No canon will be left un-fucked. - Camster3100 circa 2021

….

When you're young, you don't really think about death that often.

Someone's first interaction with death was usually when a grandparent or parent was taken from them when they were children. That's when a child stays awake at night and thinks to themselves 'Am I going to die one day?'

Having interacted with death for the first time, you stay awake and think about it. You think to yourself how you're going to die and when is it going to happen.

Eventually, however, it becomes a looming thought in the back of your mind that you don't really think about it until its time.

But movies, games, and comics always made you think immaturely that you were going to die with a smile on your face or in a blaze of glory. That was a comfort that you could think to yourself when you were thinking of your own impending doom.

What a crock of shit.

My name is Cameron Knight...and I have brain cancer.

I was diagnosed with a tumor in my brain during my first year of college. I had an seizure during a lecture and didn't come to until I was already in the hospital.

When I came to, the doctors had explained that the professor had rushed me to the hospital and I was put in the emergency room. Scans quickly showed that I had a tumor on the frontal lobe of my brain.

One operation later with the tumor removed, and it looked like I could start wearing the cancer survivor ribbons.

But one month later during a follow up, it was back. Malignant and terminal because it had regrown in a place where they couldn't operate on without a high risk of me becoming a vegetable.

I declined the risky operation. Living my life as a probable parasite, leeching from my family without giving anything back wasn't a life at all.

That was when I really started thinking about my death.

What did I accomplish with my life?

What can I do to survive this?

And then the doctors told me it was malignant, and I had about a year to live. That mercilessly squashed the last thought as if it were an ant under heel.

My family was distraught after that. My sister would visit me every day in tears because she was a nurse in the hospital I was staying at. I had a seizure about every other day, so I was forced to live out the rest of my days in the hospital. My parents would come and grieve as if I were already dead over my bed.

How cruel.

My grandparents who were well within their seventies visited me often along with cousins. I had a somewhat small family, but they were still my family.

I didn't have a hard life. I didn't go wanting on Christmas, nor did we struggle to make ends meet. My parents definitely had to make some difficult financial decisions with the crashing of the economy every now and again, but I lived a good life.

The first time I thought that in the past tense, I cried.

I lived a good life.

At first, I was distraught at the fact that my life was ending and I was forced to watch my body wither away.

That made me angry. So very angry. I wanted release from the torment of watching my loved ones put themselves through emotional anguish in watching their own relative die slowly.

I was depressed for a while and didn't eat. I contemplated biting my tongue and choking on my own blood during the night so the doctors would blame in on the seizures. It was tempting. My family wouldn't have to watch me suffer any longer, and I could finally be free of the body I was in.

But I refused that. I thought of all my fictional characters whom I had fallen in love with during my younger years who refused to back down.

We have to live a life without regrets.

Push through the pain. Giving up hurts more.

I wasn't delusional. There was no plot armor to save my life. There was no great Deus Ex Machina to rewrite time or pluck the tumor from my brain.

I was just sick and tired of being sick and tired. I was tired of thinking about my inevitable death, and tired of people coming to me with frowns etched on their faces.

I hadn't given up, I was just accepting it.

Asking my parents for books was the start. I read the whole Lord of the Rings series in two days and asked for more. Then I started asking for manga, comics, and a way to get internet in my coffin of a room to stream anime and movies.

Naruto, Death Note, My Hero Academia, Bleach, Black Clover, I watched it all. I rewatched all the Marvel movies, a lot of Netflix, and then some older movies when I got bored.

I watched whatever I could, read whatever I could. Then I asked for a laptop to game on.

My parents had initially declined due to my seizures, but the doctors had told them that it was the tumor and not the light that effected me so. They relented and I soon had something to game on while I did nothing in my room.

I made friends online along with reconnecting my real life friends. I managed to get a stable enough connection to play online games. It was awesome to feel somewhat useful to someone I had never met rather than waste away on this bed.

The frivolous things that I was sinking my time into would amount to nothing in the grand scheme of things. But it made me happy, and that was all I really cared about.

That was all about a year ago now.

When you're the one on the death bed, it really puts things into perspective. Loved ones are looking down at you, tears in their eyes with quivering lips. It truly was a depressing thing to look at.

My mom was openly weeping as she caressed my face. My father was sitting their with a frown forever etched into his jaw. My grandparents had their hands in my right one which lay limply to my side.

