Chapter 1: In the Beningning

Chapter 1: To Be Reborn Again.

Viktor Frost sat on a tattered old couch in a rundown apartment building. The walls were cracked, the paint long peeled away, exposing the cold concrete beneath. A single dim bulb flickered overhead, barely casting enough light to illuminate the room. The floor was littered with empty bottles and remnants of what might have once been food, but now was just garbage rotting in the staleness of the apartment. The windows were smeared with dirt, and outside, Gotham's perpetual gloom hung thick in the air, dark clouds obscuring any hope of sunlight. Rain drizzled against the windowpane, the steady patter the only sound accompanying the silence in the room.

Viktor—or at least that was the name of the body he now inhabited—looked down at his hands. They were pale, almost sickly, the skin stretched tight over his knuckles. His hair, a dull blonde, fell messily over his face, greasy and unkempt. His blue eyes stared blankly at the engagement ring resting on the floor in front of him, the last remnant of a life that was no longer his. He wore a loose, stained white shirt and a pair of jeans that clung to his thin frame like they had been worn too many times without washing.

"Viktor Frost..." he muttered to himself, the name sounding foreign on his tongue. "How the hell did I end up in this mess?"

The faint smell of mold and dampness filled his nostrils. The apartment was practically falling apart around him—ceiling tiles sagged, the wallpaper clung to life in patches, and the whole place smelled like a mix of alcohol and regret.

He had died. He knew that much. His real name was Victor, and he remembered the exact moment it all ended—playing a video game called Lego Marvel Super Heroes and just as his nearing the ending. Then, out of nowhere, a truck smashed into the side of his apartment building. The next thing he knew, he was in Gotham. The one that reeked of despair, the city of his favorite super hero fictional character Batman, well not fictional now.

"Of all places… why here? Gotham, seriously?" he grumbled under his breath, "Even Hell Kitchen, would have been better." Slouching lower into the couch. "And of all people to end up in… Viktor Frost. Couldn't I have been anyone else, like some rich gonk and not some broke ass guy?"

He stared at the engagement ring again, the silver band catching the faint light from the flickering bulb above. It was the only thing left after everything had been stolen by his ex-girlfriend, who had run off with a small-time gang member. The memories of this body's past life flooded back—working himself to the bone since he was sixteen, selling his parents' belongings to give them both a chance at a better life, hoping to escape the hellhole that was Gotham. He had been desperate, thinking that if he sacrificed enough, if he just worked hard enough, he and his girlfriend could leave this place behind and start fresh somewhere far away.

But it had all come crashing down. She had betrayed him, taken everything. Her new boyfriend and his gang of thugs had ransacked his apartment, looting almost everything he owned, everything he had struggled for. Somehow, in the chaos, he had managed to hide the engagement ring—the only thing they hadn't found. That damned ring. The last remnant of a dream that was long dead, just like the original Viktor Frost.

"You sold everything, for a bitch?" he said, feeling a wave of bitterness that didn't quite belong to him but was all too familiar. "And what did she do? Walked out, huh? Just like that. And you drank yourself to death. I mean, I get it… but still, man. You're only eighteen."

He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, running his hand through his greasy hair. "Eighteen...the hell is wrong with your brain it's just one girl, but don't worry I'll be sure to atleast make something out of your life."

As he sat there, he heard a faint creak in the hallway outside. His eyes flicked toward the door. Every sound in this building was exaggerated by the silence that hung over it. The place felt abandoned, but he knew better. This was Gotham. Even in a place as dead as this, something always lurked in the shadows. He had to be careful now. This wasn't the world he knew, and though he loved reading about Gotham's villains and vigilantes, being here was a completely different beast. It's just him Victor well now Viktor Frost.

He rose from the couch, his bare feet padding against the cold, grimy floor walking to the small, cracked bathroom mirror on the wall. His reflection stared back at him—blonde hair, blue eyes, completely different from his previous appearance an Asian, his now a ghost of a person who had no place here.

He tugged at his shirt, which hung loosely on his lanky frame. "Viktor Frost... Victor Freeze... It can't be a coincidence, right? That's just too messed up," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "But I'm not him... I'm not some genius with a cryogenically frozen wife. I'm just in a body of some loser... stuck in Gotham."

