chapter 2

Chapter 2

Date: January 16, 1990

Location: St. Augustine's Orphanage, London

David awoke to the smell of porridge, slightly burnt, drifting through the dormitory. He blinked, the unfamiliar surroundings quickly reminding him that this wasn't a nightmare he could wake from. He was really here — somehow trapped in this body, this life. After lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, he resolved to gather information. He needed to find out more about this place, this time, and maybe, if he was lucky, a way back.

Breakfast was a hurried affair in a drab, echoey dining hall filled with mismatched chairs and tables. The other kids, all around his apparent age or younger, moved in organized chaos as they gobbled down bowls of porridge. David sat silently, observing, but trying his best to blend in. He kept to himself, spooning the bland meal, listening to snippets of conversations around him. His British accent came naturally — his mother had been English — but still, every instinct told him not to draw attention to himself.

After breakfast, one of the older children announced that they'd be going on a field trip. The word sent a faint thrill through the room, breaking the morning's silence with murmurs of excitement. David listened closely, catching only that they were heading to a nearby museum.

The journey to the museum was brief, but David's mind buzzed with questions. Why a museum? What could he learn there? If he was in the past, maybe he could find clues that would tell him when and where he was exactly. The streets of London — a younger, quieter London than he remembered from his history books — felt surreal, and he had to suppress a strange sense of nostalgia. Everything looked familiar but wrong, like a faded photograph of a place he'd once known.

They arrived at the museum, an old, stately building with marble pillars and towering exhibits. The chaperones led them through the grand halls, pointing out statues and ancient artifacts, but David's mind was elsewhere. He drifted to the back of the group, letting his eyes wander. Then, near a hallway corner, he saw it: a display dedicated to World War II heroes.

One image stood out immediately. His stomach twisted. A tall, muscular man in a vintage military uniform, gripping a shield painted with the American flag, a determined expression on his face. David's mind reeled as he took in the resemblance — it was unmistakable. The man in the display looked exactly like Chris Evans, the actor who played Captain America. But this was no movie exhibit. The plaque beneath the photograph listed him simply as Steve Rogers.

"No way…" he whispered, his voice swallowed by the vast, echoing museum.

The realization hit him like a punch: this wasn't just 1990 London. This was the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

End of chap.