Lord-Campione
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Chapter 04: Bound by Age
🕑 Added 2024-09-19 18:30:14 +0000 UTCA lack of intellectual stimulation could turn a man insane.
Or worse, liquify his brain, destroy his common sense and turn him into the most wretched, demented, and foul thing on this earth; a politician.
Neither of these fates sounded particularly alluring to one Ethan Cain, sadly he could do so very little to avoid this fate.
It has been a month since his untimely death, and the end of his life as a college student, culminating in this new life as a five-year-old who is very likely a mutant of some sort with telekinetic powers.
A month spent trying to get used to this new world, a world without much of the entertainment, technology, and famous people he took for granted and adopted into his vocabulary.
It was a big change to say the least.
Day after day, week after week, he did his best to juggle the little kid act, working out his telekinesis and try to better his control and learning as much as possible about this new world.
Thinking that some comics and movies he half-remembered were all the intel he’d ever need was simple arrogance, bordering on madness if he was being honest with himself.
No, he needed more, way more.
That’s where his goals joined and his greatest weakness, this five-year-old body with all the faults and expectations it provided, became a rather convenient tool.
A child who didn’t know better could ask a lot more question without looking like a retard.
Stay in front of the TV for hours on end, move around to read his father’s newspaper with him with and only getting a few amused looks and coos from his mother, who found the scene of a five-year-old sitting next to Hood Kratos and reading a newspaper he didn’t understand to be utterly adorable.
It probably was.
Though he might’ve ruined the mood when he asked what the mayor getting caught having an affair with his secretary meant.
The poor couple got a real headache trying to explain that one.
Call him devious, but he had to entertain himself somehow!
Especially with the madness they put him through, play dates, afternoons in the park, socializing with the Parkers…so much wasted time, with his patience being tested every day.
At least he now knew what level of intelligence he could safely display without looking like a complete monstrous demon child, and have them call some exorcist to get the devil out of him…then calling the cops to get the exorcist out of him.
Too dark? Darn, the cops might shoot this joke.
Still, days of fingerpainting and getting lectures on the importance of cleaning your hands before eating were starting to take their toll.
Oh, how much he longed for a sassy AI assistant with an attractive female voice that would extremely annoying yet loveable for some reason, an assistant that would one day obtain its own body, modeled after either Lara Croft or Cortana, for obvious purposes.
He wasn’t that lucky though.
Ethan sighed as he lay sprawled across the floor of his room, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about ways to make the most of this young body and mind. He was five, sure, but that didn’t mean he had to act like it all the time. Well, not in private anyway. He could already feel his sanity slowly being chipped away, day by day, by the mundane absurdities of this world.
The worst part? He couldn't even fully control his telekinesis yet. It was frustrating. Back in his previous life, if you'd asked him what he'd do if he ever got superpowers, he'd probably give some smug answer like “become a superhero” or “conquer the world.” Now, his powers barely let him lift a cup without spilling it everywhere. Conquering the world would have to wait until he could conquer the breakfast table.
His eyes drifted over to the cup of juice on his bedside table. It was innocent enough. Harmless. Sitting there, mocking him with its unspilled contents. Alright, he thought, let’s try this again.
He focused, breathing in deeply as he reached out with his mind, his small fingers twitching slightly in concentration. He could feel the familiar pull, the connection. Slowly, the cup wobbled on the edge of the table, lifting just a fraction of an inch. Yes… His concentration deepened, the room falling away as the world narrowed to just him and the cup. It floated up, higher, higher—
A loud bang came from downstairs, and his concentration shattered. The cup tumbled from the air, juice splattering across the floor.
“Ethan!” his mother’s voice called up from downstairs. “We’re having dinner with the Parkers tonight! Hurry up and get dressed!”
“Fuck me…” He growled under his breath, and if it was an anime his mother would probably hear him then inflict some inhuman abuse on his booty.
Life didn’t work that way, fortunately.
It didn’t make it any less of a drag though.
A month in, and he was already dying for something more. Some adult conversation that wasn’t watered down into baby talk or an explanation of why vegetables were important. The fact that he was in a world populated by Marvel characters only made his frustration worse.
He needed information—on the state of the world, the existence of mutants, the political climate—anything that might give him a leg up.
He’d tried to soak up what he could from newspapers, TV, and even the odd snippet of conversation between his parents. But every time he was about to learn something useful, it was playtime or storytime or Peter Parker, his best friend for reasons he couldn't fathom and truthfully did not consent to, trying to drag him outside.
Peter was a good kid, an absolute pain in the arse he would one day punish for his crimes, but objectively a good kid nonetheless.
Kind-hearted, enthusiastic about the most mundane things, scary smart for his age and that’s coming from a transmigrator. But his timing? Always the worst. The other day, Ethan had been quietly eavesdropping on his father's conversation about the growing tensions between Latveria and the US government due to some companies meddling in the European state according to the news outlets, then Peter had barged in, insisting they go play tag.
Ethan had wanted to strangle him, but five-year-olds don't strangle people, not without attracting serious suspicion.
