I stared at the fading blue screen like it had just slapped me in the face and called me lucky.
Sanji's template. Black Leg Style. Enhanced legs. Beginner cooking. Minor fire resistance. And a fucking smoking habit? Optional, thankfully.
But this wasn't a game. There was no restart. No loading from save.
I was in the MCU. The real one. Iron Man, Loki, Thanos—that MCU. With gods, aliens, killer robots, and government agencies that treat civil rights like suggestions. And here I was. A nobody. In some random apartment. With a daily gacha spin and the faint memory of being hit by a garbage truck.
I sat on the toilet lid again, shaking slightly.
"Jesus fucking Christ," I muttered into my hands. "This is real. This is actually happening."
I took a few shaky breaths, trying to get control. My thoughts were a tangled mess of panic, adrenaline, and that weird floaty numbness you get right after a car crash. I didn't feel like myself. My body didn't feel like mine. The legs were stronger. More stable. The core had better balance. Even just existing felt… calibrated.
Whoever this Alex Walker guy was, he had a decent body. Slim. Fit. Not overly muscular, but lean in a way that told me he either boxed or jogged. Or maybe he was just lucky.
Still didn't explain why me. Or how. Or what the hell I was supposed to do now.
Then came the sound.
DING!
A familiar blue light pulsed again.
[New Mission Unlocked – Daily System Online]
Mission: "Stretch Your Legs"
Objective: Walk 10,000 steps
Reward: +5 Gacha Points
I blinked.
"…That's it? Walk?"
For a second, I felt like laughing. Like, that's what the mysterious Gacha System wants me to do? Walk around the neighborhood like a grandma getting her blood pressure down?
But then it hit me.
30 points per Gacha pull. And only one free spin so far. That means I need to grind. Like some mobile game addict scraping gems from daily logins. Except instead of virtual loot, this might literally be the only thing keeping me alive in a world where a green rage monster casually flattens tanks.
I got up, threw on a hoodie from the closet—it still smelled faintly like body spray and something sharp, like pine—and dug through the drawers. A wallet gave me the name I already saw on some mail: Alex Walker. Regular-ass name. Born and raised in Toledo, Ohio. ID said he was 22. There was a busted MetroCard and a pay stub from a place called Smokey Joe's, looked like a bar. No phone. No laptop. Nothing digital.
Just one cracked photo of "me" with three people at a party—two guys and a girl. All smiling. Beer in hand. Like life made sense.
The girl looked especially familiar. She had that kind of face that nags at your memory.
My chest ached.
"Fuck," I whispered. "Did I just... steal this guy's life?"
I didn't know. I still don't know. Did he die? Did I replace him? Or did we... merge?
There were no memories. Just emotions, echoes. My mind was me. But my gut... sometimes it twitched, like an instinct that wasn't mine.
I needed air.
Brooklyn – Late Morning
The city greeted me with the same usual chaos. Honking cars. Someone yelling into a phone. A food truck belching smoke. A pigeon giving me attitude from a mailbox. New York was still New York.
Except this wasn't the real New York. This was the MCU's polished version. A little cleaner. A little flashier. A little more... dangerous.
I started walking. Might as well get those 10,000 steps in.
The system didn't say anything about how fast I had to do them, but I figured jogging wouldn't hurt. Besides, I needed to test this new leg strength. I ducked into a nearby alley, away from the foot traffic, and tried a few stretches. Then a simple snap kick.
CRACK.
My foot splintered a chunk of a wooden crate. Just like that.
"...Damn."
It wasn't superhuman. I wasn't flipping trucks or kicking through concrete. But it was something. A foundation.
And that meant potential.
I made it about seven blocks before it happened.
I turned a corner and slammed shoulder-first into a guy holding a bag of groceries. One of the apples tumbled to the ground.
"Shit—sorry, man!" I said, stooping down quickly.
"Alex?"
I froze.
He stared at me like I'd just risen from the grave.
"Bro, where the hell have you been? I thought you got mugged or deported or something!"
My mouth opened, but nothing came out at first.
He looked familiar. Tall, black hoodie, curly hair. Eyes sharp but kind. My chest squeezed again. The name hovered just out of reach.
"Uh... hey, man. Been dealing with some… stuff."
"You disappeared after that Knicks game. Brie's been calling you like crazy."
Brie.
The girl in the photo.
A flash—laughter, her on a couch, arguing about which pizza place was better. My head spun like I just stepped off a roller coaster.
"Oh. Yeah. Brie," I said slowly, like I was reading from a broken teleprompter.
"You good, though?" he asked, eyeing me up and down. "You look... off."
I faked a smile. "Yeah. Just, y'know... long week."
"Well, don't flake on Friday. She'll actually murder you."
He smirked, then turned and jogged off, groceries swinging in hand.
I stood there a full minute, heart thudding like a war drum. The system didn't prepare me for that.
Déjà vu. Emotional whiplash. A life I didn't remember, but still felt.
Back in the apartment, I barely made it to the couch before collapsing. My muscles were sore in places I forgot I had, and my brain was fried.
DING!
[Mission Complete – "Stretch Your Legs"]
+5 Gacha Points earned!
Current Balance: 5
I opened the System Menu mentally, now a bit more familiar:
[Gacha Reincarnation System – Beta Access]
User: Alex Walker
World: MCU – Earth-199999
Timeline: 2010
Gacha Points: 5
Current Template: Vinsmoke Sanji (Basic)
— Black Leg Style: Early Proficiency
— Enhanced Leg Strength: Beginner
— Minor Fire Resistance
— Cooking Talent: Beginner
— Trait: Smoking Habit (Inactive)
Inventory: [Empty]
Passive Functions: Inventory Management, Power Integration Module
Mission Board
Daily Missions:
✔ Walk 10,000 Steps (+5 pts)
⬜ Cook a Meal (+3 pts)
⬜ 50 Combat Kicks (+5 pts)
⬜ Train for 2 Hours (+10 pts)
Special Missions: None Available
No cheat codes. No free upgrades. Just missions. Grinding. Work.
And even if I somehow saved up thirty points, there was no promise I'd get anything useful. Gacha luck was cruel. I could just as easily pull a damn toothbrush from a random anime.
But I didn't have another option. The system was my only way forward.
So I stood up, still sore, and made my way to the tiny kitchen. Might as well cook something for that +3.
I cracked some eggs, grabbed stale bread, and made the best scrambled eggs and toast of my life. Sanji's talent kicked in hard—the texture was buttery, fluffy, perfectly seasoned.
Small wins.
I sat down at the creaky table, fork in hand, and stared at the food. Then the mirror across the room.
My reflection stared back. Familiar. Alien.
"…Alright, Alex," I whispered. "You've got two years. Two years before Loki rains hell on Manhattan."
I took a bite of the eggs, still hot.
"This ain't a game anymore. But if I'm playing it…"
I smirked faintly.
"I'm playing to win."
To Be Continued.