A Marvel System

Drew Harper leaned against the rooftop railing, staring at the cityscape of Hell's Kitchen. The smell of smoke and gunpowder still clung to his clothes from the attack on Fisk's shipment. His body ached, his wounds still fresh, but the adrenaline pumping through his veins kept him alert.

He pulled up his **System Interface**, eyes narrowing as he read the latest notification.

---

### **[System Alert]**

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

**Status: Wanted - High Priority Target**

---

A low chuckle escaped his lips.

**Ten million dollars.**

That wasn't just an order to kill him—that was an **invitation** to every bounty hunter, mercenary, and assassin in the underworld.

Wilson Fisk wanted him **gone**.

Drew rolled his shoulders. "Good. Let's see who comes knocking."

### **A City on Edge**

Word of the bounty spread through the criminal underworld like wildfire.

From the seedy bars of Harlem to the underground fight clubs in Brooklyn, everyone was talking about **Drew Harper**—the unknown player who had just declared war on the Kingpin of Crime.

Some saw him as a fool. Others saw him as a **golden ticket**.

One such individual was sitting in a darkened booth in a high-end club in Manhattan, watching the news play on a large screen.

The bounty announcement flashed across the screen.

**"$10,000,000 for Drew Harper, dead or alive."**

A woman in a sleek black bodysuit sipped her drink, smirking. "That's a lot of money for one guy."

A man across from her, his face hidden behind a tactical mask, adjusted his gloves. "Means he's not just anyone."

She twirled a knife between her fingers. "Think he's worth the trouble?"

The masked man leaned forward. "Only one way to find out."

### **The First Hunter**

Drew knew it wouldn't take long before someone tried to collect the bounty.

And he was right.

Two nights after the bounty was issued, he was walking through a **quiet alley** when he felt it.

That **prickling sensation** at the back of his neck.

He didn't hesitate.

**[Danger Detected.]**

Drew **spun** just in time to dodge a knife aimed for his ribs.

A figure in a black tactical suit lunged at him, moving with inhuman speed. Drew barely managed to block a second strike, but the force sent him **staggering backward**.

His attacker moved like a **ghost**, blending into the shadows.

"Not bad," the voice came, cold and emotionless. "You're faster than I expected."

Drew recognized the name instantly. **Crossbones.**

**Shit.**

Brock Rumlow wasn't just some thug—he was **ex-HYDRA, ex-S.H.I.E.L.D., and a trained killer**. If Fisk had hired him, then this wasn't just about sending a message.

This was an execution.

Drew rolled his neck, smirking. "You're fast. But I'm faster."

Crossbones snorted. "We'll see about that."

He attacked again, a blur of motion.

Drew barely dodged, using his **Parkour Mastery** to flip over a dumpster and put some distance between them. But Rumlow was relentless.

**A gunshot rang out.**

Drew twisted mid-air, barely avoiding the bullet aimed at his chest. He landed in a crouch, breathing heavily.

Crossbones didn't waste time—he closed the distance, aiming a devastating punch.

Drew activated **Combat Instincts**, his body moving on autopilot. He sidestepped the punch and drove his knife toward Rumlow's ribs.

**CLANG.**

The blade barely scratched his armored suit.

Rumlow **grinned**. "Nice try."

He retaliated with a brutal **knee to Drew's gut**, knocking the wind out of him.

Pain shot through Drew's body, but he fought through it, twisting out of Crossbones' grip.

He **needed a plan. Fast.**

His eyes flickered to the **fire escape** above them.

He took a deep breath and ran for it.

Crossbones fired, but Drew's **Agility** was too high—he scaled the fire escape with ease, dodging bullets as he climbed.

He reached the rooftop and sprinted. He needed to put distance between them.

But Crossbones wasn't far behind.

Drew slid over a vent, ducking behind a large AC unit. He pulled up his **Shop** and quickly made a purchase.

**[Shop Purchase: Smoke Bombs – Level 1] (-5 System Points)**

A small metal sphere materialized in his hand.

Drew grinned. **Perfect.**

Crossbones landed on the rooftop, scanning the area. "You can't run forever, kid."

Drew **tossed** the smoke bomb at his feet.

**BOOM.**

Thick black smoke exploded outward, covering the rooftop in darkness.

Rumlow cursed, firing blindly.

Drew **moved silently**, activating **Silent Stride** to stay undetected. He slipped past Crossbones and sprinted toward the rooftop edge.

Without hesitation, he **leapt off**, twisting in mid-air to grab onto a lower fire escape.

Crossbones rushed to the edge, but by the time the smoke cleared—**Drew was gone.**

### **Regrouping**

Drew landed in a dark alley, his heart pounding.

That fight had been **too close**.

He needed **better gear, better weapons, and more power**.

He opened his **System Interface** and checked his available points.

**System Points: 10**

He navigated to the **Upgrades** tab.

**Shop Purchase:**

- **Enhanced Strength – Level 1** (-10 System Points)

Drew **immediately** felt the difference. His muscles tensed, his body adjusting to the newfound power.

He clenched his fists. "Now we're talking."

### **Fisk's Next Move**

Back in Fisk Tower, Crossbones stood before Wilson Fisk, **bloodied but alive**.

"He's better than I thought," Rumlow admitted, wiping blood from his lip.

Fisk leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "That just makes him more valuable."

Crossbones frowned. "You still want him dead?"

Fisk chuckled. "No. I want him **under my control**."

He turned to Wesley. "Double the bounty. And send in someone special."

Wesley raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

Fisk's smile was **cold and calculating**.

"Taskmaster."

---

### **A Storm Approaches**

Drew sat in his apartment, patching himself up. His body ached, but his mind was focused.

He had survived Fisk's first wave.

But he knew more was coming.

