Title: Omniverse: Shadows of Gotham

You awaken to pain—cold pavement beneath you, blood trickling from your lip, bruises forming on your ribs. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the dim orange glow of a flickering streetlight. The alley is silent, save for the occasional drip of water and the distant screech of tires in the Gotham night.

Gotham?

You blink hard. The memories come crashing down like a tidal wave—your old life in another world, memories of cartoons, comics, and superheroes. But something's different. You glance down and your breath catches: you’re not you. You’re in the body of an adult girl—Twenty, maybe. Wounded but strong.

Your head throbs again—and that’s when the other memories hit.

Another you. A younger self. Twenty years old. Not just anyone—a Tennyson. Not Ben, not Gwen. Someone new. But somehow, you have the Omnitrix strapped to your wrist, glowing faintly in the dark. A backpack lies beside you—intact, clean, and unmistakably not from this world. You check inside and find everything from your past life: a phone with no signal, a pocketknife, notebooks, a favorite hoodie, snacks... even some comics. Somehow, this bag is enchanted—bigger on the inside—and it’s followed you here, across reincarnations, across timelines.

As you piece together your fractured memories, you realize: your soul must have leapt bodies not once, but twice. First into the 20-year-old Tennyson descendant with the Omnitrix. Then again, into this beaten girl left for dead in Gotham's back alleys. But somehow, you retained everything—memories, knowledge, and most importantly... the Omnitrix. It clings to your wrist still, like it knows who you are.

While testing your strength, getting ready to move, a soft whimper catches your attention.

You freeze.

A small cardboard box sits nearby, barely illuminated. You approach cautiously and pull it open—and there, wrapped in a tattered blanket, is a baby. Big green eyes. Soft, dark hair. Wearing a tiny onesie marked with a red sword insignia.

The League of Assassins.

Panic rises, but then instinct kicks in. You cradle him gently. His crying fades. That’s when you hear it—whispers above. Two shadows perched on a fire escape, blades gleaming. They’re watching you. No—they're watching the baby.

They mean to kill him.

You don't have time to think. You don’t even stop to wonder who this baby really is—or why he’s here. You activate the Omnitrix, praying it still works in this body, and slam it down.

A green flash lights up the alley.

You're not just some girl anymore—you’re Heatblast, wreathed in flame and fury.

What follows is chaos—shadows, steel, fire. But you protect the child. You fight with fury fueled by memory, desperation, and the searing knowledge that you're not just surviving anymore. You're here for a reason.

As the assassins retreat into the night, leaving behind only smoke and ash, you hold the child close.