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**1962, CIA Secret Base, Nevada**
The mess hall buzzed with whispers and sidelong glances. "Look at those weirdos!" a burly agent muttered, jabbing a fork toward the northeast corner table. "They eat the same slop as us, but how'd they get so strange?"
"Who knows? Maybe you should ask 'em yourself," his buddy snickered.
At the table, a curly-haired blonde kid named Sean slammed his fist down. "I'm sick of these yokels staring at us like we're circus freaks!"
"Sean, calm down," said a girl with long dark hair and a dragonfly tattoo on her arm. "You should be used to it by now."
Sean scoffed, turning to a blonde girl beside him. "Raven, maybe you could convince Charles to mess with their heads. Wipe their memories so we're not zoo animals every day."
Raven grinned, nudging the quiet, bookish-looking boy next to her. "I'd rather see Jake toss these goons out one by one. Right, Jake?"
Jake, lean but radiating a quiet strength, didn't respond. His handsome face and glasses gave him a scholarly vibe, but everyone knew he could hurl a car like it was a paperweight.
"Jake?" Raven poked his arm.
He blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. *Right, that's my name here.*
Jake wasn't from this world. He'd been a regular guy back on Earth—decent job, solid pay, single at 28. Then a freak lightning strike during a storm sent him here, to a world of mutants, super-soldiers, and shadowy threats. A world where Captain America was a legend, frozen somewhere in the Arctic, and gods and aliens could wipe out cities on a whim.
Lucky for Jake, he hadn't come empty-handed. A strange system had bound itself to him, granting powers from someone called Homelander. He focused, and a translucent panel appeared in his vision:
**[Host: Jake]**
**[Age: 16]**
**[Speed: 53 m/s]**
**[Strength: 7.2 tons]**
**[Physique: 124 (average adult male: 10)]**
**[Mental Strength: 82 (average adult male: 10)]**
**[Current Template: Homelander (1% unlocked)]**
**[Abilities: X-Ray Vision (basic), Super Hearing (basic), Flight (locked), Heat Vision (locked)]**
**[Origin Points: 0]**
That 1% unlock had turned him into something extraordinary—stronger, faster, tougher than any normal human. It wasn't much in the grand scheme of this chaotic world, but in 1962, with mutants still a secret, it made him a force.
The CIA base housed a ragtag group of mutants, recruited by a young telepath named Charles to counter a threat called the Black King. Jake, Sean, Raven, and others were candidates for a mutant strike team. Most folks here didn't even know mutants existed—they thought Jake and his crew were just oddballs, not superhumans.
"Jake, you okay?" Raven's voice cut through his thoughts.
He shook his head, brushing off the stares. "Just ignoring these small-town idiots. They've got no clue what's out there."
"Small-town idiots?" Raven raised an eyebrow. "That's a new one."
"It's like they're stuck in their own little world," Jake said, leaning back. "No idea how big the real one is."
"Nice way to put it," said a calm, deep voice. Eric, an older mutant with a commanding presence, stood nearby. He wasn't an official CIA liaison like Charles, but his strength made him a leader among the mutants. "They're blind to what's coming."
The table fell quiet. Eric's words carried weight. Jake met his gaze, knowing the battles ahead would test them all.
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