[A Few Hours Earlier][David's POV]
"David?" Joe's voice held a mix of surprise and cautious relief.
I let out a small chuckle and nodded. "Yeah. Been a while, huh?"
Joe stepped closer, giving me a quick once-over. "Damn, kid. Where the hell have you been? You just vanished on us. I even swung by your place to check in. Your neighbors said the house was locked up for over a month—and no sign of you."
I exhaled slowly. "Yeah… remember how I said I was taking a two-day vacation?"
Joe scoffed. "Yeah, I remember. I was the one who told you to take it. You looked completely burned out. But I meant a short break—not a damn three-month disappearing act."
I paused.
Why was I burned out?
The question struck deeper than expected.
And then, like a dam cracking open, the memories surged—fragmented, disjointed, but vivid. Sharp flashes. Echoes of sensations.
And just as quickly as it started, it all stopped.
Everything went still.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
[Host, the amount of memories can put a strain on your brain.]
[Do you want to receive them later?]
[Y/N]
Shit!
I cursed inwardly—not just because of the memories, but because of what the system had just done.It could interfere with my mind? That was a terrifying realization.
After a beat, I mentally selected Yes, and the notification vanished.
Joe's voice snapped me out of it. I forced myself to stay composed, masking the churn behind my eyes.
I'll have to sort through those memories later.
Still, I replied evenly, "Yeah, sorry. Got a little sidetracked. But hey, I did take your advice seriously. Problem is… Bad Luck decided to tag along for the ride. Ended up in a pretty nasty accident."
[Present Time][Third Person POV]
After David got home, he sank into the couch and leaned back with a long, slow breath. Eyes closed, he let the memories come.Scenes unfolded in his mind like a broken film reel—disjointed but vivid.
His breathing grew shallow as everything hit him at once. His hand clenched the fabric of his shirt, grounding himself against the emotional storm surging inside.
Another wave surged forward.
Detective Alan Sloane.
The old David had been naïve—desperate to believe that justice still meant something. After his mother's death, he'd uncovered something. Something important. And he'd taken it straight to the detective handling the case, clinging to hope.
Sloane had promised to look into it.
Two days later, two men in suits showed up at his door.
David's fingers curled into a tight fist.
They didn't need to be violent. Their words were smooth, their smiles practiced. But beneath the polished surface, the message was crystal clear:
"Some things are better left buried, Mr. Brown. Take the money. Move on with your life."
A day later, millions of dollars were deposited into his bank account.
And the old David… he had folded.
Fear. Helplessness. The crushing realization that he had no power against whoever was behind his mother's death. So, he took the money.
He gave up.
And for one night—just one—he slept.
But the next two days? He thought he slept. Then the guilt began to settle in, quiet at first, then unbearable.
He couldn't sleep. Couldn't stop thinking about it. He had abandoned his mother's justice. The money felt like blood—staining his hands, poisoning his every thought.
So, he worked.
Extra shifts. Double shifts. A second job at a bar. Anything to stay busy. Anything to drown out the guilt.
But it wasn't enough.
His hands trembled from exhaustion. His mind blurred from sleepless nights. Joe had noticed—of course he had. The man was rough around the edges, but he was sharp.
"Kid, you're gonna drop dead if you keep this up. Take a damn vacation."
So, he did.
And then the Chitauri Invasion happened.
But the worst part?
He hadn't even tried to run.
David's breath caught as the memory surfaced. The old him—drugged, numb, lying in a hotel room as the world outside burned. Buildings crumbled. People screamed.
And his final thoughts?
I should've fought back. I should never have agreed. Never taken the money. After everything Mom did for me… I betrayed her.
I'm a coward. A worthless, pathetic coward.
I'm sorry, Mom. I'm sorry for being born your son. I'm sorry for being weak.
Then came the explosions. The chaos. The building across the street collapsed—debris rushing toward him.
He didn't move.
He accepted it. The weight of his cowardice crushed him long before the rubble did.
And then… darkness.
--
--
David exhaled sharply, his body trembling as he returned to the present. He was back in his apartment, seated on the couch, but his hands remained clenched into fists.
He had always assumed the old David had just been an unlucky civilian—caught in the crossfire of something bigger.
But no.
The old David had wanted to die.
And that realization sent a cold shiver down his spine.
He inhaled deeply, forcing his fists to loosen. I'm not that person, he reminded himself. Not anymore.
But as the memories continued to settle, another truth began to surface.
