Chapter 5.

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The first time Lana came over for dinner after Krav Maga had been awkward. I've always had a tendency to get lost in my own thoughts, not always thinking things through, and sometimes just being a bit dense. So, it didn't cross my mind what it would look like—a 17-year-old guy bringing a girl home for dinner.

"So, how long have you two been dating?" my mom asked, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I immediately choked on my food as Lana's eyes widened in shock beside me. Dad burst into hearty laughter, while Mom continued, completely unfazed.

"Don't think we haven't noticed how much time you two spend together!"

Yeah, that was a pretty mortifying experience. My parents were convinced that I only attended the self-defense classes to impress her, which was… annoying, to say the least.

"Yeah, the parents still badger me about only committing to one sport, blah blah blah. But it's my choice, and I'm happy," I replied, trying to brush it off.

"If you say so," she said cheerily. "Oh, and I'm afraid I'll have to cancel tonight, Jordan. I have a test tomorrow that I totally forgot about. How about next week?"

I was a little disappointed but figured there wasn't much I could do about it. "Yeah, no worries," I said, waving her off.

After the class, which ended with me getting my ass handed to me on the mats, I spotted Dad's cop car waiting outside. I opened the door and slid in.

"No Lana tonight, then?" he asked, noticing I was alone.

"Nah, she's got to study for a test," I replied, closing the door and buckling in.

"You'd have time to study too, Jordan, if you focused on just one sport…"

"Ugh, not tonight, please," I groaned. "You know my grades are fine."

"No such thing as too high a grade, though, is there? And just being a fast runner isn't enough to get you a good college scholarship these days."

I was about to retort, but Dad's work phone rang. He gave me a look and mimed for me to be quiet, one finger placed over his lips. I nodded back. These calls were usually about his cases, often containing classified information. He didn't seem to mind me overhearing, though. Not that I cared much about the latest lab reports or court date summons.

I was just about to zone out when I caught the first line of the conversation.

"Hi, this is Officer Misty Knight, Harlem precinct. I heard you wanted to get in touch about those vigilantes?"

My ears perked up immediately. I kept my gaze out the window, pretending not to care, but inside, I was buzzing. Misty Knight? This was going to be good.

"Yes, this is Officer Sterling Davis speaking. Over the last few months, I've noticed multiple reports of crimes being stopped in the act by three masked men. I heard you've been monitoring them for a while?"

"That's right," Misty replied. "On the streets, they're known as the Sons of the Tiger. They've stopped or prevented dozens of crimes—from muggings and carjackings to rapes. We even saw a slight decrease in criminal activity when word spread about them patrolling the streets."

My eyes widened. A lead! The Sons of the Tiger—minor Marvel characters, but I had heard of them! It was surprising to learn they existed here, though it didn't exactly help me figure out which universe I was in.

I'd like to think it was the 616 universe, but how could it be when I recognized Robert Downey Jr. as Tony Stark and Chris Evans as Captain America, as seen in my school history textbook? And then there was George Stacey, who had been an actor in an entirely different cinematic universe. What the hell was I supposed to do with that information?

But I was ecstatic. Aside from Iron Man, who seemed wildly unreachable from my current position, this was the first instance of modern-day superhero activity that I might actually be able to interact with, rather than just watch unfold on the news. In my excitement, I almost forgot to keep paying attention to the conversation.

"And did you ever discover the identities of these… Sons of the Tiger?" my dad asked.

I could practically hear Misty roll her eyes over the phone. "Nope. Once I learned that they only fought criminals and left their victims incapacitated for the police to pick up, I stopped following them."

Dad's grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles going white as his anger began to simmer. "Why? They're criminals acting outside the law. If they truly wanted to make the community a better place, they'd join the police, not slink around in the dark!"

Misty wasn't having it. "Well, Officer Davis, my Harlem precinct is stretched thin as it is. Why would we waste resources catching people who are helping us do our jobs? Now, protocol demands I send my complete files on them over to you, but before you chase after them, perhaps you should consider meeting some of the young girls they've saved from some pretty desperate situations. Maybe then you'd be a little more open-minded. Now, if there's nothing else, I believe this conversation is finished."

Dad was silent for a moment before replying, "I'll be awaiting the documents, then," and hung up.

He turned to me. "Sorry you had to hear that, son. I'm just frustrated that the case could have been closed by now if she'd bothered to follow through like she was supposed to," he frowned.

I was surprised, to say the least. I hadn't seen this side of my dad before. He was normally so calm and collected, yet these vigilantes really got under his skin. I couldn't remember the exact details, but I knew my dad had a criminal brother in the comics. Was that related to his disdain for vigilantism? And as far as I was aware, my parents hadn't existed in anything Marvel-related, which just added another layer of confusion to my 'which universe am I in' problem.

If only I had known that one day I'd be sent to the Marvelverse, I would've scoured every comic for details that could come in handy.

I paused, deep in thought. I might not know why my father was so angry, but I did know the story of the Sons of the Tiger and, more importantly, how their story ended.

Maybe this had been my power all along, staring me right in the face. Sure, I'd always recognized that my knowledge of future events in this universe was an undeniable advantage. I'd moved to Midtown High specifically to get close to future heroes. But what if I could use my knowledge of heroes to gain their powers?

I'd just have to be in the right place at the right time. What would be freakish accidents for most people, I could actively pursue, knowing the results already. If I were alone, I'd have laughed maniacally. What was one power when I could potentially have multiple?

"Feel like replying, Jordan?" Dad asked, breaking me out of my thoughts.

"Huh?" I responded, caught off guard. Damn, maybe getting sucked into tangential thoughts was my superhero weakness.

"I asked how you were."

"Yeah, I'm good."

"No, I mean, it's been two years since you were hit by that car, and we've barely spoken about it. I know Uncle Jefferson never found the people who did it, so you had no real sense of closure, and—"

"Dad, it's fine. Honestly, I think it bothers you and Mom far more than it does me. I barely think about it. I made a full recovery, I'm happy—that's all that matters."

"If you say so," he sighed.

For Dad, it was the usual silence, this time contemplative, once more being shut down mid-conversation. For me, I was desperately trying not to let my excitement show on my face.