The bounty had just been **doubled**.

And now **Taskmaster** was coming for him.

Drew exhaled, a grin forming on his lips

Bring it on.

Drew sat in the dim light of his apartment, his body aching from the encounter with Crossbones. He flexed his fingers, feeling the residual tension in his muscles. The bruises and cuts were reminders of how outclassed he had been. If it weren't for his system, he'd be a corpse right now.

The fight had exposed a brutal truth—he was not ready for the level of enemies Fisk could throw at him.

But he would be.

He opened his System Interface and scrolled through the Shop.

He had no points left, but that would change soon. If he wanted to survive, he needed to push himself beyond his limits.

A notification popped up.

[Urgent Mission: Survive the Hunter]

Objective: Evade or defeat the incoming assassin.

Target: Taskmaster

Reward: 50 System Points + ???

Drew's heart skipped a beat.

Taskmaster?

Fisk wasn't just sending goons anymore—he was sending a legend.

Taskmaster was a walking nightmare, capable of mimicking any opponent's fighting style. Even heroes like Captain America, Black Panther, and Spider-Man had struggled against him.

Drew exhaled slowly.

This wasn't just about survival anymore.

If he could outlast Taskmaster, it would prove he was more than just a street-level threat.

He grabbed his gear—a stolen tactical knife, a lightweight pistol, and the few smoke bombs he had left. Then, he vanished into the night.

The Hunter Arrives

A black SUV rolled to a stop outside a warehouse in Hell's Kitchen.

Inside the vehicle, Taskmaster adjusted the hood of his white and orange suit, his skull-like mask reflecting the dim streetlights.

His HUD visor scanned the environment, picking up heat signatures and tracking movement. He had already studied the limited footage available of Drew Harper's fights.

He wasn't just fast. He adapted.

And that made him dangerous.

A challenge.

Taskmaster smirked beneath his mask. "Let's see what you've got, kid."

He stepped out of the vehicle and vanished into the darkness.

The Chase Begins

Drew moved through the rooftops, using his Parkour Mastery to leap effortlessly between buildings. His senses were on high alert.

Taskmaster would not attack head-on.

He'd wait. Observe. Strike when the moment was perfect.

Drew's instincts screamed at him.

MOVE.

He twisted mid-air just as a bullet whizzed past his head.

A second shot followed, aiming for his leg—but Drew used his Enhanced Reflexes to dodge, barely avoiding the impact.

He landed in a crouch and spun toward the source.

On the rooftop across from him, Taskmaster stood motionless, a high-powered sniper rifle resting on his shoulder.

Drew smirked. "Guess Fisk really wants me gone."

Taskmaster tilted his head. "Not gone. Broken."

Then, he moved.

Drew barely had time to react as Taskmaster leapt across the gap, his sword flashing in the moonlight.

Drew dodged left, drawing his knife, but Taskmaster was faster—he kicked Drew in the chest, sending him skidding backward.

Drew coughed, rolling to his feet.

Taskmaster stood tall, spinning his sword in one hand. "Your footwork's good. Your instincts are better."

He moved—a blur of motion.

Drew blocked a slash, countered with a stab, but Taskmaster was already mirroring his movements.

It was like fighting himself—but better.

Shit.

Drew ducked under a punch, aiming a roundhouse kick—but Taskmaster caught his leg mid-spin and slammed him into the rooftop.

Pain exploded through Drew's ribs.

His system flashed red.

[Endurance Check: Critical Damage]

Taskmaster knelt beside him. "You've got talent. But talent isn't enough."

Drew spat blood, grinning. "Yeah? Well, neither is copying everyone else."

He activated his last smoke bomb, detonating it in their faces.

Taskmaster stepped back, his visor adjusting to the sudden darkness. "That won't work on me, kid."

But Drew was already gone.

Regroup and Retaliate

Drew moved fast, weaving through alleyways, his mind racing.

Taskmaster was stronger, faster, more experienced.

But he had a weakness—he relied on predictability.

Drew skidded to a stop inside an abandoned boxing gym. Dust covered the floor, the smell of old sweat lingering in the air.

He turned, breathing heavily.

Taskmaster stepped through the doorway. "Running's only delaying the inevitable."

Drew grinned. "You ever fought someone who makes it up as they go?"

Taskmaster didn't respond—he attacked.

Drew didn't block.

He flowed.

He dodged in random directions, attacking at odd angles, breaking every rule of traditional combat.

Taskmaster's movements hesitated for a fraction of a second.

That was all Drew needed.

He slammed his knee into Taskmaster's gut, grabbed his arm, and twisted, sending the mercenary crashing into the boxing ring.

Taskmaster rolled to his feet, his mask cracking slightly. He stared at Drew.

Then, he chuckled.

"Well played."

Drew wiped blood from his lip. "So what now?"

Taskmaster sighed. "I was paid to bring you in. But now I'm curious."

He sheathed his sword. "You're learning too fast. That's… interesting."

Drew narrowed his eyes. "You letting me go?"

Taskmaster smirked. "For now."

Then, he was gone.

Drew exhaled heavily.

He had survived.

But this was far from over.

The Aftermath

Drew limped into his apartment and collapsed onto the couch.

His system beeped.

[Mission Complete: Survive the Hunter]

Rewards:

50 System Points

??? Unlocked

A new notification appeared.

[Hidden Trait Unlocked: Adaptive Combatant]

You now learn from battles faster, adjusting to enemy patterns at an accelerated rate.

Drew's eyes widened.

This was huge.

He wasn't just surviving—he was evolving.

He leaned back, staring at the ceiling.

Fisk had thrown one of the deadliest assassins in the world at him.

And Drew had won.

A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face.

Wilson Fisk had no idea what kind of monster he had just created.