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Marvel MK: CH 141 – The Man Out of Time
🕑 Added 2025-08-31 17:04:56 +0000 UTCThe first thing he was aware of was the soft, tinny sound of a baseball game being broadcast on an old radio. The sterile, mint-green bedsheets matched the color of the lower half of the walls. From the window, the distant, familiar sounds of traffic and a bustling city could be heard. Steve Rogers, the super-soldier, woke up and sat on the edge of the bed.
He looked around, his mind a foggy landscape of ice and a final, desperate promise. He listened to the baseball announcers, a strange, nagging feeling of familiarity pricking at the back of his mind.
A beautiful woman in a crisp white blouse, a brown skirt, and a tie walked in, a warm, professional smile on her face. "Good morning," she said. She closed the door, then checked her watch. "Or, I should say, afternoon."
"Where am I?" Steve asked, his voice a dry, unused thing.
The woman smiled again. "You're in a recovery room in New York City."
Steve paused. He looked out the window again, at the strange, sleek shapes of the cars below. He listened to the radio even closer. Then, his expression hardened, the fog in his mind clearing into a sharp, soldier's focus. "Where am I really?"
The woman's smile didn't falter. "I'm afraid I don't understand."
"The game," Steve said, his voice now a low, dangerous thing. "It's from May, 1941. I know, because I was there." He stood, his movements fluid and powerful despite the long sleep. He walked toward her. "Now, I'm going to ask you again. Where am I?"
The woman pressed a small, hidden button on a device in her hand and calmly said, "Captain Rogers."
"Who are you?"
Suddenly, the door burst open, and two men in modern, tactical gear rushed in. Steve moved. He slammed both of them into the wall with a force that made the plaster crack and crumble. The wall gave way too easily. He took a step through the hole he had just made and realized he was not in a hospital, but in a room built inside another room. It was all a set.
The woman, seeing him run, spoke into a comms device. "All agents, Code 13. I repeat, Code 13."
Steve was a blur of motion. He was chased by a dozen agents, but he handled them quickly, their modern training no match for his raw power and battle-honed instincts. He ran and ran, out of the fake hospital, through a massive, sterile facility, and finally, out into the city itself.
The city felt familiar, yet fundamentally, jarringly different. The buildings were taller, the cars faster, the people… different. He finally burst out into a place he recognized, but it was a twisted, funhouse-mirror version of his memory. Times Square. The sight of the blinding, moving lights, the massive, digital billboards, the sheer, overwhelming sensory overload, confused him greatly.
Several blacked-out SUVs screeched to a halt, surrounding him. SHIELD agents, their weapons drawn, secured the perimeter. A figure in a long, black leather coat stepped out of one of the cars.
"At ease, soldier," Nick Fury commanded. He walked toward Steve. "Look, I'm sorry about that little show back there. We thought it would be best to break it to you slowly."
"Break what?" Steve asked, his guard still up.
Before Fury could answer, a new, cheerful voice boomed from the sky above.
"You're in the year 2011, Captain! THE BIG 1-1, BABYYYY!!"
Steve's head snapped up. He saw a man in strange, Asian-looking garments, flying on a cloud. And if that wasn't weird enough, the man had a monkey's tail. A strange, half-forgotten memory from his USO tour, a drawing he had once made of a monkey on a unicycle, flashed in his mind.
"Do monkeys become part human now?" Steve asked, his voice a mixture of genuine confusion and battle-ready suspicion.
Jack Hou flew down, landing softly beside Fury. "Whoa, Director! You're just going to let Captain America call me a monkey like that? I know he's a hero from the old times and all that, but that's just rude."
Fury cut him off, his one good eye fixed on Steve. "You've been sleeping, Cap. For almost seventy years."
Jack patted Fury's shoulder, a wide, knowing grin on his face. "There it is! He said it! He said the thing from the movie!"
Steve became even more confused. "What is going on?"
Fury just gestured for Steve to follow him to the car.
Jack, meanwhile, called out, a strange, serious note in his voice. "Careful, Cap. Light always casts shadows."
Then, with a final, cheerful wave, he leaped onto his cloud and flew away, leaving a very confused man out of time in his wake. The clone was now soaring high above the Manhattan skyline on a Zephyr cloud, his heart filled with a pure, unadulterated fanboy glee.
