The apartment was small but not cramped. Just minimal, like what you would expect from someone living by themselves. Mike was sitting at his desk surrounded by paper.
Sketches covered every part of the desk, and character designs were taped to the walls. The bin next to him was overflowing with crumpled paper. This wasn't Sophist's work. No profiles or scenarios.
There were comic pages. Panels, speech bubbles and action sequences are all rendered in pencil and ink, with Mike hunched over a mid-finished page while muttering to himself.
His pencil moved across the paper with a natural finesse from years of experience. The figure began to shape itself with web lines coming from his wrists and then the distinctive outline of his mask. It was Spider-Man, swinging between buildings. Mike took a pause and looked at the panel.
He still thought about his life in his old world, where he was a comic writer. Now he was in a world where most of those characters he'd drawn most of his life were real, just like him.
But he was in the DC universe. All the characters from Marvel weren't even created, and their stories were ready to be told.
Mike continued to work for another hour, losing himself in his work. Eventually, he came to a stop and stared at his newly drawn page. Peter Parker was still standing, his mask torn and bleeding.
Mike pushed back from his desk and stretched. His apartment was divided into two sections. One was his life as Sophist and the other his personal life.
Mike stood between them with a coffee cup in his hand and looked at both sides. "Same job, really," he muttered to himself. He took a sip of his coffee before returning to his desk. His Sophist work could wait; he had a comic to finish.
By early afternoon Mike had finally completed his first issue, a standard twenty-four pages. He did everything by himself. He scanned each page, adjusting it and cleaning up stray marks.
He opened up his browser and navigated to an indie publishing platform. The kind of site anyone could publish their work on. He set up an account under the name Mike Hayes. A link to his past life now in this world.
He uploaded each page one by one before adding a cover image. He hesitated, his finger above the 'publish' button. He wanted this to succeed so his life could mean more than Sophist. So he can feel like himself again.
Mike pressed the button, and his comic went live. Out there in the world for other people to read. He smiled faintly at the screen.
Time passed by agonisingly slowly. Mike refreshed the page every few minutes and watched the view counter.
The number stayed at zero for a full hour, just a comic sitting in the digital void. Mike told himself he didn't care, that it was just a hobby. Something to pass the time. He refreshed again.
1 View.
His heart raced. It was ridiculous to him. He orchestrated terrorist attacks on the regular, but this made his heart race. This was different, though. It was all him, not Sophist.
He forced himself to walk away from the computer and made himself some fresh coffee. By the evening he had 23 views and one comment, which Mike clicked on with an embarrassing eagerness.
User: RedRiot87
"Really liked the dialogue here. Peter feels more real than most main characters I've read on this site. When's part 2?"
Mike stared at the comment. Someone liked his work and wanted more.
It was a small thing, but after months of just existing as Sophist it was a breath of fresh air. He felt peace again. He typed a response.
"Thanks! Part 2 coming soon. Glad you enjoyed it."
It felt good. To be a writer again and to talk to a reader.
Night fell, and Mike sat by the window, looking down out at the city. Somewhere Batman was probably dealing with a lunatic, and Mike couldn't help but be thankful the entity set him up in Gotham or Metropolis. But there he was, excited twenty-three people read his comic.
In his old world, comics were his career and his passion. His identity. He didn't ask for this or want this. He wasn't really given a choice: either let everything die or don't. He was forced to become someone he wasn't.
Mike picked up his sketchbook, flipping to the next page, and started to draw the next part.
As Mike sketched, he found himself working on a particular scene. Peter was beaten badly by the Shocker, and his costume was torn along with his broken ribs. He should stay down and should quit. But he would get up anyway.
Not because he wants to but because someone needs him to. Mike drew the panel carefully before pausing.
He looked at the panel and then looked towards his Sophist planning board with outlines of past scenarios.
They were the same story. Peter was fictional, but in this world the heroes were real, and so was their suffering. Mike chuckled to himself.
By the time Mike went to bed (3 AM), his comic had reached 47 views. It didn't go viral, but it was a start. It had reached five comments now, all positive. Someone even left a review giving him 4 stars.
Mike lay in bed, staring at his phone, reading the comments again.
User: WebWarrior23: "The part where Peter talks to Aunt May hit differently. More of this, please."
User: ComicsFan2024: "Art's a bit rough, but the writing is solid. Following."
Small victories. Just small acknowledgements from strangers online, but they mattered to him.
Mike sat his phone down. Tomorrow, he'd start writing the next chapter and design the next scenario for the Martian Manhunter.
Morning came too early, and Mike sat at his desk, a fresh cup of coffee in his hand. Every time he looked at his desk, it felt like the empty coffee cups multiplied.
He picked up a marker and made some notes for what he could do for Martian Manhunter in the next scenario before picking up a pencil.
Hours later, deep in the afternoon, Mike paused his work. His second issue was ready to be fully rendered. He looked at his computer and saw he had now reached sixty-three views.
Mike worked late into the night, switching between projects, and his focus shifted, and new ideas came to his head. Mike was surrounded by sketches for future works, real and fake, alone in the quiet hours before dawn.
It was nice to just be Mike again.