At a nearby park, Joe, Kyle, and Charles stopped to discuss their options. As soon as Joe lit up one of his last remaining cigarettes, the discussion began in earnest.
"Well, at least we know where we are now," Joe began. "This is obviously the Marvel Universe." His companions nodded, and Joe continued. "The question, now, is how the hell we get home."
Charles shrugged. "Maybe we don't need to get home right away. It might be neat to look around here for awhile."
Joe shook his head. "No way. We've got no friends but each other, no family, no jobs, no money, no place to live. And besides- the one dating prospect I've got in the whole universe is a jerk, and he lives in Canada! Maybe once we find a way back, we can visit. But for now, we've got to get home."
Kyle picked it up from there. "Dr. Strange?" he suggested.
"Not a bad idea," Joe said. "We just have to find him."
"My first thought was Reed Richards," said Charles.
"Funny, I was thinking we should look up She-Hulk." Charles and Kyle turned to look at Joe. "Since we know we're in a comic book, and she knows she's in a comic book, I figured she'd be a good place to start."
"Well," said Charles, hesitant to strike down what might have been an excellent suggestion, "She might believe us, but she probably can't get us home."
"True," said Joe, further considering the idea he'd just proposed. "I guess all she really does is talk outside the fourth wall, and we can do that just as easily." He stopped to consider the implications of that fact, then pressed on. "In fact, we're doing it now. And we're still here. Which means that whoever is reading this comic book isn't doing anything to help us."
"Or can't do anything to help us," said Kyle. "I mean, if you wanted to rescue She-Hulk, how would you do it?"
Charles, ever the voice of twisted reason, spoke again. "And that's assuming we're even in a comic book. Lots of people in the Marvel Universe don't get published."
"So that's it!" said Joe, his eyes lighting up. "All we have to do is get our own comic book, then we can get out of here!"
"No," said Kyle. "Then we can get word to the outside that this is where we are. That still doesn't get us home."
"Right," said Joe, deflating. "So I guess our next step is to find Reed Richards. Or Dr. Strange."
"How?" asked Charles. "Our cars, our families, our homes, and our checking accounts are all back in the other universe. I have $27 in cash on me. Do we have anything else of value?"
Joe counted the money in his wallet. "I have $6."
"And I have $12. That's forty-five dollars. I guess that's all we've got."
"Well, that and my spiffy new hypno-jacket. But not only is that not as good as 'real' mind-control, it also is not the sort of thing I'd like to use, if we can help it."
"There is one other thing we have of value," said Charles. "Information. We know the names and origins of nearly every super hero here. We know the X-Men exist, and we know their home address."
"1407 Graymalkin Lane," Joe rattled off.
"Right. So that's got to be of some use."
"And my mother said that reading comics was a waste of time."
Kyle spoke up again. "I think we should also figure out how we got here. I mean, obviously we weren't pulled away as part of some fiendish plot, since there aren't any villains here. We're back in Indianapolis, right where we started."
"Could we drop in on the Great Lakes Avengers?" asked Charles.
"They're the Lightning Rods now," Joe reminded him. "And they're in New York. The Thunderbolts are in Denver, and so is Spider-Woman. I think maybe there are some two-bit heroes hanging around in Chicago, but I'm not real sure. Switchback, if she exists in this reality, would be in Detroit, but I have no idea how to find her. I think the only thing that ever happened in Indy was the Age of Apocalypse bit. And with no vehicle or even much money, I don't know how we're going to get anywhere else."
"We could go to the police," suggested Charles.
"But we don't have an identity here!" Joe cautioned.
"Right. So maybe they'll hold us for questioning, and if we ask to speak to the Avengers, maybe they'll get word out that way."
Joe hummed nervously. "But what if they don't? Then we're really stuck. No, I think we should avoid the cops, for now."
"Then what are we going to do?" asked Kyle.
The three guys sat down, and turned to their own thoughts. After a few minutes, none of them had come up with any good ideas. But then, it no longer mattered.
* * *
The three friends- Charles, Kyle, and Joe- were still puzzling over how to resolve their unusual predicament when the air began to shimmer in front of them. Suddenly, a crack in the very fabric of time appeared in front of the trio, other-worldly light spilling from it. [Perhaps this would be a good time to explain exactly how the fabric of time works. If the fabric of time were to made into, say, a sweater, the tag would read 'Delicates,' and the instructions would say 'Dry Clean only.' Most of the residents of any given dimension, including all three of our heroes, would be analogous to a tiny dust mite, bouncing happily along in the middle of this sweater. Some people (including Dr. Strange, Legion, and a whole host of Cosmic Powers), though, might be compared to dust mites with a pair of really big scissors. Thus, they are able to move through time and space with generally little regard for what those of us mortals would call the Laws of Reality. The gentleman our heroes are about to meet is one of those scissors-bearing dust mites.] A figure stepped from the newly-formed crack, which sealed itself nicely behind him. "Hello," the man said. "My name is Access. And you boys definitely don't belong here."
Access was not so much older than a boy himself, and certainly didn't look much like an adult. He wore closely-cropped blond hair, similar, in a way, to Joe's. In fact, to the casual observer, Access would probably look very much like he belonged with the three young men, what with his similar build and apparent age, not to mention his equally bizarre sense of fashion. Access wore a pair of blue and red pants with a matching shirt, and a blue jacket with red trim above all that. The outfit itself was not one Access was especially pleased with, but it was given to him at the same time he picked up the title "Man of Two Worlds." Or, more appropriately, "Cosmic Janitor." Access' job, such as it was, was to make sure that any person or thing which somehow became displaced from its rightful dimension was quickly sent back to where he, she, or it belonged. He was, in effect, precisely what our heroes needed.
Or so everyone thought. The second Access put his hand on Kyle's shoulder, everyone knew that something was wrong. Within seconds, Kyle and Access were zipping through time and space- to 2099, the Old West, the Microverse, the Sh'iar galaxy, the *ahem* Other Universe, and back- but never to Kyle's home dimension. After a few minutes of hopping every whichway, Access returned Kyle to the exact spot they'd left.
"I don't understand it," he said. "I can 'see' where it is you guys belong- sort of hazily, out of the corner of my eye- but no matter how hard I try, I can't get there. My powers don't seem to reach that far."
Joe nodded his head. "I think I know why. Why don't you pop off to Limbo or something while I chat with my friends here."
Access flashed Joe a "hey, buddy- I'm the Man of Two freakin' Worlds- you're not the boss of me" look, then popped off into nowhere.
"Access is a pretty cool character," Joe explained (redundantly, as it happened, but he did it anyway). "because he gets to move between comic book companies. But we're way beyond comic book company worlds. There's no way Access will ever be able to make it back to our world."
"But shouldn't that be true of Dr. Strange then, too?" Charles asked.
"Probably," Joe conceded. "But we might as well try, right?"
Everyone nodded, and a few seconds later, Access popped back in to the park. "All done with your little powwow?" he asked, sounding perhaps just a little slighted.
"As a matter of fact, we are," Joe returned. "And we need you to do us a favor."
Access sighed. He really was just a glorified interdimensional taxi service. "Where do you want to go?"
Joe grinned broadly, and told him. Access just shrugged, grabbed a hold of the three waylaid friends, and teleported them all to the Big Apple.