Falling in Marvel

This is for the times wen I daydream and I cant sleep

Well good luck

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It was just another day. The sun had started to dip beneath the horizon, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink. He a regular 18-year-old with nothing extraordinary about him walked absentmindedly along the quiet canal near his neighborhood. Wearing his worn hoodie, a backpack slung lazily across his shoulder, and earbuds drowning out the world with the faint beats of music, he mulled over the usual: life, school, and his favorite distraction — *Marvel movies*.

He stopped on the canal bridge, looking at his reflection in the water below. It was calm and still, save for the occasional ripple. For a split second, a shiver ran down his spine. It wasn't cold, yet something felt *off*. He shook his head and took another step forward.

Suddenly, the world shifted. The ground beneath him felt as though it had given up its existence entirely. His foot didn't land where it should. His breath hitched as gravity betrayed him.

**Falling.**

The air rushed past his ears, the blur of colors blending into shadows. It felt endless, like he was dropping into the void itself. He tried to scream but no sound came. His chest tightened. Then, just as abruptly as it started—

**THUD.**

He awoke with a groan, face pressed against the cold, rough surface of what he quickly realized was pavement. He pushed himself up on his elbows, pain shooting through his limbs. His hoodie was torn, his palms scraped, and his head pounded like a drum.

"Where…?" he muttered, blinking to clear his blurry vision. Slowly, his surroundings came into focus. Tall buildings loomed overhead, and the air buzzed with activity — the honk of cabs, the chatter of people, and the distant clanging of construction.

New York City?

He staggered to his feet, taking a shaky breath. This couldn't be real. One minute, he was walking home; the next, he was in a city he'd only ever seen in movies and TV shows.

Checking himself over, he reassured himself: 'arms? Check. Legs? Check'. Nothing broken. The scrape on his knee burned, but he could deal with that. He grabbed his phone — still working, but there was no signal. No WiFi. Weird.

Something wasn't right.

As he wandered the streets of New York, reality slowly sank its claws into him. The details were surreal: the bustling crowd, hot dog vendors yelling at passersby, and the actual yellow taxis weaving through traffic. This wasn't a dream. It felt too real for that.

"What the hell is going on?" he whispered under his breath.

After what felt like hours of walking, he spotted a newspaper stand on the corner of the street. It looked old-fashioned, like something out of the 1950s. He approached it cautiously, as if afraid the answer to his questions would be too much to handle.

**Headlines screamed at him from the front page:**

- **"IRON MAN SAVES THE DAY AGAIN!"**

- **"Captain America: Hero or Relic?"**

- **"Stark Industries Making Waves!"**

His eyes widened. "No. No way." He grabbed the newspaper with trembling hands. 'Iron Man? Captain America?' This couldn't be happening. He spun toward the stand's clerk, his voice tight with disbelief.

"Is this some kind of joke?"

The clerk, a gruff middle-aged man chewing on the end of a toothpick, gave him an odd look. "A joke? What are you talking about, kid? You gonna buy that or what?"

He swallowed hard. Before he could respond, when a**deep rumbling sound** shook the air. The ground beneath him vibrated, and a collective gasp rippled through the street.

The sound grew louder — a *throbbing hum* from above. He turned his gaze skyward.

A dark tear in the fabric of the sky split open. A swirling portal, ominous and otherworldly, crackled with energy. Out of it poured an *army* — ships, alien creatures, and shadows that descended like a plague on the city.

The Chitauri.

People screamed. Cars swerved and crashed. Chaos erupted instantly. He froze, stunned into silence, his mind struggling to process what he was seeing.

His grip tightened on the newspaper, and his eyes dropped to the date printed on the top corner:

**May 4th, 2012.**

It hit him like a freight train. He knew exactly what this was. This was *The Battle of New York*.

"Oh my god," he whispered. "I'm in the MCU…"

Time slowed as he stood in the center of the street, heart pounding in his chest. Everything he'd ever known about this moment — this event — came rushing back to him. It was surreal to witness it firsthand.

But this wasn't a movie. This was real. He could feel the heat from the explosions, smell the acrid smoke, and hear the blood-curdling screams of terrified people.

"What do I do?" he asked himself, his voice barely audible beneath the roar of the chaos above.

The camera (in a cinematic sense) pans out as he stands there, small and insignificant, against the vast destruction unfolding around him.