Marvel's Omniversal Traveler

Chapter 3: Adapting to a New World.



— –Virginia "Pepper" Potts– —

Walking through the pristine, modern halls of Stark Tower was a woman who was, quite frankly, too qualified for her job. Pepper Potts.

Being the personal assistant to one of the richest men in the world wasn't easy—especially when that man was a genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist with the attention span of a caffeinated squirrel.

For all her capabilities, a third of her time was spent kicking out whatever woman Tony had brought home the night before. Another third was spent dragging Tony to his own meetings, making sure he actually did his damn job.

And the last third? Keeping Stark Industries from running itself into the ground.

Well… okay, maybe that last one was an exaggeration.

The company was thriving, actually. More than ever, really. But she liked to think that at least part of that success was from her efforts.

At least she got paid well. Otherwise, she might have left Stark Industries a long time ago.

Well, who was she kidding? She enjoyed her job. As infuriating as it could be, she wouldn't trade it for the world. At least not yet, Tony hadn't pissed her off that badly so far.

She was just about to step into an elevator, using the tablet in her hands to go over her presentation once again, when one of her assistants caught up to her.

"Miss Potts, there is someone waiting to meet with Mr. Stark."

Pepper barely glanced up as she pressed the elevator button, already moving on autopilot.

"A meeting? There's nothing scheduled today. Tony's not even here—he should still be in Malibu. He's not flying in until tonight."

Pepper raised an eyebrow, shifting the tablet in her hands so she could check her watch. She was still at a good pace when it came time to arrive at the meeting with their investors. Military people always fussed about being on time.

"Did they have an appointment?"

"No, Miss Potts." 

That was strike one.

"Are they important?"

"No, Miss Potts. But—" The assistant answered, fumbling through the folders in her hands, her expression growing unsure.

That was strike two.

"Then tell them to schedule an appointment. I'll manage the meeting once I'm done."

The elevator doors began to close, and she thought that was the end of it. It wasn't. Before the doors could fully close, the assistant darted inside, nearly fumbling the stack of folders she was holding.

Pepper's eye twitched.

"What now?"

The assistant hesitated, then pulled out a small, tattered piece of paper.

"Umm… they had this."

Pepper frowned, reaching for the crumpled note and unfolding it. She read it once. Then again. The handwriting was unmistakable. Sloppy, rushed, but undeniably Stark.

"Hey kid, I know it's rough losing a father, let alone after having already lost your mother. Montclair was a great, bright man, and I personally spent some nights working on projects with him. If you ever need a helping hand, you can reach me through Stark Tower, just hand them this note.

— Tony Stark.

P.S. Don't do drugs… Also, wear a condom. 

P.P.S. Sorry, not used to writing this sort of stuff. I'm sorry for your loss."

Closing her eyes for a moment, Pepper let out a slow breath. She had read the name and immediately remembered.

Montclair. One of the families affected by the explosion. 

She had visited Alexander and his lawyers personally, gone through all the legal work, and ensured that Stark Industries had paid their reparations. Then, once she had confirmed the kid had someone taking care of him, she had forgotten about him, as just another name in a long list.

She should have checked sooner. Should've followed up. The boy had lost everything, and here he was now, standing at their doorstep, clutching Tony's hastily scrawled promise like a lifeline. She sighed, eyes softening. She couldn't change the past, but perhaps, just perhaps, she could make things right.

Her fingers tightened around the worn paper.

"How old is this kid again?"

The assistant hesitated before answering.

"Seventeen. Just turned recently."

The elevator dinged, reaching the garage floor. Her driver was already waiting, holding the door open to the sleek black company car.

She didn't move. Didn't step out.

The doors started to close again, and Pepper let them.

Pepper closed her eyes briefly, the image of the boy, alone, grieving, flashing through her mind again. He deserved better. She glanced at the folders, then at her tablet, her packed schedule suddenly seeming less important. With a quiet sigh, she handed everything to her assistant.