My cousins were scattered about the room, some looking apathetic while others had tearful gazes.

My only sister had her head next to mine, crying into my ear.

I was honestly thankful that I was even conscious for this. The doctors had said that I'd fall into a coma before I passed away, but I was just laying there with my eyes barely able to keep open.

I knew my time was coming a few days ago when I suddenly had a massive seizure and woke up to being resuscitated by a doctor. I lost my appetite that day and I hadn't eaten or drank since. The only sustenance I had was the I.V that was in my arm. My body was also a wondrous sight to behold.

Sunken cheeks and eyes with not a lick of hair on my head was truly an attractive look. I didn't care though. I wouldn't be here long enough to care.

I said my goodbyes to the friends online and had signed off for the last time yesterday. I skipped ahead in a few shows that I was watching to see how they ended. Boy was I confused. It made me laugh at the fact that I had no idea what was going on.

But today, I woke up and I was just so tired.

I knew that today was it. My family was already on standby because of the seizure and they had felt that my time was near.

I was happy, though. Experiencing all the joy that these supposed worthless things in life had made my last few months comfortable.

Shame I'd never see how One Piece would end. Though I supposed no one would.

My breathing became slow and labored as my heart rate dropped. My mom rushed to my side and kept petting the side of my face, kissing my head and told me how much she loved me. My father, sister, grandparents, and some cousins closed in as the doctors looked at the heart monitor.

I thought back to when I first thought of death and then closed my eyes.

My death had a smile on its face.

….

There were numerous accounts of near-death experiences on the internet along with those who had been successfully brought back from the dead. Some seemed more factual that others, and many had something in common with 'seeing a light at the end of the tunnel.'

Some said that they met angel-like beings in the experiences and some said they went to hell and met the Devil.

I wasn't experiencing any of that. I was just floating in blackness. I couldn't see anything for a while, only my body which I had no problem seeing every inch of. I realized that I didn't breath and the reflex of breathing only brought in nothing. It wasn't uncomfortable, though.

My ears picked up no sounds including my own voice, and I couldn't even spit in front of me. I floated like that for a while and I really didn't know how long I spent there. When I touched my body, it felt like even that sense had a muted feel to it. It was like I was floating in eternity, a great big nothing.

Fear of the unknown came first, but eventually it was replaced with boredom. I knew I was dead, and if this was Hell, then it sure didn't come with the fire and brimstone I was expecting.

But then came the falling. The first feeling I had from anything that wasn't myself was a sharp gust across the face.

I looked down and saw nothing, but I felt several wisps of wind sweep past me. That was when I felt myself being sucked downward. It was like I was the water in a faucet being pulled down by gravity.

I didn't fight it. Not like I could anyways. I was pulled down, faster and faster. I began to spin until I didn't know which way I was falling any more, spinning and spinning until I felt something I hadn't felt in what seemed like a long time.

Pain.

….

A crack of sound resonated in my ears as my head bounced from something below me.

"Damn, my head..." I muttered, sitting up.

I reflexively brought my hand up to my face and cradled my nose.

Wait.

I can feel this?!

Ignoring the drops of blood that came from my bruised nose, I began to touch all over my body, laughing to myself at how amazing it felt, despite the pain I was in from falling onto the floor. I could actually feel.

I never thought that I would be happy to feel in pain, but it was something. I did not really know how long I spent in that black pool of ink, but it was amazing to be able to feel something again.

My hands instantly reached up to feel for my head. I almost cried. I had a full head of hair again! I had lost it months before my death and it was so nice to be able to feel the slightly oily sensation of the strands of hair being combed by my fingers.

After a few moments of relishing the feeling of hair, my eyes finally picked up on what was in front of me.

There was a single-sized bed with a blue sheet and single pillow laying there at eye level. I looked around me and noticed that I was in a wooden room with a small dresser, mirror combination, a nightstand and a window.

I stood up and walked over to the window, wondering why it was so tall but I peered outside of it anyways.

I was in a city of some sort, with all the cars and people walking around. There were a few stories below me, but even reaching my full height I couldn't quite make out the distinctions. There were a lot of taxis and tall buildings, though. One in particular caught my eye.

Recognizing it from a family vacation, I quickly placed it as the Empire State Building.

What am I doing in New York? The last thing I remember is me...laying on my death bed and closing my eyes.

Releasing a shuddered breath, I closed my eyes.