The new David—the now David—hadn't lived an easy life either.
He hadn't been a genius. Or born gifted. But he had been a fighter.
An orphan, clawing his way through life just to survive. Getting a basic job in his previous life had been a struggle in itself. Every inch of progress came from effort, not talent.
He was quiet, yes—but never a coward. A loner, but never weak.
He had seen both sides of the world: the powerlessness of the poor and the rot behind the powerful. He learned early that trust was a luxury—and often a fatal one.
And now, for the first time, he felt the depth of the old David's emotions. The love his mother had for him. The warmth of a family he had never truly known.
He saw her struggles—her sacrifices as a single parent. Her strength. Her pride when the old David graduated. Her joy in watching him grow.
Tears rolled silently down his cheeks. For the first time since waking up in this world, he felt… whole.
Like his soul had truly settled into this body.
Like he was David Arthur Brown.
He wiped his face with the back of his hand, taking a steady breath.
The past no longer weighed him down—it forged him.
He would finish what the old David couldn't. He would get justice. He would have revenge.
But for that, he needed to grow stronger.
This world wasn't simple. No world was. You couldn't just walk in and take what you wanted.
You needed strength to survive—not just physical strength, but mental, emotional, and psychological.
And now… he had the means.
For the first time, he was glad the system chose him.
Ding!
Just as David resolved himself, a notification sound echoed in his ears, and the system interface materialized before his eyes.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
[Primary Mission: Revenge
Objective: Make those responsible for your mother's murder pay.
Time Limit:1year
-Rewards: 500 SP
-A Skill
-Mystery Box]
He hadn't expected his resolve to be rewarded like this.
Even though the idea of something being able to access his mind unsettled him, for now… he was content. If it became a problem later, he'd deal with it then.
Just as he allowed himself a moment of relief, another notification chimed, and the holographic interface flickered to life once more.
[Side Mission: Change House
Objective: Stay away from a bugged house.
Time Limit:1 week
Rewards: 50 SPA
A random lottery Card]
David's eyes narrowed.His apartment… was bugged?
A slow, icy realization settled over him. They were still watching.
But if it had been bugged before, he would've received this mission earlier.That meant someone had been inside his apartment today.
Shit.
David exhaled slowly, forcing his body to relax. No sudden movements. No reckless decisions.
That was what they wanted—a reaction.But he wouldn't give it to them.
Instead, he'd take his time. Plan. Prepare.
The system's inventory was his hidden advantage. Over the next few days, he'd gradually move out his essentials, piece by piece, until he could disappear without raising suspicion.
He checked his phone: August 29th.Three more days until the next lottery draw.
He had no idea what kind of reward he'd get, but every resource mattered. If he was going to face whatever shadowy force was behind his mother's death, he'd need every edge he could get.
But for now… he needed rest.
Before going to bed, David pulled out the pistol from his inventory. His hands felt awkward around the grip as he fumbled with the magazine, clumsily loading the bullets. He had only ever seen guns in movies in both his lives, and the weight of the real thing in his hands was a stark reminder of his inexperience.
Once loaded, he placed it back in the inventory, then tested how quickly he could summon it. In an instant, it appeared in his grip. He exhaled and returned it. For now, that would have to be enough.
He walked to his nightstand, grabbed the pain meds the hospital had prescribed, and swallowed one dry. The dull ache in his neck and shoulder and after today's mental exhaustion, he needed rest.
David lay back in bed and closed his eyes. The meds were already kicking in, numbing the pain.
In one week, he'd be gone.
--
--
[Unknown POV]
In a dimly lit office, a man flipped through a weathered folder, its pages filled with reports and surveillance notes. Pinned to the front was a single photograph—David Brown.
He exhaled through his nose, irritation flickering in his cold gray eyes."So… the kid finally crawled back."
A voice crackled through his earpiece."Didn't think he had the balls to return."
His fingers drummed idly against the desk."He's been gone a while. For all we knew, he was dead."
The voice replied, "Did some digging. Looks like he got caught in the Chitauri invasion. Hospitalized for a bit. Might have some memory issues too."
The man let out a low chuckle, his eyes scanning the report again.
A beat of silence passed."Want me to send someone in?"
"No," he said flatly."We watch. See what he does. If he's just some broken man looking to fade away, fine. Let him."
He glanced back at David's photo, his expression hardening.
"But if he starts poking around again…"
A pause. A faint smirk.
"…then we jog his memory. Remind him why he took the money in the first place."
To Be Continued...