Game Over : Marvel Reboot

The Queens Public Library loomed before me, its grand façade a stark contrast to the grimy streets of the neighborhood. It was a sanctuary of knowledge, a place where the world's secrets were stored in rows upon rows of books. For me, it was a goldmine. I adjusted the straps of my backpack, took a deep breath, and walked through the front doors at exactly 4 PM. No one stopped me. No one even glanced my way. To them, I was just another face in the crowd, another soul seeking solace in the written word.

"I supposed even in another world, Library is still not that popular…. works out fine for me,"

The library was quiet, the kind of quiet that felt almost sacred. The faint hum of fluorescent lights overhead and the occasional rustle of pages being turned were the only sounds that broke the silence. I made my way to the newspaper rack, my eyes scanning the headlines. January 21, 2004. The date confirmed what I already knew. The world was moving forward, history unfolding just as it had in my old world. The Twin Towers had fallen, the War on Terror was raging, and the world was still reeling from the chaos. It was strange, seeing it all laid out in print, like reading a history book about a life I had lived.

"Same history, different world," I muttered under my breath, flipping through the pages. "But at least I know what's coming."

I set the newspaper down and turned my attention to the task at hand. I needed access to the library's resources, and that meant getting my hands on a staff access card. I spotted a librarian at the front desk, her attention focused on a stack of books she was cataloging. She was young, maybe in her late twenties, with a kind face and a lanyard around her neck. The access card dangled from it, swaying slightly as she moved.

"Sorry," I said, flashing her an apologetic smile.

"It's fine…just be careful next time," She waved it off, returning to her work.

It was almost too easy. I bumped into her as I passed, my hand brushing against the lanyard. A quick flick of my wrist, and the card was in my pocket. She didn't even notice.

"Nice," I muttered, it was a just little success moment. With the access card in hand, this means my step 1 has been completed.

I headed straight for the computer and engineering section. My eyes scanned the shelves, pulling out every book I could find on coding, programming, and computer systems. I stacked them in my arms until I could barely see over the top. Then, I found a maintenance room tucked away in a corner of the library. The door was unlocked, and I slipped inside, locking it behind me.

The room was small and dimly lit, filled with cleaning supplies and spare parts. It wasn't much, but it was private. I sat on the floor, my back against the wall, and opened the first book. The words on the page seemed to leap out at me, each sentence searing itself into my mind.

"Great, this is great," I said with a smile on my face,

My Eidetic Mind was in full effect, absorbing the information like a sponge. In my old life, I'd been far from a computer expert. I knew the basics—how to make a simple webpage, how to troubleshoot minor issues—but nothing more. I'd never had the time to dive deeper into the topic, my situations have never allowed me to even be good at it.

But now, in just three hours, I became something else entirely. The books transformed me. Coding, programming, hacking, cracking—it all flowed into my brain like water, filling every gap, every void. I could feel the knowledge settling in, becoming a part of me. It was like installing software, each book a new package that unlocked a new skill adding more to my knowledge about computers, technologies and everything about it.

"This is insane," I whispered, running a hand through my hair. "It felt like, I just… know this stuff now. Like it's always been there."

By the time I closed the last book, I was no longer clueless. I was a computer specialist, a hacker, a programmer and a developer. The power of a Mythical Grade, Extraordinary Rank Skill was staggering and outright mind-blowing.

I glanced at my watch. 9 PM. The library was closed, the lights turned off, the staff gone for the night.

"Coast Is clear, and I am all alone," I stepped out of the maintenance room, the access card in hand, and made my way to the staff office.

The door clicked open with a soft beep, and I slipped inside. The room was dark, illuminated only by the glow of a computer monitor. I sat down, my fingers flying across the keyboard as I logged in. The internet of 2004 was a far cry from what I remembered, and used to use, it was slow, painfully slow.

The green loading bar on the screen inched forward at a glacial pace, and I found myself muttering under my breath. "How did people live like this? It's like watching paint dry…. In slow motion"

I used AltaVista, the search engine of the time, to gather information. The process was tedious, but I didn't have a choice. I needed to know everything I could about this world—this MCU. The headlines were dominated by the War on Terror, as expected, but there were other stories too. The Super Bowl was coming up, and the excitement was palpable.

On the entertainment front, Napoleon Dynamite was making waves, and NSYNC was on hiatus. I smirked at the nostalgia. And then there was Harvey Weinstein, still powerful, still untouchable. Some things never changed.

I dug deeper, searching for information on the people who mattered. Tony Stark's face filled the screen, his trademark smirk plastered across a tabloid cover. The headline read: Scandalous Private Yacht Party of a Billionaire. I rolled my eyes.

"Playboy, genius, narcissist. Sounds about right." I'm not judging, he really Is like that, the guy was amazing with ladies.

I found scientific papers and news articles about Dr. Bruce Banner's research at Culver University. The details were technical, but my newfound knowledge made them easy to decipher. Gamma radiation, cellular regeneration—research done by him were currently ongoing, and it attracted a lot of attention.

"Looks like Hulk is about to be born…the lab incident hadn't happened yet". The Hulk was still a work in progress, but the pieces were falling into place.

