Marvel: Visionary’s Dawn

Adam's feet carried him through the bustle of New York City. Above, the sun was unrelenting, pressing down on the skyscrapers, casting long, cool shade.

New Yorkers didn't seem to mind the afternoon's heat as they rushed past him. Their loud voices and the faint music of street performances rang in his ears; instead of adding to his old restlessness, he felt calm.

He used to avoid such busy places; his heart would coil with dread, urging him to flee the scene, the result of a long time of isolation. But today, he was serene.

He continued his walk down the lengthy street, observing without being judgmental. A bunch of homeless people rummaged through the trash bins, only to be spotted by two cops who shouted, prompting them to flip them off and continue with their business.

Adam, along with the crowd, laughed at the helpless-looking officers, who had no legal reason to pursue the insults thrown at them.

The city was loud and alive, but it also stank of sewage, maybe not so noticeable to most, but to him, it couldn't be any different than sticking his head into a sinkhole.

Mixed among the foul smells was the occasional aroma of baking, pastries, and fresh pizza straight out of the oven. He followed such a smell, which led him to a bakery. He made a short stop inside, then swiftly exited, munching on a hot bagel wrapped with paper.

A few glances were cast his way, mostly from women who tried to draw his gaze, yet he remained unbothered, focused on his bagel while casually brushing against their surface thoughts; some nearly made him spit his food.

Shaking his head, he continued walking. He didn't feel tired even after passing several streets with people constantly bumping into him. Adam didn't wander further for long as he stopped facing a narrow alley to his left.

Something is not right, he thought before striding inside the alley. Trash and passed-out homeless people littered the floor; cats perched on the high windows' sills as he passed them by and came out of the dark street into a larger clearing surrounded by high-rise buildings.

The space seemed deserted, riddled with abandoned cars, metal fences, and the occasional homeless makeshift shelter.

It was the backdrop to New York's streets' facade; most tourists would never step here. He gave it a brief inspection and arrived before a building much shorter than the rest.

Painted pink, and plastered with graffiti of skulls and several gang tags, written over each other in an act he guessed would be a fight over territory.

"This is the place," Adam said, sensing several presences inside the doorless, windowless building.

He put his fingers on the wall and walked alongside its length, tracing and feeling its rough surface, until he stopped at a certain spot.

The door... is invisible? he thought, then activated his spirit vision. A prismatic flash of colors flooded his senses, revealing the unseen.

His hand rested on the now-visible door that seemed to be protected with several magic circles. Deep inside, he saw several people sitting at tables while being served by a floating head encapsulated inside a glass container.

Their spirit bodies' aura was varied; some were bright with great intensity, while others had observable ailments, such as the one wearing a cowboy hat, whose shadow was alive, ensnaring his spirit body with dark, foggy threads.

"A bar?" Adam lifted his brows, feeling quite surprised. He had never seen or heard about this place before.

He was quite curious, and since it was a bar, he reckoned that his intrusion wouldn't cause much of an issue, not that he had any fear; he had changed.

He pushed against the door knob. Instantly, the magic hummed to life, spinning and resisting his forceful entry.

Feeling the push against his palm, Adam spilled his vast spirituality into magic circles, immobilizing them.

Click.

The door groaned open. A curious smell assaulted his nose. A mix of herbs, alcohol, incense, and several strange smells he had never encountered before.

He passed through the door into what looked like an occult fan club. Totems, weird types of flora, and several restless books furnished the narrow vestibule walls.

Curiously, he reached for one such book, but before he could touch it, magic circles rose and chains coiled around the book, halting his action.

"The grimoires are not to be touched," a steady voice called behind the blue-beady curtains separating the entry from the bar.

"It's been a while since someone used that door."

"Hahaha, is this a newcomer? Blast him out," someone laughed.

"Rules are rules, Chondu.... Don't get soft on newcomers," another one called after him.

Adam lowered his hand. While the protection would prove to be futile if he tried to force his way, he wasn't a rude person.