I died. I really died. And now I was in New York. One with really tall windows...

Blinking, I paused. Wait a second. No fucking way.

I ran over to the dresser and finally realized why there were really tall windows.

I'm a fucking kid again. Did I go back in time?

I took in my appearance while looking in the mirror. I looked similar to how I used to when I was younger, but still different. I had fair skin, dirty blonde hair that went over my ears, blanketed my forehead, and kissed the nape of my neck along with bright green eyes, but I was decidedly...cuter? I didn't know how to describe how I looked, but I knew this wasn't how I looked back when I was young.

Raising my plain white shirt and pulling down my pants, I inspected myself. I was also thin. No overly so, but there wasn't any excessive fat on me. I was also confirmed to be a boy.

Thank Christ.

You couldn't really place how young I was, but it didn't look like I was a teenager. Possibly ten?

Did I get reincarnated at birth and just now became conscious of the fact that I had a previous life's memories in my head?

Or was it one of those weird isekai's where I just plopped down into someone else's life?

"Well, I guess it could be worse," I spoke aloud, testing my voice. Yep, I was definitely not a teen yet. "Could still be dead, or in that black void..." I muttered, pulling my pants up and shirt down.

I walked over to my bed and laid down on it.

Where am I, anyways? Is this my...parent's house?

The room being as sparsely decorated as it was didn't give me the indication that whoever inhabited this body enjoyed being here. Or that my parents were poor. I was leaning on the poor side since the wood floor and walls seemed relatively old.

Caring whether or not my family was poor was definitely not on my list of concerns. I was just happy to be alive again.

I raised my hand in front of my face, clenching it and unclenching it a few times. I then did what any sane person would.

I slapped myself across the face as hard as I could.

A sharp pain flooded the nerves on my right cheek, my eyes closing shut in pain.

"I guess I'm not dreaming, then..."

Smiling to myself, a burst of joy exploded in my chest.

I jumped off the bed and began to laugh loudly.

"I'm alive! I don't have cancer any more!" I shouted in what felt like childish joy. I paused after a moment.

"At least I don't think I do," I muttered.

With a shrug and a smile, I turned and began to inspect the room. I didn't have a clock or a phone, which was expected of the latter. The dresser had a few sets of clothes in it, which all looked like the pair I had on now.

The room didn't have much else inside of it and I looked to the door.

I guess quest number one should be to figure out who my parents are and more about the person I jumped in to...

Walking over to the door, I opened it only for me to see an older woman standing in front of me with her knuckles facing the door.

I looked up at her and blinked a few times. She smiled.

"Good morning, Jonathan. I was about to come and get you," she said, reaching down to ruffle my hair. She was more on the plump side with gray hair and wrinkles on her face. She wore a white and black dress that went down to her ankles.

She reminded me of my grandmother and I smiled reflexively.

Play it cool, play it cool. My name's Jonathan. Get into the role of the grandson.

"Good morning, grandma," I replied to her as she took her hand off my head.

The older lady blinked a few times before laughing lightly. "You must me sleepy, Jonathan. You know I'm not your grandmother. While it warms my heart, please call me Mrs. Matthews as usual," she replied politely.

Hiding a grimace, I nodded. "Sorry, Mrs. Matthews," I said, holding my head down.

Mission failed, we'll get 'em next time.

"It's quite alright, little Jon. Please, follow me, though. You're being adopted today. Don't you remember?" she said with another kind smile, turning around and walking down the hall.

I turned and slipped on a pair of shoes near my bed before walking after her, staying quiet while I thought to myself.

Alright, I'm in an orphanage, I guess. She's the matron. Well, at least I know a little about what's going on.

I walked down the hallway which had a few pictures on the wall, some with Mrs. Matthews and a few different kids. Others had an old man with some kids in it as well, of whom I assumed was Mr. Matthews.

There were other children passing me, some older and some younger. They were all of different ethnicities and ages, but most were glaring at me.

Guess they don't like Jon, or the fact that I'm getting adopted.

Shrugging, I still followed Mrs. Matthews down a few flights of stairs to what looked like a foyer. She turned to the left and entered an office where a couple was standing.

The man was of average height, short black hair, and a mustache. He had on a suit and he honestly looked like he didn't want to be here. The woman was, however, the complete opposite of the man.

She looked elated to be here and smiled at me. She wore a white blouse and tan capris with sandals on her feet. She had vibrant green hair and a set of blue eyes while standing at the same height as the man.

