Disclaimer:

This is a fan made fic purely for entertainment.

I do not own Marvel Franchise or any connected entertainment used in this story other than my plot and my OC's.

Unwilling Transmigration

I was floating in an deep black abbyss amongst my surroundings was quivering and shrieking gibberish that seemed to crawl from the depth of the lovecraftian god's heart.

A nauseating feeling of hurling my lunch came over me as suddenly I began to feel like I was travelling 100 miles per hour strapped on a sports car.

My mind tried to fight off the sensation of being pried open from inside out.

Perhaps, it was sheer will that kept me alive.

What ? ...

Where ? ..

Who ? ..

Ỹ̸̲̫̭̣̑͑͂̑̋̌̆͝o̷̢̢̧̙͉͓̼̰̠̾̈̔̃̄͂̓̏̾͛̈̚̕͘͜͝͝u̵̧͎̺̖͉͈͓̣̟̞̟̟̓͐̐̍̿̊͊͆̉͐̂̾̑̚̕͘ͅ ̴̨̨̧̙̪̜̜̪̻͇̋͐̋̅͒͜w̵̢̢̢̲̗̫͔͕̹̙͍̦̪̋̒̈̋̃́͐̑́̃̏̑̈́͑̚͜͠o̸͙̪̹̬̓̔̽͆̈́̕͘͠ų̵̧̻̬̪͖̗̮̈̂̽̓̀̽̔͂̄̕l̴̨͎͔̦̰̥̯̼͕̖̖͈̼̞̱͚̎̊̓̊̈́͐̓́̎̽̈́͜͝d̸̯̟͖̝̖̞̀̒̎̇͌̕ ̴̨̡͚̗̩̟̪̭̺̝̤̭̿̌̌͒͋̄̃̈̐̂̉͆͘͜s̴̨͉͓̭̫̰̙͕̓̏͑̾ę̴̪̭͎̠̼̞̲̱̯̼͚̘̗͎̰̳͌̅̈̈͑͌̊̂̊̎͝͝r̴͈͍̆v̶̩̰͙̯̾̏͝ȩ̸̗͇̣̻͇̪̤͈̞̜̣͚̺̟͆̅̓̈́͒̕ ̵̨͙͇͍̪͇̼̩̥̯̝͓̙̙̫͎̖̑̏̏̏w̴̢̡̡̢̢̫̻̭̩͖͍̘̦͖͇̉̈́͂̌͝ͅȅ̵̛͙̹̳̤̞͔̹̗̤̂̈̀̃̊͊͊̇̾̅͝͠l̸̨͔̺̩͓͉̹̘̥̩̥̬̝͗̅̀̎̒͋̏͆̑̿̂̒̈́ļ̶̩̥̳̳͍͇̰̾́̆͗̉͌̓͗̀̄̊ ̷͎͚̯̟̟̣͂̓̐̀̿̒͂͒͐͜͠f̸̢͖͔̰͈̰̖̆̅͆̀̇͠o̵̺̥̜̠͚̹̞͆̉̇ŗ̴̡͍̞̙̱̹̦͛ͅ ̴̹̭̆̎͂͆̌́͠͝t̶͈͚͇͒̔͆͌̔̒̌͑̈̉͊͌̿̌͑̆͂͘h̷̢̡̙͓͓͕̙͍̱̼̫͍̽͒̀̄̒͋̿́͑̋̀̏̇̅̓̕̚e̶̯̹̞̼͖̬̥̹͖̼̭̟̼̹͖̓̎̀̎͊ͅ ̵̡̡̮͓̤͙̠̮͎̤̰͛́͗̿̾̄̈́͜͝͝͠p̴͕̟̿ȕ̷̬̦͉̲̻̙̠̖̯̉͌̎͊̈̔r̷̭̣͙͎̜͉̼̯̲̺̗̣̭̞̪͇͖͛͆͊͂̿̑̽̋̆̽̍̈́́p̷̠̂͒̈́́̒̽͌̉͆̔̒̊̕͠͝o̷͙̰͔̭̙͔̙͇̹̻͌̓̏̆̈̅͐͋͋͋̒͌̚͠s̷̡̧͚͇̮̯̥̦̗̭̰̲͗͐̊͒̄͐͑̐̅͛̂̔̀͝ȩ̴̡̱̙̪̘̤͕̻̜̼̗͍̦̪͔͚̏̐̓͛̅͂͒͌̇͊̎̌̽͌̋̀̈́͘͜ ̶̸̵̷̷̴̨̡̛̜̟͎͖̗̩͙͎̬̲̠̦̮͓̤̦̳̹̭̮͔̺̰̺̱̭͍͒͊͛͗̐̉͌͊̑͗̔̈́̌̊̑̑̌̃̄͒̓͊̓̈̐̃̏̏͌̇̐͋̑̀́͑̈́͂̔̒́̽́̏̈́̐̓̀͒̿͗̈̍̔͌̔̃̏̀̄̽̀̌̾́̓͛̏̂̑̅̕͘̚̚͝͝͝͠͝ ̸̷̴̸̷̸̴̴̸̴̧̧̧̢̢̧̨̧̛̛̛̯̠͇̳̲̱̭̥̳͙̪̯̭̝̝̻͚̖͇̮̝̙̠̯͈̘̱͖͔͔̜͖̱͇̺̮͕̹̯̝̪̩͍̱͓̲͈̤̠͍̠̭̬̣͚͙̙̘̞̺͕͇̟͍̗̼̲͙̳̳̰̙͕͖̖͓̞͖̾̃͆̈̆̓̈́̋̂̄͌́͋͛͑̐̓͒̌͒̿̾̄͐̊̔͌̈́̋̾̐̓͛̌̀̄̒̓̃̒͐̋̈́̓̐̀̔̀̔͗͛͊͒̉̎̋̀̋́̅̅̓͋̓͒̐̿̽̂̑̀̑͆̈́̒͗̆̒̿́͐́̀̒͗͊̋̐̚̕͘͘͘̕͘̚͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͝ͅͅͅ.̸̻̭̉̀̏̉̀̕

