Author's note:

For those of you who don't know me, my name is Alex The Owl and I'm new on this fandom. Don't get me wrong; I always loved Marvel stuff ever since I was a kid, starting with the Spiderman movie with Tobey Maguire. However, my two previous attempts at making my own superhero stories have pretty much bombed. I do far better right now on the Rio and Kung Fu Panda fandoms.

However, with the recent release of Avengers: Endgame (DON'T SPOIL ME ANYTHING; I HAVEN'T SEEN IT YET!) and all the things happening with the superhero gender in recent times, I couldn't resist the desire to go for my very own superhero world. Which led me to create this story you're reading right now.

This fanfic will be structured like the MCU and DCEU (with movies and phases) with this story being the start of Phase I. If you wanna keep track of this universe, I'll leave the order of stories on my homepage as I do to cut my other stories' arcs. All my superhero stories will be released in this fanfic and not cut into different ones as I want to keep it simple: you start from chapter 1 to chapter...well, last.

All those stories will constitute this world I decided to name "Heroverse". The "movies" will be novels I wrote by myself in real-life and tried to get published but were sadly refused by all the publishing houses I submitted them too. This really pissed me off! Since I don't like my efforts going to waste, I instead decided to publish them here to see if the Fanfiction community will like them.

But enough with the talking, let's kick-off the beginning of my Heroverse with the first movie: Teleboy!

"What does it really means to be a hero? Saving a life from drowning? Discovering a new vaccine that can save millions of lives? Avoid the death of a large number of people? In our society, to be a hero, you have to make a gesture of great courage or bravery. Yet, there are millions of people in this world who testify to their heroism every day as they manage to survive in very difficult living conditions. They are people who stay in the shadows and who often go unnoticed. Yet, they are an example to those around them."

-Richard Thibodeau

Teleboy

Chapter I

A More or Less Normal Life

There were many moments in my relatively short life when I wondered what the hell I was doing. And that moment was part of it.

"What, shit?!" spat the man in front of me so that his huge yellow, moldy upper teeth bite into his lower lip, causing a big piece of saliva to come out and land on the asphalt in front of him.

His veins were visible from the top of his skull to his jaw because of his anger, his pupils dilating, his nostrils wide open, the drops of sweat descending his locks of hair, his body swaying with his legs wide open like all the guys who clearly had no experience in combat. He was tall enough, it was obvious. A big brawler in the street who thought himself to be the king of the mountain. I had already dealt with this type of guy. The kind who is too stupid to see that I am clearly not intimidated by his little dance steps.

"You come here, you dare to smash Shad's mouth," he continued indignantly, pointing to his idiot friend who was currently unconscious on the sidewalk, blood flowing from his mouth and his skateboard lying on his back, "and now, you order us to leave, as if we were dogs?!"

It was exactly what I was doing. I had come to an alley in the middle of nowhere in Canada for a good fight with a bunch of drug addicts who had just stolen a small bundle of money belonging to an old homeless man while laughing at his horrible situation. They had no idea of the mess they had just put themselves into.

I immediately jumped at the opportunity to deliver a violent kick in the face of one of them - who had absolutely no reflexes - before the other four encircled me, threatening me as they really believed to be a threat. I mentally gave them nicknames: Big Smelly, Ridiculous Hair, Sandwich Head, and the one in front of me, of course, Dumb Face. It was a good idea to keep track of your enemies even when you have no idea who they are. "Hey, are you listening to me, you rascal ?!" he kept shouting, unaware that I insulted him mentally.

The other three on my left and behind me separated all around, believing that it made them look strong and intimidating. In reality, it only showed me their position, even if I did not look at them. "You want to die today, huh?" the leader asked me while making fun of me and swinging his arms like a gorilla. There was a moment of silence during which I only fixed him exactly as I had done since they had surrounded me. Slowly but surely, he stopped swinging his arms like an idiot. Maybe he finally realized he looked ridiculous, but I could not be sure.

"Talk!" he ordered me, taking another, more ridiculous pose with his fists raised. I do not say anything. I had absolutely nothing to say to him. The insults and the threats would only lower me to his level. I could criticize his fight pose which would annoy him and force him to start the fight. So I could finish and go home. But I did not want to teach anything to this guy; it would be a wasted effort and I did not want to give him that pleasure at all. I choose to remain silent. As they say, silence is golden. Even though I preferred darker colors.

