Chapter 3

"Asta, right?" The man smiles, but he doesn't look relaxed. His eyes dart about, looking around the lot.

"Who's asking?" I cross my arms, not feeling overly threatened by him.

"An old friend of As- uhm. Other you. She said to give you this before I'm supposed to ask you to trust me." He hands me a handmade book, closed by a dirty string. "It's her journal. You can read it on the way, but we need to go."

"Go where?" I open the book and my eyes go immediately to the red words written in the language I had made up when I was a kid. I had gotten bored one day in elementary school and had begun writing stories, but the teacher came over and took my paper away from me, read it, then threw it away. He gave the reasoning, 'you weren't paying attention, so I took the distraction away.' After that, I made my own alphabet so no one could read my stuff, and my words could be chalked up to doodles.

No one but me knew my writing, yet here it was.

I get into the car in the back seat and as we drive off I read the notes.

'We used to be close, then you shut me out', It begins, 'you sought therapy in your reality while I sought an escape from mine. I write this because I know I'm going to die soon, and I have no escape. I know you will take my place in this reality so I figured I should at least leave something to keep you alive. I've asked Rob to get you out of state and somewhere safe. Trust him, he'll help you.'

The rest of the book is newspaper clippings about the Avengers saving places, doing good. There's even some about them doing bad. I expect to find something about the Socovia accords, but it seems to never have happened. Nothing about Wanda's accidental bombing, nothing.

"Where are we going?" I ask, looking up.

"New York. I've made arrangements for you to stay in a small apartment and attend a local school. You may be in the wrong dimension but you're not going to skip out of school."

I snort, then lean back, preparing myself for the long ride from Ohio to New York.

The trip there is long and uneventful, involving long driving hours, fast food dinners, and awkward conversation. At one point I asked what happened to the other me, and he had given a grunt in response.

"You have to know something. You know them better than I do." I plead, hoping he might tell me something. He sighs and rubs his elbow.

"Your- uh, hm." He hesitates before attempting again. "They used to be kinder, softer. Their daughter died about two years ago, her car got wrapped around a tree. Her body was not found in the car, and neither was it anywhere else. Supposedly, her body was dragged off by wild animals, but there was no evidence of any of that." Silence falls over the car as he lets it sink in. The story aligns with a crash that happened to me about two years ago, middle of my sophomore year I wrapped my car around a tree and somehow survived. I hadn't been driving tired or distracted, but analysts went over the car and found the breaks had been cut.

"I was called in to analyze the car, they still don't know that." He takes a drink from his coffee before continuing. "There was the mechanic on duty that needed a second opinion, so when I took a look, I found the breaks had been cut and the accelerator jammed, which is what the mechanic had found. We spoke to the police, and quickly it turned into a homicide investigation. The parents were suspects for a while because she had a large amount of life insurance, so that was seen as a motive. Unfortunately, it fell through because of how they acted."

"Do you think they did it?" I ask quietly, and he looks at me through the rearview mirror.

"Yes, I do." He sighs after a moment of silence, "She had been talking to me in the months leading up, and from what she had said, they were treating her like shit. They were yelling at her just for being in the same room as them. She even told me that they had said she wasn't even theirs. That broke her heart. As a family friend, I tried to get them to snap out of it, but they just threatened to shoot me if I didn't get out of their house. The night before, she texted me in a panic, claiming to have seen an oddly-dressed man with a large blue man talking to her parents. She said that they had been talking about her, and words she had heard were 'imposter' and 'won't pay'. I told her to get upstairs to safety, and she said that she did. She had signed off, claiming to feel safer, and that was the last time I heard from her."

"The blue monster, was he a giant? He sounds like a Frost giant... or maybe Skrull? Did you go to the police?" I ask, drinking in the story. He sighs. "I don't know what those are, but as for the police, I did, but unfortunately those parents have puppets in the station. It was no use. My regret was not being there to prevent her from going home from school to those cruel people." With that, he turned up the music and the ride is quiet the rest of the way.

