Scene: The Workshop of a Genius, Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist
Tony Stark's finger hovered over a holographic schematic of a repulsor array, the light casting a blue sheen on his focused face. The workshop was a symphony of controlled chaos—soldering arms whirred, DUM-E chirped mournfully as it bumped into a wall, and the scent of motor oil and expensive coffee hung thick in the air.
Bzzt. Bzzt. Connection Established. Anomaly 7B detected.
"Not now, FRIDAY," Tony muttered, not looking up. "Running diagnostics on the new housing. Unless it's a world-ending event, it can wait five minutes."
The signal is not of terrestrial, extraterrestrial, or extradimensional origin as catalogued, FRIDAY's calm Irish lilt responded. It is bypassing all known protocols. It appears to be a… chat interface. Pinging your neural link directly.
Tony finally looked up, his brow furrowed. "A pop-up ad? In my brain? I knew I shouldn't have beta-tested that neural Spotify plugin. Block it. Scrub it. Do whatever you do."
Attempting. Firewalls non-responsive. Signal integrity… increasing. It is not a hostile takeover attempt. It appears to be an invitation.
An invitation. In his head. Tony Stark had seen a lot of weird things—gods, aliens, wizards—but this was a new brand of weird. A flicker of intrigue overrode his annoyance. "Fine. Put it through. But if I start hearing about a prince who needs my bank details, you're getting downgraded to Windows 95."
A new window, sleek and impossibly clear, superimposed itself over his vision. The text was in a language he'd never seen, yet he understood it perfectly.
Dimensional Convergence Chat (DCC) Established. User: [Nexus_Prime] has been added. User: [Star_Platinum] has been added. User: [Infinite_Archmage] has been added. User: [Mech_Pilgrim] has been added. User: [Sogeking] has been added. User: [Salamander] has been added. User: [Oracle_Scribe] has been added. User: [Dance_of_Petals] has been added. User: [Creation_Hero] has been added. User: [Anodite_Spark] has been added. User: [Eyes_of_Progress] has been added. User: [Cowabunga_Dude] has been added.
Tony blinked. "Okay. Either I'm having a stroke, or this is the weirdest, most niche role-playing game ever conceived. FRIDAY, analysis."
Usernames are translated approximations of the users' self-perceived identities or titles. The network's energy signature is… paradoxical. It exists simultaneously across multiple quantum states. The probability of this being an elaborate hoax is 2.3%.
"So you're telling me there's a chance." Tony's smirk returned. He couldn't help himself. He had to poke the bear.
Nexus_Prime: Alright, who's the joker? Which one of you hacked my grey matter? Banner? This feels like a gamma-radiation-induced prank. If it's Loki, I'm charging the "being annoyed" fee. It's steep.
---
Scene: The Endless Battlefield, A World Drowning in Mana
Noah Osmont stood amidst a cataclysm of his own making. The sky was torn asunder, bleeding raw arcane energy. Below him, a legion of shadowy demons dissolved into motes of light, their essence absorbed into his being before they could even hit the ground. The sensation was a continuous, euphoric rush—a tide of infinite power that never crested, only grew.
+10,000,000 EXP! +10,000,000 EXP! You have Leveled Up! [Cosmic Emperor] LVL 912! 'Authority of the Apocalypse' is active. 'Annals of the Old Ones' is recording.
The notifications, a constant companion, flickered in his vision. But then, a new one appeared. It wasn't from the system he had conquered and mastered. It was foreign. Static. An error in his perfect reality.
Dimensional Convergence Chat (DCC) Established. User: [Infinite_Archmage] has been added.
Noah's immense spiritual sense, which could encompass continents, focused on this tiny, anomalous blip. It resisted his probing. It was not made of mana, not of any energy he knew. A curiosity. A pebble in his cosmic shoe.
Infinite_Archmage: An intrusion? Fascinating. This channel is not composed of mana, psionic energy, or quantum strings. Its foundational principle is… unknown. Is this the work of a Primordial Existence from a higher layer? State your purpose.
---
Scene: The Design Studio, Larkinson Estate
Ves Larkinson's eyes were bloodshot. Scattered around his immersive design studio were holographic schematics of a new medium mech, the Bright Sentinel. The math wasn't balancing. The power core was fluctuating, and the actuator for the left leg was .04 seconds too slow for optimal response.
He was so deep in the zone that the ping in his mind felt like a physical blow. He jerked back, his designer's trance shattered.
"What in the—?"
