Marvel: A Man with a System

Joe narrowed his eyes at David and asked, "You look like hell, kid."

David grunted. "Didn't sleep well." He took another sip of his coffee.

Joe crossed his arms. "Didn't sleep well, or at all?"

David let out a tired sigh. "A little of both."

Joe lowered his voice. "You sure you ain't mixed up in something?"

David met his gaze and decided to lie. "Having some nightmare episodes."

Joe didn't look convinced, but he let it go with a shake of his head. "Whatever you say," and decided to go see Mr. Thompson, as he was suddenly called upon.

As Joe walked off, David let out a small exhale. A month had passed since he truly started pushing himself. He trained daily, refining his skills.

[STATUS]

[Name: David Arthur Brown

Age: 25

Race: Human

Strength: 20

Agility: 20

Intelligence: 25

SP: 225

Lottery Stack: 3/3 draws

Skills: Hand-to-Hand Combat Mastery, Parkour Mastery, Hacking Mastery, Perfect Recall, Cooking Mastery, Bullet Time

Inventory: Glock 17 (5 Mags, Leg Holster), $50,000 Cash, Knuckle Dusters (Hidden Knives) – 2 nos

Character Assimilation: Nil

Missions:

Primary Mission: Revenge

Objective: Make those responsible for your mother's murder pay.

Time Limit: 11 months

Rewards: 500 SP, A Skill, Mystery Box]

His side mission was finally completed, adding some system points to his stockpile. But his stats had hit a wall.

When he asked the system, the response was frustratingly simple.

[Upgrade required to unlock further progression.]

With his lottery stacked up to three draws, he had figured he would draw them just the day before his next lottery cycle.

In the past month, David was extremely busy, balancing his time between relentless training, setting up fake identities through the dark web, and initiating his investigation.

The system had made him strong. Stronger than the average person, maybe even comparable to a trained cop, agent, or soldier. But he had no frame of reference to confirm. He knew he was stronger than he had ever been, even compared to his best days in his previous life.

His body had changed too. His muscles were more defined, lean but powerful. He wasn't some bodybuilder, but his physique had transformed into that of someone who trained relentlessly. His height remained the same, his face still familiar when he looked in the mirror. Yet, the way he carried himself had shifted; a newfound confidence.

His progress with his pistols improved greatly because of his increased stats, which in turn made his body coordination greatly improved, resulting in him making good progress in his practice.

More than that, he also upgraded his entire hacking setup.

A custom-built PC designed for penetration testing and cyber operations. A collection of encrypted USB drives with preloaded scripts for breaching security systems. Several pre-paid burner phones, each linked to different VPN layers to mask his location. A portable Wi-Fi sniffer for intercepting local network traffic. He went for the PC because since he had the inventory he could carry it anywhere he wanted to. but he also bought a powerful laptop.

and with this upgraded setup he was able to complete his side mission and also expand his knowledge and gain experience. He seemed to have gained some fame because of this and he got some invitation from hacker groups to join them.

He now had some alternate identities ready to go, just in case.

David also started his investigation by following the money. The hush money deposited into his account three years ago had been traced to a shell company. A dead end.

But the people responsible hadn't just thrown that kind of cash at him and walked away. They had kept tabs on him. He had found small listening devices indicating someone bugged his old apartment. Someone had been watching.

So, now, instead of chasing the money, he decided to find the people watching him, by investigating the area surrounding his old apartment. If he was being monitored, someone had to be on the ground. He had decided to investigate in that direction. 

He was also musing about whether to quit the job as the timing was demanding for him to maintain his schedule.

As his skills as a hacker has improved he was thinking of making money using those skills. and with perfect recall he had improved very rapidly. He was also considering whether to join the Rising tide organization. They were a conspiracy hacktivist group that exposed S.H.I.E.L.D. to the world.

He had seen those clippings, articles that were released and decided that joining them now would be beneficial, so he could get the hidden news quickly.

David also scouted the 5 block radius around the place he stayed for knowing the area well, he mostly did that during the day time or early evening. The night mostly consumed his time for practice.

As he was musing over things. Joe returned from meeting the owner and by the look on his face he knew that it was not any good news.

David raised an eyebrow. "Something wrong?"

Joe sighed. "Old man Thompson's gonna talk to everyone before closing the diner early."