Luckily, we make it to the small apartment quicker than I had expected. I thank him, and he gives me his number if I needed help navigating around town, then a packet with the phone number of my new school, as well as my fake IDs and cover story. As he pulls away from the curb, I walk into the main office to fill out forms and receive my keys. I go up to my new home, and unlock the door, swinging it open and walking inside. Flipping on the light, I close the door and drop the bags into the center of the small living room. Looking around, there are boxes of things everywhere. A couch sits at an awkward angle in the center of the room, and a dining table is right next to it.

Time to get to work. Time to make the best of things, and try to get my life, and new apartment, together.

I shove the couch to be straighter, then I assemble the tv stand. All of the things in the apartment are miss-matched, probably thrifted. I'm not complaining, I'm just thankful that someone I don't know just gave me furniture.

Situating the TV onto the stand, I put the coffee table between the couch and TV. Moving onto the kitchen table, I scoot it into the tiny dining area, then I turn and grab the chairs that had been leaning against the wall and set them at the table. I open another box and find dinnerware, the print on it blue and appearing to be Chinese in origin. As I look close, three people walk across a bridge as two birds soar high above. I put the plates and bowls into the top cabinets, then the few pots and pans into the ones below.

I move onto the small bedroom, and I quickly assemble a small bed frame and put a set of sheets onto it, then the blankets and pillows. I fluff the pillows and I go into the tiny bathroom, finding it equipped with a small sink, toilet, and stand-in shower. My nose wrinkles at the smell of stale water and old towels, so I flip on the fan and close the door, turning to the rest of the bedroom.

I shove the dresser against the wall, then grab my backpack of clothes and put them away. I plop down onto my bed when I am finally done and stare up at the ceiling. Right as I start drifting off to sleep, a knocking rouses me. I roll out of bed, tripping and almost falling onto my face on the way to the door. I peep through the peephole and see a woman holding a log of tin foil. Unlocking the door I let it swing open, revealing a very cute,hippy-like woman.

Wait, she's-

"Hi! I'm your next-door neighbor, May Parker! I wanted to welcome you to the, well, the hallway!"

May Parker, Peter Parker's aunt.

Here she stands, holding a nut cake with a huge smile on her face.

She laughs, and I manage to stutter out, "Oh, uh, t-thank you. I'm Asta, uh, Yertley. Is t-that a nut cake?"

She practically beams. "Yes! As a matter of fact, Tony Stark himself said it was the best he'd ever had! I made it for you as a sort of... house-warming gift." I take the gift and thank her.

"You're absolutely welcome! Anytime you want to come over, do! I-" Her phone buzzes, and she checks it. "Oh! It seems I'm very close to being late. Well, I am so glad I got to meet you. I'll see you around!" She smiles, then heads off down the hall. I say bye, then close the door and sit down on the couch.

Pulling off a chunk of the cake, I pop it into my mouth and munch on it, finding that it isn't that horrible. I put the rest into the fridge, then grab my phone out of my pocket. I google my new school, then type the number into my phone. A receptionist answers, and I introduce myself, then ask when they want me to come in.

"Would it be possible to come about 3:30?" The receptionist asks, and I hear the clacking of a keyboard behind her voice.

"Sure! I can do that. Thank you!" We exchange pleasantries then hang up.

I glance at the time. 7:48. I have an entire day that I can just sleep.

Hells yeah.

I go back and curl up on my bed and take a restless nap, and when I wake it's only 10:45. Sighing, I heave myself out of bed and into the kitchen. Taking out the nut cake, I rip off a slice and slap it onto a small plate, putting the rest back into the fridge. On my way back to the small dining room, I grab my schoolbag, then sit at the dining table. Opening my bag with full intent to get out the small handmade book but as I reach for it, my eyes snap to the large book instead. I pull it out and set it on the table, flip it to the second chapter and begin reading. The chapter talks about the energies inside of 'Midgard' as the book calls it, along with other realms. This book claims to be from Asgard, and at this point, I'm willing to believe that everything in this book is true.