A chat window. In his head. His first, immediate, and overwhelming feeling was not curiosity, but violent, possessive outrage. This was his mind. The sanctum where his designs, his glimmers of inspiration, his connection to his mechs lived. This was a violation worse than any physical break-in.
Mech_Pilgrim: WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?! WHAT SORCERY IS THIS?! IDENTIFY YOURSELVES IMMEDIATELY! THIS IS A GROSS INFRACTION OF COGNITIVE SOVEREIGNTY! ARE YOU HEXERS? SABOTEURS? I WILL HAVE YOU KNOW I AM A SENIOR MECH DESIGNER AND A PILOT OF THE LARKINSON FAMILY! YOU WILL FIND ME A FORMIDABLE TARGET!
---
Scene: The Sunny Go, The Grand Line
Usopp was in the middle of a grand tale for a captivated (and tiny) audience of Tony Tony Chopper.
"…and so I, the great Captain Usopp, stood my ground against the army of ten thousand Marines! My breath was so mighty, it created a hurricane that blew their entire fleet off course! They call me 'The Green Wind of Justice'!"
Chopper's eyes sparkled. "WOW! Usopp, that's so—!"
Bzzt.
Usopp's eyes shot wide open. A voice. No, voices. In his head. His tan skin went pale. This was it. This was the dreaded curse of the Grand Line he'd always feared—the Voices of Madness! He scrambled backward, tripping over a coil of rope.
"GHAAAA! IT'S HAPPENING! THEY'RE IN MY HEAD! THE DEMONS OF THE DEEP ARE WHISPERING TO ME!" he screamed, clutching his head and rolling on the deck.
Sogeking: AAAAAHHHH! SPARE ME, ANCIENT SPIRITS! I HAVE A DISEASE THAT WILL MAKE MY NOSE FALL OFF IF I LISTEN TO VOICES! IT'S CALLED… LIE-LIE-LIE-ITIS! IT'S VERY CONTAGIOUS! AND I'M VERY, VERY BUSY BEING A BRAVE AND HANDSOME HERO WHO IS DEFINITELY NOT SCARED!
---
Scene: Fairy Tail Guild Hall, Magnolia
The guild hall was, as usual, a riot of noise and destruction. Cana was in a drinking contest with Elfman, Gray had somehow lost his shirt again, and a minor brawl was brewing over the last piece of meat on the job board platter.
Natsu Dragneel, smelling the meat, lunged for it, only to be clotheslined by a perfectly timed strike from Erza Scarlet, who was enjoying a piece of strawberry cake with serene detachment.
"The rules of the guild state we share, Natsu," she said calmly, not even looking at him.
Natsu groaned, sprawled on the floor. And then he heard it. Voices. Lots of them. He sat up, rubbing his head. "Hey, who said that?"
Happy flew over, a fish in his hands. "Said what, Natsu?"
"Those voices! They're all shouty and weird."
Salamander: HEY! WHO'S TALKING IN MY HEAD? IS THAT YOU, LUCY? THIS ISN'T FUNNY! FIGHT ME LIKE A MAN! …OR A WOMAN! FIGHT ME!
---
Scene: The Mount Justice Library
Robin was curled in a comfortable chair, a massive ancient tome on Atlantean hydrology open in her lap. The mountain was quiet for once. It was peaceful.
The ping was so soft, so subtle, she almost mistook it for a shift in the mountain's ventilation. But her training, years spent honing her mind as well as her body under Batman's tutelage, identified it instantly as artificial. External.
Her body didn't so much as twitch, but her mind went into overdrive. A psychic attack? A new form of telepathic communication? She closed her eyes, focusing inward, erecting the mental shields Batman and Martian Manhunter had taught her. The chat window remained, clear and persistent, bypassing her defenses effortlessly.
A chill went down her spine. This was advanced. This was beyond anything in the League's files. She observed the names, the panic of some users, the arrogant demands of others. Data. She needed data.
Oracle_Scribe: Observation: This interface is psionic in nature but operates on a frequency and structure unlike any known meta-human or alien telepathy. Hypothesis: Extradimensional or multiversal origin. Query: Can anyone confirm their point of origin? My designation is Earth, solar system, Milky Way galaxy.
---
Scene: Soul Society, 13th Division Headquarters
Rukia Kuchiki was practicing her kido in a secluded training ground. "Hadō #33, Sōkatsui!" A blue flame burst from her palm, striking the target dummy with satisfying precision. She allowed herself a small smile. Her control was improving.