David frowned. "That bad? Wait we are closing the diner early. That has never happened before. Is it that serious."

Joe shrugged. "You'll hear soon enough."

Something was up. And given his luck lately, it probably wasn't good news.

And yup, it was bad news. A real one.

The diner was unusually quiet. The usual hum of conversation and clatter of plates was missing. Instead, the staff gathered in the back, their faces filled with confusion and concern.

Mr. Thompson stood before them, shoulders slightly hunched.

Thompson exhaled heavily. "I won't beat around the bush. The diner's closing."

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.

The staff exchanged stunned looks.

Lisa, one of the night shift waitresses, broke the silence. "Wait… what?"

"Why?" Mark, a dishwasher, asked in disbelief.

Thompson ran a hand through his thinning hair. "Some big shot is buying up this entire block. Shops, apartments—the whole thing is being sold. We've got a month before we have to clear out."

The room erupted in murmurs. Confusion. Frustration.

"But… this place has been here for decades!" one of the cashiers exclaimed.

"This is our livelihood!" another waiter added.

Thompson held up a hand. "I know. Believe me, this wasn't an easy decision. But the offer was too good to refuse and, to be honest…" He sighed, looking older than usual. "I'm getting tired. Running this place isn't as easy as it used to be."

"So you're just selling out?" Lisa accused, arms crossed.

"It's not like that," Joe cut in. "Thompson fought it, but in the end, it was either take the offer or get pushed out. Either way, this place was gonna change."

David, standing at the back, remained silent. He had been considering quitting anyway, so this didn't affect him the same way it did the others. If anything, he felt relieved, this made his exit easier.

The room buzzed with questions. But Thompson didn't have answers.

"I wanted you all to hear it from me first," he finally said. "I know this place meant something to all of you. It meant something to me too."

David studied the old man. The regret was real. Even if it was a choice, it wasn't an easy one.

And David had a hunch about who was behind the buyout.

Wilson Fisk. The Kingpin. But he wasn't sure about it and didn't linger about it anymore.

---

---

[Later that Night]

David sighed as he wiped his hands on a kitchen towel, satisfied with the cleanliness of his apartment. Dinner was done, dishes washed, and the place was spotless, his way of unwinding after an intense day.

A break from training wouldn't hurt. I really need some time to breathe.

Grabbing the trash bags, he made his way downstairs to toss them in the dumpster. The night air was cool, carrying the distant sound of traffic. As he turned back toward the entrance, a noise made him pause.

It wasn't just any noise, it sounded like an argument.

He hesitated but he decided to follow the sound cautiously.

Rounding the corner, he spotted two men harassing a younger guy, he seemed to be youngster. The kid looked terrified. One of the men, clearly drunk, had a rusted metal pipe in his hand, waving it threateningly.

David narrowed his eyes. He recognized the kid, someone from his building who seemed to be a tenant.

The kid seemed too scared to even reply, and those men didn't look like they'd leave without causing trouble.

Before stepping in, he pulled out his phone and started his audio recording. Better to have evidence in case things got complicated.

Just as he hit record, the drunk guy raised his voice.

"You think you can just take our money and ghost us, huh?!"

The pipe-wielding guy took a step forward, his arm lifting for a swing.

David moved.

In an instant, he grabbed the kid by the collar and yanked him backward, smoothly placing himself between the teen and the two men. The kid stumbled and stood confused to what was happening.

"Alright, alright. Let's talk," David said, raising his hands in a placating gesture.

The sober guy of the two squinted at him, assessing. "Who the hell are you?"

"Just a guy passing by who doesn't want to see two grown men beat a kid senseless."

The drunk one sneered, gripping his pipe tighter. "Mind your own damn business, pal."

David stared him down. "I live in the same building as him and I also know this little guy."

He turned his attention to the sober one. "So, what's this about?"

The guy exhaled through his nose. "The brat borrowed five grand and then ghosted us. Ignored our calls. We came to collect."

David glanced at the kid, who looked away. Guilty as charged.

He sighed. "I get it. You want your money back. But shaking him down like this, at night, while drunk? Not exactly the best way to get paid, is it?"

The sober man hesitated. The drunk one, not so much.

"You think you're some kind of hero?" He lifted the pipe again.