I smiled back at the woman and waved at her. She cooed and walked over to me, squatting down to be eye level with me. "I'm happy that I get to meet you, Jonathan. My name is Michelle and that's my husband, Patrick. Don't let him fool you, he's a big softie," she giggled at me as she took my hand.

I kept my smile up, not wanting to appear cold to my new parents. "It's okay, Ms. Michelle," I replied politely.

Michelle shook her head. "Nope, none of that! It's mom, now. M-o-m!" she laughed at me, hugging me into her chest.

I heard a small huff and a gentle laugh separately. I assumed the huff was from Patrick, and the laugh from Mrs. Matthews.

"We still need to fill out the paperwork, Ms. Prince. After that, he will legally be your son," Mrs. Matthews said as Michelle stood and took my hand. She and Patrick sat in the seats in front of the matron's desk while taking me into her lap.

I felt mildly uncomfortable in sitting a woman's lap since I still had the mindset of a twenty year-old, but I shook the feeling quickly.

I'm just a kid. Remember that.

"Alright, to verify. His full name is Jonathan, no last name. He's been here since shortly after his birth. No known birth records, but it was surmised that his birthday was on September 23rd, 1999. He is currently nine years old."

So, it's 2008 then? That's thirteen years from when I died. Good to know...

"He's been home schooled here at the orphanage and is remarkably smart for his age," the matron smiled as Michelle hugged me a little closer.

"Now, onto the other details..." Mrs. Matthews trailed off, flipping a page. "He is registered as Quirkless within the National Quirk Monitoring Association. He has two joints within his pinky toe, and has been visiting Quirk Clinics for an annual check-up since. I'm under the impression he's a late bloomer, but if he does not develop a Quirk, I trust that won't be an issue?"

Michelle shook her head and pulled me closer into her, if that was even possible. "No, it's not. He's exactly what we're looking for," she smiled at the matron.

Meanwhile, I was freaking out.

Quirks? Pinky toes? Am in the fucking MY HERO UNIVERSE?

I really wanted vibrate in excitement. This was awesome. This was either some convoluted fever dream from my previously cancer infested mind, or I really did get plopped down into some kid's life in the My Hero Academia universe. That was awesome.

Wait.

Mrs. Matthews said I was possibly Quirkless? That blows. I really banked on being a late bloomer like she said. I wonder what my Quirk would be? There definitely wasn't some orphan named Jon in canon.

That's also not my name. I'm getting that changed as soon as possible. I was Cameron Knight for over two decades. Fuck that.

Mrs. Matthews, meanwhile, let loose a sigh of relief. "Good, I'm glad. I'm not really sure if everywhere else has these Anti-Quirk religious nutjobs, or the Pro-Quirk supremacists, but as I'm sure you know, they're really a problem in America. At least it wasn't a big of a problem as the Mutant hate groups..."

Michelle nodded back at the matron. "Of course. We'll be sure to keep him far away from anyone that wants to influence our future son. Isn't that right, Patrick?" she said as she nudged her husband beside her.

The man, who looked about half asleep, jolted awake and nodded hastily. "Uh, yeah honey."

Mrs. Matthews looked slightly displeased at the man to Michelle's right, but the blonde woman waved her off. "Sorry, he worked night shift last night. He's honestly really excited, but he's just tired."

The matron nodded at Michelle. "Of course. It's just that we often get parents in here that..."

I zoned out again.

Did she say Mutants? Like Marvel Mutants? That had to be a slip of the tongue, right? They probably didn't know what Quirks were back when they first appeared, so they must've gone under a different name...

Wait. This looks like regular New York, and if it's 2008, did Quirks appear in the 1800's? I know My Hero was 200 years in the future from when the first Quirk appeared. Yeah, must've been just another name for Quirks...

I shuddered.

Being in the Marvel comic universe would be terrifying.

"Oh, Jon, are you cold?" Michelle asked, rubbing my left arm.

I zoned back in at the usage of the name I was given. Trying to find my words, I managed a reply. "N-No, Ms. Michelle. I'm just excited," I half-smiled at her.

The woman holding me cooed. "Oh, you're just so cute! Let my husband and I finish signing this paperwork and you can finally call me mom!"

Smiling again, I plopped down to the floor so that she could stand.

