"Get down here!"
The shout cracked through the air on 39th Street between Ninth and Tenth Avenue, slicing through the city noise like a blade. A white-and-blue Chevrolet patrol car screeched to a halt, the bold "NYPD" lettering stark against its side, and two overweight officers climbed out in unison, their black uniforms stretched tight across their frames.
One of them, a white officer with a flushed face and sharp eyes, yanked a young man out of the back seat. He shoved him forward with a rough grip, his voice dripping with contempt as he sneered, "This is where you belong."
The young man steadied himself, his expression turning ice-cold as he shot back, "You smell like garbage."
The insult landed hard, and the officer's face twisted with irritation. Without hesitation, he drove a fist into the young man's abdomen, the impact forcing him to double over as pain exploded through his body. Air fled his lungs in a ragged gasp, and for a moment, the world spun in dizzying circles.
Beside them, the second officer—a black man with a lazy grin—watched the scene unfold with clear amusement. He crossed his arms and chuckled. "Alright, Jaden, leave him here," he said casually. "This is Hell's Kitchen. He won't last ten days."
Gritting his teeth, the young man forced himself upright again, ignoring the burning agony in his ribs. He raised his middle finger toward the officer, his voice hoarse but defiant. "Go to hell."
The grin vanished instantly. The officer's expression darkened, and his hand dropped toward the pistol at his waist, fingers curling around the grip as anger surged. "Say that again," he snapped, his voice low and dangerous.
Before things could escalate further, the white officer—Jaden—let out a short laugh. He stepped in, placing a hand on his partner's shoulder and pushing him back toward the car. "Easy, Isaac. Not here," he said, his tone casual but firm. "Too many eyes."
Isaac spat to the side, clearly unwilling to let it go, but he allowed himself to be shoved into the passenger seat. The tension lingered in the air like a coiled spring, but the moment passed.
Jaden turned his attention back to the young man, studying him in silence for a few seconds. His gaze was sharp, almost predatory, as if he wanted to memorize every detail of his face. Then, just before getting into the driver's seat, a cruel smile spread across his lips.
"I've got my eyes on you," he said softly. "Step outside Hell's Kitchen, and I'll make sure you never leave it again."
The patrol car roared to life and sped off, leaving behind the echo of its engine and the faint smell of exhaust.
The young man remained half-crouched where he had been thrown, his body trembling from pain and exhaustion. Around him, pedestrians walked past without a second glance, their faces indifferent as they stepped around him like he was just another piece of trash on the street.
Time dragged on, and eventually, he pushed himself upright. His gaze drifted across the worn-down streets, taking in the chaotic mix of people—black, white, brown—moving through the city without noticing him.
His mind felt blank.
Numb.
His name was Rex Viper.
In his previous life, he had been someone else entirely, a man named Wang Wei, an ordinary office worker drifting through life with no direction. He had been over thirty, stuck in a cycle of mediocrity, chasing a future that never seemed to arrive.
After wasting a decade in a big city, he had returned home with nothing but regrets. His thoughts still clung to the reckless dreams of youth, but his reality was far less forgiving. His wallet was empty, his prospects nonexistent.
Desperation had driven him to try writing, clinging to the faint hope that he could carve out something for himself. The result had been a crushing failure. His daily income barely scraped together a few dollars, and the only readers who stuck around were the kind who tore his work apart line by line.
That night, he had been typing furiously, arguing with a particularly sharp-tongued commenter deep into the early hours. His chest had tightened, his throat clogged, and no matter how he tried to swallow, he couldn't clear it.
Then everything went black.
The last thought that had crossed his mind had been pure panic, a desperate promise echoing through the void.
When he opened his eyes again, everything had changed.
He had become someone else—a young, homeless man stranded in New York City, with no money, no shelter, and barely any memories to cling to. The only thing he had retained was his fluency in English, a small mercy in an otherwise cruel situation.
Loneliness pressed down on him like a weight.
Fear lingered in every corner of his mind.
If he had been given a choice, he would have rather stayed dead than wake up here.
