. My dad just thought I was imaginative.

One day, I grabbed a wrench, flipped over an old toy car, and started modifying it. I rigged it with a new power system—something basic, using a circuit board and a couple of small batteries—but it worked. The little car zoomed across the garage floor faster than anything you'd find in a toy store.

My dad stared at it, slack-jawed.

"How… did you do that?" he asked.

I shrugged. "I dunno. I just thought it would go faster like this."

He blinked. "You thought?"

I smiled innocently. "Yeah."

He ruffled my hair, muttering something about me being a genius like Tony Stark. I froze for half a second but forced myself to laugh along.

If only he knew.

By the time I was six, I realized something important.

My intelligence, my memories, and my powers weren't just gifts—they were opportunities. I knew things about this world that no one else did, and I had the tools to do something about it.

The stock market crash after Tony Stark's kidnapping was coming. Stark Industries was going to hit rock bottom before it soared into the stratosphere.

I needed to get in on it.

The problem was obvious: I'm six years old. No one's going to let a six-year-old buy stocks.

But if there was one thing I'd learned from watching Marvel—it was that there's always a loophole.