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Heads up :
This is a translated completed fanfiction, check synopsis to see original name if you want to find it.
I want to give some warning on this fanfic, this have offensive writing which has been edited and revised to reduce inflammatory content while retaining the core narrative.
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"Get out now!"
39th Street between 9th and 10th Avenues, New York City, United States of America.
A white and blue Chevrolet police cruiser with "NYPD" emblazoned on its side screeched to a halt. Two overweight officers stepped out—both wearing standard-issue black uniforms.
Officer Jenkins, roughly yanked a young Asian man from the back seat and shoved him toward the sidewalk. "Stay in this neighborhood where you belong!"
The man fixed him with an icy stare. "You reek of corruption, pig."
Jenkins scowled and delivered a savage punch to the man's abdomen, causing him to double over in pain.
Officer Isaac, standing nearby, watched with amusement. "Nice work, Jenkins. Just leave him here—this is Hell's Kitchen. He won't last ten days in this part of town!"
The Asian man straightened up with considerable effort and defiantly raised his middle finger toward Isaac. "Go back to writing parking tickets, you donut sniffing pig!" Jason had no intention of backing down.
"What did you just say to me, you little..."
Isaac's face contorted with rage as his hand instinctively moved toward the pistol at his waist, ready to escalate the situation dangerously.
This time, Jenkins was the one smirking.
He stopped his partner, pushing him back toward the cruiser. "Isaac, cool it. Too many witnesses around. You can't do this here."
Isaac spat angrily before dropping into the passenger seat.
Jenkins lingered, eyes fixed on the Asian man as if committing his face to memory.
Before driving away, his eyes gleamed with malice. "Listen closely. I've got my eye on you. The moment you try to leave Hell's Kitchen, I'll personally drag you back here until this neighborhood becomes your grave!"
The police car roared away, leaving the Asian man half-crouched on the sidewalk.
Pedestrians passing by wore expressions of practiced indifference, carefully navigating around him without offering help.
After a long moment, he straightened up and gazed blankly at the dilapidated streets and the diverse crowd flowing around him—people of all colors and backgrounds forming the living tapestry of New York.
His name is Cohen "Jason" Wang. He is a transmigrator who had awakened in this reality just this morning. In this new world, he went by his American name Jason.
In his previous life, he had been an ordinary office worker, over 30 years old with nothing substantial to show for it.
After wasting a decade chasing dreams in a metropolitan city, he'd returned home with the mindset of a teenager and a wallet to match.
After more than a month of indecision, with his pantry completely bare, he'd turned to writing.
It had been a spectacular failure.
His daily income: six dollars and seventy-eight cents.
His only remaining readers: keyboard warriors with savage critiques.
One night at 2:30 AM, in the middle of a heated exchange with a particularly venomous commenter, disaster struck.
A sudden choking sensation. An inability to breathe. Trying once, twice to clear his throat.
Damn it.
As consciousness faded, a final terrified thought flashed through his mind: Mom, I promise I'll never argue with readers again!
When he opened his eyes again, he had transformed into a young, handsome, but homeless Asian man in the Big Apple.
Nothing remained of his former self.
Even the memories of this new body were fragmented and jumbled. The only skill he seemed to have retained was fluency in English.
Lonely. Helpless. Terrified. Iseakai'd into utter isolation!
All he wanted to say was—
If this is what transmigration means, you might as well have left me in my grave!
With nowhere to go and blessed with good looks, he quickly became an unwanted attraction on the streets of America.
As the saying goes, beauty often brings trouble.
His attractive appearance soon landed him in a predicament.
Several disheveled homeless individuals with vacant stares approached him.
One of them—a middle-aged man with narrow eyes, unkempt facial hair, and a prominent zit on his forehead—actually tried to grope him!
Hell no!
I was thirty-three in my previous life, twenty-two in this one, which makes me mentally over fifty, and I've never been touched inappropriately by anyone!