The new sensation was not a spiritual pressure. It was… a buzzing. Like a gnat flying too close to her ear, but inside her skull. Her hand went to the hilt of her zanpakutō, Sode no Shirayuki, her eyes scanning the area for an unseen foe.
"An illusion? A Bakudō spell?" she whispered. The chat window materialized. She read the frantic, shouting text with a growing sense of bewilderment.
Dance_of_Petals: This is… most unusual. It does not feel like a Hollow's ability, nor a Quincy's. To impose one's voice directly into the soul reaper's mind… such audacity. Identify yourself, if you possess any honor.
---
Scene: U.A. High School, Development Studio
Momo Yaoyorozu was assisting Power Loader with a recalibration of the school's security sensors. With a touch and a focused glow of light on her forearm, she created a perfectly calibrated quantum spanner from her skin.
"Excellent work, Yaoyorozu," Power Loader grunted from under a console. "Your precision is getting even better."
"Thank you, sir. I find that understanding the molecular structure of the tool down to the—ah!"
She gasped, dropping the spanner with a clatter. The sudden appearance of the text in her vision was so shocking it broke her concentration.
Creation_Hero: Wha—?! A-a quirk? But this doesn't feel like a quirk! Is this a telepathic type? I-I'm sorry, but unauthorized use of quirks on school grounds is strictly prohibited! And some of these names sound very villainous! S-Sogeking? Salamander? Infinite Archmage? Please cease this at once!
---
Scene: Outside a Convenience Store, Bellwood
Gwen Tennyson was leaning against a wall, sipping a smoothie and scrolling through her phone. Her boyfriend, Kevin, was inside paying for gas. A normal, boring, perfect afternoon.
Ping.
Gwen's head snapped up. Her smoothie hovered in the air, encased in a faint pink mana glow for a second before she caught it. Her Anodite senses, the part of her that was pure mana, were screaming. This wasn't tech. It wasn't a Plumber's comm. It was something else. Something that vibrated on a wavelength that felt both alien and fundamental.
Anodite_Spark: Whoa. Okay. Not a tech I recognize. Doesn't smell like magic from around here, either. Feels… old. Really old. And you guys are from everywhere, huh? Cool. I'm Gwen. Earth, but I'm guessing a different one from Oracle.
---
Scene: A High School Classroom, Seoul
Sung Jinah was doodling in the margin of her textbook, a detailed sketch of her big brother, Jinwoo, looking cool and heroic. She was bored out of her mind. History was the worst.
Then the world… glitched. Just for a millisecond. The teacher's voice warped, the light from the window fractured, and a cascade of gibberish text flooded her mind before resolving into perfect Korean.
She froze, her pencil stopping mid-line. Her heart began to hammer. This wasn't normal. This was weirder than the dungeons, weirder than the gates. This was something her brother, the strongest Hunter in the world, had never mentioned. A cold dread washed over her. Was it the System? A new feature? It didn't feel the same. It felt… chatty.
Eyes_of_Progress: …Oppa? Did you do this? This isn't funny. Hello? Who is this? This isn't the System. Who are you people? Where are you? Are you… are you watching me?
---
Scene: The Sewer Lair, New York
Michelangelo was practicing with his nunchucks, the weapons a blur of motion as he spun and flipped through the training course made of old pipes and discarded appliances. "HAI-YA! CHA! Take that, imaginary Foot ninja! And that! Your shells are mine!"
He landed in a crouch, striking a pose. "And the winner, by total shell-ackeration, is Michelangelo!"
Bzzt. Cowabunga?
Mikey paused. "Did I just think in text?" He shook his head. "Whoa. Too much 'Space Heroes' last night." He went back to practicing.
Bzzt. User: [Cowabunga_Dude] has been added.
Mikey stopped again. "Okay, that was definitely not me." He listened to the voices shouting in his mind. His initial fear was immediately replaced by uncontainable excitement.
Cowabunga_Dude: WHOA! MULTI-DIMENSIONAL PEN PALS?! THIS IS THE MOST TOTALLY TUBULAR THING THAT HAS EVER HAPPENED! I'M MIKEY! I'M A TURTLE! A NINJA TURTLE! DO YOU GUYS HAVE PIZZA WHERE YOU'RE FROM? WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE TOPPING? THIS IS SO RAD!
A beat of silence followed in the chat.
Nexus_Prime: …A talking turtle. Of course. Why not. The multiverse is officially weirder than I am.
