Marvel: A Man with a System

David Brown never imagined his life would end in flames.

He was just an ordinary guy—a software engineer working a nine-to-five job, coding his way through endless lines of logic, fixing bugs that never seemed to end. It wasn't glamorous, but it paid the bills and gave him enough time to indulge in his passions.

Movies, comics, and TV shows had always been his escape. He could spend hours debating power levels, dissecting plot twists, and dreaming of what it would be like to live in a world of heroes and villains. Iron Man, Spider-Man, Thor—he loved them all. But they were fiction, nothing more than stories to keep reality at bay.

His apartment was small but comfortable, decorated with posters of his favorite films and a shelf stacked with graphic novels.

Life wasn't perfect, but it was his.

Then, in an instant, it was gone.

Pain.

That was the first thing David felt. A sharp, searing agony burned through his senses, like fire licking at his skin. He gasped for air, but his lungs refused to cooperate. The scent of smoke filled his nostrils, thick and suffocating. 

Fire… My apartment…

David coughed violently as thick smoke filled his lungs. His vision blurred, the heat pressing against his skin like an unforgiving force. His legs trembled as he stumbled toward the door, only to find it blocked by raging flames. Panic clawed at his chest. He tried to scream, but all that came out was a weak gasp. His vision had blurred, darkness swallowing him whole. 

--

--

--

The world swam back into focus, a blurry mess of grays and muted colors. David's first sensation wasn't sight, though, but a dull, throbbing ache that resonated through his skull. 

As David's mind swam back into consciousness, the memories came rushing back—red-hot flames engulfing his home, the crackling of burning wood, the deafening sound of collapsing walls. He remembered the heat, the fear, and finally, the moment his body gave out. 

Yet… he was still here.

His mind felt hazy, but something was different. The pain wasn't from the fire anymore. It was dull, distant, like an echo of what he had experienced before. Slowly, he became aware of his body—his arms, his legs, his heartbeat. He was alive. 

Where am I? he thought, or rather, where am I now? 

His fingers twitched. He could move. His arms, his legs, his heartbeat—it was all there. He was alive. 

But… how?

Suddenly on reflex his eyes snapped open. 

Blinding white light flooded his vision, forcing him to blink several times before he could see clearly. The first thing he noticed was the ceiling—a plain, white hospital ceiling with fluorescent lights buzzing softly above him. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled the air. His fingers curled into the bed sheets. This isn't my apartment… 

Where am I? 

He tried to sit up, but a sharp pain shot through his body, forcing him back down with a groan. That was when he noticed the IV drip connected to his arm, the steady beeping of medical equipment beside him, and the faint scent of antiseptic in the air. 

I'm in a hospital?

David's brows furrowed in confusion. He had been sure he was dead. The fire had consumed everything—his home, his life. There was no way he could have survived. 

As he stared at his own hands, his breath quickened. His fingers looked… thinner? His skin, smoother. His heart pounded. Something wasn't right. Then, like a dam breaking, the flood of foreign memories crashed into him…. 

A young man working as a waiter in Manhattan. 

A mother lost to a tragic accident. 

An inheritance left behind. 

Years of grief, searching for answers that never came. 

And then—chaos. 

Screams. Explosions. A city under siege. 

The Chitauri invasion. 

David's breath hitched. The Chitauri? 

His hands clenched the blanket, panic surged through him as realization dawned. He wasn't just in a different place—he was in a different world. 

The Marvel Universe. 

His fingers gripped the bed sheets tightly as he processed the impossible truth.

This isn't real. This can't be real. 

But the steady beep of the heart monitor, the weight of the hospital blanket, the throbbing in his skull—all of it felt too real to ignore.

His name—David Brown—wasn't just his anymore. It belonged to the man whose body he now inhabited. A man who had been caught in the devastation of the Chitauri attack and buried under rubble. A man who had fallen into a coma.

And now… he had woken up. 

As he lay there, staring at the ceiling, a single thought echoed in his mind. 

What the hell do I do now?

--

--

The door swung open snapping him out of his spiraling thoughts. A doctor walked in, followed closely by a nurse. 

The doctor, a middle-aged man with graying hair and glasses perched on his nose, glanced at David's chart before offering a small smile. 

"Well, well, Mr. Brown," he said, voice calm yet professional. "It's good to see you awake. You've been out for quite some time." 