With nowhere to go and a face that stood out even among the chaos of the city, he quickly became a target. Trouble found him faster than he could even process what was happening.
A group of ragged homeless men had approached him earlier, their eyes unfocused, their movements erratic. One of them, a middle-aged man with unkempt hair and a blemished face, had gotten far too close, pressing against him in a way that made his skin crawl.
That had been the breaking point.
Rex had lashed out without hesitation, fists flying in a blur as pent-up frustration exploded outward. The man had gone down hard, unable to defend himself against the sudden assault.
And that was when the police had shown up.
The crowd had scattered instantly, leaving the injured man sprawled on the ground. Rex had understood the situation well enough—this wasn't a place where you argued with authority and walked away clean.
So he had cooperated.
At first.
But when Jaden had twisted his arms behind his back and started spitting insults, something inside him had snapped. All the frustration from his past life, all the humiliation and helplessness, had boiled over in an instant.
If he had to live like this, then what was the point of holding back?
The result had been predictable.
A brief moment of satisfaction, followed by a brutal beating and being dumped in Hell's Kitchen like discarded trash.
Rex exhaled slowly, his gaze drifting upward as the reality of his situation settled in.
Then he saw it.
In the distance, rising above the skyline, a towering building gleamed under the sunlight. The name emblazoned across it was unmistakable.
Stark Industries.
His breath caught.
For a moment, he thought he was hallucinating, but the building remained, solid and undeniable.
"...You've got to be kidding me," he muttered under his breath.
This wasn't just New York.
This was the Marvel Universe.
He had already accepted the lack of money, the homelessness, even the fact that he had been beaten half to death by corrupt cops. But this?
This was on another level entirely.
"Why not just kill me instead?" he said bitterly, dragging a hand through his hair. "Would've saved a lot of trouble."
The thought lingered for a while, heavy and suffocating.
Then, suddenly, something clicked.
His eyes lit up as he turned toward the east, his expression shifting as a wild idea took hold.
"Hey… Ancient One," he muttered, his voice uncertain but hopeful. "We're basically neighbors, right? Any chance you could send me back?"
He paused, waiting.
Silence.
No portals. No mystical energy. Nothing.
His shoulders slumped.
"Yeah… figured," he muttered, the brief spark of hope fading just as quickly as it had appeared.
With a tired sigh, he staggered toward a nearby alley. The stench of garbage hit him immediately, but he barely reacted as he lowered himself against the wall beside an overflowing trash can.
Pain flared through his chest as he pressed a hand against his ribs. Even a light touch sent sharp spikes of agony through his body, and he grimaced.
"Great… probably broken," he muttered.
Leaning back, he tilted his head up, staring at the strip of sky visible between the buildings. His mind drifted, thoughts spiraling toward darker possibilities.
If things didn't improve, he might not last long enough to even think about revenge.
A bitter smile tugged at his lips.
Maybe he'd just starve for a few days, and if that didn't work, he'd find something more… decisive. Chemical waste, radiation—hell, in a world like this, there were plenty of ways to die.
Then, just as his thoughts reached their lowest point, a voice echoed in his mind.
[The Ultimate Evolution Module has been loaded.]
His eyes snapped open.
For a split second, he thought he was imagining things.
Then the realization hit.
"Finally…" he whispered, a spark of excitement cutting through the haze of pain.
A translucent interface appeared before him, its contents sharp and clear.
[Name: Rex ViperAge: 22Bloodline: HumanCondition: Minor injuries, fractured right 7th rib, fractured left 11th rib, slight pulmonary bleeding
Strength: 5 (average human: 5)Speed: 5 (average human: 5)Defense: 5 (average human: 5)Constitution: 5 (average human: 5)Spirit: 8 (average human: 5)
Technology: NoneAbility: NoneItems: None
Instance: UnlockedAlternate Universe: Unlocked
Iron-Level Prey: 0/1]
A faint chime followed, crisp and mechanical.
[Ding. Host condition detected. Initial privilege granted (one-time only).Initial Privileges: Mission Package Upgrade, Double Rewards.]