Marvel: The saiyan

As the thug shuffled ahead to lead me to his boss, I caught the way his hands trembled when he reached for his phone. He thought he was being clever, muttering low as he made his call, but my sharp ears caught every word. "Yeah... uh, we got a problem. He's coming here now. Big guy. Weird armor. Just—just get everyone ready, all right?" He hung up, sparing me a glance out of the corner of his eye, as if checking to see if I'd noticed. I smirked.

It wasn't like I didn't know this was a trap. Of course it was. What thug worth his salt wouldn't try to call for backup when faced with someone stronger? But that didn't matter. Let them gang up on me. Hell, let them throw everything they've got. I wasn't afraid. Reckless? Maybe. But the truth was, I doubted there was anything in this room—on this planet, even—that could stand against me.

He led me into a dimly lit room reeking of stale alcohol and cigarette smoke, the stench almost overpowering. The floor creaked beneath my boots, sticky with spilled drinks and grime. A large, scarred man leaned back against a battered desk at the far end, his bulk framed by flickering fluorescent lights that cast deep shadows across the room. Flanking him were two men armed with rifles, their eyes narrowing as they sized me up.

"This is the guy, boss," the thug stammered, his voice thin as he gestured toward me.

The boss's scarred face twisted into a sneer as he leaned forward, resting his massive arms on the desk. His eyes swept over me like he was sizing up a piece of meat. "So, you're the one causing trouble for my boys, huh? Gotta say, kid, you've got guts waltzing in here like this."

I smirked, hands casually resting on my hips as I let my tail uncurl from my waist, swaying lazily behind me. The sight of it made the thugs flanking him tense, their fingers twitching near the triggers of their guns. I loved that reaction—the confusion, the fear.

"Trouble?" I said, my voice calm and just a little amused. "Nah. I haven't even started causing trouble yet. But hey, if you're feeling brave, we can change that."

One of the goons let out a bark of laughter, but it sounded forced. "Big talk, freak. You know where you are? You're outnumbered, outgunned, and way out of your league."

I tilted my head, pretending to think about it. "Outnumbered, sure. Outgunned?" I glanced at the rifles they held, then shrugged. "I mean, if you think those little toys are gonna help you, by all means, give it a shot."

The boss raised a hand, and the room fell silent. His gaze was sharp, calculating, but there was a flicker of uncertainty there. He didn't know what to make of me—and I wasn't about to make it easy for him.

"What's your deal, kid?" he said slowly, his voice low and gravelly. "You think you're invincible or something? That we won't put you in the ground right here, right now?"

"Invincible?" I chuckled, the sound echoing off the grimy walls. "Let's just say... you'd need a hell of a lot more than this to take me down."

That did it. The boss slammed a fist on the desk, the wood groaning under the force. "Kill him."

The room erupted into chaos.

The two goons raised their rifles and opened fire, the deafening cracks of gunshots ringing out like fireworks in the confined space. I didn't even flinch. My body moved on instinct, faster than their eyes could track. The bullets whizzed past me, embedding themselves into the walls and floor. One or two struck my chestplate, but the soft ping they made was almost laughable.

"Seriously?" I said, standing still just to prove a point. "That's the best you've got? Feels like I'm getting hit with pebbles here."

The shock on their faces was priceless. One of the goons actually stumbled backward, his gun trembling in his hands.

"Alright, my turn," I said with a grin, vanishing from their sight in an instant.

I reappeared right in front of the first thug, my fist connecting with his gut before he even realized I'd moved. The air exploded out of his lungs in a wheezing gasp as he crumpled to the floor like a sack of bricks.

The second thug tried to aim his rifle at me, but I was already behind him, tapping him on the shoulder. He spun around, wide-eyed, just in time to catch a casual backhand that sent him sprawling into a stack of crates.

"Two down," I said, brushing some dust off my armor. "Who's next?"

The boss snarled, slamming a button on his desk. Suddenly, the room lit up with a crackling blue glow as high-voltage electricity surged through the floor.

The shock hit me like a tidal wave, the current sparking up my legs and through my body. The gang must've thought they had me—I could see the smug grins on their faces, hear their mocking laughter.

But as the sparks danced across my armor and my muscles tensed under the voltage, all I felt was... a tingle.

"Oh, come on," I said, my voice cutting through the chaos. "You call this a trap? This tickles."

Their laughter stopped cold.