David swallowed, trying to steady his nerves. He wasn't sure how to respond yet. 

The nurse, a woman with dark brown hair tied into a neat bun, moved to check the monitors beside his bed. "Your vitals look stable," she noted before looking at him kindly. "How are you feeling?" 

David hesitated. How was he supposed to answer that? He had just woken up in a different body, in a different universe. But saying that out loud wasn't exactly an option. 

"…Tired," he finally said, his voice coming out hoarse. 

The doctor nodded, making a note on the clipboard. "That's to be expected. You suffered a severe head injury during the invasion. You were found unconscious under the rubble. The paramedics managed to get you to safety, but you slipped into a coma shortly after." 

David processed the information slowly. "How long…?" 

The nurse answered gently, "Three months." 

Three months. 

David's mind reeled. He had been in a coma for three whole months. That explained why his body felt so weak. He flexed his fingers slightly, testing their strength. 

The doctor continued, "We'll need to run a few more tests, but so far, everything seems promising. However, given the trauma to your head, there's a chance you might experience some memory loss or confusion. It's nothing unusual in cases like yours." 

David tensed. This might actually work in his favor. If he said anything strange, he could just blame it on memory loss. 

"I… don't remember much," he admitted cautiously. "It's all kind of blurry." 

The doctor offered a reassuring nod. "That's completely normal. Some memories may return with time, while others might remain foggy. There's no need to rush—your recovery is the priority." 

The nurse stepped forward with a clipboard. "Your insurance covered the hospital expenses, so you don't have to worry about medical bills." 

David blinked. Insurance?

He wasn't sure if the previous owner of this body had set up health insurance, but he wasn't about to complain. 

The doctor adjusted his glasses. "For now, we'll continue monitoring you. If you feel any dizziness, headaches, or anything unusual, let us know immediately." He placed the clipboard back on the table. "I'd say you're lucky to have woken up at all. Many weren't so fortunate after the invasion." 

David swallowed hard. He knew. He had seen the devastation in the movies, but this was different. This was real. 

The doctor gave him one last reassuring look. "Rest for now. We'll check in on you later." 

Taking a deep breath, he asked, "So… when can I leave?"

The doctor looked up from his notes, slightly amused. "Eager to get out, are we?"

David nodded. "Three months feels like too long to be in a hospital."

The doctor chuckled. "Understandable. But while you've regained consciousness, your body is still weak. You've been in a coma for months, and your muscles need time to regain strength. We'll need to monitor your progress for at least another one to two weeks before we can consider discharging you."

David tried not to let his frustration show. "So I just… rest and wait?"

"Pretty much," the doctor said with a shrug. "But you're in good hands. Just focus on healing."

David exhaled through his nose. Two weeks wasn't too bad. It would give him time to process everything, to plan his next steps.

The doctor patted his chart. "Get some rest. We'll talk more tomorrow."

With that, he and the nurse exited the room, leaving David alone with his thoughts once again.

He sighed, staring up at the ceiling.

One to two weeks to figure out what the hell I'm going to do in this world.

--

--

As David lay back against the hospital pillow, staring at the ceiling in silence. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts.

He was in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. That was a fact. But what did that mean for him? He wasn't some genius like Tony Stark, nor did he have superhuman strength like Steve Rogers. He was just… David Brown. A man who had died in a fire and somehow ended up in another body in a world filled with gods, monsters, and mad titans.

What the hell do I do now?

He exhaled deeply, letting his eyes drift shut. He needed a plan. He needed to figure out what resources this body had, what he could do, and how he could survive in a world that, if the timeline followed what he remembered, was only going to get more dangerous.

David exhaled slowly, his mind racing with possibilities. He had watched the movies, read the comics—he knew what kind of universe he was in. A universe filled with heroes, villains, gods, and monsters. A world where battles could level cities and threats could wipe out planets. 

And somehow, he was now part of it. 

For now, I should focus on recovery—

Ding!

A soft chime echoed in his ears, snapping him out of his thoughts. His eyes flew open, scanning the empty hospital room.

"What the—"

Before he could finish, a holographic screen flickered into existence right in front of him, hovering in midair.

David froze, his breath caught in his throat. His heart pounded as he stared at the glowing blue interface. It was translucent, the edges pulsing with faint energy, and it looked eerily similar to the kind of heads-up displays he had seen in futuristic sci-fi movies.

To Be Continued.....