A/N: Flamers… ouch. Not really. To me, being Flamed is like being injected with morphine for the first time. It fields weird… maybe it's because they're flaming me wrong.
XXxxXX
0905 HOURS, NOVEMBER 22nd, 2600 (UNSC MILITARY CALENDAR) \
SAN FRANCISCO
John sat at his desk, overlooking the apartment's spectacular view as he combed his way through article after article.
So far, he had come to the conclusion that he was in an alternate reality. The maths he did even seemed to be in support of the theory.
To put the calculations he had done simply, every time a ship entered slipspace, the portal had a set frequency. Leaving slipspace at the same frequency would allow the vessel to exit with perfect accuracy in both timing and location. However, the machinery involved didn't always produce the same exit and entering frequency, thus the slight time dilation and drift. 26th Century UNSC ships entered and exited with varying frequencies, causing the jumps to be slightly off target and a few minutes around the desired time. Covenant ships were far more accurate, allowing their jumps to have surgical precision in both timing and accuracy.
When the Brute had detonated the slipspace rupture device, John had assumed it was a high-yield explosive and thus engaged armour lock. The EM pulses emitted, that were meant to disrupt guided missiles and dissipate plasma bolts, altered the slipspace portal's frequency continuously until the EMP ceased. The massive alterations caused the jump into a parallel universe, which the Spartan was not familiar with.
His weeklong research shed light on what he had encountered upon his arrival. There were countless web-articles that contained information on Captain America, Ironman, She-Hulk, Fantastic Four, mutants, and so much more.
However, he could not acquire any information about their main affiliations, and civilian identities. Save Ironman, Fantastic Four, and Captain America's.
Most of the information he had collected wouldn't help him much in getting back to his own reality. Still, he had adapted to the new environment seamlessly, which was a start.
XXxxXX
HELLICARRIER
Nick Fury paced back and forth in the Avenger's briefing room. A couple of non-Avengers personnel were also there for analytical purposes.
"Just about three weeks ago, we encountered an unknown bogey," said Fury as a nearby screen played out captured footage. "Ladies and gentlemen, your asses were handed to you on a silver platter by this being."
This caused some concern in the Avengers who weren't at the battle.
"What do we know so far?"
"His weapons burned through mine and Stark's armour," said Rhodie.
"Titanium composite armour, one of the toughest material around, and he just went through it as if it was ice, scans showed that the weapons fired ion beams" finished Tony, "now our man's armour here, has energy shields. Our anti-tank rounds just bounced off him. As far as SHIELDs knows, ion weapons and energy shields have barely passed the conceptual stage."
"How much power does that kind of equipment need?" Fury asked.
"More than my reactor can possibly provide," answered Stark.
"Don't forget, he took down Wolverine and She-Hulk, easily…" said Hawkeye.
"…But Rogers managed to hold his own," added Black Widow.
"Hmm, yeah," contemplated Stark, "that doesn't seem right. Wolverine gets swatted while the ol'Captain here survives a couple of bouts."
"Fighting styles," suggested Hawkeye, "we can see in the recordings that Wolverine's offensive leaves him vulnerable to a counter-attack from a very fast opponent. Roger's style is more defensive and reserved."
"Anything else to add?"
"Yeah, notice the way how he moves and attacks. Short quick movements that minimalize his exposure and keeps the enemy high strung," said Widow, "everything he does, is precise and fluid."
"Everything about him is beyond human," Hawkeye added.
"So, we've got a Supersoldier, with advance tech, on the loose," summarised Fury, "we don't know what his motives are, and we don't know where he is. I want all non-essential monitoring programs to be halted, and all available resources to find him. All units are to be on high alert. I want him found!"
XXxxXX
1000 HOURS, NOVEMBER 22nd, 2600 (UNSC MILITARY CALENDAR) \
SAN FRANCISCO
There was no doubt, in John's mind, that numerous Intelligence Agencies would be after him since that battle. From what he had gathered, the Spartan had just defeated the heroes of this world. The very same people who defeated a god, named Loki.
Gods, mutants, superheros, thought John, whoop-dee-friggin-do.
He was overwhelmed by what was considered normal in this universe. His universe was probably as normal as things get… including parasitic species into the equation of course. John wanted to return to where he belonged, where things made sense. Superheros just threw everything out of proportion.
The cold winter air rushed into the Spartan's lungs as he took a deep breath to clear his mind, and walked down the street, passing a shwarma joint. He was wearing a black themed business attire, to give the sense he was a corporate or a bureaucrat, which would work to his advantage. Wearing anything else, people might assume something less savoury. Especially since he was going to the bank, to make another deposit.
As he walked into the grand building, John was greeted by the sight of deep oak wood décor, marble tiles and low hanging chandeliers.
"How may I help you sir?" A female bank teller asked.
"Deposit," John answered in a polite manner.
"Of course, sir."
After finishing the transaction, the Spartan left the bank, and walked towards a food court in the hopes of finding something to eat.
He settled for pasta and a bottle of water, and found a place to sit down. It was a corner table, next to a fire exit. Years of working in rebel/insurrectionist territory had forced the Spartan to always be next to an escape route.
Looking across the vast area, he watched families eating, groups of friends chatting and teenagers courting. There was a hard truth for John to face; his original purpose was null and void. Sure he'd have to watch his back ever since the arrival incident, but aside from that, what could he do?
He couldn't resurface; every intelligence agency was out for him. All he could do was sit, and watch. Sit and watch, it sounded nice, but not right.
Leaving the mall, he headed back into the winter grounds. He was a free man, but one without purpose or direction. He needed to get back home, but he wasn't sure how.
XXxxXX
A/N: I patent the hypothesis I created for the science behind alternate reality or parallel universe jumping.