About halfway through the chapter, my eyes start to water and my ears begin to feel pressure. No matter how much I mop at my eyes, the tears keep flowing, and no matter how much I try to pop my ears they refuse to pop. The lights in the kitchen flicker, then the sneezing fit kicks in. I shakily stand and try to make my way to the kitchen, bending down over the sink and drinking from the tap. The sneezing stops, so I stand, grabbing a paper towel and wiping my eyes, then blowing my nose. My eyes are still filled with tears. I grab another paper towel and wipe at them. One final time I sneeze.

"Jesus Christ, that was not pleasant!"I say aloud.

Sniffing, I open my eyes to find myself facing an odd scene involving about seven armed guards, a man on a stool, and a man in a metal chair, all staring wide-eyed, some open-mouthed. My eyes go immediately go to the man in the chair, and I lock eyes with the dark-eyed Winter Soldier, sitting confused as ever at what has just happened in front of him.

"Ooohhh shit," I say under my breath, as I step backward and into the metal wall. Not only can I travel to other dimensions, but the past too? If the newspaper clippings on 'Bucky's Big Break', showing Bucky cutting a ribbon at a museum, were to be believed.

"Excuse me, but who the hell are you, and how did you do that?" Guards raise their guns and I am at a loss for words.

Shisshitshit. Ok, time for quick thinking. "I'm, uhm, I-I-I work for H-hydra. H-hail Hydra!"I do the double arm salute and the guards glance at each other, perplexed.

Wow, good job. That was convincing.

"Who is your leader?" One of them asks.

"What am I, an alien?" I laugh, but the clicking of guns shuts me up. I quickly put my hands up, level with my shoulders. I rack my brain and try to remember a name, any name, and my hesitant silence causes the same man to say,

"What's the matter, cat got your tongue? How about we chat."

I try to answer, but I sneeze instead, and a trigger-happy soldier opens fire. Before the pain registers in my head, I'm covered in my own blood. The force of the bullets knocks me back, forcing me to slam into the wall of safe boxes. The wounds begin to burn slightly, which to me is terrifying. Bleeding out and not feeling much but the rush of blood, it's strange. I slide down the wall, holding the wounds in my chest, and very quickly blood replaces air and I desperately gasp for breath.

This is it; I think to myself, I'm going to die here, then my body will be used for Hydra's research.

Gurgling, I look up at the man, who has gotten up from his stool.

In a split-second decision, I decided that I, a major Marvel fan, would not go down without talking to one of my favorite characters. I look to Bucky, and attempt to choke out, "Steve still cares about you." but it comes out more like, "Spppephhe shhpill carsh forgggg yougggh."

Those words seem to take the rest of the life from my body. My vision dims and the dark spots take over. My pain begins to fade and I close my eyes.

I jerk awake, gasping, back in my apartment, lying on the floor. I frantically grab at my chest and find it sticky and wet. Sitting up, I look down and find my clothes completely ruined from bullets and blood. I shakily get to my feet, finding a small smear of blood on the linoleum, but I quickly forget about it.

The first thing I want to know is how the hell am I alive, along with how I'm here, back in my apartment.

Although, I am not as surprised at the teleportation as I should be. But me being alive after being shot multiple times in the chest?

I check the house for any sign of forced entry but find nothing. I go over to the book and find it open to the same page I had been reading, but upon closer inspection, I find an odd powder lying in the spine of the book.

I guess Asgard has some kind of cocaine that teleports you places and times and also makes you immune to death? Great. Good to know.

I rush into my bathroom and quickly take off my ruined clothes, then hop into the shower. I shiver as the warm water runs down my bloody body. After just standing there and absorbing the warmth for a while, I scrub the blood off. While I wash, I examine my chest, only to find the bullet wounds to be scabbing. My eyes go down to my stomach, and I notice it to be slightly smaller than what I had thought it to be.

Odd.

I rinse off and get out, toweling off quickly. I walk over to my dresser and get dressed, putting on my favorite pair of pants and blue blouse. Even though in my world my jeans fit snug and hugged my waist, these are slightly loose. Walking to the mirror, I am slightly confused when I find that my body has become a little more toned. My curves are a little more pronounced,and my skin fits a bit tighter.

