Jake tossed and turned beneath the blankets, his eyes squeezed shut as his mind dragged him through a nightmare he couldn't escape. A truck. A massive, impossible truck. It chased him through empty streets, the roar of its engine shaking the ground beneath him. No matter how fast he ran, no matter how many turns he took, it always stayed behind him.
Waiting.
Hunting.
Then, he shot upright. His chest heaved as he grabbed at the sheets, breathing heavily. Slowly, his turquoise eyes, flecked with silver, opened. "Damn truck," he muttered, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Chasing me like that for no reason. Seriously, what kind of nightmare was that?" He looked around the room, expecting to see the familiar mess of his old life.
Instead, he found a bedroom he didn't recognize. A strange feeling settled over him. Before he could process it, a voice called from downstairs. "Is everything okay up there, Jake?" Jake froze. That voice, warm and familiar. A mother's voice. "I'm fine, Mum!" he called back automatically. The words left his mouth before his brain could catch up.
Then his entire body went still. 'What the hell did I just say?' His heartbeat quickened. 'I don't have a mum.' He stared at the door. 'I'm an orphan.' Slowly, he climbed out of bed and walked toward the bathroom, still trying to convince himself that his mind was playing tricks on him. Maybe he was still dreaming. Maybe this was some weird hallucination.
Maybe…, pain exploded through his skull. Jake stumbled, grabbing the wall for support. Images flashed through his mind. A different room. A different life. Different memories. His body collapsed against the floor as waves of information flooded into him. When it finally stopped, he lay there gasping. "So…" His voice trembled. "It wasn't a dream." He slowly pushed himself upright. "That damn truck actually killed me."
The memories came back piece by piece. His name had been Jake. That part was easy. His surname? Honestly, who cared? He had been an orphan. The name attached to his records might have been real, or it might have been something a tired social worker had written down just to finish the paperwork. His old life was a blur of loneliness, cartoons, comics, video games, and trying to survive.
But he remembered the truck. Oh, he definitely remembered the truck. Because that thing was impossible. It looked like Optimus Prime had a midlife crisis, became a monster truck enthusiast, and decided to attach a massive trailer behind himself. The kind of vehicle you'd expect to see leading a convoy of angry truckers.
It appeared out of nowhere. One moment, Jake was walking out of Walmart with three bags of candy. The next? A giant metal death machine was heading straight toward him. "What the fuck is wrong with you, you motherf—" He remembered screaming at it. Not because he thought it would respond.
Mostly because he was angry. He had plans. Important plans. Like buying even more candy from Shoppers. Then, later that day, a kid accidentally bumped into him. The bags dropped. Candy scattered across the pavement. Jake crouched down to pick everything up. And then he heard it.
The engine. Again. The truck came charging back. At him. This time, there was no way it was coincidence. He looked up. The windows were completely black. No driver. No visible person. Nothing. Just a giant truck coming to finish what it started.
'Nope.'
That was the moment Jake made the smartest decision of his entire first life. He ran. Because standing there waiting for death like some idiot in a horror movie was not happening. He wasn't one of those characters who heard strange noises in a dark basement and thought: "I should investigate."
No.
Jake ran. He ran like Shaggy from Scooby-Doo after seeing a monster. Unfortunately...
The truck was faster.
And now? Now he had a second chance. A new life with a new body. A body that was already better than his previous one. Six-foot-four. Dark brown hair. Sharp features including a jawline that looked like it belonged on a superhero. And judging by the memories slowly settling into place...
A brain that actually worked. The thought almost made him laugh. 'If I had been this smart in my old life, I wouldn't have tried to outrun a fifteen-wheeler.' Seriously. Who does that? The moment he thought about it, flashes of memory appeared.
Red.
Black.
A strange laugh.
A feeling that something had been watching him. Then darkness. But that didn't matter. He was alive. That was the important part. His old life hadn't exactly been impressive. No girlfriend. No money. No real achievements.
A virgin who spent most of his free time watching cartoons, reading comics, and imagining adventures that would never happen. His business degree was practically useless because he hated business. The only reason he even got it was because he wanted to create his own company one day and immediately hire someone else to run it. He didn't want to manage. He wanted to create. But that was before.
This was now. A second chance. And he wasn't wasting it. "Jake, you're going to miss the bus!" His mother's voice snapped him back to reality. He stared at the bathroom mirror. At the unfamiliar yet familiar face staring back. Then he smiled.
Because suddenly, everything made sense. The memories. The strange new family. The impossible situation.
Cue record scratch.
Yep.
That's me. You're probably wondering how I ended up here. Short version? Truck went vroom. I went splat. And somehow...
I woke up in the Marvel Universe although I Didn't know it yet.
Yay me.