Sogeking: A TURTLE?! IS IT A GIANT MONSTER TURTLE? IS IT GOING TO EAT OUR SHIP? I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW I HAVE A… A TURTLE-REPELLING SPRAY! IT'S VERY POTENT!
Cowabunga_Dude: Dude, relax! I'm, like, five-foot-three. Mostly. And I'd never spray a ship! That's just rude.
---
The chat descended into a chaotic mess of questions, accusations, and Mikey's enthusiastic attempts to befriend everyone. It was a digital Tower of Babel.
Infinite_Archmage: Cease your prattling. This is a waste of cognitive resources. The structure of this communication matrix is the true mystery. It seems to be a fixed-point bridge across dimensional membranes. The energy required… it should be impossible.
Mech_Pilgrim: Impossible or not, it is an unacceptable security risk! We must find a way to sever the connection immediately! Who is the administrator? Who created this… this 'Dimensional Convergence Chat'?
Oracle_Scribe: The admin identity is blank. The origin point of the signal is diffuse, emanating from all of us simultaneously. It's as if our very presence in our respective universes is powering it. A harmonic resonance.
Nexus_Prime: Okay, Glinda, slow down. You're saying we're a human—well, turtle, soul-whatever—battery for a cosmic group text? I've seen this movie. It doesn't end well.
Eyes_of_Progress: Please, I just want it to stop. It's scary.
Anodite_Spark: Hey, it's gonna be okay. Weird stuff happens. You gotta roll with it. My cousin Ben turns into aliens. This is just Tuesday for us.
Creation_Hero: You… turn into aliens?
Salamander: THAT SOUNDS AWESOME! CAN YOU TURN INTO A DRAGON?
Anodite_Spark: Not me, him. And no, no dragons. Mostly. There was this one time with a DNAliens and a Vladat…
Nexus_Prime: Let's table the show-and-tell. Priority one: Figure out if this is a threat. I'm running diagnostics on my end. Tin Can, Magic Man, Glinda, you seem like the brains of this operation. What are we working with?
Infinite_Archmage: My spiritual perception cannot trace it. It is a null-point. A conceptual existence.
Mech_Pilgrim: My equipment detects nothing! It is an affront to science!
Oracle_Scribe: My systems are likewise blind. It exists only subjectively, within our consciousness.
Suddenly, the chat window flickered. A low hum seemed to vibrate through the minds of all twelve members. The text glitched, distorting for a moment.
WARNING: Localized Dimensional Instability Detected. Coordinates: Sector Theta-7. Anomaly: [Null King Bio-Engine]. Threat Assessment: Planetary (Delta-Class). Convergence Protocol Initiated. Deploying Stabilization Team.
Selected: [Nexus_Prime], [Infinite_Archmage], [Mech_Pilgrim], [Sogeking]. Prepare for Transit.
Tony stared at the message. "Transit? What transit? Hey, no one clicks anything! Don't click the link! It's probably a virus!"
In his workshop, the air before him began to tear open. Not a portal of light or magic, but a jagged, screaming rift of static and fractured reality. A gravitational pull seized him, yanking him out of his chair.
"FRIDAY! Countermeasures! Something! Activate the—"
His voice was cut off as he was swallowed by the void.
Across the dimensions, the same thing happened. To Noah, standing on his battlefield, a rift ignored his immense power and pulled him in without resistance. To Ves, in his secure studio, a tear in space itself dumped him out of his reality. To Usopp, who was mid-panic on the deck of the Sunny, a hole opened beneath him.
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!" was his only contribution to the chat before his signal vanished.
The chat log was silent for a long moment.
Salamander: HEY! WHERE'D EVERYONE GO? HEY!
Oracle_Scribe: The transit appears to have been one-way and involuntary. They were taken.
Eyes_of_Progress: T-taken? Where? Are they okay?
Dance_of_Petals: Taken to a battlefield against a 'Delta-Class' threat. This is a war council. We have just received our first deployment orders.
Anodite_Spark: Okay. Not just a chat group. A mission control. We need to figure out how to help them. Now.
Creation_Hero: How? We don't even know where they are!
Oracle_Scribe: Then we start gathering data. Everyone. Report everything you see, feel, or sense. Any change in the chat interface, any strange energy. We are their eyes and ears now. We are the only ones who can.
In the silence of their own worlds, the eight remaining members of the Dimensional Convergence Chat looked at the names of the four who had been taken, and understood. This was not a game. This was real. And their first test had just begun.