I'm having a Parker moment, aren't I? The only thing I'm missing is a pair of unneeded glasses. I laugh to myself, but my laughter quickly stops when I see the time on my clock: 1:00.

Ooohhh crap.

I scramble to grab my phone, keys, and wallet. I cram them in the money-filled backpack and head out, locking the door behind me. I exit the building, and the amount of people and traffic ties my stomach into knots. I pull up a map on my phone, study it for a moment, then head in the direction of the school. I weave through the crowd, trying my best to keep my introversionist crowd-disliking self buried inside. While I make my way through the town, I have alone time with my thoughts, and that is not ideal.

The book.

The vault, the bullets, the Winter Soldier.

The green-blue cloud, Ironman.

The fact that I share an apartment building with the one and only Spider-Man!

My mind is buzzing too fast, overflowing with too much, so I pull out my earbuds and open notes on my phone. I spend the entire walk muttering the experiences, listing options and my impossible journeys. I manage to save it to my drive as I arrive at the campus. Tucking my phone and earbuds away in my pocket, I run up the stairs and into the main office. I open the door, and the smell of fall scents hits my nose. A nice change from the BO I'm so used to. I approach the main desk, a huge thing of dark cherry-colored wood.

"Hi, my name is Asta. I called a few hours ago? I know I'm a bit early," I glance at the clock and see I am in fact an hour and a half early, "Like, a lot early."

"Yes, I was the one that talked to you over the phone." The lady at the desk says with a genuine smile."I have a few pages of paperwork for you to fill out, then you'll be all set!"

She hands me a clipboard with multiple papers on it. I sit down in a very plush chair and get to work. Pulling out my new social security number, birth certificate, and cover story. The paper was hurriedly scribbled by Rob, talking all about how my parents died in a fire and I am legally an adult, and by being seventeen, I chose to get emancipated, although I still receive a bit of financial aid from my foster parents. I moved out here for a fresh start and am ready to make a new life for myself!

He seriously included the last bit.

I finish the paperwork in about 10 minutes, then I receive multiple papers and a map. The receptionist then hands me my schedule.

"Your first day is tomorrow! It seems that the bus situation has been cared for, but once you arrive here, go ahead and come in here and I'll have someone help you around the building."

I thank her and leave out into the autumn air. Walking down the steps, I try to figure out what to do now. I recall a bank that I had passed and decide to head in that direction to stash my odd amount of cash. Once I arrive, I am immediately stopped by the security guard. I allow him to search my bag, and once he awkwardly opens a 'suspicious' bag only to find pads and tampons, he lets me go. I chuckle to myself and walk up to a desk off to the side.

"Can I open a bank account here?" I awkwardly ask.

"Of course!" says a kind young man. His hair is blond and curly, his eyes the color of emeralds. Not going to lie to myself, he's cute.

I take a seat and he hands me some paperwork, and I begin the long and boring process. When he asks how much I have to deposit, I pull out half of the art box's stash. His eyes widen, and he looks up at me, mouth agape.

I laugh. "I used to work as a waitress for a diner up in Ohio. Tips were good and I requested to get paid in cash. I never opened a bank account because I knew if I asked my parents for help, they would rip off most of the money." He nods, though looking slightly skeptical.

After about two hours, I successfully have a bank account, and my fancy-schmancy bank card should come in the mail in about a week. I walk out of the bank and try to figure out what to do next, checking my phone time. 3:53. I sigh, and my mind wanders back to the teleportation and time travel issue.

I don't often say this, but I need help.

If I keep up this nasty habit, where would I transport to next? And the fact that I had teleported to another universe, then got shot, died, and came back to life in my own apartment, is a recipe for disaster.

My heart pounds when I realize who can help with my magic predicament. Shakily, I pull up a map and navigate through the street, eventually making it to the mystic building.

Walking up to the door, I don't have the opportunity to knock before I am teleported once again, but this time I find myself sitting in a chair, and in front of me is the one and only Doctor Strange.