"OMG, OMG, OMG!" he squealed to the empty air, his hands clasped together in delight. "It's Steve Rogers! Captain America! In the flesh! I can't wait to steal his shield! Kekekeke!"
…
Meanwhile, in the tranquil, sun-drenched penthouse of the God Tree, a rotund man in a bespoke suit stepped out of the private elevator. Two of the silent, imposing God Tree security guards escorted him down the hall.
"Follow me, ma'am," one of the guards said, his voice a low, respectful rumble.
The rotund man sighed and then, in a fluid, seamless motion, his form dissolved and reformed. He was now a perfect, identical copy of Natalie Beckman. It was, in fact, Mystique.
As she walked into the office, the real Natalie looked up from her desk, her expression one of polite, but firm, annoyance. "Please change your appearance to something other than me, Miss Darkholme."
Mystique's eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second. She was still not comfortable with anyone outside of her inner circle using her real name. But she held her tongue. With another shimmer, she transformed, this time into one of the generic God Tree security guards. "Is this fine?"
Natalie sighed. "Better." She gestured to the couch. Mystique sat, while J, a silent, watchful presence, stood behind Natalie's desk.
"So," Natalie began, her tone all business. "How was the talk?"
"Erik agrees to negotiate," Mystique said, her voice a perfect imitation of the guard's. "But he wants you to come there. Not the other way around."
"Hmmm," Natalie mused. "Is that it?"
"And the one who comes must be the real Jack Hou."
Natalie's polite demeanor vanished. "No way," she said, her voice sharp and final. "That's off the table." She stood and walked toward Mystique. "Must I remind you that it is you who needs us, not the other way around? The world is not a friendly place for your kind. We are offering you a sanctuary."
A tense silence filled the room. "Then a clone would suffice," Mystique finally conceded.
"Great," Natalie said, her tone softening slightly. "We will bring Professor Xavier as a neutral witness."
Mystique stood, her form flickering for a moment. "What? This is a variable we never talked about."
"And Krakoa is Jack Hou's disciple," Natalie countered smoothly. "So there should be more variables, more voices, that have the right to come and build their nation on its shores. Your Brotherhood is not the only group of mutants in need of a home."
A slow, dawning realization spread across Mystique's face. "You're planning to open Krakoa to the X-Men, too."
Natalie walked back to her desk and sat, a picture of calm, unassailable authority. "Like I said before, Krakoa is a living island, and they are Jack Hou's disciple. The fact that we are willing to mediate between both of you should be perceived as a good thing."
"I need to reconvene with Erik on this one," Mystique said, her mind reeling. She turned and walked toward the door.
Before she left, Natalie's voice, cool and clear, stopped her. "Hurry up, Miss Darkholme. Genosha is not an ideal place for a meta to grow up."
Mystique froze, her hand on the doorknob, taken aback that Natalie knew the location of their current base. Without another word, she swept out of the office, the doors hissing shut behind her.
…
Days passed. The seven-day period of the open tournament was a flurry of minor skirmishes and displays of youthful ambition. And now, the final day, the day before the main event, had arrived.
The leaders of the seven cities stood on a raised dais in the center of the Heart of Heaven, about to officially announce the start of the championship tournament. But before the first word could be spoken, a figure descended from the impossible sky above.
Jack Hou, his features obscured by his veiled hat, floated down as if walking on a staircase of air, his golden and red hanfu a brilliant splash of color against the sky.
"Kekekeke, oops," he announced, his voice a strange, echoing thing. "I mean… ahem… here, here, my children. I am but a humble immortal, passing through."
He expected a reaction. Gasps of awe, perhaps some reverent bowing. Instead, he was met with confused murmurs and suspicious glares. It had been so long since an immortal had graced the tournament that the very concept was a half-forgotten legend. To them, he was just a strange, flamboyant man who had somehow learned to fly.
But then, the eldest of the Cobra elders from Peng Lai stepped forward. He dropped to one knee, his head bowed low. "Immortal Sage," he said, his voice full of a profound, unfeigned reverence. "Peng Lai humbly greets you."
