You didn’t mean to fall between universes. The skies in your world didn’t tear open like paper. There wasn’t a glowing vortex or a time-traveling sorcerer. One second you were swinging through Queens with sunlight in your eyes and wind at your back—and the next, you were face-first in broken pavement in an alley that smells like rust, blood, and wet newspapers.

You blink through the ringing in your ears. Something’s wrong.

The skyline’s familiar, but the mood isn’t. Stark Tower is different. The shadows longer. The air heavier.

And Mattie… is gone.

Not gone, you find out later—just broken.

You track her down after two days of asking around the underground hero networks, threading your way through forgotten forums, whispered names, and bad leads. Everyone here speaks about Mattie Franklin like she’s a ghost with a pulse.

“She used to be good,” someone mutters.

“Real brave. Thennnnnnnn… the trauma…”

“Left for dead. Came back mean.”

So when you finally find her—Mattie of Earth-616, sitting on the roof of a condemned building in a hoodie too big and a glare too sharp—you almost don’t recognize her.

She doesn’t recognize you either.

You hover awkwardly on the opposite ledge, your mask pushed up, letting the wind tangle your hair as you try not to say something dumb like “I’m like you, but happier.”

She squints at you. “What’s your deal? Oh, great. A self-help hallucination.”