I looked on as my new, would be parents signed the documents. Grinning, I just stood there and held back against jumping for joy.

I'm definitely gonna make a name for myself with this new chance.

….

The Prince's home was a long ways in northern New York. I was in the car for a few hours before we stopped in a quaint town near Buffalo, New York.

I quickly realized that this was indeed the My Hero universe seeing as how those with mutation type Quirks were walking down the streets of New York, New York without a care in the world. It made me even more excited to the fact that I was here.

Patrick had been driving the whole way and Michelle was consistently asking questions about what I like to do and my dreams and aspirations were. I didn't lie to her, telling her that I enjoyed reading and playing games.

I learned that it was November 15th, 2008 and a lot of the music that was released in my time was roughly the same. September 11th, 2001 had happened, just like it had in my world along with the first black president being elected this year.

Nodding to myself, I smiled slightly. That means that I can be like one of those people who manipulate events or bet on sporting events to make huge money. This goes double for My Hero canon. If this isn't an offshoot of it, at least.

I then frowned. I liked the 20th century history, not really modern stuff. I couldn't manipulate anything from the last ten years of my previous life even if I tried.

A lot of my time growing up was playing games and watching anime and cartoons. I was a nerd and didn't really concern myself with anything that didn't directly effect me. That included politics, religion, sports, or well, anything.

Good thing I know My Hero like the back of my hand. Doesn't mean shit if I can't get over to Japan some how...

Sighing lightly to myself, I looked out the window to see us pulling into a nice, two story home in the rural areas surrounding Buffalo.

Patrick got out of the car first and didn't even turn around to look at me or Michelle as he entered the home.

"He's just tired, sweetie. Don't let it get to you," Michelle said as she walked around to open the door for me.

I shrugged as I got out the car to grab the few belongings Jon had. "It's okay, Mrs. Michelle. You said he was tired and I can understand that." Still, seems a little indifferent to adopting a whole ass kid. Weird...

"Call me mom, now, little Jon!" she replied with a smile as she took the bag I had grabbed from me.

Biting back a nervous chuckle, I smiled. "Of course...mom."

Michelle squealed in glee as she hugged me. "Oh, I love the sound of that!" The woman paused as she adjusted my bag on her shoulder. "Now, head on upstairs. Your room is the first one on the left. I'm going to get dinner ready. Why don't you go take a nap?"

My stomach rumbled on queue, as per anime logic. I laughed. "Okay, mom."

Alright, now you're the freshly adopted kid who's happy he was picked.

I then hugged Michelle. "Thank you for picking me, mom. I won't let you down."

Michelle's arms, unlike how I had planned, almost hesitated in reciprocating the hug. They eventually circled around me, my head going into her stomach.

"Of course, sweetie. We're going to be a happy family."

….

Finding my room was an easy task.

It was a decent sized room, one that reminded me of my past life. There was a single-sized bed in the corner next to a window with a nightstand and a lamp next to it. There was a small television and dresser on the opposite side of the room and a carpet on the wooden floor.

Patrick had apparently retreated into the master bedroom while Michelle set my stuff down inside of my room before disappearing downstairs into the kitchen to make dinner.

I laid down on my new bed, kicking my shoes off in the process. It was weird, honestly.

Things are going a little too good for me right now.

Frowning, I turned to my side. "I don't know shit about adopting a kid, but Patrick seems like he doesn't even want to look at me," I mumbled.

Maybe they had a kid prior to me and it just brings back unwanted memories?

I sighed. Whatever, I'm thankful, I guess. I could be in that orphanage still. Michelle's nice, though.

Closing my eyes, I drifted off to sleep. "Could just me reading into things too much like I did in my other life."

Or maybe when I fall asleep, this really will be a dream of a dying brain...

….

"...you could've given me a few more days with him..."

Huh? Is that Michelle?

"He is due to the facility tonight. Your fantasies can wait until we don't have a deadline."

Keeping my eyes closed, I struggled to wake up fully as I heard talking outside the door to my new room. That last voice was definitely Patrick.

"Hmph. You just don't know the ecstasy of seeing the look of utter betrayal on their faces."

A pause followed before the same voice spoke.

"Fine. He's a waste, anyways. Why'd they want someone with no quirk?"

Panic flooded my chest. What the fuck are they talking about? Facility?! Are they going to kill me? No! I just got this new life. It can't end now!

The door knob began to turn.

I sat up, looking around for something to defend myself. Anything, please!

