Darkness. Silence. A strange sense of familiarity wrapped in the unknown.
Waking up in this new body still felt surreal. The memories of her past life were intact, but everything else—the subtle shifts in muscle memory, the heightened awareness, the unfamiliar-yet-familiar weight of existence—reminded her that she was someone else now.
She had a new life, but at what cost?
The First Days
The first few days were a blur of observation and quiet adjustment.
New York. The same city she remembered, yet different in subtle ways. Billboards flashed the names Stark Industries, Oscorp, Rand Enterprises—fictional companies that shouldn't exist in her old world.
It didn't take long for her to put the pieces together.
She was in the Marvel Universe.
Excitement. Fear. Uncertainty.
She knew the potential of this world. Gods, mutants, aliens, mad scientists— it was a world of wonders, but also one of nightmares.
And she?
She was nobody—at least for now.
That was the best part.
Survival Comes First
Before she could worry about superheroes and cosmic threats, she had immediate concerns:
• Food. Shelter. Money.
• Understanding her abilities.
She quickly found an abandoned apartment complex in a rundown part of the city. It wasn't much, but it had a roof, running water, and no nosy neighbours.
Food? A combination of cheap takeout, stolen snacks, and a few lucky finds in near-closing bakeries. Not glamorous, but it worked.
Money? A problem for later.
Right now, she needed to understand herself.
She needs to testing the Waters
She wasn't dumb enough to throw herself into fights without knowing what she could do.
So she started small.
• Reflexes? Sharper than before. She caught a fly mid-air without thinking.
• Strength? Enhanced. A casual punch left a dent in a rusted metal door.
• Perception? Heightened. She could hear a subway train a mile away if she focused.
But there was something more.
A depth to her power that she couldn't quite grasp. It sat beneath the surface, waiting, coiled like a beast in slumber.
She was afraid to wake it up too soon.
So she played it safe.
Learning the Streets
Staying hidden meant blending in. She needed to understand the underground scene of New York—the places where the law didn't matter, where people disappeared without questions.
So she listened.
Bars. Back alleys. The kind of places where rumours thrived.
She learned quickly that power in this city wasn't just in the hands of superheroes—it was in the hands of criminals, mercenaries, and hidden organizations.
Names like Wilson Fisk, The Maggia, The Hand floated around in whispers.
Dangerous people. People she had no intention of crossing—yet.
But knowledge was power, and she intended to hoard it.
A Fateful Night
Days turned into weeks. She established a routine.
• Train during the night.
• Gather information during the day.
• Stay unnoticed.
It worked.
Until she ran into trouble.
It started with a simple observation.
She noticed a group of men in a back alley—three of them, surrounding a woman who looked terrified.
Her gut screamed trouble.
She could walk away. This wasn't her problem.
But her feet didn't move.
She hated people like them. The kind that preyed on the weak, knowing no one would stop them.
Her hands clenched.
A part of her—the part that whispered of power—urged her forward.
She moved before she could think.
First Fight – The Awakening
The alley was filthy, the air thick with the stench of garbage and spilled alcohol. The men were laughing, their voices laced with cruelty.
"Come on, sweetheart," one of them sneered, pressing closer to the woman, who was pinned against the brick wall.
Her eyes were wide, her breathing ragged. She didn't scream. Maybe she had tried, and no one had listened.
That pissed her off more than anything.
A shadow flickered. The men barely had time to react before she was there.
The first didn't see her coming.
A single step—too fast—and her fist slammed into his ribs. A crack. He choked, stumbling back, breath stolen.
The second turned, reaching for something under his jacket. A gun.
No.
Her body moved instinctively.
A sharp kick to his knee. He buckled. Her hands found his wrist, twisted—a pop, a scream, the gun clattering to the ground.
Time slowed.
The third was already moving, a gleam of steel in his hands. A knife.
She barely had time to react before he lunged.
Pain.
A sharp sting across her side—he nicked her.
Her body screamed at her to back off. But something else—something deeper—refused.
Her vision sharpened.
A single moment.
She caught his wrist mid-swing, fingers clenching. His eyes widened. He struggled—she didn't budge.
And then she squeezed.
Crunch.
His wrist gave way, the knife falling from his limp fingers. He screamed.
She stepped forward, slamming him into the wall. Hard.
"Please—!" he gasped.
She leaned in, voice cold.
"You thought she was weak," she whispered. "How does it feel?"
His breath hitched.
She let him go.
He crumpled to the ground, whimpering.
She wanted to do more.
To unleash the power she felt coiling inside her, demanding release.
But no.
Not yet.
The woman she saved was already running. Smart.
She turned back to the men on the ground. Their eyes were full of fear.
Good.
She grabbed the nearest one by his collar, pulling him close.
"Spread the word," she said, voice low. "Some people don't like scum like you."
Then she disappeared into the night.
Aftermath
That fight changed things.
She felt stronger. The more she used her power, the more natural it became.
But it also brought risk.
The woman she saved? She wasn't just anyone.
She was the niece of a local crime boss.
And now, people were asking questions.
The rumours spread—whispers of a ghost in the alleys.
Some thought she was a myth.
Others? They were looking for her.
She had made her first move in this world.
Now, she had to be ready for what came next.