Chapter 1: Death and Transmigration
[SYSTEM: Initializing...]
The popcorn smelled like butter and salt, a perfect companion to the rain-slicked window and the muted rumble of thunder. Adam Stiels, all twenty-four years of him, was a man of simple pleasures. A well-made latte, a perfectly executed prank on a coworker, and a late-night Marvel movie marathon. He was currently on a Captain America: The Winter Soldier binge, his mind buzzing with the kind of nerdy energy only a fan could appreciate. The screen glowed with the frantic energy of the highway chase, and Adam leaned back in his worn armchair, feeling a strange sense of contentment.
This is it. The good life. No heroic quests, no world-ending threats. Just me, my movies, and the sweet, sweet taste of freedom. And a killer gas bill, apparently.
A low hiss, barely audible over the movie's soundtrack, pulled him from his thoughts. He scrunched his nose, a hint of something acrid, not quite sulfur, hanging in the air. He glanced at the stove, but the pilot light was off. Then, the hiss grew louder, a frantic whisper of escaping gas. Panic, a cold, sharp thing, seized his chest. He fumbled for his phone, his fingers slick with butter, but the air was already thick, heavy.
A single spark from a faulty wire near the ceiling was all it took.
The world erupted. A brilliant, silent flash of white swallowed the room, the movie, and the very concept of "Adam Stiels." He felt a rush of heat, an unbearable pressure, and then… nothing. Just a falling sensation, a freefall through a cosmic void, with the faint echo of a voice that wasn't his own.
He woke up in a puddle of something that smelled suspiciously like expired coffee and regret. A narrow alley, reeking of damp garbage and urban despair, was his new reality. A weak streetlight cast a sickly yellow glow on the grimy brick walls, and the distant wail of a police siren pierced the night. He pushed himself up, his body feeling both alien and strangely familiar. It was his, but it wasn't. The scrawny, 18-year-old frame felt weak, uncoordinated, a far cry from the lanky, coffee-fueled barista he'd been moments before.
This is not how you wake up from a coma. This is how you wake up in a bad movie.
A low growl from the mouth of the alley made him freeze. Two hulking figures, their faces obscured by the shadows and a general air of menace, advanced on him. "Look what we have here," one of them sneered, a glint of metal in his hand. "A little stray."
Oh, come on. This is too on the nose.
The first thug lunged, a knife glinting under the pale light. Adam, operating on a mix of pure adrenaline and instinct, did the only thing he could. He feigned a trip, sprawling onto the wet pavement and sending the attacker over his back like a clumsy human ramp. The thug went down hard, his head hitting the pavement with a sickening thud. The second thug, taken aback, stumbled over his partner. Adam scrambled to his feet, a frantic energy coursing through him. He'd seen enough movies to know this wasn't the time for a witty one-liner.
A glowing, translucent text box shimmered into existence before his eyes, a stark, surreal contrast to the gritty alley.
[SYSTEM: Transmigration initiated...]
It was a cold, clinical font, with no emotion or personality. It was just there, floating in the air, a glowing digital intrusion into a very analog world.
This... this is it. It's real. The system, the transmigration, the whole shebang. And they didn't even give me a tutorial.
"What the hell is that?" the second thug grunted, pointing a shaky finger at the glowing box.
"My... my inner monologue?" Adam said, a grin spreading across his face despite the fear. "You've stumbled onto a very private moment."
The thug was not amused. He charged, but Adam was already in motion, ducking behind a row of overflowing garbage cans. He heard the clang as the thug's fist connected with the metal, and then the delightful sound of a dumpster lid rattling. He peeked over the top to see the thug sprawled out on the ground, a half-eaten pizza slice plastered to his forehead.
[SYSTEM: Welcome to Earth-199999.]
Earth-199999? The MCU? Adam felt a jolt of recognition. He wasn't just in a new body; he was in a new world, a world of gods and monsters, and a certain friendly neighborhood Spider-Girl.
"Oh, you're not going to get away with that!" the thug yelled, trying to get up.
"I already did," Adam called back, sprinting out of the alley. "It's called the element of surprise. Look it up!"
He didn't stop running until he reached a rooftop, gasping for air and clutching a stitch in his side. He collapsed on the cold concrete, his heart hammering against his ribs. The city lights of Hell's Kitchen twinkled below him, a familiar yet terrifying sight. He was here. He was alive. And he had a system.
Anya Corazon, a.k.a. Spider-Girl, was perched on a gargoyle across the street. She was a silhouette against the moon, a sleek, graceful figure in her dark suit. Adam, still a fan at heart, felt his mouth go dry.
"Nice moves, kid," she said, her voice a low, amused hum. "You're new around here, aren't you?"
Oh, boy. Act cool. Just act cool.
"Depends," Adam said, still panting. "Do I get a prize if I guess right?"
She chuckled, a light sound that made him grin. "Nah, just a friendly warning. Hell's Kitchen can be a little... rough on newcomers."
"Trust me," Adam said, holding up his hands. "I've had a rough night. My first night, in fact."
She swung down, landing silently on the ledge beside him. She wasn't a clone of Emma Myers, as the system would later tell him, but the resemblance was uncanny. The way her brown eyes crinkled at the corners, the subtle quirk of her lips. She was real. And she was here.
"What'd you get into?" she asked, her voice laced with genuine curiosity.
"A couple of local brutes tried to mug me. They were... not very good at it."
[SYSTEM: Random Life Simulation System online.]
The glowing text box appeared again, smaller this time, a discreet pop-up in his peripheral vision.
"You're not one of Wilson Fisk's goons, are you?" she asked, her tone shifting, a subtle hardness entering her voice.
"Fisk? No, no, no," Adam said, waving his hands frantically. "I'm a... I'm a connoisseur of fine pranks. Not a connoisseur of crime."
She studied him for a moment, her eyes narrowed, before a slow smile spread across her face. "A prankster, huh? I can respect that." She took a step back, her body tensing, ready to launch herself into the air. "Don't get into too much trouble. I've got a lot on my plate tonight."
"Wait!" Adam called out. "What's a guy gotta do to get a superhero's number around here?"
She laughed, a full, uninhibited sound. "Save the city, maybe? Or at least don't get mugged by two idiots in an alley. See ya around, prankster."
And with a fluid leap, she was gone, a dark blur against the city skyline.
Adam was left alone with his thoughts and the glowing text box.
[SYSTEM: First Simulation available. Enter to continue.]
He stared at the words, a cold thrill running down his spine. This was it. The chance to get stronger, to fight back, to maybe even impress the girl. He had a new body, a new world, and a system. He was a hero in the making. And he had a whole lot of pranking to do.
He stumbled down to a deserted corner, found a boarded-up door, and wedged himself inside. It was a filthy, forgotten place, but it was safe enough. He sat down, leaned against the cold brick, and took a deep breath.
Alright, let's do this. Time to rewrite the rules.
A swirling vortex of light and sound consumed him, and he closed his eyes, ready to face whatever new reality awaited him. He was a prankster, a chaos agent, and now, he was about to get a whole lot more dangerous. The glow from the System intensified, and the grimy alley faded into nothingness. He was somewhere else, ready to begin.