3rd Person POV:
In a dim, blood-soaked chamber reeking of death and despair, silence reigned. The floor was littered with mangled corpses—men, women, even children—stacked in grotesque piles. Crimson pooled in cracks of broken tiles, forming a gruesome map of violence.
At the heart of this nightmare stood a man.
White-haired and blue-eyed, he moved like a ghost among the dead. There was no horror in his gaze—no sorrow or rage. Only cold indifference. His eyes, like icy glass, flicked from corpse to corpse as if scanning for movement, for breath, for signs of life... but none came.
His long black jacket, slick with blood and torn in places, clung to his frame. The high collar hid his neck, casting a shadow over the lower half of his face. He exhaled slowly, then turned toward a faint glow at the far end of the room.
The light.
He stepped toward it, boots crunching over shattered bone and scorched metal. The silence was broken by the slow, deliberate rhythm of his footsteps. Behind him, the base began to shake—an ominous rumble rising through the walls. Sirens screamed, warning of an imminent detonation.
Still, he didn't rush. He didn't flinch. He walked forward with calm precision.
As the world behind him collapsed in fire and thunder, he emerged into the night without so much as a glance backward. The sky was overcast, the wind carrying ash and the scent of burning flesh. He stepped onto the edge of a broken platform and took a deep breath, the air hissing softly through his teeth.
Then came the transformation.
His skin shimmered, bulged, and split. Translucent wings erupted from his back with a wet snap, spreading wide. His arms elongated into jointed limbs, while a second pair of legs tore through his pants and struck the ground with a squelch. Four slender, tentacle-like appendages slithered out from his scalp, writhing in the air.
"Stinkfly!" he snarled, his voice now sharp, buzzing, inhuman.
With a single motion, he leapt into the sky, wings beating violently. His form blurred against the night as he vanished into the darkness, leaving behind only smoke, ruin, and silence.
---
ROB (will_buzz) POV:
"Well… I know what you're thinking. What the hell just happened?"
A low chuckle echoed.
"Let me rewind a bit—because trust me, this story? It's just getting started."
---
Third-Person POV
Three months ago — July 21, 1999
Ward 221, Queens Hospital
The faint hum of fluorescent lights filled the quiet hospital room, blending with the rhythmic beeping of a nearby heart monitor. Sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting pale stripes across the sterile white walls.
On the single bed near the window sat a boy of around 24 years old, his fingers absently combing through his tousled dark hair. His blue hospital gown hung loosely on his frame, revealing the bandages wrapped around the upper side of his head. His face was tight with confusion—haunted by fragments of something he couldn't quite piece together.
What happened to me...?
Just as the thought surfaced again, the door creaked open with a soft metallic sound. A man in a white coat stepped inside, clipboard tucked under his arm, and paused for a moment when he saw the boy sitting upright. His eyebrows rose, surprised.
"Well, you're awake," the doctor said with a warm, practiced smile. "How are you feeling?"
The boy looked at him, hesitant. His voice was soft, almost unsure.
"I... I thought I died. A bullet hit the back of my head... didn't it?"
The doctor nodded slowly, pulling a chair closer to the bed as he flipped through his notes.
"You're incredibly lucky. It didn't penetrate your brain—just grazed the skull and exited cleanly. Still dangerous, but you pulled through."
He glanced at the boy with a half-smile.
"Next time, avoid walking through dark alleys at night. New York's not kind after midnight."
But the boy wasn't listening to the advice. His eyes narrowed, his brows knitting together. His breath hitched as an image surged forward in his mind.
Alley? No… that's not right. It wasn't an alley.
Memories came crashing back in a fractured blur.
It was my house. I remember now. Those people—they weren't muggers. They were trained. Dressed in black, military-grade body armor. Armed to the teeth. They broke in like a hit squad.
His jaw tightened.
And Laura… She fought them. She tore through three of them with her claws before they overwhelmed her.
His pulse quickened.
They tried to drag her away. I jumped in. Tried to stop them. One of them turned and—
The memory ended in a flash of white-hot pain.
The boy gasped sharply, clutching his head as if something inside was clawing its way out. His breathing became ragged, and a strangled scream tore from his throat.
"Hey—hey! Easy!" the doctor said, rushing to his side as the boy's body spasmed. His heart monitor beeped erratically, a blaring alarm now echoing through the room.
"Emergency!" the doctor shouted toward the hallway, his voice strained. "I need help in here—now!"
He pressed the boy down gently, trying to keep him from falling off the bed. The boy's eyes were wide, unseeing, his face twisted in agony. The veins on his temples bulged, throbbing visibly beneath the skin. He trembled violently, as if his body were resisting something invisible and overwhelming.
The doctor's hands hovered uselessly for a second—this wasn't a typical seizure, and he knew it. He could feel panic rising in his chest.
