The rain always came at 6:45 PM. Without fail.
Pluto Vale sat alone beneath the bus shelter, watching as the dull gray sky wept onto the cracked pavement of Arkbridge City. His silver eyes, unnaturally deep and strange, reflected the streetlights like polished steel. At 25, Pluto was the kind of man whose presence lingered long after he left a room—tall, unnervingly symmetrical, with features that seemed carved by something far older than human hands. The world didn't know what to make of him. Neither did he.
His life was… orderly. Wake at 4:00 AM. Jog 5 kilometers. Read three books. Work a low-tier government research job. Return home. Eat precisely 600 calories. Sleep. Repeat.
No friends. No family. No chaos.
And that's exactly how he liked it.
Until today.
Pluto stepped into the crosswalk at exactly 6:50 PM, the way he always did. The rain continued its ritual. But this time, something changed. The light didn't flick from red to green. The car didn't brake.
The world blinked.
A flash of metal. Screeching rubber. A soft *thump*. And silence.
Death didn't hurt. Not for him.
Darkness cradled him gently, like velvet wrapping around a diamond.
"Interesting," a voice echoed in the void, smooth and rich, like jazz through glass.
Pluto opened his eyes—or what passed for eyes now. There was no body. Only thought. Consciousness. Suspended in an infinite space where time didn't breathe.
A figure materialized. He wore a white lab coat, but it shimmered like the cosmos. Behind him, countless screens hovered, displaying worlds—some familiar, others impossibly alien. One showed Earth. Another showed a burning star collapsing in reverse.
"I'm the Marvel Producer," the being said with a crooked grin. "No, not God. I don't create life. I… test it. Engineer it. Refine it."
"Why me?" Pluto asked, his voice steady, indifferent.
"Because you're a blank slate. No ties. No love. No past pulling you down. A perfect template." The producer walked closer, his footsteps leaving trails of glowing symbols in the air. "You're going to be part of my experiment. Let's see what happens when perfection is dropped into chaos."
With a wave of his hand, the air tore open—data streams flowed like blood, filling Pluto with something… infinite.
"I give you: an unending lifespan, the ability to adapt instantly to any environment, and a… let's call it 'power osmosis.' Stay near power long enough, and it becomes yours."
Pluto's form pulsed, shaping into a body again—taller, stronger, flawless. Silver eyes still intact, now glowing.
"You'll be sent into the Marvel Multiverse. Your presence will tip balances. Let's see what breaks—and what thrives."
But just as the rift opened behind him, something went wrong.
A pulse of darkness froze the universe.
The Marvel Producer flinched—an expression Pluto thought impossible. The light dimmed, the data paused. A figure emerged from the black—a presence more than a person. It didn't walk. It simply *was*.
"What are you doing here?" the Producer whispered.
The figure didn't answer. Instead, it turned to Pluto.
"I am… ??????" the being said, voice ancient and genderless. "I exist outside cause. I am not bound by logic or story."
It reached out—not with a hand, but with essence.
"I grant you self-existence. No reality, no power, no being shall overwrite you. You are now a fixed truth within all falsehoods."
Pluto's body shifted again—richer now. More real than the universe around him. His abilities twisted and deepened.
**True immortality. No death, no decay.
Adaptation beyond biology. Evolution through trauma.
Emotion sharpened, pain erased.
Growth through destruction.
A paradox made flesh.**
As quickly as it came, ?????? vanished.
The Marvel Producer, still watching, exhaled in disbelief. "Fascinating. Well… off you go, anomaly."
And Pluto fell.
Through stars and stories, through dimensions and destinies.
He smiled faintly as the wind howled past him.
Chaos was coming.
And for once, his life wouldn't be boring.
A/N: I know this is short but I would try from chapter two to make it longer