"I'll schedule someone else to go instead of me. They'll be here shortly. Please pass them my tablet; they'll know what to do."

A second later, she pressed a different button on the elevator panel.

— –Alex Montclair– —

He hadn't gotten a meeting with Tony Stark, but he had secured the next best thing, a meeting with Pepper Potts.

Which, honestly? It might've been the better option anyway.

She was beautiful, sharp, and competent as hell. He could see how Tony ended up marrying her in the end. And she was… kind, too.

Or at least, that's what the look she had given him suggested.

The moment she had walked into the office, she had given him this… look. A mix of pity and concern, the kind of expression people wore when they saw someone who had been through too much.

In hindsight, dressing up nicely had been a good call.

At least he looked somewhat put together, rather than the half-dead mess he had been when he first woke up in this world. If Pepper had seen him before, he wasn't sure what she would have done.

The meeting started off simple enough.

Some idle chit-chat, Pepper apologizing for Stark's absence, and a few questions about how he had been doing since the… incident.

And Alex? He had been honest.

"I gotta admit… I was a bit of a mess after the incident. Forced my caretaker to leave, finished school early, and just… stopped caring for myself."

It wasn't like he was making things up to manipulate her, but it still felt weird to say it out loud, especially when he saw the way her brows knit together in genuine concern.

It felt wrong to use the truth like this. Like he was betraying his own pain and treating it like just another tool. But he had convinced himself that he had no other choice, at least not yet. He had to get a foothold if he wanted to have any chance for the future, if using some of his real experiences to pull at the heartstrings of someone who could help him enormously was an option, then so be it.

It still didn't mean that he didn't feel guilty. Though, to be fair, that guilt probably just sold his story even more.

"But, you know… one day, I woke up and realized I couldn't spend my whole life like this." He added, looking at Pepper directly in the eyes. "So I wanted to try to take a step in the right direction. That's why I reached out. I'm not asking for any handouts, I just want an opportunity. I'd like to work for Stark Industries. I'm willing to go through the proper channels, apply on the website, and everything, I just thought it would be best to hear the opinion of someone who is qualified as well."

Nepotism and networking were one of the best ways to obtain jobs in the real world. Sure hard work mattered as well, but networking was king. 

His request wasn't too much in his opinion, but still one he knew would likely be rejected. Still, it was probably better that they rejected him as long as they gave him what he was looking for.

If he was being completely honest, Stark Industries wasn't his first choice. No, that privilege went to Oscorp.

Because if the timeline was lining up, then the famous Radioactive Spider should be there soon, or it might very well be there already.

And Alex wouldn't mind stealing Peter Parker's destiny.

The guy was a beast, always holding back, even against enemies who deserved to be erased from existence. If he had powers like that, he could live a far more comfortable life. At least he wouldn't have to be scared.

And beyond that, Oscorp had way too many fun toys.

A symbiote might already be lurking somewhere in the labs. Curt Connors was still working on his serum, the one that would eventually turn him into the Lizard. And that was just the tip of the iceberg.

Half of Spidey's worst villains came straight out of Oscorp's reckless experimentation. There was potential there.

But there were downsides, too.

For one, there was no guarantee he'd even get hired. Sure, he had graduated early, but that wasn't exactly unheard of in this world, and it was only high school too, people who excelled and went beyond expectations in high school were a dime a dozen. Not to mention, after graduating, he had vanished.

The most he could expect if he applied was probably a janitor job. Maybe, if he got lucky, he'd get some low-tier research position. But even then, he'd be buried at the bottom of the corporate ladder.

He would need to go to college and excel in his classes in order to catch their eye and get a meaningful job. Any college Alex could successfully enroll in at the moment would either be too far or not prestigious enough to earn their attention.

All that had led him to here, to Stark Industries. To cash in his favor with Tony.

Then there was the other problem. Oscorp had way too many fun toys. 

Yeah, ironically, the thing that drew him in was the same thing that made him turn away from it. Oscorp was dangerous as hell.

