All For One in the Marvel-verse

There was a sudden boom as TOAA snapped his fingers, and the young man disappeared. Luckily, unlike his previous experience, this transportation through dimensions and universes was painless, though it was just as disorienting. Instantly, the young man was spit out unceremoniously onto hard concrete, stumbling due to his sudden momentum and impacting a wall hard.

He took a moment to sit, waiting for his spinning head and violently churning stomach to settle. However, his surroundings didn't help make things much easier. There was the constant honking of cars and shouts of pedestrians nearby, each noise increasing his disorientation as he adjusted to his new body. Obviously, he had been dropped off in a major city, but he needed to quickly figure out which one and when in the timeline he was.

Despite the feeling of displacement, it slowly passed, allowing the young man to rise to his feet unsteadily. He slowly inspected his surroundings quickly, looking for any signs of danger. After all, it would be extremely embarrassing to die a moment after he was reborn.

Thankfully, he was alone. He looked around to find himself in a narrow alley filled with trash and other debris that eventually led out onto a busy street with late afternoon traffic. Looking down, he was fully dressed but in tattered rags that barely could be counted as clothes. He wore a sweatshirt colored black through an accumulation of dirt and grime and dark pants that were torn and ripped. Surprisingly, his shoes, which were sturdy brown work boots, were in the best shape.

At least I have proper footwear. The rest can come later, he thought as he fumbled through his pockets for a phone or ID. He came up empty—no wallet, driver's license, credit cards, nothing! This may be a bit more challenging than I anticipated. Do I at least have a name?

There was no response to his silent question, so the man sighed and sat atop a pile of garbage that reeked the least. He crossed his legs as he thought through everything he knew about his current world, Earth-811. In this instance, the extra boon from TOAA, Multiversal Knowledge, only gave him information that he knew about the story from X-Men: Days of Future Past.

In this Universe, Mystique killed Bolivar Trask to try and stop the passing of an anti-mutant bill and the creation of his Sentinel robots designed to wipe out mutants. Instead, with the assassination, she only pushed forward the bill and creation of the sentinels. The most ironic element of all was that Mystique herself, who was captured and experimented on the assassination, was the key to creating the Sentinels that devastated Mutant-kind. 

With the development of these Terminator-esque robots, mutants would be either killed or forced to live in internment camps. Overall, the future of this universe was pretty grim, but there was good news, too. It seemed that he had reincarnated before the development of the highly advanced sentinels, which could easily tear through the X-Men, giving him time to figure out a plan to get the hell out of dodge and escape this Universe before the widescale purges.

Unfortunately, this is where the other shoe drops. Without powers, he is currently a sitting duck. One that can easily be called out as a mutant thanks to his appearance. While his scars and white hair could be explained through some sort of accident, people were undoubtedly much more educated on mutants due to the government's anti-mutant campaigns, so they would guess that his appearance was due to a physical mutation thanks to his X-gene. 

Besides everything else, his mind is a veritable treasure trove of information that shouldn't land in either side's hands. While he didn't particularly dislike the X-Men, his secrets were his own. That meant that he would have to go out of his way to try and obtain Telepathy as his first power so he could try and construct mental shields to protect his mind. 

Or I can just wear a helmet. He thought with a chuckle, finding it stupid and unrealistic that a piece of metal could keep out the world's most powerful telepath. Oh well, there's probably some explanation in the comics.

While he wasn't super knowledgeable about the comics, it was too late to regret his reading habits in his old life. Instead, he began considering all the options available, but there were still too many unknowns. What was certain was that he needed to venture out and either scour a newspaper or television to try and pinpoint where he was in the Days of Future Past timeline, not that it would be too advantageous, but it's better than nothing. 

The only major parts of the timeline shown were the beginning and the end, so the only valuable information he could get would be if he was before or after the mutant persecution and killer robots. Given that the city was still lively and the distinct lack of ruins, he figured that he was before everything had gone down, but better safe than sorry.

First things first. I need a name, especially since it doesn't seem like I have an identity here. The young man thought, still atop the garbage heap, and began to reason with himself. I need something standard, one that nobody will bat an eye at. My appearance will already be hard enough to manage. I can't have a stand-out name too. 

"How about John Smith?" the young man mused.

It was simple and very nondescript, the perfect name for somebody who didn't want to stand out. Still, he considered a few other names, but his mind kept drifting back to John Smith. It was just too perfect. Plus, a new life should be marked by a new identity. He already had a new appearance. Now, he would have a new name.

Looks like I'm a John from now on.

With that, John rose from the heap of garbage and began to pick through the loose trash, scrounging for anything useful. Fortunately, he wasn't reborn hungry or thirsty, so he spent time scrounging for any new clothes with no luck. He only finished when the narrow slit in the two buildings high above began to darken, and the noise outside dimmed, with only the occasional passing car.