With one quick stomp, I shattered the electrical panel beneath my foot, the sparks dying instantly. "You're gonna have to try a lot harder than that if you wanna stop me," I added, shaking out my hands for dramatic effect.

The rest of the gang rushed me now, drawing knives, bats, and even a crowbar or two. One guy came at me swinging a pipe like he thought he was in a street-fighting video game. I caught it mid-swing with one hand, the metal screeching as it bent under my grip.

"Nice try," I said, yanking the pipe out of his hands and tossing it over my shoulder. It clanged uselessly to the ground as I delivered a light kick to his chest, sending him flying into a nearby table.

Another thug jabbed at me with a knife, aiming for my side. I let him get close—close enough to think he had me—before sidestepping and grabbing his wrist. The knife clattered to the floor as I tightened my grip, forcing him to his knees.

"You might wanna rethink your career choices," I said, leaning in with a grin. "Because this? Not your best day." With a flick of my wrist, I sent him skidding across the room, crashing into a stack of chairs.

The remaining goons hesitated, glancing at each other. They were running out of numbers—and, clearly, running out of courage.

"Still wanna play?" I asked, cracking my knuckles.

Seeing his men drop like flies, the boss finally stood up, pulling a pistol from his waistband. He leveled it at me, his hands steady despite the sweat dripping down his face.

"You're strong," he admitted, his voice steady but his eyes betraying his fear. "But nobody's bulletproof."

I rolled my eyes. "Really? We're still doing this?"

He pulled the trigger.

The bullet struck me square in the forehead—and bounced off like a pebble hitting a brick wall. I didn't even blink.

The boss froze, his jaw hanging open as he stared at me. Slowly, I raised a hand to my forehead, brushing the spot where the bullet had hit. "Huh. Not even a scratch," I said, grinning. "Wanna try again?"

He didn't. The gun slipped from his fingers, clattering to the floor as he stumbled back, his confidence evaporating.

I walked up to him, slow and deliberate, letting my boots echo off the floor with every step. "Now, here's how this is gonna work," I said, grabbing the front of his shirt and lifting him off the ground like he weighed nothing.

"You're gonna get me what I need—money, ID, whatever. And in return, I don't burn this place to the ground. Deal?"

He nodded frantically, his hands clawing at my wrist. "Y-yeah! Deal! Anything you want, just let me go!"

"Good answer," I said, dropping him unceremoniously onto the floor.

As he scrambled to his feet, I glanced around at the unconscious thugs littering the room. "Oh, and one more thing," I added, turning back to the boss. "If any of this gets out—I'll come back. And next time, I won't be so nice. Got it?"

The boss nodded again, his face pale. "Got it. Crystal clear."

"Great," I said, turning toward the exit. "Pleasure doing business with you."

With that, I walked back to the battered couch in the corner of the room and sat down, making myself comfortable. My tail coiled lazily around my waist again, twitching every so often like a satisfied cat. I leaned back, arms draped casually over the couch, and watched as the boss barked orders at his men, scrambling to gather what I'd demanded: money, an ID, a phone, and anything else I might find useful.

For a bunch of so-called "tough guys," they were surprisingly quick to fall in line. A few of them shot me sideways glances, their faces pale as they hauled out drawers, cracked safes, and dusty crates, searching for anything that might appease me. One guy nearly dropped a stack of cash as he fumbled to hand it over to the boss, who snatched it and slammed it onto the desk with a loud thud.

"Make it snappy," I said, my voice carrying just enough of a threat to make the boss flinch. "I don't have all day."

The room reeked of desperation now, the once-smug gang reduced to little more than scurrying rats trying to please a predator. It was almost laughable. These guys probably thought they were at the top of the food chain in their little corner of New York, but they had no idea what real power looked like.

And I wasn't even breaking a sweat.

As they worked, I let my eyes wander around the room. It was a dump, honestly—peeling wallpaper, cracked windows, and a faintly buzzing light fixture that looked like it was one flicker away from giving up entirely. The desk where the boss sat was scratched and dented, its drawers stuffed with crumpled bills, loose bullets, and a couple of whiskey bottles. A crooked picture of some random beach scene hung on the wall behind him, looking absurdly out of place in a room this grimy.