He could wake up one day, go to work as usual, and end up getting slammed through a wall by a giant, mutated lizard doctor.

Or worse.

What if he tried to get bitten by a spider, but oh no, he accidentally got bitten by the wrong one? Instead of super strength and wall-crawling, he'd get flesh-melting venom or some horrific mutation that turned him into a human-sludge hybrid.

Not ideal.

Hell, for all he knew, Octavius could snap mid-day and decide it was tentacle time. And well, even though he wouldn't kink shame the doctor, he would prefer staying away from any and all tentacles.

Too dangerous. Too risky.

Though he wouldn't be opposed to the occasional visit to the totally not evil corporation in the future, it would probably be smarter to delay that until he was ready.

But Stark Industries was different.

Once again, he had a connection here. And tech was what he knew. It was the safer, smarter choice, for now, at least. Who knows, maybe he could build his own Iron Man suit in the future? 

"A job?" Pepper asked, her expression grimacing for a moment before she became thoughtful, weighing his words before she finally spoke. "That is… I could use another assistant."

Good. She was open to the possibility. Now, it was time to secure his goal.

"No, no…" He quickly shook his head, leaning forward slightly. "I mean a job as a researcher. I know on paper I don't have the qualifications, but I would like to follow in my father's footsteps. Well… if I am being honest, I would much rather work on a project like the arc reactor, since I see a lot of possibilities in it. But I think honoring my father's legacy would be for the best."

"Alexander…" Pepper's voice cut through his argument, firm but not unkind.

For a moment, her expression softened, her brows furrowing slightly as if she was conflicted.

"I am glad you made this choice." Her tone was genuine, though Alex couldn't help but feel somewhat uncomfortable by it. "I'm glad you want to work with us. But there are steps to this. It's one thing to work on another division of Stark Industries, but to work in the same department as your father…"

She leaned back slightly, hands folding neatly in front of her.

"For one, Stark Industries only hires researchers who have a degree. Even for those who show exceptional potential, we sponsor their education before bringing them in. It's a standard practice for corporations like ours."

Good.

Alex couldn't help but hold his breath with anticipation as he heard Pepper. He was so close to reaching his goal, he could almost grasp it.

"And that's not even accounting for the certifications, licenses, and safety courses employees must acquire. Especially those working to produce military-grade technology. We can't just let anyone walk into a lab and start working, you know?"

Unknowingly, Alex's emotions were showing on his face. The anticipation, the worry, the fear, and the sadness hidden deep down in his body. Emotions Pepper couldn't help but notice.

She hesitated for a moment, almost as if she was choosing her next words carefully. Then, in a softer tone, she continued.

"I don't doubt that you're bright. I can see it in your eyes. You've got potential, but there's still a lot you need to learn before diving into something like this." Her fingers drummed once against the desk, as if making a final decision.

Then, finally, she looked back at him.

"Alex." Pepper started gently, her tone cautious. "Normally, we'd require entrance exams, recent grades, academic records..." She paused, carefully choosing her next words. "Frankly, your resume is empty, and Stark Industries can't afford mistakes, especially now." She leaned forward, sympathy clear in her eyes. "However," she added softly, "Tony vouched for you. I'll take a chance, but only if you prove you deserve it."

She tilted her head slightly, offering him a small, knowing smile.

"Stark Industries is a major sponsor of Empire State University, so we can pull some strings. I can call and get you a full-ride scholarship and a guaranteed spot. But I want you to remember, this is a chance most don't get, so promise me you won't waste it. If you do well, I can offer you a spot on Stark Industries."

For a moment, Alex just stared at her.

Then, his lips curled into a bright, grateful smile. This was all he had wanted and more.

"Thank you, Miss Potts. I promise I won't let you down."

— — —

The next few days blurred together. All the planning, adjusting, and begrudging reality checks made him reconsider his plans for the near future.

There was too much to do and too little time. And the more he observed, the more he realized just how unprepared he actually was. Sure, he had expected this world to be less advanced, he had known it wouldn't have even half of what his father had pioneered in his old world.

