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Chapter 10: Fourth Wall Penetration
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It would remind him that he doesn't have time to pound something other than a punching bag. At least the latter makes him stronger.
The audience's chatter, a constant background hum in his consciousness, shifted in tone. The topic of his reality was becoming a point of fascination.
[Wait, hold up. The viewership counter just hit 1 million. For a show with zero marketing? This is insane.]
[It must be because of all the noise around it and all the lawsuits flying around.]
[My feed says this is the third 'episode'. How are they filming this? It's live!]
[Did you see the news? A couple of hours ago, Disney put out a statement. They have no part in this. They're calling it a major copyright violation.]
[No way. Someone in the comments said they contacted the 'actors'. The guy who plays Wolverine? He says he's never been on this set. They're all filing suits!]
[They're claiming it's all AI-generated. That's impossible. The acting, the cinematography… there's no way. This has to be a next-level marketing stunt by Disney.]
[But if it's a violation, why is it still up on Disney+? It's streaming live on their platform right alongside YouTube and Twitch!]
[And on like, every pirate site simultaneously. How is that even technically possible? This is getting weird.]
[It makes no sense.]
Adam landed a final, spinning kick that sent the bag swinging violently on its chain.
He stood there, chest heaving, sweat dripping onto the mat. He could feel the audience's confusion, their theories swirling.
It was time to plant a seed.
"Why are my imaginary friends talking about me as if I'm a movie character?" He mused aloud, tilting his head as if listening to a distant voice.
He then looked directly forward, his eyes seeming to pierce through the veil, making deliberate, unnerving eye contact with an unseen camera.
"My mental is acting up today, huh? That's enough violence for the day."
He turned and walked towards his bathroom, leaving a stunned silence in his wake.
[????????]
[Did he just…?]
[He looked right at me. He fucking looked right at me!]
[Okay, what the ACTUAL hell? This is a fourth-wall break! This has to be!]
[Is this a 'Truman Show' type thing? Is he in on it?]
[I'm not sure, but the timing is too good, no?]
Under the stream of hot water, Adam allowed himself a small, calculated smile.
Appearances were important, especially for someone whose progress was tied to being a compelling narrative.
He stood before the mirror again, examining his now-decent head of hair.
The mix of white and grey strands was striking, and it effectively hid the worst of the scalp scars.
Only the one on his neck, by his left eye, and a few on his hands remained visible. He looked… presentable.
He looked different; he'd say a good look for a main character.
He was piecing the system together. The [Information] panel was his interface.
The "imaginary friends" were the audience, the Observers. He had minor control over their perspective.
He could sense when the collective focus was on him. And he gained the precious resource; Information; from their observation.
He'd also discovered a trickle came from being observed by people in this world, too, like Jean or Wolverine, but it was a pittance compared to the torrent from the audience.
He could spend Information to achieve things. Awakening Cyberpathy had cost him his entire "Poor" reserve, resetting it to Zero.
The mechanism was still opaque, but it seemed to grant him powers based on the nature of the expenditure and his own latent potential, and likely, what the audience's observation.
The most fascinating puzzle, however, was the fourth wall. He had tried direct addresses before, but the message often felt filtered, diluted, as if some topics were restricted.
Now, free from Hydra's dampeners, he was learning the rules. He wanted to expand his influence, to get more Observers.
What better way to accelerate their discovery of the show's supernatural nature than with a little supernatural fourth-wall-breaking?
His stomach growled, pulling him from his thoughts. He bypassed the bustling cafeteria.
Sometimes, the act of creation; even something as simple as a meal; was its own therapy.
The process soothed his OCD, giving him a satisfying, completed task.
Today, his appetite demanded a chicken burrito. He savored the ritual: seasoning the chicken, chopping the fresh vegetables, warming the tortilla.
It was a small, perfect thing.
He assembled his masterpiece and carried it outside, seeking a quiet spot on the sprawling lawns to eat in the morning sun.