The men weren't much better. They weren't fighters—not really. I could tell just by looking at them. Sure, they had weapons and big talk, but none of them had the discipline or strength to back it up. Their movements were clumsy, their fear obvious. Even the boss, with his scars and gravelly voice, was little more than a glorified thug pretending to be king of the hill.

Still, I supposed they had their uses. For now.

One of the thugs approached me nervously, holding out a cheap, battered flip phone. "Uh, here. This is all we've got right now," he stammered, his eyes darting to the ground like he was afraid to make eye contact.

I stared at the phone in his hand, then back at him. "Seriously? This is it?" I reached out, taking it between two fingers like it was something foul. The phone was ancient—practically a relic—and looked like it might fall apart if I so much as breathed on it.

"Look, it works, okay?" the thug said quickly, holding up his hands. "Calls, texts—it's all there. We'll get you something better later."

I sighed, flipping it open with a sharp snap. "This better be temporary," I muttered, scrolling through the outdated menu. "If I'm going to be stuck in this world, I at least want something that doesn't look like it belongs in a museum."

Well, I guess it doesn't matter, I thought, tucking the phone into my belt. I can always buy a new one with the money they're giving me.

The boss cleared his throat, straightening up behind his desk like he was trying to reclaim some semblance of authority. "Look, uh... I don't know what your deal is, but you've made your point. You're strong. Real strong. You got what you came for—money, ID, a phone. So now what? You gonna leave us alone?"

I glanced up at him, raising an eyebrow. "That depends."

"On what?"

"On my mood," I said, standing up and slowly tracing my finger across my neck in a deliberate motion. "If any of this gets out... well, let's just say you won't like the consequences."

The room went silent. Even the thugs still gathering supplies froze in place, their faces pale. The boss swallowed hard, nodding quickly. "Got it. You won't hear a peep outta us. Swear on my life."

"Good," I said, leaning back again with a satisfied smirk. "Now hurry it up. I've got places to be."

As I sat there, watching them scramble, I couldn't help but feel a bit... smug. This world was weaker than I expected. Sure, they had guns, knives, and a few dirty tricks, but nothing that could even put a dent in me. It was almost disappointing. Almost.

Still, I couldn't deny the rush of power that came with seeing them so terrified. It wasn't just my strength—it was the knowledge that I was untouchable here. These humans, with all their bravado and weapons, were ants in comparison.

But I couldn't let that get to my head. Not yet, anyway. This was just the beginning. Somewhere out there, I was sure there were people—maybe even heroes—who could give me a real challenge. The thought sent a flicker of excitement through me. Saiyan genetics really were terrifying.

The boss handed over a wad of cash, a freshly printed fake ID, and the pathetic flip phone I'd already tucked into my belt. "This everything?" I asked, counting the money lazily. There had to be at least $7,000 in the bundle. Not bad. Not bad at all.

"Yeah, that's all of it," he said, his voice tight with nerves. "We're square, right?"

"For now," I replied, tucking the cash into a pouch on my armor. "But don't think for a second I'm letting you off the hook."

With that, I pushed off the couch and strolled toward the exit, my boots echoing against the grimy floor. "Oh, and one more thing," I said, pausing at the door. I glanced back at the gang, letting my tail uncurl and swish behind me. "If you even think about trying to track me or double-cross me... well, let's just say you won't live long enough to regret it."

The boss nodded furiously, his face pale. "Got it. Loud and clear."

"Good," I said with a grin, stepping out into the night. The air was cooler outside, cleaner, and I let out a breath as I stared up at the towering skyline of New York.

A new world. A new life. And somewhere out there, my next challenge was waiting.

For now, though, I needed a place to stay—and maybe some food. Sorry, not maybe. I really need some goddamn food.

One step at a time.

I found an isolated bench near the edge of the city—quiet enough to think, but not so quiet that I'd attract attention. Dropping onto the bench with a sigh, I pulled out the ancient flip phone I'd been given. I hadn't even checked the date yet; I didn't want to until I had money and an ID in hand. No use figuring out when I was if I couldn't even survive whereI was.

Flipping the phone open, I scrolled through its clunky interface until I found the calendar.

7th April 2006.

I froze, staring at the tiny screen as the weight of the numbers sank in.

"Wow," I muttered to myself, leaning back against the bench, "I really ain't in my world. Or… I just went back in time." The thought sent my head spinning. A time skip? A parallel dimension? Something else entirely?