Leaning against the sink, he turned on the tap, letting a thin stream of water trickle out. It was rusty at first, but eventually ran clear. He splashed his face with the cold water, trying to shake off the remnants of whatever headache had settled in since waking up in this body.

Looking at himself now he never felt so Ironic, "You liked DC comics, huh?" he muttered to himself, staring at his dripping face in the mirror. "Well, now you're living in one... Fucking hell."

He glanced at the cracked window again. Through the grime, he could see the faint glow of Gotham's neon signs flickering in the distance, the streets below filled with shadows moving beneath the dim streetlights. A far cry from the life he used to know. This city felt like it was alive, breathing in its own filth and decay, the weight of it pressing down on everyone who lived here.

Victor—no, 'Viktor'—pushed off the sink and wandered back to the couch. He flopped down, staring up at the ceiling. "What now? I can't just... sit here. What the hell am I supposed to do?"

He could hear the distant sounds of sirens, the muffled hum of the city that never slept. Somewhere out there, in the darkness, there were criminals, mobsters and corrupt cops prowling, and... who knew what else. As for the famous villains and heroes there seems to be none yet. So, he has that going for him, as for the plan? Well… Viktor Frost an eighteen-year-old German scrawny teen, around 6 feet tall, blonde hair, blue eyes and with nothing left, he has no plan at all his just gonna wing it.

"Well, Viktor... welcome to Gotham." He sighed, closing his eyes, feeling the weight of it all crushing down on him. "Guess we're stuck here now. Better figure out how to survive."

The rain outside picked up, tapping harder against the window as the night deepened.

After accepting his fate, his mind churned through the memories of Viktor Frost's short life. Graduated high school early his actually brilliant but weak hearted, couldn't afford college so he wasted his intelligence. His parents shot by gang members when he was fifteen, right after a family movie night, typical.

At eighteen, Viktor had been alone in Gotham for three years now, struggling just to survive. The year was 1997, and the city was just as corrupt as ever. Crime families like the Bertinellis and Falcones ruled the streets, while lesser gangs fought for scraps. The news spoke of Bruce Wayne's disappearance—his butler saying he was "looking for himself" somewhere abroad—as for those famous gallery of Batman villains like Joker or Penguin they don't seem to exist yet.

Viktor dragged a hand down his face, then pushed himself off the floor. "I need to clean up," he muttered, heading back to the tiny bathroom. The cracked tiles on the floor and rust-stained sink made the space feel more like a prison cell, but Viktor ignored it. He took a quick, cold shower, scrubbing off the grime that clung to his skin. Once out, he picked out the cleanest clothes he could find—a plain black t-shirt, some worn jeans, and a pair of scuffed boots that still held together.

After dressing, he walked back to where the engagement ring sat on the floor, his hand hovering over it. "Well better sell this trash of a memento." As he bent to pick it up, a faint 'DING' rang out in the room. Viktor's head snapped up, his eyes widening as a translucent blue screen materialized before him, floating in the air. It looked like something straight out of a video game, with neatly arranged text and a few buttons below.

"Found an item that is connected to user's current fame. Would you like to absorb it and activate the System?"

Viktor blinked, momentarily stunned. "What the hell?" His voice was filled with disbelief. A system? Like those Chinese web novels he used to read? He let out a half-laugh, half-sigh. "Well, at least I got a 'golden finger,' just like those Isekai main characters... but a Gacha System of all things?" His words were incredulous, yet laced with amusement.

His eyes scanned the screen, which had a description below:

You can randomly get any character templates, items, and powers from the Marvel Universes. Characters Templates will appear in card form and grant you their abilities once absorbed. While Items will be delivered in physical form, while powers will be granted in a form of skill which can be use immediately. Fame Points can be obtained by being widely known or talked about by many people, especially on account of notable achievements...

"Marvel like Ironman?" Viktor rubbed the back of his neck, looking bewildered. "That's ironic, that's the last game I played, it's an old game too, but the whole universe meaning I can get even those god level ones like Celestials? That's a broad range... but if I could get my hands on something like Sentry no someone like Knull, that'd be crazy." He let out a small chuckle, though there was a spark of excitement in his voice.

His eyes fell back to the ring in his hand. "Well, might as well convert this. It's not like it's worth anything to me anyway." Viktor hesitated for a moment, his grip tightening around the ring. For a brief second, a part of him—the part that was from the original Viktor Frost—felt a pang of regret, a last connection to the life he'd lost. But Victor, the new one who's taken over this body, shook his head. "You're already dead, man. Just give up like how you gave up on life, like a fucking looser."