As if though answering my philosophical ponderings a white flash blinded my five senses.

A voice that seemed to be paradoxical symphony of divine chorus from the heaven above and demonic screeching from the lowest pit of the gruesome hell thundered across my being like a mirage.

My desperate hope for this to be very much cocaine induced dream and prayers to wake up in a shitty party set up with a raging hangover was met with harsh decline as I felt myself going limp and cold.

"...eer"

"Pe..."

"...ete..."

"..er..

I was hearing voices. Blurry mismatched voices. Some times high pitch, some time low pitch.

There was an instinctive desire to hit everything, stomped down only by my own consciousness.

"P..er...e...te...Pe...ter...Peter!!." The blurry voices grew harder before I snapped awake.

Before me was a crowd, a brown haired good looking teen with glinting green eyes, he had pretty well off but nostalgic brand of clothes, a green t-shirt with brown blazer over it and a dark blue pants , he was kneeling over my body his hand resting on my arm.

To my next side was a stunning red head beauty with deep green eyes and fair white skin, wearing a black tank top that accented her bust and dark blue jeans. She too looked around her late teens.

All the voice were numb and detached as I stared past the crowd into a metallic disk hung over the exhibit that was so clean that they seem to reflect the image.

It reflected the image of the exhibition lab and it's people clear as day, including the people and my own face reflecting it.

Yet, the face reflected me was not the handsome black haired man with a calm smile I was accustomed with but a hazel brown haired boy with chocolate brown eyes and a horrified look written all over the face.

A person shifted next to me.

A woman wearing a pristine white lab coat that gave me familiar vibes, with a name tag I noticed, Gena Reid, asked me with concern, a question I found myself answering something absolutely opposite to what I said.

"Mr Parker, are you alright."

No, I am not.

This was my first thought clouded me as the fluroucent green digital words wrote themselves over the screen as 'Osborn', beside it on the screen played news that was flashing news about the billionaire Star Industries owner announcing himself as Iron Man.

I repeat, I was fucking not.

"Damn, Pete first day at my dad's place you got fucked up, didn't you ?. And seriously are you sure you're alright, you don't want me to call the medical team do you ?." Harry asked for umpteenth time as I inwardly groaned.

"No, thanks, Harry." I don't want my newly genetically altered radioactive super blood in hands of your dad, who's probably going to be a fucked-up super villain in the future.

I was here, in the Oscorps's men's washroom, washing my face with a look of internal crisis.

"Ah, well I don't want you to miss out the personal tour by the heir to the ever illusive Oscorps!, vermin." Harry mock laughed.

" Thank you for your kindness, your lordship." I snarked at him, however, with no heat in them.

Suddenly, I paused...I knew myself and I'm pretty sure I didn't have such a behaviour to joke around like it's no one's business. Bloody hell...

"Whatever, come out and meet us backs soon, Pete." Harry waved me off with a smile as he went out leaving me alone at the washroom.

"Bloody hell.." I can't help but let a breath as my face morphed into one of immense exhaustion.

My life is going to be filled with masks, tight spandex, webs, clones, goblins, body swaps, clones and god forbid deals with devils.