Yanking the alarm clock from the socket, I quickly turned around and faced away from the door. Sheer terror was flooding my senses. I've never had to fight anyone before. They're also adults. Fuck, I don't even have a Quirk! Was it meant to end this way...?

The door opened slowly, and footsteps approached my bed slowly.

I struggled to contain my near hyperventilation. I've only got one shot!

The steps approached my bed, closer and closer before they stopped. I waited a few moments, feeling, who I assumed was Patrick, lean over me.

As fast as my body could turn, I reeled around and smashed the clock into the side of his head. He had a syringe that clattered to the floor, following him as he yelled in panic.

Tossing the sheets off me, I jumped from the bed, over Patrick. I fell slightly, my tunnel vision only seeing the door. My only means of escape was close!

Entering the doorway, I prepared to run to the stairs. Patrick was surely gathering his senses by now and he would be running after me any second now. But where was Michelle? I knew I heard her voice.

It didn't matter, I had to run. I had to flee!

That was before a flash of silver entered my narrow line of sight.

"Ah!"

I clutched at my left eye as I fell backwards, Michelle coming from around the corner while licking a small blade with blood on it.

My blood.

"You probably heard me when I said that betrayal was the best look. But pure fear? It's a close second," Michelle, my newly adopted mother, said slowly, seductively with manic eyes and wide grin. My cheek and above my eye burned in fresh pain as I backed away from her.

"Little shit." Ah, that was my adopted father.

Tears fell from eyes as I felt something, a needle, prick my arm. I looked up at Michelle with one eye as she leaned in close. She licked the blood that was falling from my cheek.

Blackness began to consume my vision. "You didn't scream much, a pity."

A boot to the head, and the rest of my adopted mother's grin faded from view.

I wonder if hoping for death is ironic?

….

I was back in the inky cesspool that I had come into this world with.

"I guess I really am dead..."

Looking down to my body, I saw that I was still in the 'Jon' body, and not the one previous. Small victories, I supposed. At least I didn't have to look at the other, frail one for however long I'd be in here for.

I looked around.

"I guess it really was too much to ask for. I wonder if I'll reincarnate again. As long as it's not Doom...or Dark Souls. Or Attack on Titan. Or the Marvel comic universe."

There was a long list of worlds I'd rather no be in, but I supposed I was being picky.

I put my hands behind myself, waiting.

"...e up."

That was a first. Didn't usually hear voices here.

"Wake up."

I guess dying twice really does make you crazy.

"I said wake up, Subject 199!"

Shit.

….

Groggily, I opened my eyes. The left side of my face ached in pain as I came to.

I guess I didn't die.

"Finally. Useless thing," a voice called out, though it sounded slightly muffled.

I blinked several times, registering that I still had vision in my left eye. My left cheek and eyebrow were both slightly swollen, but they had a few bandages on them.

I finally looked up and saw Patrick on the other side of a glass door. Slowly turning my body, I realized that I was in some sort of box. The walls were pitch black and there was an overbearing fluorescent light above my head that brightened the room. The entrance to my cell was see through, with the exception of a pad on the left side which I assumed opened the door and a knob on the center.

He was silent as he watched me, opening up a small slit in the door with the knob and putting a tray of food down on it.

I sat up from my position on the floor and walked over slowly. My body still felt sluggish, but I knew that I was hungry.

Patrick wore a black jumpsuit instead of what he wore when meeting me. I then glared at him. He was the reason I was here.

This was his and that bitches fault. What the fuck am I even doing here?

The man on the other side of the door noticed my glare and shoved the tray of food through the slot, its contents falling to the floor.

"Think again if you want to look tough at me, 199."

He walked away after shutting the compartment. The walls behind him were steel gray in color, and definitely metal. I was in what he had spoken of earlier, maybe some sort of lab.

This is some sort of villain research facility. Everything looks too barren and empty to be anything else.

Looking down at the scattered food, a soup that had fallen to the floor, some bread, and an apple. My stomach growled lightly.

I picked up the bread and apple and put the tray and empty bowl on a small shelf in the room before sitting on the bed.

It was then that I realized that I was in a white uniform, plain pants and tee shirt with no shoes on. I took a bite of the apple and noticed that I had a little difficulty swallowing. That caused me to finally noticed I had a collar on my neck, a large one that I found touching the entire surface area of my throat and back of my neck. Aside it being obviously metal, the only distinguishable feature it had was a blinking green light.

