Inside Marvel X DC World

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**Unholy Timeline**

Under the dark blue night sky, the neon lights of the modern city sparkled, looking far more prosperous and lively than during the day.

A golden figure fell obliquely from the top of a skyscraper, streaking down like lightning, but more direct, like a meteor, but smaller. It passed over the billboards and massive screens hundreds of meters up and landed heavily on the rooftop of a five-star hotel below.

"Ouch, ouch, ouch!"

The hard floor tiles cracked into a dramatic hole. In the center stood the figure, groaning slightly, but intact in body and clothes. Holding a silver sword, he slowly rose to his feet.

In the chill of the night wind, which carried a hint of frost, the dust settled, revealing a pair of sharp, dark eyes. He held a round shield in one hand and a long sword in the other.

Mike wore a look of pure despair, the corners of his mouth twitching as he took in his current outfit.

The top was a red-gold, tight-fitting armor that left his neck and shoulders exposed, with an obvious bulge in the chest area intended for a certain anatomy. His lower half sported a dark blue skirt attached to the upper body armor. It was shorter than any miniskirt he'd ever seen, with golden knee pads at his knees.

On his wrists were silver bracelets, and a silver starlight crown adorned his forehead.

This outfit could make even top models blush with its exposure; it was the signature attire of "Wonder Woman."

And now, Mike, wearing it, was undoubtedly a man—a very male man.

"What is even happening?"

"I should be doing my homework at home, not out here in the middle of nowhere, running around in women's clothing. " He groaned. Just that morning, he was an ordinary high school student, assuming the supernatural was something only seen in comics.

Now, the supernatural had claimed him.

Before Mike could fully process this turn of events—

Click! Ciick! Click!

The hum of a helicopter approached, vibrating the air above the city. A police chopper was closing in, its bright spotlight sweeping the area.

The downdraft from the chopper's blades made Mike feel even more uncomfortable, and he instinctively tried to pull down the hem of his skirt.

But no time to worry about that now!

If that spotlight landed on him, Mike thought he might have to skip not just to another city, but maybe another planet!

"Damn it!"

With a grit of his teeth, Mike raised the vintage long sword in his hand and braced himself. He pushed off with his toes, and with too much force, accidentally crushed the top floor of the hotel beneath him!

Before the light beam could capture him, Mike leapt high, aiming for another building dozens of meters away.

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**Twelve Hours Earlier**

In a residential area along Central Street, downtown Washington, D.C., Mike yawned as he got up from bed. He could faintly hear the clear voice of the morning show host from the TV in the living room through his door:

"It's 7:00 a.m. in Washington. Today's weather is cloudy with light snow, with an outdoor temperature between 5 and 3 degrees Celsius. We recommend all viewers bundle up when heading out..."

Mike silenced his alarm clock before it rang and glanced at the time: exactly 07:00, December 22, 2011.

Another Christmas was approaching.

"Time flies." Mike muttered, slipping into his slippers. He put on his winter school clothes, prepared ahead of time in the closet, and left his room.

Opening the door, he called toward the living room, "Auntie, good morning!"

No response came.

The living room lay silent, the morning light filtering through the windows over the neatly set breakfast table with the usual arrangement of milk, eggs, and toast.

The faint scent of violets lingered in the air, but its source was unknown.

"Out early?" Mike muttered, paying it no mind as he went into the bathroom.

The bathroom held only the essentials: a face towel, a mouthwash cup, and a toothbrush. Simple and minimalistic, with two of everything, one large, one small.

Of course, Mike used the smaller set. Despite several requests to switch to a bigger size, he'd always been refused with the reasoning that he was still a minor.

Mike began his morning routine, gazing into the mirror above the sink at his own reflection.

Dark hair and brown eyes hinted at his Chinese descent. His youthful features were still tinged with boyish innocence, his skin so smooth and pale it lent him a feminine look. Clad in a white sweater and scarf, his overall appearance was soft and neutral.

He shrugged. There wasn't much he could do about it; his aunt was the one with the eye for style.

Luckily, he was tall for his age, already breaking the 1.7-meter barrier at sixteen, with more room to grow.

Back in the living room, Mike started eating breakfast while watching the morning news on TV.

"Yesterday afternoon, Iron Man appeared in Iraq and Iran, where he dealt significant blows to local criminal organizations within half an hour. That evening, he was seen attending a gala in New York with his secretary, Pepper Potts—a true master of time management.

"Meanwhile, Gotham City has reported a significant drop in crime rates over recent years. Experts attribute this to Batman's crackdown on criminals and the establishment of Arkham Asylum, which is capable of detaining many dangerous offenders.

"Reports also indicate small demonstrations in Metropolis, with some citizens expressing dissatisfaction with Superman's presence. The reasons for the protest remain unclear..."

It seemed any news that wasn't about superheroes didn't make headlines anymore.

Such was the world now.

Mike wasn't surprised, though. Taking a sip of warm milk, he muttered to himself, "What a strange world."

Indeed, Mike was a reincarnated person.

The specifics of his previous life and how he died no longer mattered. What did matter was this world he'd been reincarnated into.

It was a parallel world—a fusion of Marvel and DC!

He'd learned about this world in grade school history class, where they taught that the God of War had intervened in World War I and that a legendary goddess had ended the conflict.

In World War II, Hydra attempted to seize control of the world, only to be defeated by Captain America.

This was just a glimpse of the unique timeline. Every day, battles unfolded as New York and Gotham City coexisted, with justice and evil constantly clashing.

In this world, technology, magic, mutation, and alien invasions ruled.

For most of his life, none of that had affected Mike directly.

Except—until his sixteenth birthday last weekend.

He'd awakened a superpower of his own.

[As long as you have close physical contact with a female relative and exchange 'fluids,' you can temporarily acquire her or their abilities.]

Simple, direct, and undeniably… weird.

He'd named this power "Lord of the Dependents."

An ability tailor-made for antiheroes and scoundrels, it held the same unsavory appeal as hypnosis or x-ray vision.

Not that Mike intended to use it for evil or heroics. In fact, he found it quite useless. It wasn't like he could ask someone to pause in a fight to gather strength by adding a "buff."

Besides, for a guy who'd been single in two lifetimes, this so-called power was practically useless.

Sighing, he finished his milk and glanced around the room. His gaze landed on the photo display beside the TV, where his life was laid out from infancy to now.

Most photos were of him alone; his aunt rarely appeared in them.

She disliked photos, he remembered. Not that she wasn't photogenic—on the contrary, Mike was sure his aunt could rival any celebrity in looks.

'No, next time I'll convince her to take one with me.' He thought, grinning.

He'd just made up his mind when the doorbell rang.

"Who could it be?"

Mike frowned; his aunt never forgot her keys.

Just as he approached the door, a photograph was slid in through the gap beneath it.

Seeing it, Mike froze.

The photo was in black and white, with a natural yellowing suggesting it was from the last century. The background was a wartime scene, seemingly from World War I.

But what shocked Mike most was that a figure resembling his aunt appeared in the midst of soldiers, dressed like no one else in that era.