Ansh had never been the sort of boy who fit into neat, polished categories. In school, teachers had given up on expecting excellence from him years ago. His grades were average at best, his attention span reserved for things he loved — games, movies, and the vibrant worlds they promised. Delhi's crowded streets and the towering apartments of his neighborhood had always been his cage and his playground.
At seventeen, he had been drifting through life, coasting on the silent kindness of his parents' last gift: money. Enough to keep him fed, clothed, and sheltered without having to grind away at school or menial jobs. Enough to spend long nights lost in superhero films, to debate DC versus Marvel in online forums, to imagine himself fighting beside or against the heroes he admired.
The irony was, in all his fantasies, he had never once considered dying in the middle of an ordinary day.
It was a Sunday, the kind where Delhi's heat had faded into the cool calm of winter, the sky pale and empty above the grey buildings. Ansh had been heading to the supermarket, his mind half-lost in thoughts of what new snacks he might buy and half in the lingering thrill of a late-night rewatch of Avengers.
The truck appeared out of nowhere — a massive, growling beast of steel. The driver's face was a blur of panic as the vehicle swerved, but there was no time for either of them to react. The impact was deafening. Pain flared white-hot, a sensation so consuming that it didn't even feel real.
Then, silence.
A voice, cold and mechanical, cut through the void:
[System Online.]
Host: Ansh.
Status: Critical condition detected.
Solution: Immortal Body protocol activated.
Ansh's mind reeled. "Who… who are you?"
The voice ignored his panic, speaking with the detachment of a machine reading a weather report:
Congratulations. You have obtained the Immortal Body. This will awaken one supernatural ability every six months. For now… your destiny is set in the Marvel World.
"What the hell—"
Setting host identity in the Marvel Universe.
Ansh felt a strange warmth spreading through his broken frame. The agony ebbed away, replaced by a tingling that reached into the marrow of his bones. He could almost hear his body repairing — bones knitting together, torn flesh sealing seamlessly.
The world around him blurred. The smell of asphalt and petrol faded. The sound of the truck's brakes screeching vanished. He became aware of the driver's face, blank and unknowing, as if the last thirty seconds had been plucked out of his memory. The onlookers too — their panic drained from their eyes.
All traces erased.
The voice paused, a strange finality in its tone.
Goodbye, host.
And then the darkness took him.
When Ansh opened his eyes again, the world had changed.
The first thing he noticed was the silence — thick and soft, broken only by the faint hum of distant city life. He was lying on a wide bed, its mattress sinking just enough to cradle him. The sheets were fresh and smooth beneath his fingers, their faint scent like lavender mixed with clean linen.
He sat up slowly, blinking at the sight around him.
The room was spacious, far larger than his small Delhi apartment. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched along two walls, revealing a city bathed in the deep blues and silvers of early evening. Towering skyscrapers glimmered with scattered lights, their reflections dancing on the dark glass of neighboring buildings. Beyond them, he could make out the faint shimmer of water — a river or maybe the edge of the sea, kissed by the last light of the day.
The walls were painted a muted ivory, their simplicity giving the space an air of quiet luxury. The carpet beneath his bare feet was a deep, rich violet, soft enough that he could feel its plush texture through his toes. Two sleek, adjustable reading lamps curved over the bed like the necks of metallic serpents, their warm yellow glow casting cozy pools of light on the pillows.
It was the kind of room he'd only ever seen in movies — expensive, minimalistic, untouchable.
As he tried to take it all in, a dull throb pulsed behind his eyes.
[Transmitting identity data.]
Ansh sucked in a sharp breath as images and memories not his own flooded his mind. He saw flashes of two smiling strangers — his "parents" here in this new world — and the wreck that had taken their lives years ago. A will. A bank account that dwarfed anything he could have imagined. Lawyers ensuring everything was passed to him without dispute.
The knowledge settled into him like it had always been there. In this reality, he was still an orphan, but a wealthy one. His parents were gone, and in both worlds, the loss barely tugged at his heart. He'd never been the type to weep over what he couldn't change, and here… it felt even more distant.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, walking toward the nearest window. Pressing a hand to the glass, he stared down at the streets far below. The cars moved like slow, glittering insects, their headlights weaving streams of gold through the urban maze.
Something about the skyline tugged at his memory. The architecture, the way the skyscrapers crowded together, the faint glint of the waterline — it clicked into place with a jolt.
New York.
His eyes widened.
He turned toward the nightstand and found a sleek black smartphone resting there, along with a neatly folded envelope. Inside was a keycard and a crisp note, handwritten in elegant script:
Welcome home, Mr. Ansh Kapoor.
Ansh's breath caught. Kapoor. The name tasted foreign and familiar at once.
But before he could think too much on it, another thought stabbed through him.
He spotted a small desk in the corner, a digital calendar glowing faintly on its screen. He crossed the room in a few strides, eyes scanning the date.
November 2011.
A chill rippled down his spine.
Marvel's timeline — the one he knew from the films — placed this just months before the events of The Avengers. Just months before Loki opened a portal above Manhattan, unleashing an alien army onto the city.
He exhaled slowly, gripping the edge of the desk. In the movies, it had been thrilling to watch the chaos from the safety of his room. But now…
Now, he was in the city.
And soon, it would be under attack.
The system's words replayed in his head:
Immortal Body. One new ability every six months.
He didn't know what that meant in practical terms. Would he heal from bullets like Wolverine? Punch through steel like Captain America? Or was it something stranger, something entirely unique?
Whatever it was, he doubted it would make him a match for an entire alien invasion — at least not yet.
For the first time since waking, he felt the faintest stirrings of fear. It wasn't the panicked kind that made you freeze, but the cold, calculating awareness that something huge was coming, and he had no choice but to face it.
He walked back to the bed and sat heavily, elbows resting on his knees.
Six month. That was all the time he had before the sky split open.
Six month to figure out his powers. One month to decide if he would hide, run, or stand among the heroes he had only ever admired from a screen.
He chuckled under his breath, the sound low and humorless. "Welcome to Marvel, Ansh."
Somehow, he knew his life was never going to be the same again.