Then I stumbled onto something unexpected. Reddit, Online forums and conspiracy websites were buzzing with rumors of "gifted individuals" and "mutants." Most of the post and information was sketchy, unreliable, but there was truth in some of it as well. And then I saw it—a blurry video of a man with metal claws. It was the Wolverine. My man Hugh Jackman, looking every bit as mean and as cool as I remembered.

"Holy shit," I muttered, leaning closer to the screen.

"It's really happening. All of it."

The pieces of the puzzle were coming together, and I was right in the middle of it. But for now, I had work to do. The night was young, and the library was mine.

The glow of the computer screen bathed the dimly lit staff office in an eerie blue light as I delved deeper into the rabbit hole of mutant-related information. My fingers danced across the keyboard, pulling up articles, forums, and obscure government reports. The more I searched, the more I realized just how deeply intertwined mutants were with the fabric of this world—and how desperately the powerful people were trying to hide them.

"Of course he would be here, would be odd if he doesn't…"

Charles Xavier's name popped up almost immediately. Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, located at 1407 Graymalkin Lane in Westchester, was a beacon for mutants seeking refuge and education, naturally on the outside it just a typical rich private school. I couldn't help but 'tsk' at the thought of Professor X, the mind reader, already out there, quietly building his dream of coexistence.

"And there he is… the magnet man,"

And when there was Xavier, there was also Magneto—Max Eisenhardt, Erik Lehnsherr, the radical terrorist who believed in mutant supremacy. The media and government were careful not to attach the word "mutant" to his name, opting instead to label him as a dangerous extremist. It was a deliberate move, a way to keep the existence of mutants under wraps.

"Of course," I muttered, leaning back in the chair.

"Can't have the public panicking about superpowered peoples walking among them. Better to sweep it all under the rug."

I sighed, annoyed by the hypocrisy. The government's stance on mutants was infuriating. They were labeled as dangerous, cancerous, a disease to be eradicated and must be cured. But what struck me as particularly absurd was how this toxic rhetoric was mostly confined to America and a few of its allies. The rest of the world, it seemed, was far more chill about the whole thing. Mutants weren't universally hated—just in places where fear-mongering politicians and religious zealots held sway.

Speaking of zealots, General Reverend William Stryker's name kept popping up. The man was a vocal mutant hater, spewing his venomous rhetoric at every opportunity. Warren Worthington II, the head of Worthington Labs, had joined the chorus, using his influence to push anti-mutant agendas. It was a grim reminder of how deeply prejudice could take root, even among the so-called elite.

I avoided searching for anything related to SHIELD or HYDRA. The risk was too great. Even a single query could trigger alarms, bringing their operatives down on me like a ton of bricks. But that didn't mean I was completely in the dark. There were a lot of HYDRA figures that can be seen in the public and that is open for investigation, I knew about Senator Stern, a rising political star with secret HYDRA ties. Roxxon Energy Corporation was thriving under CEO Dario Agger, and Wilson Fisk—aka Kingpin—was busy building his empire under the guise of philanthropy. The pieces were all there, waiting to be connected.

Genosha, on the other hand, was a mess. The headlines painted a grim picture: mutant apartheid, human rights violations, and widespread oppression. The government dismissed the reports as hoaxes, but I knew better. The suffering was real, and it was happening on a massive scale. Sokovia, too, was a hotbed of conflict, its capital city Novi Grad reduced to rubble by U.S. air raids that sprung the local uprising, clearly HYDRA's fingerprints were all over it, though no one seemed to notice—or care.

I leaned back in the chair, rubbing my temples. "Nothing big happens in these time…. until 2008, I suppose" I murmured.

"Tony Stark's kidnapping kicks everything off. Then it's just crazy event one after another."

For now, though, the world was relatively quiet. Matt Murdock had just opened his law firm, Nelson and Murdock, and rumors of a vigilante in Hell's Kitchen were starting to surface.

I thought about Frank Castle, the Punisher, but a quick search revealed nothing. His family's tragic death, the event that would eventually turn him into a ruthless avenger, hadn't happened yet. Frank was still a soldier, still whole. For now. The death of his family, as I remembered, made a lot of headline news, since it wasn't there, then the punisher is still just a normal marine.

I sighed, feeling a strange mix of relief and unease. I had the timeline all figured out now, the history, the information I needed to navigate this world. But it was a world without Google, without Amazon, without Facebook or YouTube. The internet was a barren landscape, a far cry from the interconnected digital universe I remembered. Games were lame, though the computer hardware was surprisingly good—thanks, no doubt, to Stark Industries.

Feeling a sense of accomplishment, I decided to take care of one last piece of business. I hacked into the police database, creating a report for a lost driver's license. I fast-tracked the process, ensuring it would be at the top of the queue when it reached the DMV. The new ID would have the same name and age, but the rest of the details were randomized. In a few days, I could pick it up at the local DMV. It wasn't much, but it was a start—a means to an end.

"One step at a time," I said to myself, shutting down the computer. "You've got what you need. Now it's time to go."

I packed up my things, making sure to leave no trace of my presence. The library was silent, the only sound the soft hum of the fluorescent lights. I slipped out from the toilet window, the cool night air hitting my face as I stepped outside. The streets were empty, the city asleep. My trip had been a success, I got what I wanted.

As I walked back to the warehouse, my mind raced with plans and possibilities. The world was vast and dangerous, but I was no longer stumbling in the dark. I had knowledge. I had skills. And most importantly, I had a purpose.