Turning around, he passed through the curtains into what looked like a normal bar. Except that it had a flying head as a bartender and looked like it belonged to a magical world.

Voodoo dolls, totems, and magical creations filled the wall's nooks and crevices; basically, every place that could hold something had been stuffed with strange objects.

Adam's finger brushed the plant next to him. His eyes were fixed on the patrons, wearing magical robes and who seemed to have ceased their shouting and laughter.

He strode forward. The patrons froze in place, each one carefully eyeing his actions.

Adam curiously looked at them. While they tried to hide it, their heartbeats drummed loudly against their chests. They were wary, and some were even fearful.

He pondered the reason behind this as he took his seat behind the counter. He didn't acknowledge the bartender; instead, he closed his eyes, thinking.

A few moments later, he opened his eyes. Something had shifted, his presence, blending with the bar's atmosphere, and the spirituality surrounding him sank inward, calmer yet no less vast.

He heard some exhale and let out the breath they had been holding.

"Thank you," he said, glancing back at the bar's occupants, because they taught him a lesson.

"W–what do you mean?" said a sweating blue-robed man.

Adam didn't reply and gave him a small nod. It seemed that he might fool some mortals' perception, but against those who dealt with mysticism, his presence was blazing against their mystical perception.

And even now, after his adjustment, they could still feel his nature if they tried hard, albeit the eerie presence of it had vanished.

He heard a few relieved sighs from the back. "Sorry for the inconvenience," he said to the head inside the glass container.

"It's alright," Chondu the mystic said. He was an old guy, probably in his fifties. He had a plain face with sunken cheeks, a bald head, and a gray beard.

"A drink?" he suggested.

"If you will," Adam nodded. "Non-alcoholic would be best."

Chondu leaned his head to the side, baffled, and two mechanical prosthetics that seemed to be controlled by a magical thread rose behind the counter. "I'm afraid that we don't have that. Although there are some mystical drinks, if you want to try them."

"Go ahead, just don't give me anything that'll knock me out. I don't want to wake up and find you turned into a puddle of blood," Adam chuckled; he was messing with him, and no drink could ever make him lose control.

A loud crash rang out as a cup hit the floor, and while the bartender's head remained unfazed, his prosthetic hands almost lost control as they thrashed once against the wooden counter and swung for Adam.

"Hey, I was joking!" he said, deftly catching the prosthetic hand before turning to the rest of the bar occupants, who seemed ready to make their escape at any moment.

"Don't worry, you'll be fine."

"I'm afraid I can only serve you water, sir," Chondu's voice came strained as his prosthetic hands pushed a large glass of water forward.

"It's alright," Adam sighed, taking a sip, then sat sideways, leaning against the bar counter where he could see the entirety of the people here.

He gestured with his hand in the air. "So this is where wizards and sorcerers gather and rest?"

"Yes, although we sometimes have visitors who don't deal with the mystical arts," Chondu replied.

"Special visitors? Superheroes?" Adam asked out loud.

"Spider-Man comes here from time to time," said a bearded old man wearing old-fashioned rancher clothes.

"Only when invited by Strange," added the bartender.

The old man got up from his seat and sat in a seat apart from Adam. Chondu wordlessly slid him a shot of whiskey.

"Monako," he said, while evading Adam's gaze that made his skin crawl.

"Visionary. Just Visionary," Adam tilted his head a little.

"So," Monako said hesitatingly, "are you new around here?"

"Something like that," Adam replied. He took a look around the bar before asking.

"Do you guys sell stuff? Mystical stuff?" He wanted to try his hand at divination and sorcery.

Chondu gave him a weird look. "While this isn't the bar's main function, you can see if anyone has anything to trade. I'll be witness to this transaction; the usual fee will be waived for newcomers."

"Thanks for explaining," Adam said with gratitude, then he looked at Monako and the rest.

"I need divination artifacts. If anyone has them, I'm willing to trade for them, for money."

