***
"Ehswit!!!... Ugir Ehswit!!" came a trembling but cautious voice from nearby, slicing through the fog in my mind.
I cracked my eyes open, only for my vision to blur into a hazy swirl of colors. A pounding headache crashed over me like a tidal wave, followed by waves of nausea and dizziness that made the world spin. As the harsh light stabbing into my eyes finally dimmed, I realized I was cradled in someone's strong arms. A gruff, masculine voice jolted me further awake. "Wha... who? Where am I?" I croaked, my words tumbling out in a weak slur.
Beside him, a feminine voice chimed in, repeating variations of *Ehswit awoke, he awoke*—simple enough in meaning, but in a language I'd never heard before. Strangely, I understood every syllable perfectly, as if it had been etched into my brain overnight. What the hell?
Still groggy, I let the man steady me on my feet. My eyesight sharpened bit by bit, and that's when shock hit me like a freight train. The figure holding me wasn't just anyone—he was decked out in what looked like an impossibly detailed costume. *Was I rescued by cosplayers?* Or... had something far worse happened? I'd been driving home after a holiday visit with my parents, the road stretching dark and empty under the night sky. Then—a blinding flash of light had swallowed everything, turning the world pure white. And after that... nothing. Oh God, was it a truck? Damn those late night truckers and their blinding fog lights? *Fuckkkk...*
In a daze, I tried to stand on my own, but my legs wobbled like a newborn foal's, buckling beneath me. Another pair of hands caught my waist this time—gentle, careful, steadying me without a word.
"Thank you," I muttered, but what came out wasn't English. It twisted into something alien: *Rhri...* What? That wasn't my voice. My throat felt raw and hoarse, sure, but I *knew* my own timbre—deeper, rougher from years of late-night gaming sessions. This one was higher, smoother, almost... soothing? Youthful, like it belonged to a kid fresh out of puberty.
Jolted fully awake now, I shook my head to clear the cobwebs and turned to face my rescuers. My jaw dropped. They weren't just cosplayers—they were a whole damn ensemble straight out of a comic book. Beautiful ones, too, their outfits gleaming with impossible realism under the strange, ethereal light. The man who'd held me wore a red and blue suit with a flowing cape, like Superman crossed with something ancient and brutal. Beside him stood others: one in a flowing Dark black-armored suit emblazoned with an bold bat symbol, another in shimmering blue with a flowing skirt—Supergirl, if I wasn't losing my mind.
*Did I crash near a Comic-Con?* I thought, a hysterical chuckle bubbling up. *Heh, fake Justice League saves the day. Cross that off the bucket list.* But the laughter died fast.
The girl cosplaying as Supergirl lunged forward without warning, wrapping me in a tight hug that squeezed the air from my lungs. "Woahh!!! Easy there—I just got into an accident, don't crush whatever's left of me—" Wait. Why was *I* speaking gibberish? And why could I understand her identical gibberish perfectly? "Thank God, thank God you're alright!" she gushed, her voice warm and relieved, eyes shining with unshed tears.
My brain short-circuited. The ringing in my ears muffled their words as the Batman-lookalike stepped forward with a deep frown, murmuring urgently to the Superman-type. Something about unknown variable or threats—I couldn't catch it all through the haze. But one sensation cut through sharp and confusing: my crotch felt cramped, unusually so. *When did my junior get this... upgraded?* Chuckling nervously to myself, I glanced down.
Dumbfounded didn't cover it. This wasn't my jeans and hoodie from the drive home. I was clad in a skintight black leather suit that hugged every contour like a second skin, reinforced with strange metallic weaves that hummed faintly against my flesh. And emblazoned on my chest? A symbol like Superman's *S*, but twisted into a jagged circle pierced by spikes and rods forming a brutal *X*. It pulsed with an inner glow, warm against my skin. *What the actual fuck is going on?*
Stumbling back a step, I turned to the Supergirl girl. "Hey? Where am I? Why am I wearing—" The questions jammed in my throat as full realization slammed home. She was shorter than me, had to be—yet her head rested level with mine, her arms locked around my shoulders in that hug. No way she was tall enough unless...
I froze. She wasn't standing. She was *floating*, hovering mid-air with casual grace, her cape fluttering in a breeze that didn't touch the ground. Her eyes met mine, wide and earnest, as reality cracked wide open. This wasn't a con. This wasn't a dream. Wherever I was, it was real—and I wasn't me anymore.
***