New York, United States - June 1970
If someone had told Mateo a month ago that he'd be spending his days staring at a mobile with teddy bears spinning around above his head while he pooped a diaper, he would have laughed in their face and told them to go to hell. But here he was, living that exact shitty reality.
Being a baby with the consciousness of a thirty-year-old adult was, in short, an existential torture that smelled of talcum powder.
"Day fifteen of this nightmare," thought Matthew-who-still-felt-like-Matthew as his mother changed him for the fifth time that day. "I've discovered that dignity is a concept that goes to hell the moment someone else has to wipe your ass. I've also discovered that babies poop every two hours like they're industrial shit-making machines. Why doesn't anyone talk about this in movies?"
Elizabeth Harkness, his new mother, smiled at him as she changed his diaper. She was a beautiful woman, about twenty-five years old, a natural blonde with green eyes that held a glint of intelligence that Mateo recognized. She was a literature professor at some university; he'd overheard her talking to her husband.
"At least I was reincarnated into a family that doesn't look poor," Mateo consoled himself as he looked around the room. It was spacious, bright, with expensive-looking wooden furniture. "Nothing like the two-room apartment in Caballito where I used to live. Although I miss that dump, damn it. I miss being able to walk, talk, eat something other than milk... Did I mention I miss talking?"
The worst part was not being able to communicate. I had thirty years of experience, memories, knowledge... and all I could do was cry, shit, and drool. It was like having a Ferrari with flat tires.
"What if I try to talk?" she suddenly thought, getting excited. "I mean, I have vocal cords. Technically I should be able to..."
She opened her mouth and tried to articulate: "Ma... ma..."
What came out was: "Guaaaa gugu maaa."
Elizabeth almost fell over from excitement.
—Oh my God, Richard ! Richard, eat here! He's trying to talk! —he shouted towards the door.
"No, you idiot, I'm not trying to talk about babies, I'm trying to talk about REAL things," Mateo thought, frustrated.
Richard Harkness rushed into the room. He was a tall man with glasses, who looked like an intellectual. He worked as a researcher in something related to physics; Mateo had gathered that from their conversations.
"Did he say something?" he asked excitedly.
—He said 'mama' ! I'm sure of it!
"I didn't say shit. My thirty-year-old brain wanted to say 'mom' but my baby mouth said 'waa waa' like an idiot."
But her parents were euphoric, taking pictures, noting the date in a notebook. "First word," Elizabeth wrote in perfect handwriting.
Mateo sighed inwardly. This was going to be a long process.
Three months later - September 1970
The reality of his situation hit him like a kick from Seiya in God Cloth mode: it was 1970. Nineteen seventy. Pre-internet, pre-cell phones, pre-EVERYTHING that made life even remotely tolerable.
He had discovered it when his father was reading the newspaper. "The New York Times - September 3, 1970".
"Nineteen seventy... holy shit. That means I'm fifty-three years in the past. Although for me it's the past, for this timeline it's the present. Shit, time travel confuses me even when I'm actually experiencing it."
But there was something else. Something that had been bothering him since he was born.
The newspapers mentioned strange things. "Stark Industries announces new defense contract." "Rumors of enhanced individuals in Hell's Kitchen." "Dr. Reed Richards' latest expedition."
Stark. Richards. Enhanced individuals.
"One moment..."
Mateo's heart (or Matthew, as they called him now) began to beat faster.
"Stark Industries? Reed Richards? No way. No... you've got to be kidding me..."
The rattle fell out of his hand.
"I was reincarnated in the Marvel universe. I was reincarnated in the FUCKING MARVEL UNIVERSE."
If he could have screamed, he would have. If he could have run around in circles like a madman, he would have. But all he could do was lie there in his playpen, his eyes wide with shock.
"Marvel. Marvel Universe. That means... that means that in a few years Spider-Man is going to appear. The X-Men probably already exist. The Fantastic Four too. And if we're in 1970... Stark Industries exists, so Howard Stark is alive, which means that Tony Stark is going to be born soon or has already been born."
His brain was racing.
"What about the Avengers? Thanos? The Infinity Stone? HOLY SHIT, I'M GOING TO BE ALIVE WHEN THANOS SNAPES!"
The existential panic lasted approximately ten seconds, until another realization hit him.
"Wait. Hold on. If I'm in Marvel... and I have my memories... that means I know the future. I know everything that's going to happen. I know who's who under the masks. I know where the Infinity Stones are. I know..."
It stopped.
"I know how to become powerful."
A smile appeared on his baby face, which made Elizabeth look at him tenderly from across the room.
"Son of a bitch," Mateo thought, getting excited, "I reincarnated in the perfect universe. With perfect knowledge. And if I also have some Saint Seiya power like I thought before slapping her..."
She closed her eyes and tried to feel something. Anything. Cosmos. Energy. Whatever.
Nothing.
"Well, maybe the powers come later. In anime, they always awaken when the protagonist grows up or is in danger. Yes. That makes sense."
But still, I was at Marvel. That was enough.
