[Anakin Skywalker – POV]
A week has passed since I arrived in this world, primitive, if it can even be called that.
Not because of their daily life. Their cities are filled with complex structures, lights, efficient technology. They have flying machines, mass communication systems, and something they call the internet, which contains as much knowledge as chaos. Even their art forms, films, music, series, intrigue me. They pour themselves into storytelling. Stories of war, love, hope.
But when it comes to space… they are limited.
They barely touched their Moon and still debate colonizing Mars, a neighboring planet, as if it were some distant feat. There are no hyperspace routes. No one has even left their own solar system. They live confined, gazing at the stars without ever touching them.
These past days, I have remained at the Avengers Compound, at Secretary Ross's recommendation. It might as well have been an order, but I took it as a useful pause. Not because I need his permission to move, but because I wanted to understand this place.
I have learned much.
The Avengers are different from the Jedi.
They have no connection to the Force. They do not feel it, do not understand it. They act out of conviction, out of personal values, not from a millennia-old code.
And yet I cannot dismiss them.
Captain America is more than a soldier. He is a symbol, yes, but also a man who chose to fight for something greater than his own life. I've seen the recordings: he leads without fear, without rage, without seeking glory. A man out of time, from what I've researched. Accidentally cryogenically frozen and awakened decades later.
Iron Man, Tony Stark, is harder to classify. He is not humble, nor does he pretend to be. But beneath all that metal, and that ego, there is a will of steel. During the battle against Loki, I saw how he was willing to sacrifice himself without hesitation. An act many Jedi would respect, even if he would never call himself a spiritual guardian.
Hulk, the giant of immeasurable strength, is currently missing. According to the information available online, he is a creature of uncontrollable rage… yet one who avoids harming innocents. A dangerous balance. Earth's people do not hold a favorable opinion of him. They fear him. Accuse him of being unstable, a monster who could level cities if he loses control.
Thor… he caught my attention.
An extraterrestrial, like me. Some call him a god. He has called himself one. I would simply call him from another world, with vastly different biology and culture. I have not seen him yet, but his history, his feats, his connection to lightning they suggest there is more in this galaxy than I first assumed.
Hawkeye is retired. An archer without powers, but with lethal precision and elite training.
Natasha Romanoff: silent, and cunning. Her movements are elegant, precise, almost like a dance. She speaks little, but observes everything. I can sense it. She is trained to survive. To distrust. And yet… I do not sense emptiness in her. There is a constant shadow of redemption around her.
Sam Wilson: a warrior with wings. No powers, but he fights as if he had them. Charismatic. Direct. He watches me with a certain doubt, I understand. I would do the same if someone fell from the sky claiming to be from another galaxy. But I do not sense hostility in him. He is loyal, to his ideals, to his friends.
And finally Wanda.
She is different.
I sense something in her. It is not the Force, but it resembles it. If I had to name it… I would say it leans toward the Dark.
Like a deep well fed by pain. By loss and wounds that never truly healed.
I have seen what happened in Sokovia.
The internet holds reports, news footage, videos, thousands of opinions. The battle against the being called Ultron. An artificial intelligence created by Iron Man himself, a reckless decision, without doubt, that turned against them, seeking to exterminate humanity. It was in that battle that Wanda fought for the first time as an Avenger.
And where her brother died.
The city floated.
Literally.
A landmass suspended in the sky, on the brink of collapse, with thousands of lives at risk. The Avengers stopped it, but not without consequences.
People talk. They accuse. They point fingers. They say the Avengers caused the tragedy. That they attracted destruction. That if they hadn't intervened, nothing would have happened.
The same was said of Hulk. Of New York. Of Washington.
They speak as if war comes with guarantees. As if the enemy announces itself before attacking. As if saving lives does not carry risk.
I know better.
I have been on the battlefield. I have seen people die, soldiers, innocents who didn't have time to run. I have felt the weight of every decision. At seventeen years old, I have had to leave bodies behind in order to save many more. Not because I wanted to. Not because it was easy. But because it is the bitter truth of war.
You cannot save everyone, unless you are a truly omnipotent God, as many cultures claim exists.
And anyone who says otherwise, has never stood in the middle of one.
That is why I do not share that condemnation. I do not accept it. The Avengers fought. They fought for this world when no one else could. They did it with everything they had. They made mistakes, yes. But only those who act can err. Only those who take risks can fail.