Before he could choose one, a voice called out to him.
"Adam! Over here!"
It was Anna. Rogue. She was sitting alone on a bench under a large oak tree, a textbook open but ignored on her lap.
She was one of the few other trainees in Wolverine's brutal sessions, a southern girl with a streak of white in her brown hair and a profound loneliness in her eyes.
But she does try to fit in.
Adam changed course without hesitation.
He sat down beside her, close enough for casual conversation, ignoring the wide berth other students usually gave her.
He had never once flinched away, never displayed a flicker of the fear that was most people's first and only reaction to her.
Her powers, after all, are extremely dangerous.
"Hey," He said, unwrapping his burrito. "Skipping the breakfast chaos?"
"Somethin' like that," She said, her accent soft.
She nodded at his food. "That looks a sight better than cafeteria scrambled eggs. You didn't make one for me?"
"Didn't know I was on breakfast duty," He replied, a smile touching his lips. "Next time. I'll even add extra guacamole. A southern belle like you probably appreciates good avocados."
She laughed, a real, unforced sound. "Silly. But I'm looking forward to it." She couldn't sense fear from him, ever.
Around her, most people were a cocktail of anxiety, pity, and caution.
Adam was just… Adam. A calm, attentive presence.
It was why she'd sought him out, why they'd become fast friends amidst the controlled chaos of training.
Their easy conversation flowed, a lovely, normal moment in a deeply abnormal life.
She complained about a physics test, he joked about Forge's impossible standards, and for a few minutes, the weight of the world lifted.
Good old human interactions.
A decade of no grass touching made such moments interesting.
It was shattered by a voice that was anything but friendly.
"Well, well. Look at this."
They both looked up.
A group of three older students was approaching, led by a boy with a sneer that seemed permanently etched onto his face.
He was broad-shouldered, with perfectly styled hair and an air of entitlement that clung to him like cheap cologne.
The boy's eyes, full of malicious curiosity, locked onto Adam, completely ignoring Rogue as if she were part of the scenery.
"So, you're the new charity case," He drawled. "I've been meaning to ask. Why does the new guy keep company with a freak?"
The boy's name was John, and the practiced cruelty in his sneer made it clear this was a familiar routine.
The air went cold. Anna stiffened beside him, her shoulders hunching slightly, a familiar shield of defensive resignation falling over her features.
It was a reflexive reaction born from a lifetime of being seen as a monster.
Her greatest fear in that moment was not John's words, but the possibility of seeing Adam's warm, accepting gaze turn cold and wary.
She put her head down, her body trembling with a quiet, desperate shame.
John, emboldened by her reaction and Adam's silence, pressed his advantage.
"Seriously, new guy, you should know who you're hanging with," He jeered, his cronies nodding along like sycophantic puppets.
"She's a real freak. Put her last boyfriend in a coma. Just by touchin' him."
Adam ignored the taunts, his mind briefly flickering through a catalog of Marvel lore.
This version of a fire-wielding bully didn't quite match the Pyro he vaguely recalled, but the multiverse was a messy, inconsistent place.
The details were irrelevant. He focused on John, his strange gaze sizing him up.
"So," Adam said, his voice cutting through John's vitriol with a calm response. "You're the Pyromancer?"
John stopped, his sneer faltering for a second. "Pyro…mancer?" He rolled the word on his tongue, and a spark of pleasure lit his eyes.
He liked it. He liked it a lot. "Yeah," He said, puffing out his chest. "That's me. You heard of me?"
Adam nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Heard a thing or two. The guy with the cool fire ability."
He gestured to the space on the bench beside him, a disarming, welcoming smile on his face. "Why don't you show me? I'm always interested in impressive powers."
[Wait, what is he doing? Is he seriously befriending the bully?]
[I'm... disappointed. I thought he was going to stand up for Rogue.]
[This is a weird turn. Why?]
[I believe. I don't think he would do that, considering his past.]
[I, too, believe!]