A Marvel System

Drew sat in his dimly lit apartment, staring at the bloodied bandages wrapped around his shoulder. His mind replayed the fight with Dante Cross over and over, analyzing every move, every mistake. He had barely survived. If Dante had been just a little faster, a little more precise, he'd be dead.

He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists.

**That wasn't going to happen again.**

His system interface blinked in his peripheral vision.

---

### **[System Interface]**

**Stats Updated:**

- Strength: 14 (+1)

- Agility: 18 (+2)

- Intelligence: 19 (+1)

- Endurance: 15 (+2)

- Charisma: 10

**Abilities Unlocked:**

- **Pain Resistance (Level 1)** – Reduces the effects of physical pain.

- **Combat Instincts (Level 1)** – Improves reaction time in close-quarters combat.

**System Points Available: 25**

---

Drew immediately accessed the **Shop**, scrolling through the available upgrades. He needed more power, more speed—anything that would keep him alive when Fisk inevitably sent someone worse than Dante.

**Shop Purchases:**

- **Parkour Mastery (Level 1)** (-10 System Points)

- **Blade Proficiency (Level 1)** (-10 System Points)

**Remaining Points: 5**

As the skills integrated into his body, Drew felt a shift in his muscles, his balance. He stood up and tested a few movements—his body was **lighter**, his steps smoother. He knew exactly how to vault over obstacles, how to flip, how to navigate an urban environment effortlessly.

His hands instinctively traced the shape of the knife he had taken from Dante after their fight. He hadn't been trained with blades before, but now… now it felt **natural**.

A slow smile crept across his face.

**Let Fisk come. He was ready.**

---

## **Fisk's Counterattack**

Wilson Fisk's office at the top of Fisk Tower was silent, save for the quiet hum of city traffic below. The Kingpin of Crime sat behind his massive mahogany desk, staring at the man before him.

Dante Cross stood tall, his face still bruised from the fight with Drew.

"You failed," Fisk said, his deep voice calm yet laced with quiet fury.

Dante clenched his jaw. "He's not just some amateur. He's different."

Fisk nodded slowly, folding his hands together. "I underestimated him. That won't happen again."

He turned to another figure in the room—a man dressed in a sharp black suit, his silver hair slicked back.

"Mr. Wesley," Fisk said smoothly, addressing his right-hand man. "Put the word out. I want this 'Drew Harper' found. I want every informant, every mercenary, every contact we have looking for him. And when he's found…"

Wesley adjusted his glasses. "You want him dead?"

Fisk's lips curled slightly. "No. I want him broken."

---

## **The Price of War**

Drew knew he was being watched.

Even as he moved through the streets of Hell's Kitchen, he could feel eyes on him. Fisk's men were hunting him, just as expected.

But Drew wasn't going to wait for them to come to him.

**He was going to take the fight to them.**

That night, he met up with Martinez and his crew in an abandoned warehouse near the docks.

"Fisk is coming," Drew said, standing before them. "He won't stop until we're all either dead or working for him."

Martinez exhaled slowly. "So what's the plan?"

Drew's grin was sharp. "We hit them first."

He pulled out a stolen **tablet** and laid it on the table. The screen showed a **shipment schedule**—a major arms deal was happening in 48 hours at one of Fisk's docks.

"If we take out this shipment, it won't just hurt Fisk financially—it'll make him look weak," Drew explained. "And in his world, weakness is a death sentence."

Martinez and his crew exchanged glances. They weren't just street thugs—they were smart enough to know what going after Fisk **really** meant.

"This is suicide," one of them muttered.

Drew smirked. "Only if we fail."

---

## **The Dockyard Ambush**

Two nights later, Drew crouched atop a shipping container, his eyes locked on the **docks** below. Floodlights illuminated the scene—dozens of armed men surrounded a line of cargo trucks, loading them with crates of **high-tech weapons**.

Fisk wasn't playing around.

Drew's earpiece crackled.

"You sure about this, man?" Martinez's voice asked. "That's a lot of firepower."

Drew adjusted his gloves, twirling his stolen combat knife between his fingers.

"We do this fast and hard," he said. "Hit them before they know what's happening."

Martinez sighed. "Alright. Let's go."

The attack began **instantly**.

Martinez's men set off **flashbangs**, disorienting Fisk's guards. Gunfire erupted as the crew took advantage of the chaos, moving in from the shadows.

Drew leapt from the container, landing in the center of the chaos. His **Parkour Mastery** let him navigate the battlefield with ease, dodging bullets and weaving through enemies.

One guard swung a baton at him—Drew ducked, slashing his knife across the man's arm. Another charged with a rifle, but Drew was already **behind him**, knocking him out with a precise strike to the temple.

The fight was brutal, **but calculated**.

One by one, Fisk's men fell.

Then—

**A monstrous figure emerged from the shadows.**

A **seven-foot-tall enforcer**, bald and built like a tank, cracked his knuckles. His **brass knuckles** gleamed under the floodlights.

Drew smirked. "Big guy, huh?"

The enforcer didn't waste time. He **charged**, throwing a punch that would have shattered a normal man's skull.

Drew dodged, barely.

The enforcer was **fast**, but Drew was faster. He ducked under another punch and **slashed his knife across the enforcer's side**, drawing blood.

But the man barely **flinched**.

**Shit.**

Drew backflipped away, assessing the situation. This guy wasn't just muscle—he was trained. **Enhanced, maybe?**

The enforcer **lunged again**, grabbing Drew by the throat and **slamming him into a shipping container**.

Pain exploded through his body.

For a moment, his vision blurred.

**Move!**

Drew's **Combat Instincts** kicked in—he jammed his knife into the enforcer's shoulder, forcing him to loosen his grip.

With a surge of adrenaline, Drew kicked the brute in the knee, making him stagger.

Then, **BOOM!**

A bullet struck the enforcer in the chest.

Martinez stood nearby, smoking gun in hand. "You good?"

Drew coughed, grinning. "Peachy."

They turned to see the docks **in flames**. The shipment was destroyed.

Fisk's men were **dead or fleeing**.

They had won.

But Drew knew this was far from over.

**This was just the beginning.**

---

## **Fisk's Rage**

Back in Fisk Tower, Wilson Fisk watched the footage of his **burning shipment**. His fists clenched as rage simmered beneath his calm expression.

Drew Harper had **declared war**.

Fisk exhaled slowly, then turned to Wesley.

"Send out the bounty."

Wesley nodded. "How much?"

Fisk's eyes darkened.

"Ten million."

---

## **A Wanted Man**

The next morning, Drew woke up to a system notification.

**[Warning: A $10,000,000 bounty has been placed on your head.]**

Drew laughed.

Fisk was **desperate**.

And Drew?

He was just getting started.