"Maybe this is an alternate Earth in the Dragon Ball universe?" I said aloud, though the words felt hollow. I knew deep down that wasn't it. Nothing about this place screamed Dragon Ball. The air was too clean, the people too normal—no flying capsules, no power levels, no sign of ki anywhere.

"Well, no need to get stuck on that right now." I stood, slipping the phone back into my pocket. "First, I'll find myself a hotel room. A nice one."

The streets were alive with activity. Cars honked, vendors shouted about their hot dogs and pretzels, and a sea of people bustled past me without sparing me a second glance. I kept walking, letting the energy of the city guide me, the neon lights and towering buildings pulling me deeper into its maze.

I wasn't just wandering aimlessly, though. My eyes scanned every billboard, every street sign, every flicker of light for some kind of clue about where—or when—I was.

That's when I saw it.

"Trust Stark Industries for the protection of the country…"

The words flashed across an enormous electronic billboard, accompanied by a smiling image of a younger, smug-looking Tony Stark. His face was plastered against a background of sleek, futuristic tech—jets, weapons, and, of course, the Stark logo.

I stopped dead in my tracks, staring up at the screen.

"Ah, hell no," I muttered, my tail twitching beneath my armor. "I didn't even need the name. One look at that damn face and I already know where I am."

The realization hit me like a ton of bricks.

Marvel.

Marvel, the land of superheroes, gods, cosmic threats, and—oh yeah—Earth-destroying villains that would make even Frieza look like a neighborhood bully.

"Well, fuck," I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck. "This is... not good."

I slumped against a lamppost, letting the chaos of New York buzz around me as I tried to process what this meant. If this really was Marvel—and it sure as hell looked like it—then things just got a whole lot more complicated.

I wasn't the strongest anymore. By a long shot. Sure, these humans were weak, but this wasn't their fight. The real threats in this world weren't the gangsters or petty criminals. They were the alien invasions, the interdimensional gods, the rogue robots capable of wiping out planets.

And I didn't even know where in the timeline I was. Was it before the Avengers? Before Thanos? Or worse... during? 

No need to panic, if this is the mcu, this is still even before iron man appears, and from that sign, iron man ain't a thing yet.

I clenched my fists, my tail lashing in frustration.

"And if that's not bad enough," I muttered under my breath, "I'm really screwed if the wrong people notice me."

SHIELD. HYDRA. Stark himself. This place was crawling with people who would kill to get their hands on someone like me—or worse, lock me up for experiments.

I shook my head, pushing myself off the lamppost. No use panicking now. I was still a Saiyan. I still had my strength. And if this world wanted to throw its worst at me?

Well, I'd just have to make sure I got stronger first.

"Alright, Marvel," I muttered, glancing back at the billboard one last time. "Let's see what you've got."

"Let's first concentrate on the important things," I muttered, weaving through the crowded streets. "First of all, I'll need to find this hotel."

It didn't take long. New York City wasn't exactly lacking in places to stay, and I passed plenty of signs advertising cheap, run-down motels. But those weren't what I was looking for.With all that money I wouldn't settle for a rat hole. No, if I was going to sleep somewhere, it was going to be nice—real nice.

Eventually, I spotted it: a sleek, towering building with glass windows that shimmered under the streetlights. A sign near the entrance read "The Grand Metropolitan Hotel."

"Perfect," I said, striding toward the lobby like I owned the place.

Inside, the lobby was exactly what I expected—spacious, gleaming, and full of people who looked like they had more money than sense. A grand chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting golden light across polished floors and expensive furniture. A fountain in the center burbled softly, its water cascading over an abstract sculpture I didn't bother to study too closely.

I approached the front desk, where a sharply dressed man glanced up from his computer. His eyes flicked over me—specifically, my armor—and for a split second, I could see the hesitation behind his professional smile.

"Good evening, sir. Welcome to The Grand Metropolitan. How may I assist you?"

"I need a room," I said bluntly, leaning on the desk. "Something good. Not cheap."

"Of course, sir," the clerk replied, regaining his composure. "We have several options available. May I suggest our deluxe suite? It comes with—"

"Yeah, yeah, that's fine," I interrupted. "How much for three nights?"

The man tapped a few keys, glancing at the screen before replying, "That will be $700, sir."

I raised an eyebrow. It was steep—especially for only three nights—but I didn't care. Money was no issue, and I wasn't about to settle for anything less. I pulled out the wad of cash the gang had given me and slapped it onto the counter.