The bar fell silent. Most of them were hesitating to speak; only Monako thought for a moment before pulling several objects from inside his leather vest and putting them on the table.

Adam wordlessly reached and examined them one by one.

First was a silver necklace inlaid with amber-colored gems and engraved with runes he didn't understand.

The second was a mundane-looking ashen twig.

The third was a thick pack of worn-looking talismans.

Adam looked at Monako, expecting an explanation.

"The necklace is an artifact inlaid with a small fragment of the life-stone tree. The twig is a branch from a lesser world tree, and the talismans, well, they are talismans, used by sorcerers from other planes, but the result can often be disappointing, which is why there's a stack of them," he replied.

"And which one do you recommend?" Adam asked, even though he had already made his decision.

The necklace seemed to be the most spiritually infused item, followed by the twig; as for the talismans, he didn't even consider them.

"I suggest the necklace; the gems occasionally grant cosmic insights if used properly, that is. I found it during World War II, and it has been with me ever since," Monako's mustache twitched, looking at Adam, who picked the necklace casually, wrapping it around his palm like it was a trinket from a flea market.

If he didn't need help, he probably would never consider exchanging it. After being spooked by Adam's spirituality and exhausting his means, he had no choice but to ask. Perhaps this entity, wearing human flesh, could help him through a fair trade.

"Now, please tell me what you want in return... I don't believe you'd part with it easily," Adam said. He appreciated his honesty, but still doubted the man's purpose.

Unless he wished for him to deal with the shadow he was dragging behind him, which proved to be true as Monako stood up, pointing at his feet.

"C-can't you see it?"

The other patrons stopped drinking and looked hopefully at Adam. Their respect for the old man couldn't be faked or disguised.

"I can see it, but can't you ask a sorcerer to help you, such as the ones here or the Sorcerer Supreme, for example?" Adam said, glancing at Monako's shadow.

A pair of malevolent red eyes stared back, an amalgamation of corruption and seething chaotic thoughts that seemed to be born from some mishap.

"He couldn't help me… It has been with me before my hair turned grey." Monako sighed and shook his head. 

"I had an accident in my younger days when I used to live among a mystic tribe in India. It had already become inseparable from me..."

"I see..." Adam was no expert regarding mystic arts, but he intended to correct it.

He sent his spirituality probing, and the shadow seemed to sense it as it thrashed, morphing into different human shapes, constantly in flux.

Adam didn't mind; compared to him the creature was like a footprint on the shore, completely insignificant; he easily and gently penetrated through its feeble defense.

A surge of murmurs, chaotic thoughts, and hate reached his mind. Momentarily, he was lost within visions of screams and decapitation as machetes and sickles swung, drawing blood.

A massacre and a touch of mysticism, he hummed in understanding.

"I think I know why no one managed to rid you of this abomination," Adam said to the shaking Monako. He seemed to be resisting the urge to groan in pain. The shadow's resistance has its consequences on its host.

It was like a parasitic creature, which explained why sorcerers couldn't help the old man, as it could kill him in doing so.

Adam immediately ceased his action and looked at relieved Monako. "Tell you what, how about you throw some mystical knowledge books, fundamentals, and I'll help you... But even if you don't have them, I'll still help. What do you say?"

"That's not a problem," Monako wiped the sweat on his forehead and gave a weak nod.

"Good, now you can sleep for a bit," he snapped his finger.

Monako's eyes lost focus as he fell into Adam's arms. He gently laid him on the floor. Chondu and the other bar's occupants swiftly gathered around them, cautiously observing his actions.

Adam smiled faintly, seeing nothing wrong with their action. He reached once again for the shadow, and it thrashed, affecting the sleeping Monako.

"Shh, it's time for you to go; you've already overstayed your welcome," Adam said, done playing. The creature was made of resentment, which in a way fell inside his mind and thoughts' authority.

With a mere thought, the creature convulsed; it struggled, but it proved to be futile as a smoky dark mass started separating from Monako's shadow.