"Okay, Matthew Mateo Díaz Pérez Harkness, you need a plan. A master plan. Because if there's one thing I learned from Saint Seiya, it's that the gods are treacherous sons of bitches, and if there's one thing I learned from Marvel, it's that the universe is constantly on the brink of apocalypse."
He stood there thinking, staring at the ceiling of his room.
"First: grow up without drawing too much attention. I have to look like a normal kid until I can control whatever it is I have."
"Second: train. Mentally and physically. As soon as I can walk, I'm going to start exercising. I'm not going to be a weakling."
"Third: study everything about this universe. Science, magic, technology. If I'm going to play in the big leagues, I need to be prepared."
"Fourth: to figure out what the hell happened to me. Why did I reincarnate? Who sent me here? And why do I have the feeling that there is something more to me, something that is dormant?"
"And fifth..." his thoughts grew darker, more serious. "Fifth: prepare for my revenge. The Olympian gods. Those bastards in Saint Seiya who are always messing with us, manipulating us, screwing over humans. If I have Hades' powers, if I AM Hades in some way... then I have a mission."
"But first, I have to survive being a baby without going crazy."
Six months later - March 1971
Matthew had discovered something fascinating: babies learn absurdly fast when they have an adult brain functioning at full capacity.
At eight months old, he could already crawl like a champion. His parents were incredibly proud.
At ten months old, she took her first steps. Elizabeth cried with emotion.
But what his parents didn't know was that Matthew was secretly practicing at night. When everyone was asleep, he would get out of his crib (with effort, but he managed) and practice walking, standing, and balancing. It was exhausting and frustrating, but every little bit of progress filled him with satisfaction.
"I'm like Rock Lee, training in secret," he thought as he fell on his butt for the tenth time that night. "Someday I'm going to be able to kick ass. Someday."
He had also started to talk. Well, he tried to talk. His vocabulary was limited to simple words: "Mom," "Dad," "water," "no." But internally, he was still thinking in Argentinian Spanish, swear words and all.
It was strange. He listened to English all day, but his inner monologue remained purely Argentinian. As if his original identity clung to him, refusing to disappear.
"Good for me," he thought one night as he gazed at the moon from his crib. "I'm not going to let this universe change me. I'm Argentinian until I die. Well, until my second death. Or third, who knows how this works."
But there was something else. Something that troubled him.
Lately, when he fell asleep, he had strange dreams. They weren't exactly nightmares, but they weren't normal dreams either.
She dreamed of darkness. A deep, infinite darkness that didn't inspire fear but... peace. As if it were her home.
I dreamed of voices, thousands of voices whispering in languages I shouldn't understand but somehow did.
And he dreamed of a figure. A tall silhouette, enveloped in black armor, with a presence that made him feel chills even in his dreams.
The figure never spoke, it only looked at him. And Matthew knew, with that certainty that only exists in dreams, that that figure was him. Or what he would be. Or what he had been.
He would wake up sweating, confused, with a racing heart.
"What the hell is happening to me?" he wondered. "Are these just dreams, or is it something more? Are my powers trying to awaken?"
I had no answers. I only had questions and a growing feeling that something big was about to happen.
Something that would change everything.
One night in April 1971
Matthew couldn't sleep. He was almost a year old (eleven months to be exact), and he was growing increasingly frustrated with his situation. He wanted to run, jump, actually talk, DO something.
She sat in her crib, looking out the window. The full moon shone brightly in the New York sky.
"Beautiful," he thought. "Athena was always associated with the moon in Saint Seiya. Artemis was the lunar goddess, but Athena also had that connection. And I... I am the opposite. The god of darkness, of the underworld, of..."
Suddenly, he felt something.
A tingling sensation. Small, almost imperceptible, but there.
It began in his chest, like a tiny spark, and spread to his limbs.
"That...?"
The tingling intensified. It became warmer. No, not warm. Cold. A cold that wasn't unpleasant, but... powerful.
Matthew looked at his hands. For a second, just a second, he saw something.
A faint glow. Dark but visible. Like shadows moving across her skin.
And then he disappeared.
"Don't mess with me..." she thought, her heart pounding with adrenaline. "Don't mess with me, don't mess with me, DON'T MESS WITH ME!"
He tried again. He closed his eyes, concentrated, and tried to feel that sensation once more.
Nothing.
"Come on, damn it. I felt it. I know I felt it."
He tried for ten minutes. Nothing.
Frustrated, he threw himself back in the crib.
"He was there. I swear he was there. My powers... are awakening."
A slow smile spread across her face.
"Hades. I am Hades. Or I'm going to be. Or something like that. I don't understand the technical details yet, but I don't give a damn. I have powers."
He looked up at the ceiling, his eyes shining with determination.
"Wait for me, Marvel universe. Wait for me, Olympian gods of Saint Seiya. Matthew Harkness, aka Mateo Díaz Pérez, River Plate fan and future Emperor of Darkness, is going to kick all your asses."
"But first," he yawned, the exhaustion of trying to use his powers bearing down on him, "I need a nap."
He fell asleep dreaming of black armor, a dark cosmos, and Gallardo's face when River won their next Libertadores Cup.
Because a god could conquer universes, but an Argentinian never abandons his team.
Priorities, after all.
END OF CHAPTER 2