With a determined breath, he willed the system to convert the ring.

Conversion complete. Obligatory 1000 Fame Points obtained. Note: You are famously cock, not only were you played by your Ex-Girlfriend she even ask her current boyfriend a low-level thug to stole everything you have even your meager savings.

Viktor stared at the screen as the number popped up. He couldn't help but laugh. "Bro Even the System is laughing at how pathetic you are? Well atleast you we're able to hide something like this ring, I'll be sure you live the life you weren't able to achieved." He shook his head, laughing mockingly.

After the ring disappeared, Viktor felt lighter, as if some invisible weight had been lifted off his shoulders. His mind felt clearer, and for the first time since waking up in this body, he felt fully in control.

"Alright, let's see what this system can do," Viktor said, turning back to the screen. The floating blue interface now had a large circular button labeled "DRAW" at the bottom. It seems that 1 draw needs 100 fame points and you have a higher chance of getting something rare for 10 consecutive draws. He clicked the 10 consecutive draws without hesitation, eager to see what fate had in store for him.

The screen shifted, showing clouds parting in a swirling storm, and suddenly, meteors began to descend from the sky, streaking through the heavens. "Hey where's the skip button?" They crashed down one by one, ten in total, leaving trails of light in their wake. One of them glowed brighter than the rest, as it neared the ground, Viktor realized it was Purple, he felt like his luck is in a bad start. The other one is blue and the rest were white.

"Ah crap," Viktor muttered, running a hand through his damp blonde hair. "Here I thought I had good luck. Guess not."

The items appeared in front of him, each glowing in their respective colors. Viktor quickly scanned the system's explanation:

Common items are White

General items are Green

Rare items are Blue

Legendary items are Purple

Unique items are Gold

The items I can get from White are everyday items which you can easily get, as for Green it's one where you can still get the item but needs to use a lot money. Blue will be some of the actual good stuff a possible character template or an Early Model Ironman Suit as for Legendary and up to Unique probably have something to do with most of the powerful characters and items from Marvel.

His eyes were immediately drawn to the blue item. It shimmered faintly, a card with a simple description:

Phineas Mason, The Tinkerer.

Basic Details:

A weapon specialist of genius intellect level able to create customize weapon even from scraps. His able to break down the details of machines and recreate it on his own.

Personal Details:

Phineas Mason is a former salvager with a gift for engineering. As he and the rest of the crew led by Adrian Toomes turned into professional criminals, Mason, under the alias of Tinkerer used the Chitauri, Dark Elf and Ultron technology salvaged to create all new powerful weaponry. Due to the actions of Spider-Man, Tinkerer's weapons came under risk of being found, and therefore, Toomes considered shutting down their organization. However, the Tinkerer convinced him to do a final heist which resulted in Toomes being arrested.

SKILLS:

Brilliant Scientist

Genius Level Engineer skill.

"Wait a second," Viktor mumbled, staring at the card. He read the description and said, "This is the guy from Spider-Man: Homecoming, the one who built weapons from Chitauri tech and made Vulture's exo suit with those cool wings... This is actually a good find!" He couldn't believe his luck and this was just a blue item what about the other one.

He quick absorb the Character template of Phineas Mason, the mans skill and abilities where quickly engrave in his mind and body even a few of his important memories like basic engineering to incredible knowledge about alien and stark technology. It felt surreal to him, he felt enlightened.

After settling down and absorbing everything he then looked at the white items and chuckled. "A PS2 console?" As he gazed at the console, information suddenly flashed through his mind—blueprints of the entire machine, down to every chip and part, as if he instinctively knew how to recreate the PS2 even from junk parts. "Well, that's interesting. Mason, looks like you're going to be my money maker." He glanced at the other items and shook his head. "A bottle of Coke? Fifty bucks? Twenty, thirty dollars… well, at least I have some money to use now."

But it was the last card, the Legendary Purple one, that made Viktor freeze. His eyes widened as he read the name.

Emma Frost. The Legendary White Queen.

"No way," he whispered, his breath catching in his throat. "The White Queen, and she's a Legendary-level character." His heart raced, excitement surging through him as he stared at the card, imagining the power he'd have with her abilities. Viktor couldn't help but grin. "Will you look at that we have the same last name."