*Disclaimer:*
This is a non-commercial fan fiction based on the Marvel Universe. All characters, organizations, and settings that originate from Marvel Comics or Marvel Studios (including Peter Parker, Tony Stark, and others) are the rightful property of their creators.
This work is purely for entertainment purposes and does not intend to infringe on any copyrights or trademarks.
The original character Raj, his backstory, powers, and development are entirely fictional and created by the author.
Please support the official Marvel works.
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Rain fell like it was trying not to be noticed.
The kind of drizzle that didn't soak your clothes but still left them clinging. The sky hung low and gray, the streets of Mumbai glowing with reflected light from puddles, chai stalls, and neon signs flickering under old canopies. Raj walked with his head slightly bowed, his backpack pressing against one shoulder, the other strap dangling uselessly as he kicked at a stray bottle cap.
He was fifteen, and he felt every bit of it.
Not in the dramatic "I'm a teenager, the world hates me" way. It was more… quiet. Honest. His parents had died two years ago in an accident that no one saw coming—like all the worst ones. Since then, he had floated. Bounced between relatives, schools, cities, and expectations he didn't know how to meet. He wasn't rebellious. He wasn't brilliant. He was just… Raj.
And today was just another walk home through monsoon mist, alone with his thoughts and the scent of wet concrete.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
He didn't reach for it right away. The rain wasn't strong enough to scare off the kids playing cricket in a narrow alley up ahead, their makeshift wickets trembling every time someone hit a decent shot. The ball bounced out toward the road. One of the younger boys chased it with a shriek of joy, darting past Raj like a gust of mischief.
Raj smiled a little. Just a twitch at the corner of his mouth. Something about their energy made him ache—not in jealousy, but in longing. He used to be like that once. Back when his world was smaller. Simpler.
The phone buzzed again.
He finally pulled it out. The screen lit his face with a soft glow.
Riya: "You disappeared after class again. You okay?"
He hesitated.
Typing… deleting… typing again. He didn't want to lie, but he also didn't want to explain what he didn't fully understand himself. That lately, everything felt… off. Like the world around him wasn't quite lined up right. Like he was watching himself more than living.
He replied with a simple:
"Just needed air."
She sent back a heart emoji and a thumbs-up, followed by:
"Next time, let me disappear with you, loner boy."
He chuckled softly.
That's when he stepped off the curb.
Not recklessly. Not carelessly. Just—normally. Like hundreds of times before. The road wasn't even that busy today. A rickshaw passed, music blaring faintly through the hiss of rain. A fruit cart rolled by under a blue tarp. The kind of scene that made the city feel like it had its own heartbeat.
He took one more step.
Then it came.
The horn.
The flash of light.
The sound of tires sliding on wet road.
He turned his head. Everything slowed.
The truck—too fast, too close—was already there. Its headlights glared into him like the eyes of something ancient and angry. He had time to blink. That was it.
And then—
Nothing.
He didn't feel the pain.
There was no explosion of agony, no cinematic tumble into darkness. There was just silence. Thick and unnatural, like cotton stuffed in the ears of the world. He wasn't floating. He wasn't standing. He just... was.
And in that moment of stillness, he thought something absurd.
Is this it? That's how I go? Just like that?
But even that thought drifted away like steam on glass.
He remembered the boys playing cricket. The wet smell of earth. The warm buzz of his phone. Riya's message. That flicker of a smile.
It should have ended there.
It should have been over.
But something cracked—not in the world, but inside him. A thin, bright line of something that wasn't pain, but wasn't peace either. It felt like a door had opened somewhere far away, and something had noticed him.
Something vast.
Something not meant for this world.
He didn't see his life flash before his eyes.
There were no childhood memories, no echoing laughter of his parents, no dramatic montage of regrets. Just the soft, rhythmic beat of something not quite a heart… and a whisper.
It wasn't a voice, not really. More like the suggestion of one. Ancient. Curious. Waiting.
This one is not from here.
Raj would've responded, but he had no mouth, no body, not even a name that felt fully his. He was thought and feeling and fading warmth.
And yet… something held on.
Like a thread stretching through dimensions, clinging to something stubborn, something unfinished. It wasn't willpower. It wasn't destiny. It was just—him.
Raj.
The boy who loved superhero movies.
The boy who never learned how to cry in front of others.
The boy who still texted back even when his world was falling apart.
And that was enough.
Because the moment that whisper faded, the stillness cracked like glass—and a flood of light broke through.
Golden.
Endless.
Warm like morning sunlight on your face after a long, stormy night.
And just like that…
He opened his eyes.
A new ceiling.
A new world.
A new self.
But for now, just breath.
Shaky. Deep. Real.
He blinked against the morning light, not knowing yet what had happened. Not knowing the name of the city beyond the window. Not knowing he had just arrived in the Marvel Universe.
But the sun knew.
And it was already watching him.