I can already see a horrible headache, that transcended the likes of which I suffered back when my second New Year Celebration at the University ended.

And that was one of my most if not the worst headaches I had after the fucked up New Year Party that involved lots of shits, such as waking up in LA's most popular hotel alongside my besties surrounded by shit ton of alcohol, banned drugs, a giant Christmas tree decorations with lethal-loaded-guns hanging on it, ah—also a cop's car which was parked in the garage by us, in the words of manager—and of course a raging hangover that kicked in.

Somehow, all those craziest situations I had in my life suddenly slid down to the ranks as this utter bullshit took place.

I, had been unwillingly transmigrated into the Marvel as Peter Parker.

I couldn't help but roll eyes at the rather LN like title I suddenly thought but, yes.

I was somehow transmigrated to the Marvel Universe, whether it be Cinematic Universe or Ultimate remains unseen, or godforbit, it be Comics, (I am commiting suicide the very moment.)

Normally most transmigrating idiots in those webnovel or fanfics probably would instantly turn to be edgy teenager or get a complex saying how they would enjoy living an adventurous life filled with action and romance with the 2D beautiful super heroines that they probably simped to in their depressing life back at the world or how they would conquer the entire world and fuck the brain out of every woman they saw.

He was none of that.

I was more or less completely comfortable and utterly happy at my life back there in my old life. I was not those depressing betrayed, abused, rejected, cheated or bullied protagonist or something.

I was born in really rich and well off family with caring parents,good looking, and intelligent enough to get into a scholarship abroad without a single penny from my rich parents(I was kinda independent sorta guy), granted, I had more acquantices rather than friends, I was more of quality over quantity guy, I had a vey small but absolutely reliable and trusting friend circle, a pretty good love life too.

I did not want to leave my parents, friends or my old life at that. I wanted to complete my hard worked university graduation, dammit.

I want to lounge on the couch at our garage watching some good series with my buddies or hangout and enjoy my life to the fullest, get a fucking doctorate or something like that.

But now, I was pulled out of my happy life and pushed into the mine bomb of a world where there are superheroes, villains, conquerors, warlords, mages, evil scientists, nazis, terrorists organisation, spy agencies, demons, gods, aliens and fucking world destroying maniacs as like it's normal.

And worse of all I don't even now how, who or why I was put in this situation. There were lots of choices, One Above All, Beyonder, The Watcher, or even some fucked up

F̸̨̥̼̤̈́̈́̆̃̓͗̾̐̀̀͌̚ȁ̵̪̉̿̋̂̓͝͠n̵̛͈̰̜͙̣͕̱͇̥̩͌̍̂̈̽͊̋f̶̲͎̜̹̣̟̏̆͛̾̀͋͗͒̚̚ȉ̸̡̛̻̻̮̖̠̺̣̽̓͒͒̄͂̓̒́̓c̶̡̢͔͉̗̻̼̻̤̥̻̯̪̾ ̸̧͉̥̻̰̼̪̯̻̝̪̞̯͈͎̊̓̒͒̈͋̈́͒̉̈́͑̑́͝A̷̠͚̐̊̐͊̀̄̀̾̕u̶͈͂̌͋̽t̶͇͇͔̘̒̑̔̀̅̓͝͝h̵̛̟̠̙͕͍̝̳͆̊̀̔̐͒̑̃̑̅̏͒̕̕͜ͅȍ̵̮̣̘̦͂̂̈̉͆͑̃͌͐r̵̛͚̘͔̪̘͓̟̤̮̪̘̒̐̓͒͒̔̔...

...I don't even know how I can get back to my world.

My thoughts were bordering on crashing as I felt random information from the personal life of Peter Parker from his birth and to until now in a rather surprisingly painless(ignoring the headache which I was already feeling now) sequence of thoughts. I could feel his memories, likes, dislikes, thoughts, emotions, knowledge, wisdom, everything rushing at me like a freight train.

I took a deep breath, the chocolate brown eyes that stared at me was now glassy almost a soulless crystal like before light gathered in them.

The sigh that came was inevitable, the internal crisis doubled if anything. Right now I was holding memories and emotions of about two personlities.

More importantly,...

𝖄𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖘𝖔𝖚𝖑 𝖎𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖜 𝕻𝖊𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖐𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖋 𝕰𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖍-777, 𝕱𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖎𝖌𝖓𝖊𝖗, 𝖍𝖔𝖑𝖉 𝖕𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖋 𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖕𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖎𝖇𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖞 𝖒𝖆𝖞 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖉𝖊𝖘𝖎𝖗𝖊 𝖇𝖊 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖉.

Fucking bitch.