Marvel: I can turn into anything.

Lusborn had just finished a long, exhausting day at work, riding his sleek black Kawasaki GPZ 900R back home.

The engine purred beneath him as he sped through the dimly lit streets, the cool night air brushing against his face.

It was already past 8 PM when he reached his house, a place nestled just beyond the city's chaos.

London had its charm, but Lusborn preferred the solitude and quiet that his more secluded home provided.

He might be a stuntman—the best alive, as many called him—but away from the roaring engines, explosions, and adrenaline-fueled scenes, he craved nothing more than peace.

Hollywood had been his playground for years. Fearless, brave, and skilled beyond measure, there was no stunt he couldn't do.

Even those deemed impossible by his peers, he executed with an almost reckless ease, solidifying his reputation as the best of the best.

Yet, despite his success, he wasn't happy. In truth, he hadn't been happy for a long time.

He had lost everything—his parents and little sister—just as he was beginning college. The tragedy had shattered him in ways he never spoke about.

He couldn't bear the weight of his grief, the endless nights haunted by their absence.

That was why he became a stuntman.

He didn't care for his own life.

Every dangerous stunt, every death-defying leap, every near-fatal crash—he had welcomed them all, hoping that one day, one of them would end him.

But no matter how risky, no matter how close he got to the edge, he always pulled through.

Surviving time and time again, he unwillingly became the greatest stuntman the world had ever known.

But it was moments like these—when he returned home to his quiet sanctuary, away from the bright lights and noise—that he cherished most.

After parking his bike in the garage, he stepped inside, the familiar silence wrapping around him like an old friend.

Kicking off his boots, he made his way to the fridge, pulling out a cold beer.

The soft hiss of the bottle cap being twisted off was the only sound in the stillness.

With a book in one hand and the beer in the other, he stepped out onto the balcony, seeking the comfort of his favorite chair.

The night air was crisp, the city lights in the distance twinkling like fallen stars.

The gentle rustling of leaves and the occasional distant honk of a car were the only reminders that life beyond his sanctuary continued.

He exhaled deeply, taking a sip of his beer before opening the book. The words drew him in, allowing him, even if just for a little while, to escape. But then—

A sharp, searing pain exploded through his skull.

The impact sent his head snapping violently to the side, his body collapsing onto the cold balcony floor.

His vision blurred instantly, the world spinning and darkening at the edges.

A strangled breath left his lips as a numbing sensation spread through him, his limbs growing heavy, his thoughts scattering like sand in the wind.

Darkness consumed him.

The last thing that flickered through his fading consciousness was a bitter realization—

'Damn snipers.'

........

Lusborn drifted through the void, an endless abyss of nothingness stretching infinitely in every direction.

He felt weightless, suspended in a realm without sound, sight, or sensation.

Time had lost all meaning—had it been seconds? Minutes? Years? He had no way of knowing. His mind was blank, his thoughts scattered, as though he were a mere echo of the man he used to be.

He wondered if this was what death truly was—a silent, eternal drift in the unknown.

Then, suddenly, pain.

A crushing, suffocating weight bore down on his chest, forcing the breath from his lungs. He gasped, the sensation foreign yet terrifyingly real.

His body screamed in agony as he tried to move, his instincts demanding he escape from whatever was pinning him down.

A sharp, searing pain lanced through his left arm as he attempted to push against the pressure, causing him to groan.

His senses began to flood back all at once—his ears ringing with the chaos around him, the scent of dust and blood thick in the air.

He forced his eyes open, but the world around him was blinding.

The transition from the darkness of the void to this overwhelming brightness made his vision blur and his head pound.

The cacophony of sounds crashed into him like a tidal wave—explosions, screams, the frantic shuffling of feet.

Glass shattered somewhere close, followed by another resounding boom that sent vibrations through the very ground he lay upon.

The world was in disarray.

As his vision finally adjusted, he saw the destruction surrounding him. He was buried beneath a pile of rubble, his chest crushed beneath a massive slab of concrete.

The jagged edges of broken walls loomed above him, smoke curling into the sky.

Fires raged in the distance, their flickering light illuminating the scene of devastation.

People ran, some covered in dust and blood, their faces twisted in terror as they fled an unseen horror.

Lusborn's breath came in ragged gasps, his body weak from blood loss. He shifted slightly, biting down hard as pain surged through his broken arm.

He tilted his head down and saw the mess of crimson pooling beneath him—his left arm was mangled, crushed beneath the weight of the debris.

His fingers twitched involuntarily, though he could barely feel them.

His mind reeled. What was this? What was happening?

He was sure he'd been shot—a sniper's bullet had struck him down.

So why was he here, buried in the wreckage of a collapsing city? Was this Hell? A twisted afterlife where he was doomed to suffer endlessly? Or… something else?

Had he been given another chance at life, only to be snatched away before he could even take his first breath in this new existence?

Anger boiled within him, fierce and unrelenting.

After everything—after losing his family, after throwing himself into danger countless times, after welcoming death with open arms—he was given another shot, only to be crushed before he could even stand?

It was unfair.

It was cruel. The universe had mocked him in life and was mocking him in death.

His vision wavered, the edges of his sight growing hazy. His body was giving out.

Then—something changed.

A faint, glowing light flickered in his periphery. At first, he thought it was another explosion, another fire raging in the distance.

But no—this was different. This was right in front of him, hovering in his field of vision. It pulsed, shifting in shape, moving like liquid yet remaining as bright as a star.

[System Initializing....]

Seeing this, he couldn't help but give a bloodied smile, his previous anger going up in smoke, because now, he had a cheat.

Now all he could do was pray that whatever was in the system could help him out of this situation.

.........

Pliz dear readers, this kind of ability I gave him has lots and lots of shit that he can use to grow stronger. 

And obviously I cant think of all of them, I might even think of some stupid shit so, that's why I will need yo help.

I need ideas from you guys, I have already received some and it has really enlightened me, so, it would be better if I received more.

Thanx.

..........

Also pliz support my other works, I need help with that too. Still new in this thing so.... will need u guys.