But knowing it and experiencing it were two entirely different things.

Everything felt archaic. It wasn't just the hardware, it was everything.

Half the tools Alex intended to use didn't even exist yet. He spent hours fruitlessly scouring online stores for parts that were commonplace back home, only to discover they'd never been invented. Programming languages he knew like the back of his hand, languages he'd been fluent in since childhood, were entirely absent, replaced by clumsy predecessors whose syntax felt nearly prehistoric

It was frustrating.

He had been raised learning how to build, program, and invent using the technology his father had already perfected. Even when he started small, he could feel the glaring limitations of this world everywhere.

He had rushed his meeting with Stark, hoping to kickstart his plans early. But now? Now he was grateful Pepper hadn't asked him to demonstrate his skills.

Because if she had he would've looked like an absolute dumbass, sitting there, staring blankly at a computer screen, trying to figure out a programming language he had never used before.

Lesson learned.

And at least, this time, he had gotten away with it.

On the brighter side, he had several months before college started, and the once-ambitious plans he'd laid out to revolutionize technology overnight had shifted toward the more immediate goal of catching up.

At least, he mused, once his memories fully integrated with his current body, he'd have a better grasp of this reality's quirks and shortcomings. However, the assimilation process was throwing him off more than he would like to admit.

He was two people at once. Both were him equally, which made it awkward when he tried to recall a memory from his childhood only to be met with two different answers. It wasn't until now that he was beginning to fully experience the emotions of this version of himself. And they were taking a toll on him.

He could rationalize a good portion of them, and though it wasn't the healthiest thing, he could also push them down for now, focusing instead on the work that lay ahead of him.

Originally, he had hoped to swiftly develop a simplified AI similar to N.O.V.A. to sift through the internet and map out historical divergences. But now, that seemed laughably naive. Without the foundational tech his father created, even a rudimentary copy of J.A.R.V.I.S. would have to wait.

Alex briefly entertained the notion of brute-forcing his way into recreating his father's groundbreaking programming system from memory, but quickly dismissed it. It was impossible with the limited resources available. Attempting it now would be like trying to build an engine in the Iron Age.

Okay, maybe that was a bit dramatic, but the point still stood.

Realistically, it would take anywhere from six months to two years to cobble together even a basic imitation of his father's programming language. Maybe Stark or Richards could do it quicker, but Alex wasn't going to pretend he had their genius-level intellect. He was smart, but he wasn't arrogant enough to overestimate his current abilities.

"This is so much harder than I hoped." He muttered with a sigh, idly dismantling a cheap robot vacuum he'd found tucked away in the hall closet. As one of the pieces he was holding broke, he couldn't help but toss the robot to the side before taking a deep breath to calm himself.

"I'm seventeen. I shouldn't be beating myself up for not reinventing technology before adulthood."

Still, the thought was humbling.

Perhaps one day he would be able to stand amongst Stark, Pym, and Richards, but for now, he would be satisfied with not falling too far behind.

He let out a humorless laugh as he set aside the half-dissected vacuum and stretched. 

"Who am I kidding? Richards was probably busy building interdimensional portals before hitting puberty."

Shaking off his self-deprecating mood, Alex approached the massive whiteboard he'd recently installed on the wall. He stared at it contemplatively before addressing it directly.

"Alright, partner." He joked dryly, tapping the board lightly. "Looks like we're going to get to know each other pretty well over the next few months."

Picking up a marker, he scribbled down his immediate objectives. By the time he'd finished, a solid week's plan had formed. Satisfied, he moved toward his computer to start ordering necessary components. Yet, the tiny flicker of confidence he'd mustered vanished instantly when an urgent headline flashed across the news page.

"Billionaire Tony Stark, CEO of Stark Industries, was kidnapped earlier today during an attack in Afghanistan. Stark, demonstrating new weapons technology, was ambushed by a terrorist group identified as the Ten Rings.

