But I also didn’t want to become a full-on superhero. Down that way led to probably becoming a massive asshole without any agency of my own. Because I didn’t particularly feel like staying as a Marvel Civilian™. Recent history always gives me a little bit of a headache.Īnyways, after years of mundanity, doing odd jobs, and saving up a fair amount of capital, I had finally gotten enough to finally put an end to that same mundanity. Don’t even try and ask me when they were all established. For the God’s sake, I still had my old Fantastic Four temperature regulating lunchbox, and an Avengers backpack. Hell, I’d been born after a lot of heroes made their debuts and became established parts of society. It was kind of easier to live with if it’s been going on your whole life. Not that that really fazed me at this point. Probably had something to do with the constant supervillain attacks and near-destruction of the city. It was easier than you might think, because prices in Manhattan were insanely low compared to how they’d been in my previous world. I graduated high school, got through college on a scholarship program, got a degree in superhuman ethics, and managed to buy an apartment in Harlem. And I felt a little bit of amusement from the fact that, as I was standing there in mild shock, a large black van with a skull painted on the side door drove up, and a man in a jumpsuit with the same design poked his head out and asked me what direction the criminals had gone in.īut, aside from that, and the near-daily super-occurrences that happened around the city, the next decade had been… equally uneventful. The only thing not normal about me was the fact that when I arrived here, I had just narrowly avoided being collateral damage in some kind of a gang drive-by. I was just a girl from an upper-middle class family in Midtown, with a normal family, and a normal life. I wasn’t a Mutant, or an Inhuman, or a secret Eternal, or a Half-Skrull, or anything like that. What also really helped was the extreme mundanity of my existence here. Whatever cosmic force had transposed me into this body had conveniently let me keep all of my past memories from both universes, so that helped a bunch. Honestly, it sucked a lot less than I’d feared at first. The “me from another universe.” That universe being the mainline Marvel universe, Earth-616, circa 1991. I went to sleep one day, and woke up in an entirely different body. Well… I don’t really have an explanation for that. You’re probably wondering what this has to do with anything, and how the hell I ended up here in Marvel. But, I feel like I’m getting ahead of myself. And most of the patrons of the Bar were that kind of villain. It was very awkward, and also really intimidating, but the thing about lower-list Marvel villains is that most of them were primarily in it for the money. I had first wandered into the place after taking the wrong train by complete accident back in high school on my way back home. And yes, there were people who would shoot you if you claimed otherwise. They also had great Thursday Trivia Nights, and served the goddamn best empanadas in the entirety of New York City. The atmosphere was dark, ominous, with cigarette and cigar smoke almost always hanging near the ceiling like fog. It was, legitimately, primarily a hangout for criminals, goons, and supervillains of various stripes. The Bar With No Name definitely earned its bad reputation.
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