After finishing my small meal, I looked around the room. My body still felt groggy but I didn't think it was because of me being tired any more.

It feels like I'm hungover. Must be whatever they put in me.

Looking around the room, I noticed there was a small toilet across from the bed with a sink on top of it.

This is a cell, I concluded. Which means there's other cells than mine. He did say that I'm '199'. Must be at least 198 others.

I gulped. Unless I'm the one hundred and ninety-ninth try.

Abruptly, the lights of the cell turned off only to be replaced with a dull, red light that shone overhead.

I huffed, laying down on my bed.

My eyes grew heavy.

I've gotta get outta here.

One way, or another...

….

Almost as startlingly as they turned off, the bright lights of my cell came back to life with a vengeance.

I woke up with a jump as banging noises sounded from outside of my cell, some farther away, and some closer. I sat up from my bed, wondering what the fuck was going on when someone with a black ski mask, helmet, and combat gear walked in front of my cell.

"Lights, lab rat!" he called out, his voice slightly muffled from the door. I heard him nonetheless and he was there for only a second before moving on.

I rubbed my eyes sleepily, not particularly fazed by his aggression. It wouldn't do me any good to freak out right now, nor respond to every minor inconvenience. Dying really took a lot out of me emotionally. So did floating in that void. That gave me a lot of time to think.

Whatever they're doing, its pretty heavy-handed on the shock and fear factors. You get abducted forcefully, wake up in a cell and people with no faces are banging on the door to your cell. It'd work, and since there's probably other kids here, it'd be effective.

And that was when the walls changed colors.

Instead of being a matte black like there were last night, the walls practically came alive.

My eyes widened, taking in the clear walls.

"Jesus fucking Christ..."

I was definitely no the only one here. Not by a long shot.

There were a lot of kids here, all in identical cells like mine. Different races, mixed genders, but all around my age.

Looking around, each cell was beside one another. It looked like my cell was in the corner of a room and I only had one person beside me, and behind me.

Standing on my bed, I winced. Some kids were banging on the doors to their cells, terrified, tear filled expressions on their face. Others, like me, were standing on their beds looking around and some were sitting there, not moving, like they'd lost the will to live already.

I sighed, sitting down. This was not how I expected this to go. But I had to remain cool, calm, and collected. There was no use to freak out. I'd realistically just waste my own energy.

They showed us this for a reason. It was like someone showing off how far they'd come in the action figure collection. They were proud of it, and they wanted the ones that were collected to be proud too.

Wondering who was in the cell beside me, I craned my head to see a blonde girl laying on her bed in the fetal position.

She looked to be about the same age as me, if size was anything to go by. Then again, the only thing I could really make out was the curtain of platinum blonde hair that was draped over her face.

I sat up from my bed and walked over to the glass.

"Hey," I said, trying to get her attention, and to test if you could hear anything through this glass.

The girl, in response, did absolutely nothing.

"Hey!" I said a little louder.

The girl still didn't move.

I sighed and sat down, putting my head in my hand. A few seconds passed before I snapped my fingers, idea in hand.

Blowing on the glass, enough to make a small circle, I wrote on it before knocking on the wall, trying to get her attention again.

The girl stirred this time, sitting up slowly. It was like she wondered if she had actually heard the soft knocks on the glass rather than imagine them.

That was when her eyes eventually fell on me. I waved at her with a small smile, pointing to the glass.

'Hello,' it wrote simply.

The girl smiled softly at me, though her eyes did look a little sad. It was a given, seeing as how we were all in a pretty shitty situation and-.

'Hello.'

Oh jesus fuck!

….

Hmm, methinks I'm onto something here.

Anyways, yes, this is a 3 way X-Over (MHA, Marvel, Invincible) with some additional characters thrown into the mix.

I did something crazy this time when I started thinking on this.

I actually wrote an outline along with a lot of plot points! I've also got Cameron's powers (and future powers), pairings, and deeper story mysteries outlined pretty well. They're from all over each X-Over so don't worry. No canon will be left un-fucked.

Weird stuff from me, I know. But I've got the prologue arc completely outlined along with knowing what the first canon arc is.

Now, if you haven't seen Invincible, or if you're one of the three people who haven't seen the Marvel movies, do not fret! I will be a gracious writer and explain all when the time comes.

Deuces!