Stark Industries confirmed Stark's kidnapping and stated rescue operations are ongoing. His condition remains unknown. Company stocks have fallen sharply following the news. Obadiah Stane, spokesperson for Stark Industries, assured the public that every effort is being made to secure Stark's safe return.

More details to follow as the story develops."

"Well…" Alex muttered, trailing off as his eyes remained glued to the headline flashing across his screen. "Clock's ticking."

Tony Stark had been kidnapped. That meant the dominoes were beginning to fall. 

The exact timeline of events was unclear. 

He didn't know if things would happen exactly as they did in the movies or if this world had its own twists waiting to unfold. Maybe they would follow the comics, though that would complicate things since he wasn't anywhere as familiar with them. Or perhaps, it would be its own thing. After all, he was here, and the butterfly effect was one hell of a force.

For now, he would assume that this was the moment that would kickstart everything.

If things followed the general trajectory, then this would lead to the creation of Iron Man, and from there, The Avengers.

But how fast would it all come together?

Thor, Hulk, they were next in line, but were their stories already in motion, or were they still years away?

The X-Men were off to who knows what and where. There was basically no news about them in the world, so at the moment, he didn't have a clear picture of their situation. But, there was a chance Magneto would wake up one day and decide to do a "public demonstration." How would their existence disturb the plotlines he was familiar with?

And then there was the Fantastic Four, or more accurately, the lack thereof.

Reed was still in his early twenties, which meant they were probably at least a decade away from their big debut, assuming things played out the same way he remembered.

There had to be some version of reality where they got their powers earlier. Maybe the right conditions just hadn't been met yet. Maybe they were already experimenting and just hadn't had their fateful space trip.

Or maybe none of this was going to follow the script at all.

With a sharp shake of his head, Alex shoved the thought aside.

He couldn't afford to assume anything. For all he knew, this world didn't even have a Thor. Or Hulk could be rotting in some secret SHIELD lab instead of running loose in the desert.

Or Tony Stark might not make it out of that cave.

To be honest, that thought made him uncomfortable. Not just for the plain fact that it would throw the timeline all out of whack but because he knew Tony. Maybe not personally, but he had seen the man go from a weapons merchant to a hero who would give his own life to save the world. Not even just once, but multiple times.

And well, even if he didn't account for his meta knowledge, Stark had also been surprisingly nice to him in this world. He had personally written him an apology note for the incident and had offered him a hand should he ever need it. Hell, he had given him a boatload of money to try to make up for the accident.

A boatload he had thrown away, but that was on him, not Stark.

Still, he had to account for the possibility.

The moment he started believing he knew what was going to happen, he'd be setting himself up for failure. Being prepared never hurts.

If Tony didn't come back in the next few months, then Alex would have proof that the timeline had gone completely off the rails.

If that happened, he'd have to start planning accordingly.

Either way, the universe wasn't going to wait for him to catch up. Stark's fate was out of his control, but his own certainly wasn't. He had work to do and a ticking clock urging him forward.

— — —

A month passed in a whirlwind of caffeine, sleepless nights, and relentless frustration.

Collapsing onto his bed, he couldn't help but relax momentarily. His muscles ached, and his shirt was covered in sweat. He was starting to become burnt out, and it was just one month in. 

The house was suffocating him. He really felt like he was going to die in it, and the absolute lack of anyone to talk to was starting to drive him crazy. But it wasn't like he could communicate with anyone and tell them what happened to him.

For one, they would think him crazy, and then there was also the random chance he would get kidnapped by a random villain to get experimented on. He could vaguely remember someone like Mr. Spooky, or whatever his name was, hiding in plain sight and messing with whoever he found interesting. If he remembered properly, Cyclops, or another one of the X-men had been practically groomed by him.

Perhaps it was just an overreaction. Or maybe it was the house, his tomb, that was making him paranoid.

He should move as soon as he could. Get away from this place. That would do wonders for his mental health.

But just like most of his problems, he would have to leave that for another day.

He had to simply focus on the progress he was making, that would keep him focused.

