It had been two weeks since Scott reincarnated into the world of Marvel.
And in that time, his life had been… busy.
Really busy.
By day, he was juggling a painfully average civilian life—clocking in and out of a grocery store job he absolutely did not dream about. By night, he was slipping through alleys, scaling rooftops, and beating down low-level thugs trying to carve out a piece of New York's chaos.
His vigilante work had picked up fast.
He'd already stopped two muggings, broken up a stolen car ring in Queens, and intercepted a few shady drug trades in dark corners of Hell's Kitchen. None of them had been as intense—or as traumatic—as his first night, where he fought Shocker and barely walked away with his bones intact. But still, it was work. It was momentum.
And, of course, the streets eventually gave him a codename.
"Smoke."
Yeah, it was obvious. Maybe even a little too on the nose. But Scott didn't complain.
It could've been worse.
He smirked at the thought.
"They could've called me Red Hood or something," he muttered to himself once. "And not because I hate Red Hood—he's cool. But I'd rather not sound like a knockoff before I've even built a name."
At least "Smoke" came from his actual powers—something unique. Not his mask. Not his outfit. Not his color scheme. And that… he liked. It felt more earned.
Back in his regular life, things weren't half bad either—at least not for someone who'd been dumped into a new universe with no warning.
He'd managed to land a job at a local grocery store, which, okay, wasn't glamorous, but it paid enough to keep things moving. It wasn't what he envisioned for himself, not even close—but in just two weeks, he couldn't exactly expect a movie deal.
The real highlight came from something far more unexpected:
He'd actually managed to get a small stunt double gig.
It wasn't for a blockbuster or even a streaming series. It was a low-budget indie film, something filmed in Brooklyn with a skeleton crew and actors who doubled as their own makeup artists. The film was about Spider-Man, weirdly enough—a fictionalized take, like a tribute film made by fans.
And Scott didn't play Spider-Man.
He played Shocker.
"Two weeks ago, that guy tried to kill me," he thought, shaking his head. "Now I'm cosplaying as him."
The irony was not lost on him.
But the job? It actually paid pretty well—way more than he expected for such a small production. And to his surprise, the director had been blown away by his performance. The stunts he pulled—fluid parkour, perfectly timed rolls, convincing impact landings—were apparently some of the best scenes in the film.
The guy even offered to list Scott's name in the credits, which was rare for stunt doubles—especially in an indie project.
Unfortunately, that didn't mean he'd be rolling in stunt work anytime soon. Nothing big had followed it up. The director said he'd recommend him around, but in the meantime, Scott had bills to pay.
Hence: the grocery store.
He didn't take it too seriously. He showed up, restocked shelves, nodded politely, and kept his head down. As far as he was concerned, it was a temporary gig, something to bridge the gap between his vigilante nights and a real opportunity.
Besides, he still had some of the indie film money tucked away.
And that gave him breathing room.
For now.
The streets had changed a lot since Daredevil disappeared.
Ever since the Shadowland mess, with Murdock possessed by that demonic cult leader and then vanishing like smoke in the wind, things had… shifted. Hell's Kitchen wasn't completely lawless, but the balance had definitely tipped. Gangs were more brazen. Weird factions were testing boundaries. Even the common criminals had gotten louder.
Scott had heard rumors that Moon Knight—another heavy-hitter in the street-level scene—had also moved on. Supposedly he relocated to Los Angeles. It sounded ridiculous, like gossip made up in a dive bar, but the truth was, no one had seen much of him lately.
And that made Scott nervous. But also… a little relieved.
Because even though Moon Knight was technically on the side of good, the guy was also his distant relative—thanks to whatever twist of fate made Marc Spector's bloodline part of Scott's new identity. And the last thing Scott wanted was to be on that man's radar.
"I still have no idea how I'd even talk to the guy," he muttered under his breath one night. "Like hey, I'm your reincarnated cousin… by the way, I also fight crime with a gun and smoke powers. Please don't throw random bullshit at me."
So, yeah.
If Moon Knight was really out west and not lurking somewhere in New York's shadows, that was a win.
I don't know if his mental instability would make him act violently towards me I didn't treat his comics much, but I think his mental condition was caused by his family so this will be a concern anyways
Now, with Daredevil gone and Moon Knight possibly off the board, the big question was: who was watching Hell's Kitchen now?
Apparently, someone had stepped up.
Scott had seen the figure from afar a few times—a masked vigilante, dressed like Black Panther, though clearly lacking the vibranium shine and cutting-edge gear. The suit was sleek but simple. No energy claws. No tech drones. Just raw skill and muscle.
He was fast, precise, and brutal. Always in motion. But Scott had never approached him. Not once.
Because, honestly?
He had no idea who the hell that guy really was.
T'Challa was the king of Wakanda. A royal, a political powerhouse, a world-level superhero. The idea that he would suddenly step into Daredevil's shoes and start doing rooftop takedowns in Hell's Kitchen without any fanfare? No way.
Probably an imposter.
And that opened a whole different set of problems.
Scott had no idea how Wakandans would react to someone posing as their king—especially if that person wasn't officially sanctioned. And the last thing he needed was to get caught in an international incident just for asking the wrong guy the wrong question.
So he stayed out of it.
Better to let the mystery man do his thing and keep a healthy distance. If the guy started doing actual damage or hurting people, maybe then Scott would step in. Until then? Not his problem.
As for the other street-level heroes?
He hadn't seen many.
He knew some were still out there—Luke Cage, Spider-Man, Misty Knight, Iron Fist—but none of them had crossed paths with him. Part of him hoped they might. Even just one encounter could've made a huge difference. He could've learned something. Gotten advice. Maybe even built a connection.
But that was asking too much.
Most heroes didn't get mentors.
They figured it out alone. They stumbled through it, got bruised, bled a little, maybe almost died once or twice—then learned what worked and what didn't.
Scott was no different.
"I don't need a mentor," he told himself. "Would it be nice? Sure. But it's not a requirement."
Still… it was hard not to think about it. He was eighteen, technically an adult, but just a kid in a world full of legends. Every day he woke up in Marvel 616, it felt surreal. Like he was living between the panels of a comic book—but one paper-thin mistake away from being crushed by it.
But If he really wanted to learn—about mutation, powers, and identity—there was one place that could help: The Xavier Institute. The X-Men.
He was a fan. A huge one. In his old life, he read every major arc. Loved the idea of mutant pride, of fighting for something greater. But stepping into that world?
That was dangerous.
Too dangerous.
The Xavier School was a magnet for chaos—Sentinel attacks, psychic invasions, resurrection plots, internal politics. And worst of all, public exposure.
If he showed up and they discovered he was a mutant, that info wouldn't stay hidden for long. And then? He'd have a target on his back. Anti-mutant groups. Government agencies. Maybe even enemies of the X-Men.
And Scott wasn't ready for that.
"I have nothing against mutants. Hell, I love the X-Men," he thought. "But I'd rather people didn't find out I'm one and start trying to hunt me down."
So, for now…
He was satisfied.
He had a job. He had a name. He had a goal.
It wasn't flashy. It wasn't legendary.
But it was his.
(please check out my novel: Star Island: A Hero's path It's on Royal Road, but The first 102 chapters Are in WebNovel)