"Here," I said, sliding over the bills.

The clerk blinked at the sight of the cash but quickly counted it and handed me a receipt and a room key. "Thank you, sir. Your room is on the 15th floor. Elevators are to your left."

"Thanks," I said, snatching the key and heading toward the elevators.

The room didn't disappoint. As soon as I stepped inside, I was greeted by a massive bed with soft white sheets, a floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the city skyline, and a flat-screen TV mounted on the wall. There was even a minibar stocked with snacks and drinks I didn't recognize.

But the first thing I cared about? Food. Lots of it.

I grabbed the phone by the bedside table and dialed room service, flipping through the menu as I waited.

"Room service, how may I assist you?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna need a lot of food," I said, listing off items without a second thought. "Let's start with three burgers, a large pizza, a bucket of fried chicken, and—wait, you got steak?"

"Yes, sir, we do," the voice on the other end replied, sounding a little unsure.

"Great. Make that two steaks. Medium rare. Oh, and throw in some fries. And dessert. All of it. Whatever you've got."

There was a long pause. "Uh… is this all for you, sir?"

"Does that matter?" I asked flatly.

"N-no, sir! It'll be up shortly."

I hung up, tossing the phone back onto the bed as my stomach growled. Saiyan appetites were no joke, and after everything I'd been through today, I was starving.

When the food arrived, the waiter looked like he'd just delivered a feast to a medieval king. Plates upon plates covered the cart as he rolled it in, and his eyes widened when he saw me in my armor.

"Thanks," I said, taking the tray and shutting the door before he could ask questions.

For the next hour, I devoured everything in sight. The burgers, the pizza, the chicken—it all vanished in record time. By the time I got to the dessert, I felt like I could breathe fire.

"Man," I muttered, leaning back against the bed, "humans sure know how to cook.God bless humanity." Shallot said while grabbing a hand of fries.

After eating, I finally took the chance to wash up. The bathroom was luxurious, with a massive glass shower and more soaps and shampoos than I knew what to do with. I stripped off my armor and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water cascade over me.

It felt… good. Relaxing.

For the first time since I woke up in this world, I let myself breathe, my muscles loosening under the steady stream. My thoughts drifted as I scrubbed away the grime of the day.

Marvel.

The name hung in my mind, heavy with possibilities and dangers. I wasn't ready to face it yet—not all of it. But I would be. Soon.

Once I was clean, I dried off and threw on the only thing I had left to wear: my armor. It wasn't ideal, but it would do for now. I collapsed onto the bed, letting the soft sheets swallow me as sleep came faster than I expected.

The next morning,

I woke up early, the sunlight streaming through the window. For a moment, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling as I replayed everything in my head. New world, new rules. And I couldn't afford to keep standing out like a sore thumb.

First things first: clothes.

After cleaning up the mess of empty plates and food wrappers from the night before, I grabbed my cash and headed out into the city.

Walking through New York in Saiyan armor was… not subtle. People stared. A lot. A few even pulled out their phones, snapping pictures or whispering to each other as I passed.

I sighed, tugging my tail closer to my waist and wrapping it like a belt. It helped a little, but not much.

"Alright, this is getting ridiculous," I muttered. "Time to blend in."

I found a clothing store not far from the hotel—a high-end place with racks of suits, casual wear, and everything in between. The store clerk looked up as I walked in, her eyes immediately darting to my armor.

"Uh… can I help you?" she asked, clearly unsure of what to make of me.

"Yeah," I said, glancing around the store. "I need something normal. Pants, shirts, jackets—whatever makes me look less like I walked off a movie set."

After trying on a few outfits, I settled on a simple combination: a black leather jacket, dark jeans, and a plain white T-shirt. It wasn't flashy, but it fit well and felt comfortable. Plus, it made me look a little less… alien.

I glanced at myself in the mirror, turning slightly to make sure the jacket covered my tail. It wasn't perfect, but it would do for now.

"Looks good," I said, smirking at my reflection.

After paying for the clothes, I stepped back out onto the streets of New York, blending in just a little better than before.

With my new clothes and fresh confidence, I was ready to figure out my next move. The Marvel Universe was a big place, and I had a lot of questions. But for now, I had everything I needed to start carving out my place in it.

"Alright," I muttered, shoving my hands into my jacket pockets as I walked. "Let's see where this world takes me."