Gabriel’s deep dive into his finances was followed by another into the world’s history. News articles, archived videos, public databases, and popular forums – he devoured everything. He started by skimming the highlights of history, from the Stone Age to the current era.

  It was mostly the same; he saw a few famous people of different genders – apparently Cleopatra here was a famous twink, called Cleopatros, enchanting enough to twist even the manliest man’s head, or so the history books claimed – but otherwise, up to the beginning of the Industrial Age, things developed on the same track as in his original world.

  The weird things started happening when the first signs of the Industrial Revolution appeared. People gaining strange abilities due to dubious experiments, flying ships, and other advanced (for the age) vehicles appeared, and clashes between rival gangs were described by bystanders as riots of colors crashing together.

  And it only escalated from there…

  By the time the internet was invented – almost a decade earlier than in his world – there were countries run by full-blown superpowered individuals, like the Empress of China, a mysterious figure rumored to have been alive since the seventeenth century.

  Speaking of other countries: while the continents were the same as in his original world, there were some changes. Most of the major nations were there, but during his perusal of one of the maps, he found several he hadn’t expected.

  After the superpowered Cold War ended, the old Soviet Union fractured into several dozen smaller countries, the former economic and political superpower retaining only the territory around Moscow, St. Petersburg, and Kazan. Most of Siberia was controlled by the Siberian Sovereignty, a brutal regime led by the barbarian clans of the north. Famous for their brutality and mercenary nature, less so for thinking, patience, and calmness.

  His current home was, as expected, in the good ol’ U.S. of A. More specifically, he lived in one of the worst parts of Los Angeles. However, Gabriel couldn’t help but frown when he zoomed in on the map. While it was called Los Angeles, it looked different compared to what he remembered.

  “This is too big…” he muttered. Zooming out slightly, he let out a surprised breath.

  Apparently, Los Angeles in this bizarre world had grown so large that it had swallowed Anaheim, Santa Monica, Santa Barbara, many of the surrounding cities and towns, and had even stretched as far as San Diego, officially bordering Mexico. It was a gigantic metropolis with a population of at least thirty million (according to the latest census he could find), and at least twice as many travelers, tourists, and ‘tourists’ each year.

  The film industry, at least partially, still sat comfortably beneath the giant Hollywood sign, which was protected by a state-of-the-art energy shield, as it was a common and favorite target of anyone trying to make a name for themselves.

  Or bored teenagers…

  If he remembered his media-fueled geography correctly, he was currently living in a ten-story building in the district of San Bernardino. It consisted mostly of old, dilapidated worker housing, several massive industrial parks, and a modest commercial center with the usual trappings of a consumerist society.

  The nightlife was scarce – both legal and illegal – and if someone wanted a proper night out, they had to head into Los Angeles proper. The central district of the mega-city was a collection of the biggest party places, where all the famous people and those who wanted to be famous spent their nights amid loud music and strobing lights.

  Thankfully, there was at least a functional train and subway system, so most places were reachable with some planning.

  According to what he read, the entire system had been built by a crazed ‘supervillain’ as part of some convoluted scheme after snapping during one of the city’s infamous traffic jams. Naturally, the heroes prevailed, defeated the nefarious villain, and claimed his creation for the city.

  Gabriel couldn’t help but snort when he read those lines on the official website.

  A little digging revealed that the ‘supervillain’ was actually a man who worked in the city planning office. His proposals for a city-wide public transport system had been denied for decades, so he finally snapped and declared he would build it himself. The city then waited until he finished, declared him a villain, and had him arrested.

  ‘Who doesn’t like free infrastructure development…’ he mused thoughtfully as he continued reading the articles. ‘Still, this is a bit convenient, isn’t it?’

  The fact that superpowers had only appeared during the Industrial Revolution and had integrated seamlessly into modern life caused him some confusion.

  ‘It feels a little like it was planned…’ Based on his extensive experience with superhero media, this entire situation suggested one thing. ‘There is definitely at least one shadowy cabal pulling the strings in the background…’

  There were probably immortal monsters shepherding humanity toward a brighter future – or something equally dramatic. Frowning deeply, Gabriel thought about it for a few seconds, then shrugged. ‘It’s not like I’m going to find them… First, let’s focus on survival, then the Illuminati.’

  “And if they are actually called Illuminati, I’m freaking going to riot…” he grumbled as he switched his focus again.

  He closed a dozen tabs, checked the ad blockers, URL cleaners, cookie filters – everything he had installed to protect himself from the deluge of advertisements that assaulted him the moment he opened the browser. It seemed the old Gabriel didn’t believe in safe internet browsing. There was a minimal ad blocker, but Gabriel suspected it came bundled with the browser, thus effectiveness was close to zero.