The first time he tried jogging around the block, he barely made it halfway before nearly vomiting on the sidewalk. Now, weeks later, at least he could make it around the neighborhood without collapsing. Progress, however slight, was still progress.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Alex forced himself upright and headed into his cramped workspace. Papers, scribbled notes, and half-built gadgets littered the surface of every available table. The pristine whiteboard he'd bought a month earlier was now completely covered in markers of multiple colors, crammed with notes on programming languages, historical dates, theoretical formulas, and dozens of frustrated corrections crossed out in angry, jagged lines.

Well, that was just one of them. In the end, he bought another five whiteboards, but all of them were in similar states.

Learning the technology of this world had proved more challenging than he'd anticipated. For every step forward, he stumbled backward twice. Programming had become a constant, headache-inducing cycle of trial and error. This world's systems were simultaneously simpler yet maddeningly counterintuitive compared to the advanced languages he had grown up with. More than once, he'd lost hours of work to stupid mistakes that his old self would have effortlessly avoided.

"Damn it!" He snapped one night, slamming a fist onto the desk after his latest attempt at coding crashed spectacularly, wiping out hours of painstaking progress. He rubbed his eyes, forcing himself to take slow, steady breaths. Frustration was becoming a daily visitor, but losing his temper wouldn't fix a damn thing. Instead he would simply grab one of his many notebooks and write down everything that went wrong, building his own reference system to work from.

But coding wasn't his only struggle. Every morning had become a painful battle of wills against himself. His arms trembled embarrassingly during push-ups, and jogging left his lungs on fire. The simple act of preparing balanced meals instead of subsisting on instant noodles and microwave pizza, the food this body of his craved the most, tested his patience almost as much as his skills.

Still, he pushed forward. He had to… or at least he kept telling himself he had to. Because if he allowed himself to falter, he knew he would give up. He knew he would.

It wasn't something he had considered at first, but simply following this daily routine left him both mentally and physically drained, in a prime condition to give up and simply coast with what he had.

Some days were easier, though. When he managed his first successful program, simple, unimpressive, but undeniably working, he practically shouted with relief. A crude prototype of a data-sorting algorithm blinked at him from his monitor, and he found himself grinning stupidly at the tiny victory.

Other times, it was the small things that kept him motivated, like noticing subtle muscles beginning to form, or realizing he no longer felt like fainting after thirty minutes of cardio. He wasn't exactly Captain America, but at least he didn't look like he'd crumble under a stiff breeze anymore.

In between workouts and hours spent wrestling with stubborn lines of code, Alex absorbed as much information as he could about this world's history and culture. He meticulously read articles, news reports, and books, mapping out the discrepancies between what he remembered and the reality around him. Every new fact felt like adding another piece to an endlessly complicated puzzle.

Throughout all of this, Alex had kept an eye on Stark's situation. He had sent a few letters to Pepper to share his worries and hope that Tony would return safe. But just from watching the news, he knew she was probably swamped with countless issues from the different investors and the search for Tony. Probably too busy to see a note like it.

Needless to say, Tony still hadn't resurfaced. From his memories, Alex could estimate that he had about two more months before he would return, or before he would be declared dead. This uncertainty served as a relentless reminder that his knowledge from the past was increasingly unreliable.

And yet, despite everything, the failures, setbacks, and aching muscles, he was finally starting to find his footing. Or at least, that's what he told himself.

Rubbing at the persistent soreness in his shoulder, Alex glanced at the messy whiteboard and sighed deeply. He still had a long way to go, months, perhaps years of work stretched ahead. But when he looked back at how far he'd come in just one month, a small spark of determination burned brighter.

"One step at a time." He murmured to himself, picking up the marker again.

Then, taking a deep breath, he erased a small corner of the whiteboard and started fresh.

Beta Reader: @Basilisk, @Kiyan Tribe

https://discord.gg/WTgN9J3YgK


Tip: You can use left, right, A and D keyboard keys to browse between chapters.