The other leaders were gobsmacked. Lei-Kung's brow furrowed. The Crane Mother's eyes narrowed in suspicion. For the proud elder of Peng Lai to bow to this unknown figure… it was unheard of.
Jack, seeing their disbelief, sighed dramatically. "You don't believe me?" He reached for his earring, and the Ruyi Jingu Bang appeared in his hand, growing from the size of a needle to that of a normal, six-foot staff. He let it drop. It plunged into the hard-packed earth of the tournament ground with a sound that was not a thud, but a deep, resonant thrum, as if it had struck the very heart of their new world.
"Anyone who can lift that staff," Jack declared, his voice booming across the colosseum, "I will teach them the way of immortality."
The crowd, which had been murmuring in confusion, erupted. A roar of pure, greedy, desperate excitement filled the Heart of Heaven. The leaders themselves were in shock. For millennia, true immortality was a myth, a forbidden art. And now, this strange Sage was offering it as a prize.
Dog Brother #1, Sihing, was the first to move. He leaped from the dais to the arena floor, his presence a wave of cold, pragmatic authority. "Let's forget formality," he growled. "All the champions, like me, come forward."
One by one, the leaders who were not champions themselves retreated to the spectator stands. The champions of the Seven Capital Cities of Heaven assembled on the tournament ground.
The Bride of Nine Spiders and John Aman, leaders in their own right, remained. From the Peng Lai delegation, Zhu Pang She lumbered forward. From Tiger Island, the graceful, deadly Li Hua. And from K'un-Lun, his face a mask of determined focus, Danny Rand.
Then, from the K'un-Zi delegation, the final champion stepped forward. A gasp went through the entire arena. He wore the ceremonial garbs of an Iron Fist champion, but the vibrant green and gold of K'un-Lun had been replaced by the cold, dead silver and black of the Crane City. It was Davos, the Steel Serpent.
The message was clear. It was a declaration of war. For K'un-Zi to use an exiled son of K'un-Lun, a failed Iron Fist, as their champion… it was the ultimate insult.
High above, floating invisibly on Zephyr, Jack Hou giggled softly, a sound of pure, unadulterated delight. He watched the shocked faces, the simmering hatred, the dawning realization of betrayal.
'Kekekeke,' he thought to himself, his grin widening under his veiled hat. 'Oh, this is so fun. It's like watching a K-drama. Kekekeke.'
…
The Jade Palace was in an uproar. A quiet, dignified uproar, but an uproar nonetheless. The gods and immortals, who had been lounging and gossiping, now leaned forward, their gazes fixed on the shimmering water mirror.
"Who is this immortal?" one of the lesser gods whispered. "No one has passed through the Heavenly Gates. No one has left."
Taibai Jinxing, the ever-dutiful minister of the heavens, his face a mask of pure, bureaucratic shock, strode forward and bowed low before the Jade Emperor. "Your Majesty," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "An unknown immortal has descended upon the Heart of Heaven. This is a breach of protocol, a disruption of the natural order. Should we send an emissary to drag him back?"
The Jade Emperor, who had been watching with a detached amusement, slowly took a sip of his celestial wine. He didn't even look at his minister. "No need," he said, his voice a calm, powerful thing that cut through the worried murmurs. "Let's see what happens next. Who knows? Maybe this will be more entertaining than last time."
Taibai Jinxing bowed again and retreated to the side, his expression a mixture of reverence and profound anxiety.
"Continue the banquet," the Jade Emperor commanded.
From the side of the grand hall, Guan Yu, the God of War, sat straight and silent, his hand resting on the hilt of his Green Dragon Crescent Blade. He was not eating. He was not drinking. He was watching, his gaze a sharp, analytical instrument, ready to descend at a moment's notice.
Beside him, the great sage Laozi sighed, a sound like the rustling of ancient scrolls. "Relax for a while, General," he said, his voice a calm, philosophical murmur. "It is a banquet."
"If it were not a tournament, you know well that I would not be here," Guan Yu replied without taking his eyes off the mirror. "I am here to support their martial will."
Laozi sighed again, a faint, knowing smile on his lips. "It is an event still," he said, gesturing to a nearby flask of wine. "So drink to your heart's content."