During this time, I also tried to repair my holotransmitter. If there is any chance of reestablishing a channel with Obi-Wan, I must take it. So far, nothing. Not even an echo from the galaxy I knew.
If I could restore contact with Obi-Wan, even the faintest signal, we could triangulate my position. If I could stabilize the frequency, even for an instant, I could send a pulse. A trace.
Obi-Wan would know what to look for. He has far more resources than I do here, stranded in this world. He could help me understand where I am or at least whether I am beyond the reach of any known map.
I am in another galaxy.
Not an exaggeration. Not a metaphor. Literally millions of light-years from everything I've ever known. From Coruscant. From the Jedi Temple. From the clones. From the skies I once crossed. From my mother. From my Master. From everything.
And yet, I am not desperate.
I am not consumed by sadness. Nor rage. Not even fear. It surprises me to admit it, but there is something comforting about this isolation. As if the universe has finally given me a pause.
A truce.
For the first time in a long while, the Jedi Council is not breathing down my neck. There are no missions. No orders. No battles. Just this planet, strange, unpredictable and fascinating.
And the Avengers, whom I am slowly getting to know, though I don't speak much with them.
Though I hate to admit it, I am not exactly the most sociable person.
Even in the Jedi Temple, I didn't have friends. At least, not in the way people here understand it, constant connection, talking about anything, trusting someone with your most foolish thoughts, laughing without being on guard. Among Padawans, there was camaraderie, of course. We trained together, ate together, studied in the same archives. But beyond that, I was different.
And not only because I was the "Chosen One"—which, by the way, I never asked to be, but because well, I was better than all of them. Faster. Stronger. More skilled.
Some of them knew it. Others felt it. And most of them hated it in silence.
They never said it openly, but it showed. The murmurs after training sessions. The looks whenever I spoke with a Master. The discomfort when I achieved in days what they had spent weeks struggling to accomplish.
They can't accept that someone is better, I used to think. It must sting the ego to know the new kid, the one who arrived late, the one who wasn't born in the Temple, had already surpassed them.
Not very Jedi thoughts, I admit.
But I don't blame them.
I blame my talent.
So, over time, I stopped trying to make them like me. I wasn't going to hide my ability to make them comfortable. Nor would I pretend I didn't know what I was worth. Why bother trying to befriend people who would rather see me stumble?
It was simpler to be alone. More efficient, even.
And after all, Jedi are not meant to form strong attachments.
Of course, I wasn't entirely alone.
With my Master, Obi-Wan, it was different.
Since I was nine years old, he has been the constant in my life. At first I followed him everywhere. Literally. During the first few months, I slept under his bed in our Temple quarters. Not out of fear. Not exactly.
It was to make sure he wouldn't leave. That he wouldn't abandon me.
I can't help feeling embarrassed when I think about what I did back then…
And he never pushed me away. Never cast me aside. He always had that patient, kind look.
He was there.
When I was angry. When I doubted. When I believed the world didn't understand me.
He was there.
Obi-Wan is not just my Master. He's more than that. I would never say it out loud, of course. But he is a father figure. An older brother. The only one who truly stood beside me at every step.
I miss him.
I even miss when he would lecture me about Jedi teachings, as if he genuinely believed I was listening. Though sometimes I was.
And yet, I don't feel entirely lost.
I suppose that, in some way, I still carry him with me. The lessons. The discipline. The silent looks that said more than a thousand words. His faith in me even when I didn't always deserve it.
"Enough. Stop thinking about this nonsense."
I sighed and paused the movie I was watching. Interstellar. I don't understand how this world has never left its own solar system, yet obsesses over telling stories about traveling through black holes, dimensions, and alternate realities.
I admit… it captivated me. Quite a bit. And that's saying something, I thought nothing on this planet could distract me more than repairing my holotransmitter.
I am slowly becoming a fan of this civilization's entertainment. Films, series, music, even those short videos that last seconds and say nothing at all. Fascinating and ridiculous at the same time.
I stood up and looked around.
My room at Avengers Headquarters is enormous. Luxurious. Equipped with every possible comfort: a soft bed, adjustable lighting, automatic climate control, a shower with an absurd number of useless buttons.