Right at the moment, I was bored enough to think of my favorite colors, like purple, Dumb Face had enough of my eternal silence. He ran, exactly as I expected. At least it was not me who was going to start the battle. Dumb Face's face ran to me, his fists lifted and the bottom of his body fully exposed. He was shouting something, probably a street moron's insult, but I paid no attention. Half of my mind was focused on the noises around me, but neither Big Smelly, Ridiculous Hair, or Sandwich Head moved. They must have expected that their great leader beat a little high school student alone and defenseless.

The other half of my mind was focused on Dumb Face who was heading towards me. I was looking at the lower part of his body... He was coming within reach, not even trying to protect himself ... And then I spin kicked him right in the face because it was funnier. Despite his air of solid guy, he had no more reflexes than his buddy stunned on the sidewalk. Blood, saliva, and the sound of breaking bones flew away from the sole of my shoe, and Dumb Face collapsed to the floor, moaning pain in a pathetic way. He did not even try to get up.

I then lifted the same shoe and trampled his moron face a few times, just to be sure. He whined at the kicks on his head but did nothing else. My attention then turned toBig Smelly, Ridiculous Hair and Sandwich Head. They were still moving, but they looked like they were trying to get away from me. I could hear them recoil slowly, wondering if they could leave without injuries. Too bad for their 'brother'. By listening carefully, I could hear them whispering with fear.

"Shit...!"

"He completely demolished JT!"

"I know, I know, look at him: he's completely disfigured! I recognize him: it's HIM! Small, a bowl hair cut with picks and a mustache, how many people look like this?! He's much older than everyone else says, but this is the first time we've seen him in this area for a long time - everyone thought he ended up being killed, but it's not the case... and now, he's after us..."

"Are you sure it's him?"

"Of course it's him! This little crazy man with a cup of bowl with picks was fighting with the strongest guys in the street, back in time! A real badass! A legend! We must get the hell out of here!"

At first, I realized that I was so busy listening to these idiots bragging about the rumors about me that I forgot to stop trampling the head of their leader. Oops! I lifted my shoe to see his skull all nibbled. At least he was still breathing. I turned to face the three big cowards who were trying to escape quietly, muttering. I did not really see myself as a legend in this area, but maybe I could try to make use of it.

"Hey!" I screamed, my voice cutting off their whispers. They froze where they were before slowly turning to me. I was standing perfectly straight, letting my face show my darkest and most intimidating expression. "Shut up!"

Even more golden silence. They were all petrified with pale faces as if they were going to vomit, pee on themselves, or both at the same time. Wow! Was I that popular or were they just shocked to see their leader being demolished? I felt it was the second case. "I want you to look at all this!" I ordered, pointing to my right. They slowly turned their heads to look, although they already knew what they were going to see. In the shadow of the setting sun were scattered dozens of small coins near the wall of the alley. Next door was a small, poorly constructed copper pot with a cardboard sign on which was written a sad message begging passers-by to offer money.

It was then that I remembered why I had come here, to begin with, and my heart filled with rage again. This time, I did not have to pretend to be angry anymore. "My first question," I said, slowly advancing towards them, "what is that?" They all remained silent and stared at me with fear. None of them wanted to respond and get attention. Finally, I raised a finger to point to one of the three guys who posted as early a look even more frightened.

"You, Big Smelly, tell me right now!" His fat, sweaty face showed a nervous look. "M-Me?" he asked in a trembling voice, and I replied by nodding my head without calming myself. "H-Er..." The guy paused, sweeping his gaze between me and the copper pot, rubbing his sweaty hands on his jeans.

"An offering for the homeless old man who lives here?" he guessed, displaying a nervous smile, believing that I would let him go because he gave me the right answer. I attacked with anger, faster than I thought. Big Smelly did not even have time to understand what was happening to him before he found himself on the sidewalk, unconscious.

The other two began to move towards us reflexively, their faces stunned. I grabbed both of them by the skin of their necks and slammed them against the nearest wall before looking at them in the face. They screamed stupidities with their gross dog's breath, but by staring at them in a threatening manner and squeezing their necks harder, they were silent almost instantly. I could even say they stopped breathing.

"And why are there missing coins and notes?" I asked with venom in my voice.

This time, they responded much more quickly. "We stole the money because our boss wanted it," said Sandwich Head.

