Marvel: A Man with a System

David stepped out of the taxi and into the cool morning air, adjusting the strap of his crossbody bag. 

His gaze drifted toward a modest diner tucked between a laundromat and a small convenience store. The exterior had a faded sign that read "Ivan's Diner", the red letters slightly chipped from years of wear.

A simple awning stretched over the entrance, and despite its unassuming look, the place had steady foot traffic. No wonder my past self had decent pay here.

He could remember now—this diner had regulars. Workers from nearby construction sites, taxi drivers on their breaks, and even some local cops who swore by Ivan's coffee.

Taking a breath, David walked toward the entrance. But just as he reached for the door, his gaze landed on a familiar figure standing nearby, talking with a customer.

A tall man, broad-shouldered, his apron with the diners name. His salt-and-pepper beard gave him a slightly rugged look, and even from the side, David recognized the tired but sharp eyes.

David's mind clicked. Joe.

Joe had been one of his work companions—maybe even something close to a friend, despite being a good ten years older than him. They'd shared shifts, traded complaints about customers, and Joe had even covered for him a few times when life had gotten in the way.

The moment Joe turned, their eyes met. His brows furrowed for a second before recognition flashed across his face.

"David?" Joe's voice carried mild surprise.

A chuckle escaped David as he nodded. "Yeah. Been a while, huh?"

Joe took a step closer, giving him a once-over. "Damn, kid. Where the hell have you been? You just disappeared on us. I even came around your house to see what happened to you. Your neighbors said your house was locked for over a month and you weren't there."

David exhaled. "Yeah, remember how I said I was taking a two-day vacation?"

Joe scoffed. "Yeah, I remember. I was the one who suggested it because you looked burned out. But I told you to take a small vacation—not a three-month one, kid."

David paused. Why was I burned out? He just blanked.

Joe frowned at his silence. "David?" When he still didn't react, Joe tried again. "Kid, you okay?"

David hadn't remembered why he was burned out before, but now he did. The reason shocked him. He forced himself to keep his expression neutral. I need to sort through these memories later.

Still, he answered, "Yeah, sorry. Just got sidetracked. But anyway, I took your advice seriously. Problem is, Bad Luck decided to stalk me during that vacation. Got into an accident. A real bad one."

He tapped the back of his neck. "You remember when our neighbors decided to barge onto our planet? Got banged up pretty hard. Spent months in the hospital. Still got the scar to prove it."

Joe let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "Shit. We thought you skipped town or something. That's rough." Then, his expression softened. "But you're up and about now. That's what matters. How are you doing?"

As they walked inside the bustling diner, David nodded. "Yeah, trying to piece things together. And if I struggle with faces or names, help me out—I've got some minor memory loss." He glanced toward the diner's entrance. "Figured I'd check if I still had a job."

"Yeah, will do, David." Joe smirked. "About the job? That depends. You know how Ivan is."

David chuckled. "Grumpy old Russian man? Yeah, I remember."

Joe snorted. "Well, if he lets you, you're in. Come on, I'll take you to him."

The inside of the diner was warm, slightly cramped, but clean. The checkered floors, the scuffed-up counter, the booths by the windows where customers sipped their coffee and flipped through newspapers. It wasn't fancy, but it had character.

They stopped outside the kitchen door. From inside, raised voices carried out—someone was getting chewed out in Russian. The rough, fast-paced exchange was unintelligible to David, but from the sheer volume of Ivan's voice, it was safe to say it wasn't a friendly conversation.

Joe, standing next to him, remained unbothered. He simply turned away from the door, leaning casually against the wall.

David followed his lead, pretending not to hear anything. No point in getting caught in whatever storm was brewing inside.

A few moments later, the door swung open with a loud creak. Heavy footsteps stomped past them. David caught a glimpse of two men in black pants and jackets, one of them muttering curses under his breath in what sounded like Russian.

Were those guys just fired? Or was it something else? David shrugged to himself. Not my problem.

He glanced at Joe.

Joe just shrugged, unbothered. Then, turning back to the door, he knocked twice.

A gruff voice barked from inside. "Come in!"

Joe pushed the door open, and they stepped into the kitchen.

Ivan was exactly as David remembered—thick arms crossed over his chest, gray-streaked beard hiding most of his expressions, and deep-set eyes that seemed to permanently scowl at the world.

The moment he saw David, that scowl deepened.

"You," Ivan grunted, eyes narrowing. "Where the hell you been?"

David had barely opened his mouth before Ivan continued.

"Four months. You vanish. No call. No nothing." His accent was thick, his tone gruff and irritated. "You think this is some vacation?"

David, keeping his expression neutral, answered calmly, "Got into an accident. Spent months in the hospital recovering."

Ivan's scowl remained, but his sharp eyes studied him more closely now. He didn't look convinced.

David sighed and turned, pulling the collar of his shirt down just enough to reveal the scar running from the back of his neck to his shoulder. "I wasn't lying."

For a moment, Ivan said nothing. His gaze lingered on the scar, his gruff expression unreadable. Then, slowly, his scowl lessened—just slightly.

