The following night, under the bright city lights, Jon went looking for the city's secret world. His new Cloak of Subtle Weave, a quiet helper, wrapped around him. Its dark gray color made him seem to disappear into the shadows, making him a quick whisper in the night. With a practiced turn of his hands, he stepped into the Mirror Dimension. This special place, where everything looked like a reflection, no longer felt strange but like a part of his own magic.
His main goal was clear: get a real, legal identity. He had no papers, no past, no bank account, he was like a ghost in a world that needed proof you existed. He couldn't stay that way. To fix this, he needed a certain kind of criminal. Not just small-time bad guys, but someone with deep connections, like a spider in the city's dark web. This person could make things happen, stop questions, and create official papers out of nowhere. Maybe a super smart computer hacker, or a crime boss who paid off important people. The quickest way to find such a person was by using his Mind Reading. He remembered when he first learned this magic, it wasn't just about energy and portals, but also about looking into people's thoughts. It was a surprising discovery, a power he learned very quickly, and he was still amazed by how many ways he could use it. He needed to find a 'big shot,' someone whose criminal business was large enough to need these kinds of illegal services.
Hours passed as he hunted quietly. He floated through the mirrored city, like a ghost watching its secret pulse. His senses, made sharper by his Kamar-Taj training, reached out, looking for signs of too much security, or the faint, clear feeling of secrets being carefully guarded. He went through the shiny fronts of tall company buildings, their honest power very different from the old, broken factory areas and the maze-like alleys he now visited often.
Finally, after what felt like a very long search, he found them. Not one, but two places that practically screamed "top-level illegal activity" because of how incredibly tight their security was. These places weren't just hiding something, they were almost showing off about it.
The first was an old, empty warehouse, deep inside a lonely factory area by the water. From the Mirror Dimension, Jon could see blinking lights, hear faint, excited shouts, and the clear sound of many gambling chips. It was a huge illegal gambling place, so big it would make even the famous casinos in Las Vegas look small. It was protected by many hidden guards and subtle magical wards. "Definitely a big player here," Jon thought, a grim smile on his face.
The second place was more worrying: a large, plain chemical storage building on the edge of the city. Its security was like a spiderweb of lasers, motion sensors, and many armed guards. Inside, regular chemical barrels were stacked high, but the air around the place felt... heavy. Not just with the smell of chemicals, but with a strong feeling that something much more dangerous was being kept or handled there. "Could be anything from fake super-soldier serum to alien goo," he thought, a shiver going down his spine.
Both places were good targets. Both promised a "big shot" at the top, someone with the dark secrets and connections he needed. He just had to pick one.
Jon chose the gambling place first. It seemed like the easier way to find the shady connections he needed. He slipped inside, going through strong walls and laser grids like a very bored ghost. Once inside, he began to quietly use his telepathic magic on the crowd, looking for people who felt like they were in charge.
To his complete surprise, the 'bosses' were not the tough, scarred crime lords he had imagined from old movies. Instead, he found himself looking through the surprisingly everyday thoughts of well-dressed, seemingly respectable rich people, a bored stockbroker, a small city councilman, even a rich lady whose biggest worry was if her dog walker remembered the special dog food. Their minds were a messy mix of numbers, small deals, and a casual way of ignoring the law, but almost nothing about the deep, secret networks he was looking for. No whispers of big crime groups, no hints of Hydra. "Seriously? This is it?" he thought, feeling a wave of funny disappointment. "All this security for fancy card games and not paying taxes? My old world had better bad guys at the local shopping mall."
Feeling annoyed, Jon left the surprisingly uninteresting minds of the rich gamblers. He needed a different plan. Then, a name, a memory from his old world, popped into his mind: Obadiah Stane. He was still alive, still in charge of Stark Industries, and if Jon's broken memories were right, he had a history of dealings that went into truly dark places, even the Ten Rings. If anyone in this world had the keys to the illegal services Jon needed, it would be him.
Jon went towards Stark Tower, a shiny, proud needle poking the city's sky. Using the Mirror Dimension, he got past its strong security with almost too much ease, floating silently through walls and floors. He found Obadiah Stane in a high-level meeting. Obadiah's loud voice and confident way filled the room as he finished big deals. Jon waited patiently, a shadow among shadows, watching.
Finally, the meeting ended. Obadiah, a large, powerful man, started to walk back to his private office. This was Jon's chance. As Obadiah reached his door, Jon quietly put a thought into his mind: a sudden, strong, and rather urgent need to use the bathroom. Obadiah paused, a faint frown on his face as if arguing with an invisible bladder, then, with a sigh, changed direction, heading for the private executive bathroom just down the hall.
The moment Obadiah closed the bathroom door behind him, Jon acted. He went through the wall, appearing silently inside. Before Stane could even feel a cold breeze, Jon gently placed his hand on the man's head, starting his telepathic magic. Obadiah's eyes became still, his big body froze, his mind stopped. Jon began to sort through the rush of thoughts, like a digital librarian going through a broken computer, looking for the information he wanted.
He found it: a huge, complicated network of secret deals with important people in different governments, scientists willing to do bad things for a lot of money, and a hidden list of 'fixers' and 'helpers' who were good at providing untraceable services, including making perfectly legal, unquestionable identities. He also found other, equally interesting and disturbing things: details of illegal weapon sales, detailed plans for spying on other companies, and a deep, boiling anger for Tony Stark. "Oh, the drama," Jon thought, a small bit of dark amusement escaping him among all the information. "Still a mean boss, even in this universe." He took it all in, carefully pulling out the names, places, and ways he needed.
