A secret CIA facility.
"Hey, look! It's those freaks again."
"Guess they eat just like we do."
"How the hell did they end up like that?"
"Beats me. Why don't you go ask them yourself?"
Inside the mess hall.
The room buzzed with chatter, trays clattering as agents and operatives came and went. Yet, in the far northeast corner of the cafeteria, one group drew more attention than anyone else.
Whispers followed them. Eyes lingered. It was like watching a sideshow at a traveling circus.
"I'm so damn tired of these stares."
A blond teenager slammed his tray down in frustration, shooting a glare across the room.
"You ought to be used to it by now," said the girl across from him calmly. She had long black hair and a cicada-wing tattoo inked onto her upper arm.
"I'm not used to it, not even close," he muttered. He turned to the other blonde at the table. "Raven, maybe you could ask Charles to do his mind trick and wipe their memories or something. I'm tired of being treated like we're zoo animals."
Raven smirked and nudged the quiet teen next to her. "Or we could just have Rorschach toss them out one by one. Right, Rorschach?"
At a glance, Rorschach looked more like a bookworm than a fighter. Clean cut, quiet, a little reserved—he reminded people of Hank, another one of the more academic types at the base. But everyone here knew the truth.
Rorschach could lift a car with one hand.
Tossing a couple of two-hundred-pound agents would be like throwing out the trash.
"Rorschach?"
Still, he didn't respond—his mind clearly somewhere else. Raven reached over and poked him in the arm.
"Hey, Rorschach?"
The name snapped him out of his daze. For a second, he blinked in confusion. It took him a moment to remember—yeah, that was his name now.
Because the truth was… he wasn't from this world.
In his old life, Rorschach had been an average guy from Earth. A corporate job, decent paycheck, steady climb up the ladder. Not rich, but doing better than most.
At twenty-eight, still single and working too much to change that, he was on his way to a blind date when lightning struck—literally.
Next thing he knew, he woke up in someone else's body… in a completely different world.
At first, he panicked.
Because this world? It was nuts.
Superhumans were real. Captain America had existed. Howard Stark was a household name. Mutants were out there—though not yet known to the public.
This was a world of gods, aliens, and monsters who could wipe out cities like they were knocking over sandcastles.
Especially if you lived in New York. God help you.
But like most people who get thrown into a new reality, Rorschach wasn't empty-handed.
He had a system.
[Host: Rorschach][Age: 16][Speed: 53 m/s][Strength: 7.2 tons][Constitution: 124 (avg. healthy adult male: 10)][Mental Power: 82 (avg. healthy adult male: 10)][Current Template: The Homelander (1% unlocked)][Abilities: X-Ray Vision (Basic), Super Hearing (Basic), Flight (Locked), Heat Vision (Locked)][Origin Points: 0]
A glowing HUD only he could see floated in the corner of his vision. The system never said what it was called—but its purpose was clear.
It let him inherit the powers of The Homelander.
When he first landed in this world, he was given a "starter pack"—just one percent of Homelander's full strength.
But even one percent was enough to make him superhuman.
Sure, later on this world might descend into chaos with demons and aliens and all kinds of world-ending crises. But for now? Things were still under wraps. Mutants weren't known to the public, and most of them hadn't even found each other yet.
People still thought mutant rumors were tabloid nonsense.
Even Magneto believed he might be the only one of his kind.
Which is why, when CIA agents see mutants like Rorschach, Sean, and Raven in the cafeteria, they're curious—not afraid.
They don't see threats.
They see curiosities.
"Freaks."
Rorschach was here thanks to a temporary alliance between Charles Xavier and the CIA. In preparation to take down the powerful mutant Sebastian Shaw, Charles was putting together a team.
Rorschach, along with Sean (soon to be known as Banshee), Angel, Darwin, and a few others, had all been brought here as part of the initiative.
"Rorschach? You spacing out again?" Raven's voice snapped him back to the present.
He shook off the thoughts and replied coolly, "Just thinking… those guys don't know how small their world really is."
"Huh?" Raven blinked. "What does that mean?"
The rest of the group looked at him, confused.
"It's like… they're frogs in a well. They think that tiny patch of sky above them is the whole world."
"Ah," said the tattooed girl, nodding slowly. "So… you're calling them frogs?"
Rorschach just sighed. "It's a metaphor."
"Well, it's a damn good one," came a voice from behind.
Everyone looked up as Erik stepped into view.
Even though he wasn't the official CIA contact like Charles, Erik—better known eventually as Magneto—was respected. And powerful.
He'd only been here a month or two longer, but everyone knew he was on another level.
And older, too. He carried himself like someone who'd already seen war—and didn't mind fighting another one.