Shouts and screams rang loud inside the bar, unsettling everyone. The curtains and the tables shook as if they were about to grow legs, and a smell of smoke and iron wafted out.

But Adam was unrelenting as he condensed the creature into a sphere floating above his palm.

Finally, he willed his spirituality; his intention was severance. Monako trembled as the threads parasitizing on Monako's spirit body were split, wilting, and gradually disappearing before they touched ground.

"Done," Adam gave a glance at the dark creature, then he vanished it with a thought.

He stood up and met the eyes of the bar's occupants, who gave a respectful bow. One by one, they pulled books out of nowhere and piled them on the counter.

"What are you doing?" Adam asked and picked a book, only to find that it contained mystical knowledge.

"Our gratitude."

"You don't know how long that old man had been living tortured... and we... couldn't offer any help..."

"No one dared to remove it, the shadow had already embedded itself too deeply inside Monako's soul, not even Strange was willing to risk the consequences."

"He's one of the most respected figures in our circle and has helped us a lot over his long years," Chondu said and piled up another book of his choice on top of the others.

"Thank you," Adam said; he won't deny their gifts.

"He'll wake up eventually; he just needs a good time of rest," he added after a thought.

"That's not a problem; we'll take it from here," one of the sorcerers replied. He knelt beside the old man and, with the help of the others, they picked him up, opened up a portal that led to a cozy-looking bedroom, and vanished behind it.

Adam met Chondu's eyes; the old man immediately understood his intention. He pushed the necklace next to Adam and kept the other two items.

"Don't worry about him; he'll be fine with them." 

With the danger gone, the room fell quiet; Chondu tended to cleaning his glasses while the remaining sorcerers drank and spoke with hushed voices.

As for him, he was drinking plain water, lost in thought. A few minutes later, his phone notification rang.

He picked it up; it was a message from Rogue informing him that she had read his note and said that she would accompany him.

He frowned; he was still waiting until night fell, when those men gathered in place, to swiftly end them.

Rogue's presence could complicate things; she wasn't like him. Although he had suffered immensely after ending those three men, he had already decided on what needed to be done.

He used to see this world from the perspective of a spectator. He saw how much harm these criminals did.

Murder, torture, abduction, rape. The list of their crimes was endless. And yet, heroes and the like, only arrested them.

The justice system of this world was more corrupt than the one he used to know. They'd walk out again, and do the same thing again; few would change.

It was an endless cycle he chose not to be a part of, out of self-defense. Martha was gone, yet she'll always be remembered.

She always trusted him to do what's right, and this, despite his receding reluctance and hesitation, he believed was the right thing to do.

Perhaps the time spent in the Astral changed him, or he decided on this change and accepted it.

And now...

Will he hide what he's going to do? Of course not. Will it cause problems with Rogue? Absolutely. Nonetheless, he won't escape from it; he has already made a decision.

As for what follows.

I'll manage, he thought, even if they shunned or fought against him because of this; the world is vast and he could, practically, do whatever he wants.

Yet, deep down, he didn't want his connection with the X-Men to be severed because of this.

He cherished the small bond he had built with Rogue, who'd been looking after him ever since he stepped inside the mansion.

She was like honey: bright, addictive, warm, and maybe a little too sweet.

''You sure you have the time?'' he typed.

''I'll make it,'' came the reply

He sighed and typed a time and a location.

Not long after, she replied.

"Got it."

He put down his phone, fingers softly tapping on the counter, pondering how to make her see the grim reality outside of the professor's bright ideals that failed to protect them many times.

Wondering if she'd walk beside him or walk away, once this was done.

Author's note: 

Thanks for reading and for all the support. I know the release has been slow, I'm a bit of a slow writer.

I've also been tired lately. Me and my brother decided to remodel the bathroom, and we went in with hammers swinging, tearing down walls. Then he had the bright idea to kick down a brick wall. Turns out... that was a bad idea. I had to rush him to the hospital, and he ended up getting nine stitches.

Once again, thanks for sticking around.