He immediately unleashed a flurry of punches, knocking his assailant flat on the ground.
That's when the two corrupt officers arrived on the scene.
The crowd dispersed quickly, leaving the unconscious man with the forehead zit lying motionless on the pavement.
Jason, aware of law enforcement's significant authority, initially cooperated with the officers.
But when Jenkins twisted his arms behind his back and muttered a racist slur under his breath, something snapped.
Should I tolerate this?
I lived my past life as a humble, unremarkable person. After being reborn, do I have to endure the same treatment?
Was my rebirth pointless? The barefoot shouldn't fear those wearing shoes—it's just one life to live!
He launched into a passionate tirade: "Who do you think you're talking to? Look at yourself—with that bloated head and those ridiculous ears, your body stuffed with fast food, and that face that resembles a barnyard animal! People who know you might recognize you as human, but strangers would mistake you for livestock that escaped from someone's farm! Perhaps you should quit law enforcement and join a petting zoo instead! You'd be much happier surrounded by your intellectual equals!"
Jenkins stood stunned, his face flushing crimson as he pointed a trembling finger at Jason. "You, you..."
Before he could continue, Isaac lunged forward, grabbing Jason's collar. "How dare you speak to an officer like that?"
"Hmph!"
Jason turned away with contempt. "Go write some parking tickets, you badge-wielding tyrant! I'm addressing your superior."
"That's it..."
The consequence of his momentary verbal satisfaction was a thorough beating, followed by being dumped in this neighborhood.
When the officers mentioned "Hell's Kitchen," he initially thought he'd misheard.
But as he stood up and spotted the distinctive Stark Industries tower in the distance, reality hit him like a freight train.
Holy crap, I'm in the Marvel universe!
Who arranged this transmigration disaster?
I could tolerate being broke and homeless, I could handle being an undocumented resident, I could even endure police brutality—but the MARVEL world?
Why not just finish me off? How much effort would that take?
After the initial shock, something occurred to him. His eyes brightened as he looked eastward, mumbling under his breath.
"...Doctor Strange, Ancient One, anyone from the mystic arts... could you please send me back to my original world? Your reality is rather hazardous for ordinary folks like me... Hello? Anyone listening? My soul cries out for assistance!"
A moment of silence followed. The magical portal he hoped for failed to materialize.
Disappointment set in.
Exhaustion overwhelmed him.
Fighting through the pain in his chest, he limped toward the corner of an alley, wincing at the stench emanating from nearby dumpsters, and slumped down.
He gingerly touched his ribcage, feeling sharp pain. Probably a couple of fractured ribs.
Leaning against the wall, he gazed skyward with a heavy sigh.
Given his current predicament, revenge against those two corrupt officers seemed an impossible dream.
Just as he contemplated enduring hunger for a few days before seeking out some toxic waste or radioactive materials to end his misery, a voice suddenly resonated in his mind.
[The God Of Punishment System has been initialized.]
Finally! A system interface!
He eagerly accessed the system information.
[Name: Jason
Age: 22 years old
Bloodline: Human
Condition: Minor injuries, fractured right 7th rib, fractured left 11th rib, slight pulmonary haemorrhage
Strength: 5 (average human baseline: 5)
Speed: 5 (average human baseline: 5)
Defense: 5 (average human baseline: 5)
Constitution: 5 (average human baseline: 5)
Will: 8 (average human baseline: 5)
Technologies: None
Abilities: None
Items: None
Instance Status: Locked
Alternate Universe Access: Locked
Main task: Those who are guilty must be punished
Iron-tier Target: 0/1]
[Notification: Host status detected.
Initial privilege granted (one-time only).
Initial privileges: mission package upgrade, double rewards.]
A gleam of determination flashed in Jason's eyes. With this system, there was hope for justice after all!
{The author notes: This story's universe primarily follows the MCU films, with supplementary elements from TV series and comics. In case of conflicts, the author reserves final interpretative rights. Ha!}