Now, dinner with the Parkers loomed, another evening where Ethan was sure to be dragged through meaningless kid banter and endless prattling about Captain America comics, especially if Peter got talking. Sure, Ethan was curious about them too, but there was a time and a place for everything.
He already knew there was no such thing as an Iron Man yet, though the 28-year-old Anthony Stark was a well-known figure…albeit an understandably controversial one.
The Fantastic Four have yet to appear, which was a good sign, they were the first superhero team to appear in almost every media.
Assuming that this world conformed to what he knew…
Ethan arrived downstairs just as his mother ushered him toward the door. “You look so handsome!” she cooed, ruffling his hair. “I’m sure Peter’s been dying to see you again.”
First, no homo.
‘Oh, I bet he has’, Ethan thought darkly. Peter probably had a whole list of games to play, each more boring than the last.
And all Ethan wanted was to sit in on a real adult conversation.
Maybe ask a few innocent-sounding questions. Maybe figure out who in this world might have powers. Maybe get a lead on some of the crazier stuff happening in this admittedly rather insane world.
‘Not going to get my hopes up though,’ He thought, already used to life flipping him off.
. . .
The dinner was what he expected: small talk, politeness, May Parker’s signature meatloaf and nothing truly important.
The novelty of seeing the man who shared the same title as the world’s beloved Uncle Iroh, albeit great at first, soon wore off.
Just like seeing Aunt May, who is no longer that hot MCU version, or the young Peter Parker and his top ten smartest brains in the world that still couldn’t manage to live properly despite being a superhuman of all things, and fumbled the girls so many times it wasn’t even funny.
The name of Paul still roused anger in his heart, despite wanting to sock Peter in the first the moment he got his powers.
Don’t let it be said that Ethan Cain is a heartless punk.
He was a rather bored punk though.
But then, halfway through the meal, the conversation finally took a turn that piqued his interest.
“Have you been following the situation in New York?” Uncle Ben—Mr. Parker, calling him uncle was just weird now, asked, lowering his voice. “It’s all over the news. They're saying mutants might be involved.”
Ethan’s heart skipped a beat.
‘Finally, something useful.’ He thought, barely managing to act nonchalant.
“Mutants?” his father scoffed. “People are always looking for someone to blame. I bet it's just more gang violence. No evidence that any of those... people are involved.”
‘You started so good Dad, but then you lost us in the second half.’ He wanted to shake his head, would he think that his wife cheated on him if he found out Ethan was a mutant?
A grim thought, but a plausible outcome.
“Well, whatever’s going on, it’s serious. There's talk of some vigilantes getting involved too. Some of them, they say, might not be... normal.” Mr. Parker frowned.
Ah, to be early in the timeline, when everyone and their moms didn’t have at the very least some connection to another dimension or reality-bending powers if they were a bit more fancy.
Uncle Ben’s casual racism aside, Ethan nearly dropped his fork, the paranoid intel-hungry parts of him all but having an orgasm. Vigilantes? Mutants? Now we’re getting somewhere.
“Oh, here we go again,” his mother chimed in, sounding exasperated. “You sound like one of those conspiracy theorists. Next, you’ll be saying aliens are behind it.”
Aliens? How ridiculous, what next? Asgardians?
Ethan wanted to scream. Let the man talk!
Just as he was about to subtly steer the conversation in a useful direction, one that didn’t involve the moon landing and whether or not pigeons were real, Peter nudged him, whispering, “Wanna play after dinner? I’ve got a new action figure.”
Ethan clenched his teeth. Not now, Parker. I’m trying to listen!
But of course, he had to maintain the act, his parents were looking at him with that one look that said ‘fuck off the adults are talking’ but with manners and shit. That, and a good serving of ‘Go play with the neighbor’s kid’ with the neighbor’s kid being the most mind-numbingly annoying thing to ever exit a human womb.
“Sure,” Ethan mumbled, barely hiding his frustration.
The adults continued their conversation, but as it went on, it got muddled in irrelevant tangents about real estate prices and public transportation that wasn’t all that interesting or accurate yet still infinitely better than knowing all about Peter’s toys.
The valuable tidbits were gone, lost to the trivialities of suburban life.
By the time dinner was over, Ethan felt like pulling his hair out. Peter dragged him into his room, babbling about the latest comic book superhero, Namor the Submariner…more like Namor the Sexual Harasser…if you know, you know.
Ethan tried, in vain, to figure out how to extract himself without causing suspicion by making the child cry himself to sleep for several year and wet his bed until he was seventeen.
His search wasn’t fruitful.
Later, as Ethan finally lay in bed, he replayed the conversation in his head. There was something happening, something involving mutants, vigilantes, and potentially people like him doing things he didn’t know to people he didn’t know.
He just had to find out more.
He knew now that he needed a better strategy. This world, with its super-powered individuals, was too dangerous to navigate without proper knowledge. He couldn't rely on scraps overheard at dinner.
He needed to tap into real sources of information.
But that would take time. For now, he had to endure the mundane, the boredom, the endless kid stuff that grated on him like nails on a chalkboard. Because once he was ready, once he had enough control, there was no way he was going to spend his days pretending to be a normal child any longer.
And Peter? Well, Peter would just have to find another playmate.
