Dead. That's what he was. He saw the truck driving at him with no intention to stop, he felt the truck hit him like he wasn't even there in the first place, he felt himself rebound off the metal bumper and go flying until he hit the hard, cold asphalt ground...yet why? Why was he now in a dark abyss with a screen that said 'Good luck!' on it...? What did it mean? Where was he? Was this but an illusion his brain was playing on him to rock him into the eternal sleep? No. It couldn't be. Why was he so sure? Because the next moment he woke up in a dark and damp room, held to the floor by chains and unimaginably heavy weights. But the thing that most shocked him and told him he was very much so alive were the new memories in his head. The new memories told him things he wasn't sure he should believe...Mutants...Captain America...Howard Stark...Stark Industries... His memories allowed him to realize where he was, who he was and what he was. He was in the MCU, as a Mutant who was a part of a Mutant Underground Fighting ring. ...Huh.