"Hmph." Ivan grunted, turning away as if it was no big deal. "Could've called."

Before he could respond, Joe clapped a hand on his shoulder. "So, what do you think, boss? We got space for him?"

Ivan snorted. "Tch. Kid's probably rusty. Useless." He eyed David again. "You still remember how to work or I gotta train you like some dumbass fresh outta school?"

David smirked. "Yes boss I still remember?", while side eyed Joe who just raised his eyebrow.

Ivan grumbled something under his breath before jerking his head toward the diner. "Fine. Get an apron. Try not to mess up the work."

After saying the he gestured them to leave the room.

After they walked out of the room, and walking away, Joe grinned, patting David's back. "Looks like you're back in."

 "Yeah, about that," David said, grinning. "Mind running me through what exactly I was doing while working here?"

--

--

Later That Evening....

After finishing his shift, David left the diner and walked two blocks to the nearest electronics store. Time to get what he needed.

The store wasn't huge, but it had everything he was looking for. He moved with purpose, picking up a laptop, a new smartphone, a good pair of headphones, and an MP3 player for music.

At the checkout counter, he hesitated for a second. His system obtained cash balance had taken a hit—he was down to just $1,500.

"...Screw it." He handed over the cash.

As the cashier packed his items, David sighed inwardly. He needed to start making money soon if he wanted to stay afloat.

After leaving the electronics store, David's stomach reminded him that he hadn't eaten since his break at the diner. His eyes wandered to the nearby street, where a small food truck with a bright red awning was parked at the corner.

The smell of grilled meat and spices drifted through the air, making his mouth water.

"Might as well eat before heading home," he muttered.

As he approached the truck, he noticed a middle-aged man working the grill, flipping skewers of meat over open flames. A younger guy, probably in his early thirties, handled the cash register.

David walked up to the truck, eyeing the menu. Tacos, burgers, hotdogs, gyros—the choices were simple but solid.

"What can I get for you?" the cook asked.

"Cheeseburger and fries," David said, fishing out some cash.

The cook nodded and started grilling the patty. "Long day?"

"Yeah, something like that," David said absently.

David handed over the cash while the man wrapped up his order. "Haven't seen you around before," the cashier said, handing him his change.

David smirked. "Yeah, been out of commission for a while. Just getting back on my feet."

The cook, a burly man, turned around and eyed him. "Hospital stay or jail time?"

David blinked, then chuckled. "Hospital. I don't have the personality for jail."

The guy grunted in amusement and handed him his order. "Good. You don't look like the type who could handle prison food."

David took the wrapped sandwich with a nod. "Appreciate it."

As he ate, he flagged down a taxi, finishing his food just as the cab pulled up. Tossing the wrapper into a nearby bin, he climbed into the backseat and the driver his address.

The cab pulled into traffic, and David leaned back, exhaling. His body was starting to ache again, a dull reminder that he still had a ways to go before fully recovering.

"Might as well set this up now," he muttered, pulling out his new phone.

Fishing his old, cracked phone out of his pocket, he ejected the SIM card and inserted it into the new device. After a few moments, the screen lit up, showing his old number was active again.

A flood of unread messages and missed calls appeared, mostly from unknown numbers. He scrolled through them briefly—nothing important. Most were probably old work shifts or spam.

Then, he noticed a single message from Joe, dated two months ago.

Joe: "Dude, where the hell are you? Ivan's pissed. Let me know if you're alive."

David chuckled dryly. "Guess he got his answer today."

As the taxi continued through the city streets, he put his phone away, staring out the window.

He needed to get home. He had a lot to process.

--

--

The moment David stepped inside his apartment, he dropped the bags on the table and sighed.

He went straight to the bathroom to wash his face and refresh himself. The cold water helped, but his thoughts were already pulling him toward what he really wanted to do—go through his new memories.

Before sitting down, he took his pain meds, knowing that his neck and shoulder were starting to ache again. The dull pain had returned, and he wasn't about to let it get worse.

Finally, he sank into the living room couch, leaning back with a deep breath.

David stepped out of the taxi, gripping his bags tightly as the vehicle pulled away. The evening air was cool, the city streets still buzzing with life, but all he wanted right now was the quiet of his apartment.

He made his way up to his unit, unlocking the door and stepping inside. The familiar dim lighting, the slight creak of the wooden floor—everything was just as he left it. He placed his shopping bags on the small dining table and let out a deep breath.

First things first.

David moved to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water before taking his pain meds. His shoulder and neck had begun to throb again, a dull ache spreading from the scar. It wasn't unbearable, but it was enough to remind him that his body still had limits.

"At least I'm back home," he muttered.

He set up his new laptop and phone, letting them charge as he changed into a comfortable t- shirt and sweatpants. The exhaustion from the day was creeping in, but there was something more pressing on his mind—his memories.

"Time to sort this mess out."

He settled onto the couch, leaning back with a deep breath. He closed his eyes, letting the memories come. Scenes played out in his mind like a fragmented movie.

To Be Continued....