That was true. For almost ten minutes, I stood in the shadow of the alley, watching these bastards mock the homeless and steal his money. First class idiots having nothing better to do than to attack an old man badly settled in his corner and worried about his business and them, they decide to take him to four against one for the pleasure. The poor man did nothing to provoke them and did not even try to defend himself.

That's when I chose to attack.

I stared at Sandwich Head and Ridiculous Hair, tilting my head to the side with a small, intimidating smile. "That's what you did, did not you?" I whispered. My face twitched suddenly and I hit them both in the stomach with a quick movement. All the air was out of their bodies. I then raised their heads so that they look at me again right in the eyes.

"IF YOU EVER DO THIS BULLSHIT AGAIN," I screamed with all the anger and rage of my being, "IT IS YOU WHO WILL NEED MONEY FOR ALL THE OPERATIONS! YOU HEAR ME, YOU PIECES OF SHIT?!" They panicked, kneeled and begged me. I released them and pushed them as far as I could with disgust. They rocked and fell on their buttocks. "NEVER COME BACK HERE AND DON'T TELL ANYONE ABOUT THIS! UNDERSTAND?!"

It was all that was needed to make them run away while bellowing like crazy cows. I watched them decamp for a moment before looking at the other three, still unconscious, around me. Well, that would give a good message: no more of these morons should come back in this alley for a moment. I looked at my watch. Not even ten minutes, and it was still the sunset. Cool.

"It's good, you can come out now."

That's when from the previously empty alley came an old man with a big gray beard...and marks of wounds all over his poorly dressed body. His name was Amataro, an old Asiatic I met a few years ago, even though my relatives preferred me to stay away from people like him.

He was a homeless immigrant who was trying to survive by selling cookies. It happened a few times that he came to me to ask me if I wanted to buy him. He earned my respect the first time, even before I knew his name. Why? Because at that time, I was still a drugged kid and stupid. I was a little strapped, a little grumpy and angry all the time. I had all this fury within me that was getting stronger and stronger, leaving me gloomy, intimidating and silent, dangerous, like a predator just trying to fight. I spent my time walking on the sidewalk of the district where I live - Kings, Canada - and all the adults gave me unpleasant looks as I passed.

Mothers dismissed their children while taking them to school as if I were a real devil. And I was not doing anything wrong, just walking. Besides, I was only thirteen. It was the kind of aura that emanated from me, back then. Like when you see a dirty old man talking to a pole alone. That was what I looked like. I was crazy.

However, at that point, I realized that I was so crazy and angry that I had to do something about it. I knew that I could not continue to stay like that. So I chose to get away from drugs and street fighting for a while. I felt safer at home without taking the risk of letting anyone discover where I lived.

So I spent several nights in my room playing on my console and watching movies, which was a nice little change, and I remember last week lucidly. Even though I had to fight my anger and agitation, even though I was locked in my room and had to fend off my desire to take drugs...I felt good. Good to get what I was doing again. Good to see my dad, my brother, and my mother more often, even though I felt a little guilty that they had to keep an eye on me, probably fearing that I would go back and disappear again for days. Even though I had to watch my father keep an eye on his wallet, probably fearing I would steal money again.

I did it before, but it made me realize how horrible I had become, and since then I have refrained from doing it. Even rummaging through my nose seemed more preferable. So my family kept an eye on me for the first few days at home, but finally, my mother, Nat, was brave enough to tell me that I could not waste my time doing nothing in the house whether on the sofa or in my room. I had to go to school while I was still there. The school called, she told me, and if I did not start introducing myself in class, they would expel me. She gave me my backpack and ordered me to walk to school, as I used to do when I was little.

So I put on my old school clothes and went back to school, passing through the brightest, classy and industrial part of the city that I hardly ever visited...And I deduced that it probably would not last. Not. I have tried many times, but I always end up falling back into my old lifestyle. Mainly because I suck.

And then, that old gentleman with a beard and poorly-groomed gray hair - if they had never been groomed at all - came to see me carrying a box of biscuits. The people around were whispering to each other, expecting no doubt that I would behead the poor gentleman. But even being in front of me did not make him nervous at all, despite my reputation. He raised the box and asked me in a weak voice: "My young friend...would you like to buy me some biscuits so that I can pay for a nice, hot meal?"

...He made me think about my father a little.

"Why not?" I asked myself and decided to buy a box of cookies.