Very different from the Jedi Temple, where rooms were cold, functional, and uncomfortable. And that was if you were lucky. On missions… I've slept on rocks, in swamps, on the wing of a ship, without a pillow, with humidity, with snakes, with strange noises, with clones snoring two meters away.
Now I have Egyptian cotton sheets. At least, that's what someone named "Happy" told me. I'm not sure if that's a brand or a human.
I scanned the room with an expression I couldn't even decipher myself.
Does this violate Jedi principles about austerity and detachment?
I shrugged.
"Different galaxy," I muttered. "I'm being diplomatic."
I grabbed my cloak from the back of the chair, adjusted the saber at my belt, and stepped out of the room.
Time to stretch my legs.
I walked through the quiet corridors of Avengers Headquarters.
The compound is immense. It stretches across several hectares, equipped with advanced technology, hangars, laboratories, training areas. A military base disguised as a home for superheroes. All funded, of course, by Tony Stark's vast fortune.
I researched him. He truly is wealthy. By this world's standards, one of the richest. Owner of a technology corporation. Recognized genius. Weapons manufacturer… turned philanthropist. A contradictory profile, but very human.
I expected to find the usual routine: training sessions, reports, simulations. The rhythm had already become somewhat predictable.
But not today.
Usually, the ones who remain regularly at the compound are Steve, Natasha, Sam, Wanda and Vision. Tony isn't often here. From what I've gathered, he distanced himself somewhat from the team and no longer operates as a hero full-time. I assume Sokovia still weighs on him creating an artificial intelligence that nearly destroyed a city cannot be easy to live with.
But today, there was a new presence.
From the upper balcony of the east wing, I looked down at the outdoor training area.
And there she was.
A slender, agile figure in a tight white-and-black suit with pink web-like accents. Her face concealed behind a mask with large expressive eyes.
The one who had shouted indignantly that I was young too to speak of experience. The one who vanished between buildings when the police arrived.
And now she was here. At Avengers Headquarters.
I assumed they had brought her in as a precaution. A young vigilante, powerful, but untrained. A risk. It made sense that Steve and the others would intervene. After all, if I hadn't been at that greasy food establishment, the Lizard would have crushed civilians.
From the second-floor railing, I leaned forward and watched in silence.
Below, in the outdoor training area, Sam was giving instructions to Spider-Woman. Explaining stances. Attack patterns. Center-of-gravity adjustments.
She tried to follow, but it was obvious she was improvising.
She moved with energy, yes. She had good reflexes.
But no structure.
Like someone who had always fought alone.
Steve, Natasha, and Wanda were helping with the training as well.
Is this how they train their own? I wondered.
It wasn't like the Jedi Temple. There were no formal katas, no meditation sessions, no philosophical instruction. But there was something familiar in the air. Camaraderie. Patience. Repetition.
Spider-Woman missed a spin and rolled across the ground. She got up quickly, letting out a brief complaint and making a "I've got it, I've got it" gesture. Sam smiled. Natasha barely raised an eyebrow. Wanda crossed her arms, clearly entertained. Steve had the kind of patience that reminded me of my Master.
And then, Gwen's gaze lifted.
She saw me.
Her large, stylized white eyes behind the mask locked onto mine for a second. Maybe two.
Then, like a domino effect, the others noticed.
Steve raised his head, expression calm but attentive. Sam turned immediately, that ever-alert instinct of his kicking in. Natasha barely moved, just shifted her eyes enough to let me know she had seen me. Even Wanda looked at me as if she had known I was there long before I realized it myself.
I didn't know what to do.
I stayed still, as if that would somehow make them stop looking. I avoided meeting Wanda's eyes. Avoided looking uncomfortable.
I lifted my chin slightly, something between a greeting and an awkward attempt to pretend that watching from the shadows was perfectly normal.
I'm not exactly the most sociable person.
In this past week, I've barely spoken to them. I answered when asked, of course. But I preferred focusing on other things: understanding this culture, learning how their technology works, trying to repair the holotransmitter. Watching films. Studying their heroes' history. Understanding the world.
Conversation was not high on my list.
I didn't know how to fit in.
I didn't even know how to in my own galaxy.
For a brief moment, I felt the urge to turn around and keep walking. To disappear from the scene before this awkward silence stretched any further.
But I stayed. Not out of bravery.
Out of pride and a bit of stubbornness.
...
Read 10 chapters in advance on my patreon: [email protected]/SkyReaderff