Taking it as an opportunity to leave, explore, and try to find more information he moved along the alleyway until he reached the mouth, leading out onto the nearly deserted street. Only a few people walked hurriedly along the rapidly darkening street. 

The only light came from flickering lamps spaced just wide enough that the darkness at the furthest spot between lamps was a bit unsettling and you couldn't tell if there might be someone waiting for you there until you were nearly on top of them. 

Yet, it was still early, so there was enough light for the street not to be sketchy, but the time was fast approaching, and it would be daunting to walk the street alone. John stepped back into the alleyway and waited a few minutes as the light from the setting sun died. 

As he did, a dull gleam of light reflecting off metal caught his eye from a nearby trash heap. Curiously, he stepped forward and cleared away the bags of trash to reveal a slightly rusted metal baseball bat that had clearly seen better days. He quickly turned away, uninterested, but paused midway, considering.

After a moment he stepped back and grabbed the bat, slipping it under his greasy sweatshirt. It was better to have at least some protection in the city. While it would pose no problem to any superpowered foe, it was still a deterrent for any average thug or opportunist seeking to make a quick buck. 

Once the light died and the electrical lamps were casting most of the illumination on the street, he strode out of the alley and onto the sidewalk. Then, he glanced around once, picked a direction, and began to walk. The beginnings of a plan started to form as he strolled along the road casually.

He must have been an imposing sight because John saw one woman walking toward him quickly turn around when she spotted him, her eyes widening and her hands trembling as she quickly pivoted back. Her hurried footsteps echoed down their side of the street, and she cast a few hasty looks back as he clearly tried to keep from bolting.

"That's one way to know you're ugly," John spoke to himself softly, chuckling.

x-X-x

Eventually, he walked away from the backroads of the city and into a more rundown section of the city. Here, the streetlights flickered unsteadily if they weren't already out entirely. People gathered at street corners and watched on suspiciously as he passed. Though he looked like a vagrant, so many people, even here in the poorer sections of the city, just glossed over him and paid him no mind.

By now, he had already discovered that he was in Los Angeles. While it wasn't the best start it had the benefit of being out of the way of some of the major events in the Marvel-verse. Most of the time, it's New York getting hit with major alien invasions or the like since there are multiple superhero teams located there. 

He was planning to continue on into the slums to find some congregation of homeless or a dump of some sort to try and locate a newspaper to get any indication of the status of Mutant's rights, but something caught his eye instead. A brightly lit establishment with a lime of other homeless-looking people leading out of the front. A soup kitchen.

John altered his course, pulling his hood lower over his face as he walked toward the back of the line. Someone near the back of the line, an older man, watched his approach closely. As John stepped up, the man turned to him and instinctually took a step back as he looked at John's face and neck. Bright red eyes looked out from under messy white hair that couldn't fully conceal the mass of wrinkles and scar tissue around his eyes.

"Uhh..." the man stammered awkwardly, "I haven't seen you around here before," 

"I'm new in town," John said, thinking of a funny comedy sketch from his old life, but the man seemed discomforted by the smile. 

"Ahh...Right." the older man said.

"I also hit my head pretty hard when a stay rock found itself smashing into my head when I was trying to get some food, if you get what I mean, so my head is pretty fuzzy. Do you know the exact date today?" John said.

The older man nodded, though giving a disapproving look while doing so, "No worries, it's July 23rd, 1993."

"Thanks," John said absently, processing that information and trying to remember what he knew of the Days of Future Past storyline.

"You know, Son," the older man continued, "It's not right to steal, even in our circumstances. It makes us no different than the real scum of the city."

"Damn Right!" a voice called from further up the line, echoed by a few other similar sentiments.

"Uh huh," John said distractedly.

1993, so a few years after the anti-mutant legislation, but it doesn't seem like the Sentinels have been developed yet. Though the Sentinels take over North America by 2000, so I probably don't have years until the takeover. I'll have to move quickly to get out of this Universe before everything goes to shit.

"I know a guy who needs some laborers. I'm too old for it, but it can pay. Your appearance... or what you are won't matter to him as long as you can work." the older man said.

"Sounds good, but I've had some...problems with some of my...brethren. Are there any mutant gangs around here?" John asked

"M..mutants" the older man whispered, stepping closer and blocking the other patrons.

"As I've said," John said casually, "I have some enemies, so are there mutants in the city, and where are they? So I can avoid them, of course."

"Ugh, yeah. There are." the older man said, surprised.

"So tell me about them if you don't mind," John said, gesturing toward the rapidly shortening line. "We can talk while we eat."