I will never forget my father's look when I went home and showed him the box. I also borrowed him some money to buy another one to the poor man. It was well worth it. The next day, he came back to see me one more time, displaying a friendly smile behind his beard, despite my attitude. I gave him the money and he gave me the box of chocolate fine cookies, thanking me for my generosity.

"Hey," I called him as started to walk away, "what's your name?" I asked him without really knowing why.

"My name is Amataro," he replied with a beautiful smile. "Pleased to meet you."

"Jason Keyber," I introduced myself. "Nice to know you too." I went home to eat the whole box of cookies in front of the television. And they were really good.

The next night, I watched the news and discovered that he had been stabbed in an alleyway back to his sleeping area. When the pictures showing the state in which he was found appeared, I squeezed my glass so hard that it broke in my hand. Blood began to flow all over my pants. The aggressor was still free.

And I knew exactly how to find him.

I disappeared from home for a whole week to walk the streets, contacting different people to track him down. I finally found him and it gave a scene that was usually only seen in stereotypical horror movies. Him, me, abandoned warehouse, alone.

I never clearly remembered that night. Other than there was a lot of screaming and blood that was certainly not mine. I was always convinced that I was hysterical, screaming, but I did not know if it had been in my head or not. But no matter, what I knew was that I had completely lost control. I ended up returning to my senses with a body lying on the ground, in a puddle of sticky liquid in the dark.

I took the body in my arms and ran to the nearest hospital, leaving the body in front of the front doors and ran out as fast as my legs could. I was too terrified to check whether I had killed the man or not. Even until today, I did not know it. Nobody had ever talked about it on television.

It was the closest to murdering someone where I dared to go. It made me feel so good that I had a really good reason to put an end to my old lifestyle, I went away from it completely. Three years later, my school did not evict me. I was doing well with my studies, I went to bed every night, and I had completely stopped taking drugs. I was not crazy anymore. Not anymore. And I was never going to let that happen again.

But I still went to visit Mr. Amataro who had recovered from his wounds and settled in the alley. He saved my life with a box of cookies. The least I could do was make sure he was fine. When he informed me that street thugs came to disturb him, sometimes stealing the money that some passers-by had generously offered him, I deduced that I could make an exception on my policy of not throwing myself into unnecessary fights just for once. In the end, getting rid of them proved to be much easier than I expected.

I watched as Mr. Amataro approached me, my face resuming its neutral expression. "They are gone," I said, even though it was already clear. "Sorry for all the noise it caused," I apologized, shrugging my shoulders and putting my hands in the pockets of my jacket. "It does not matter," he assured me with a smile that reflected an annoying exasperation. "After all, it's me who asked you to get rid of them. Do you really think I care about the noise it caused?"

I did not know what to say. There was something about this dear Mr. Amataro that made me feel light and good. I had stopped expressing such emotions a long time ago. But it was not necessary: in a way, he always managed to guess what I was feeling. Exactly like my mother.

Exactly like grandmother did...

Maybe that was why I loved so much Mr. Amataro because he reminded me of them. Trying to keep a calm expression, I replied: "I'll bring you some money tomorrow."

"Very well," he answered happily, "thank you, little Jason." "No problem. Let me know if anything like that happens again," I added seriously. I thought it for real and he knew it. His smile widened and he raised his shriveled hand. It was a kind of friendly ritual and I raised my own hand to meet his. Inside me, the energy of my soul went through my body to reach my hand. I felt a slight tingle and a little purple light shone between our hands.

I wondered what that meant. To be honest, several funny similar phenomena had already happened around me in my life, but I never knew why. Could Mr. Amataro feel the same? Eventually, we released our hands and the strange aura disappeared. The tingling did the same soon after.

"Rest well," I said before leaving again and out of the alley while walking. I took my backpack that I had left at the entrance of the alley and took the path to my house under twilight.

Author's note:

Not bad for a first chapter, right? I like to put historical citations in my stories when they fit well.

Do you like Jason so far? I tried to model him after what I thought I would be like if I was a hero in real-life. A bit grumpy but kind-hearted. You can already guess that he will be no Spiderman.

And guess what, this is the very first story that I write in first-person point of view. I must admit it's not as bad as I thought it would be. Okay, describing the character's feelings and what's going on around him is pretty hard. But it's not a bad experience.

Anyways, that was the debut of "Teleboy", the first movie of my Heroverse. Stay stunned for the next chapter, my friends!