Once he had everything, Jon carefully took his hand away, leaving Obadiah Stane exactly as he found him, completely unaware of what had happened. Jon then slipped back into the Mirror Dimension, leaving Stark Tower as quietly as he had arrived. His next stop was clear: the secret stashes of money and resources he'd just found out about from Obadiah and the other rich people. His plans were finally starting to happen.
Over the next few nights, Jon went on a quiet, careful "stealing spree." He wasn't taking from helpless or innocent people, his targets were the "bad-hearted villains" whose illegal dealings he'd found in Obadiah Stane's mind and the minds of the other rich people. Using the Mirror Dimension and the Cloak of Subtle Weave, he was an unseen ghost, going through strong walls and getting past advanced security systems. He moved with the carefulness of a doctor, finding hidden safes, secret compartments, and piles of illegally gained money, gold, jewels, and other valuable things.
Each time he successfully took a briefcase full of unmarked money, a bag of sparkling jewels, or a flash drive with secret financial information, it gave him a grim satisfaction. He wasn't just stealing, he was moving resources around, taking from those who got rich from bad things to pay for his own, arguably better, plans. He was a 'good-hearted villain,' as he thought with a wry smile, using the tools of darkness for a brighter, though self-serving, future.
As the piles of cash and valuable information grew in his temporary, magically hidden hideout, a new problem started to appear. "This is tiring," he thought, looking at the bulging bags of money. "If only I had some subspace magic." Kamar-Taj, he knew, had old books and advanced ways to store things in other dimensions. But learning them would take a long time, needing years of hard study and deep spiritual growth. It wasn't something a beginner could learn overnight, certainly not something he could learn in a few short months. He needed something right now, something practical. "Maybe I should just buy a bigger bag," he thought, feeling a bit annoyed.
Shaking off the quick annoyance, Jon focused on the next part of his plan. He had the money now, and the contacts for his identity. His immediate need was to leave the country. He went towards the city's big commercial port, a huge area with cargo ships, tall cranes, and the constant sound of world trade. He had learned from Obadiah's mind that certain less-than-honest cargo operators allowed secret individuals to travel, no questions asked, as long as they paid enough. It was a simple deal: money for a ride. No identity checks, no complicated papers, no digital trails. It was exactly what he needed, even if it felt a bit like something from a spy movie.
The air at the port was thick with the smell of salt, diesel, and faraway lands. Huge containers stood like metal mountains, casting long, geometric shadows. Jon found the specific cargo ship he'd picked, an old ship named the 'Odessa Star,' going to a port near Sokovia. "A long way to go for a fresh start," he thought, understanding the irony. It was a complicated trip across oceans, but it worked. With the money safe and the path clear, his next chapter was about to begin.
The journey across the ocean was calm but boring. Jon spent most of his time in the small, dimly lit cargo hold. The steady rumble of the ship's engines was always there. The Cloak of Subtle Weave kept him warm from the cold sea air, and its ability to blend in allowed him to move around the ship mostly unnoticed when he needed to. He ate the small amounts of food he'd brought, adding to it with what he could quietly get from the ship's kitchen using his stealth. He also spent hours carefully reading the secret information he'd taken, memorizing names, connections, and the complicated web of bad dealings that would soon be his way into this world's dark side.
After ten days, he leaned against the cold metal railing. The salty wind whipped his cloak around him. "Was taking the ship really necessary?" he thought. He could have easily made a magic portal to Sokovia, a quick, easy jump. But he hadn't. He needed this time, this slow, careful journey, to himself. He needed to think, to plan, to truly decide his next moves without the constant demands of training or the watchful eyes of Kamar-Taj.
His mind kept thinking about Wanda and Pietro. He wanted them on his side, knew how powerful they could be, how important they would be in the future. But he also knew their story, their deep sadness, their burning anger and wish for revenge. He wouldn't make fake promises, wouldn't use their pain just to bring them to his side. He still didn't have specific, current information about them where they were, what they were doing right now in this timeline. He had seen their faces in the Eye of Agamotto, but that was a glimpse of a possible future, not where they were right now. This trip to Sokovia, at least, would solve his immediate identity problem.
His plan for the identity was complicated, a web of lies meant to be untraceable, yet perfectly real on the surface. He would use the contacts from Obadiah Stane's mind to find bad local officials and authorities in Sokovia. Through them, he would find the records of someone who had recently died, someone who looked like him, who hadn't yet been officially recorded as dead. This 'dead man' would be his ghost. A one of the 'fixers' Obadiah knew, would then use this stolen identity as a base, putting it into government systems, creating a fake trail that, if anyone ever looked deep enough, would lead them to a made-up past, a perfectly believable life instead of Jon's true, impossible origin.
But before he could contact the hacker, he needed to get the first papers sorted out here in Sokovia. And, more importantly, he needed to find Wanda and Pietro. He remembered the army officials he'd seen in Obadiah's mind, some with quiet, almost hidden connections to darker, more extreme groups. If the twins were involved in any experiments, any radical ideas, it would be through them. He would use his telepathy to search through those army minds, looking for any hint of a hidden Hydra base, any whisper of super-soldier programs, any clue that would lead him to the Maximoff twins.
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