David gasped "Me? A hero? No way guys do I like one." the he spoke with a proud tone. "Nah, but I'm confident in my speed and let me tell you, I have lot of experience in running away from bullies."

For a moment the three other people just stared at him thinking, 'The hell is he talking about'

The three of them just stared at David like he'd grown a second head. Even the drunk guy faltered for a second.

"The hell are you talking about?" the sober one finally asked, looking genuinely confused.

David shrugged. "I'm saying, if you start swinging that pipe, I'll be gone before you even blink. And then, guess what? Cops show up, and you two have to explain why you're beating up someone in a dark alley."

The sober guy groaned, rubbing his temple like he suddenly had a migraine. The drunk one, however, still looked ready to swing.

"You think you're funny, asshole?"

David smirked. "Nope. But I am confident that I can run faster than you. And I'm a hell of a lot more sober."

The drunk guy took a step forward, pipe raised. David casually reached into his pocket.

"By the way, I already started recording this whole thing," he said, pulling out his phone and waving it lightly. "So unless you want to star in tomorrow's viral video, titled Two Idiots Get Arrested for Assaulting a Kid, I'd suggest you take a deep breath and think this through."

The sober guy cursed under his breath, grabbing his drunk friend's arm. "Dammit, let's just go. We'll come back tomorrow when this idiot doesn't have his phone shoved in our faces."

The drunk guy looked ready to argue but eventually grunted, lowering the pipe. "Fine. But kid—" he pointed at the teen hiding behind David, "—you better have my damn money tomorrow, or it won't just be a talk next time."

David gave them a cheery wave as they turned and stalked off. "Can't wait to not see you guys again!"

Once they were out of sight, David turned to the kid, who looked like he had just survived a horror movie.

"Alright, genius. Let's go."

Before the kid could protest, David grabbed him by the hoodie and practically dragged him back toward the building.

"W-Wait—" the kid sputtered. "I don't even know you—"

"You do now," David said flatly. "And since I just saved your dumb ass, you owe me an explanation. Five grand? Are you serious?"

The kid groaned. "Look, I had a plan—"

"Yeah, clearly," David deadpanned. "Step one: borrow a ton of money. Step two: disappear. Step three: get your ribs caved in behind a dumpster."

The kid had the decency to look embarrassed. "Okay, when you say it like that, it sounds bad—"

David sighed, dragging him up the stairs. "No, kid. It is bad. Now, let's figure out how to fix this mess before those guys come back looking for round two."

[David POV]

I looked at the kid and saw a reflection of my past life. The old me had made the same mistake, thinking he could handle things on his own, borrowing money from the wrong people, only to get beaten down by thugs when he couldn't pay up. I remembered the pain, the humiliation. The helplessness.

The current me, could've handled the two guys easily with my skills. A few quick moves, and they'd be on the ground, rethinking their life choices. But that wouldn't solve anything. It would just start a new cycle of hatred and I already had enough on my plate, digging into the cover-up of my mother's death. I wasn't about to waste my energy playing hero in some random street fight that would only lead to more problems down the line.

Still, I couldn't just leave the kid like this. He was scared stiff, his hands clenched into trembling fists. Even though the thugs had backed off, he was still locked in survival mode, his brain trying to catch up with what had just happened.

I sighed and made my decision.

"Come on, kid," I muttered, grabbing him by the hoodie and steering him toward my apartment.

He flinched but didn't resist. Too shaken to argue.

I didn't say anything as we walked. The kid needed time to process, and honestly, I wasn't in the mood to play therapist on the sidewalk. When we reached my apartment, I unlocked the door and nudged it open, jerking my chin for him to step inside.

"Sit," I said.

He hesitated for a second before moving to the couch, staring at the floor. His hands gripped the edge of his jeans, his knuckles white.

I grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge and tossed one to him. He fumbled the catch but managed to open it, twisting the cap with shaky hands.

For a while, neither of us spoke.

Then, finally, I leaned back in my chair and met his nervous gaze.

"Alright," I said. "Let's hear your side of the story."

And just he about to speak, we hear a rapid knock on our door.

To Be Continued....

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Dear Readers,

The MC's age is 25. I made a mistake of mentioning him as 23. I'm sorry for that mistake.

I kindly request you all to forgive me.

Your truly, 

The Author.

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