What the hell is happening to him?
And then—
Silence.
The boy went limp, his screams cut off as if someone had flipped a switch. The heart monitor settled, the line leveling out to a steady, normal rhythm. His breathing became slow and even, his hands unclenched.
The doctor froze, watching him closely. Carefully, he leaned in and placed two fingers under the boy's nose.
A soft exhale.
He sighed in relief.
After checking the boy's vitals one more time and ensuring his body had fully relaxed, the doctor stood up, his brow furrowed with concern. Before leaving, he turned to the nurse who had just arrived at the door.
"Keep a close eye on him. Page me immediately if anything changes."
The nurse nodded, and the doctor stepped out into the hallway, his expression grim. His mind was racing. Whatever had just happened... it wasn't ordinary.
---
Alex's POV
"Where... am I?"
That was the first thought that drifted through my mind as I opened my eyes—or at least, I thought I did. But there was nothing. No light, no sound. Just an endless, suffocating void.
I was floating… weightless, directionless… lost.
Then a voice echoed through the darkness, deep and almost amused.
"You are in my realm, Alex Ryven... or should I say, Max Crown?"
I frowned, confused.
"My name is not Max…" I started to say—but stopped mid-sentence.
Because I knew that name.
Max Crown.
And as if a dam had broken, two lifetimes of memories surged forward. Not fragments, not images—whole lives. Both vivid. Both real. One, as Alex Ryven. The other, as Max Crown. And somehow, both were me.
"What... is this?" I murmured, my voice barely steady. I turned toward the direction the voice came from, my mind a storm of questions. "Who are you? What did you do to me? Why do I have memories of two people? Which one is real?"
The voice chuckled softly, the sound echoing like ripples in the void.
"Well, let's just say I'm your ROB," he said casually. "Though others know me as WILL_BUZZ, or just Will. I do have a real name, but… you're not strong enough to hear it yet without unraveling."
There was a pause, then a sound like a flick of fingers—pwish—and he continued.
"As for what I did? Nothing much, really. You see, every soul is supposed to reincarnate after death—no memories, no attachments, a fresh start. That's the absolute law of the karmic cycle."
"But you… you became an exception."
I stood frozen, trying to keep up.
"When you were shot in the head," Will explained, "something inside you awakened. Your power. And just before death claimed you, you caught a glimpse of your past life—Max Crown. That tiny spark was enough for me to notice you before anyone else. I plucked your soul out before death could register it, restored your broken body, and returned your soul to it."
His voice grew softer, but more serious.
"So yes—both lives are real. And I helped organize your memories so you wouldn't lose your mind."
My breath hitched. I didn't know whether to be terrified or grateful.
Before I could respond, he added,
"Now, I've shielded the timeline well. Covered your trail. But... two beings might have noticed—the most powerful in the Marvel multiverse: TOAA and The Fulcrum. So, tread carefully."
I swallowed hard, then asked, more calmly this time, "You… helped me. Thank you. But… what happens now?"
Will chuckled again, light and carefree.
"That's up to you, kid. I'm not going to interfere in your choices. I just want you to grow stronger. And if you're wondering what I get out of this…"
There was a brief pause.
"Let's just say, when you reach a certain level of power, I get something in return—something I've waited eons for. It would've taken me millions of years otherwise. But through you? I might finally reach it."
His voice now echoed with a tinge of excitement.
"So, to help you on your journey, I'll give you one power. Just one. Choose carefully."
My heart raced. So many abilities rushed to mind—telepathy, reality manipulation, regeneration, cosmic manipulation… I was overwhelmed with possibilities.
But just as I opened my mouth to speak—
"Ah-ah," he cut in, "only one power."
That narrowed everything down. I paused, letting the idea settle.
One power.
One chance.
And then, it hit me.
I turned toward his presence in the dark.
"I want the power of the Omnitrix."
Silence.
Then, a burst of roaring laughter filled the void.
"Hahahahah! That's clever, kid. Very clever."
His laughter faded into a grin I couldn't see but could feel.
"With that, you'll become one of the most powerful beings in existence. I'll give it to you—but with restrictions, which you'll learn in time because if you would became too powerful from the start you would get outside of karmic cycle and that don't want to happen."
"One last thing," he added. "I want you to collect karma—as much as you can—before you break free from the karmic cycle. That's my price. I don't care if it's 'good' or 'bad' by human standards. Just… karma."
I tried to ask more—what restrictions? What happens after? But I didn't get the chance.
The void crumbled around me.
And then—
---
I shot awake.
Drenched in sweat, my chest heaving, heart pounding like a war drum. I was back. The same hospital room. The same weak light above.
But everything had changed.
I sat in silence, trying to calm my breathing, the memory of that being—Will—still fresh in my mind.
Whatever just happened…
My second life had truly begun.