  Instead, the browser was stuffed with questionable extensions – everything from coupon-hunter add-ons to ones that monitored specific keywords and sent notifications when they were spotted. At first, he was excited, hoping for something juicy, but the keywords started with ‘wardrobe malfunction’ and went downhill from there…

  He quietly deleted those, scrubbing the system clean, then just silently installed the basics of protections he was used to at home. It was a far cry from his finely tuned setup – proxies, VPNs, personalized whitelists, and filters – but for now, it would suffice until he could get his hands on a computer that didn’t have the digital equivalent of STDs.

  His next focus was on the powers.

  Even from his brief foray, he encountered super-science, energy blasts, mind control, animal manipulation, matter alteration, everything imaginable. Some superpowered individuals claimed their abilities were magic; others insisted they were aliens (or underground mole people). Naturally, some declared their power came directly from a higher power, usually some kind of god or goddess.

  He couldn’t find any publicly available studies on the origins of power, which made perfect sense, but he did uncover a brief categorization system for the powers at least.

  Emanation types for those who emitted something – fire, ice, or even bees. The exact point of emission was not specified.

  He definitely didn’t click on the Butt Wasp video…

  Control types were those who controlled things. People, animals, frogs – anything and everything under the sun.

  Skill types possessed supernatural aptitude in a specific discipline. For some, that manifested in science; for others, martial arts. There were also artists with extraordinary painting, singing, and other creative abilities.

  Information types either gathered information and data or prevented said data and information from being discovered.

  Body types enhanced or altered their bodies. Shapeshifters and muscle-brained bruisers fell into this category.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Finally, there was the Wildcard type – powers that couldn’t be categorized by the above types.

  Naturally, this wasn’t the only classification system in use, but it was the most concise one Gabriel had found.

  ‘Let’s see… I don’t create the cards, so not Emanation. Hmm. Would using them count as Control, or should I just accept the Wildcard label and be done with it?’ He glanced at the unassuming pile of cards, still as pristine as the moment he first saw them, resting on the table. ‘Eh, not that it matters…’

  Shaking his head, he turned his attention to how superpowered individuals were handled.

  There was no government-created office overseeing them. Instead, it seemed they were either self-regulated through natural selection or managed by the corporate teams that policed their respective territories. A few cities had official teams, but even with minimal digging, Gabriel uncovered the obvious corporate connections behind them.

  Taking a deep breath, he leaned back on the couch and rubbed his eyes tiredly. The picture forming in his mind didn’t make him happy. It wasn’t the biggest shitshow or the worst universe he could have landed in – not by a long shot – but everything he had read left him uneasy.

  Glancing at his small deck of cards, he couldn’t help but feel inadequate compared to the powers he had seen during his brief dive into video-sharing sites. His dinky little cards seemed laughable next to the man who could drill a hole through a mountain with sound or the woman whose punch could shatter buildings.

  Curious, he typed in a name: Bombshell.

  As expected – given the previous user of the browser – even with his modifications, the first results were risqué pictures, candid shots, and speculative articles about the superheroine’s love life.

  ‘Dude. How horny were you?’ he muttered in disbelief.

  Scrolling further down, he finally found something resembling a public database.

  The first thing he learned was that the woman’s superhero name wasn’t actually Bombshell. Technically, she went by Tectonic Girl – named for the way her punches caused energy implosions that functioned similarly to earthquakes. However, since the name was rather unwieldy, and she quickly became famous for both her ability to generate collateral damage and willingness to pose for any magazine offering a front-page feature. And thus people began to call her Bombshell instead.

  Flower Power was a small team sponsored by a biotech company specializing in medicinal plants. Each member had a variation of plant-based abilities. One summoned illusions of flowers to confuse and misdirect enemies; another conjured tangible vines covered in blossoms; the third transformed her own body into plant matter, becoming extra durable and capable of altering her size.

  Purple Death was an independent who made her living through live-streaming and occasionally paid modeling gigs. She could summon a purple gas cloud and manipulate it as if it were an extension of her body.

  Gabriel might have claimed surprise at the sheer volume of artwork featuring her online, but honestly, he wasn’t. She was a striking goth woman with what was essentially purple tentacle power. Even enabling Safe Search wasn’t enough to shield his delicate eyes…

  Of the three, Bombshell interested him the most. Apparently, she was ‘sponsored’ by the Helix Group – a corporation that seemed to own nearly everything.

  From what he could gather, it wasn’t technically the largest corporation, but its public image was pristine.

  Suspiciously pristine.

  Everywhere he looked, he found glowing articles and enthusiastic posts praising the company. Thankful parents credited Helix’s pharmaceutical division for providing lifesaving medicine to their children. Employees boasted about “to die for” benefits, supported by carefully staged photographs of immaculate cafeterias and lounge areas filled with improbably photogenic and diverse young professionals.

  Gabriel instantly smelled bullshit.

  To his eyes, which were trained on AI-supported corporate sludge, this was so blatant it wasn’t even funny.

  ‘Alright, so Helix is probably a big bad dressed in a designer coat, and protected by an army of PR professionals coked out of their minds and marketing people high on their own farts. Plus, I suppose, they also own an army of supers.’

  Those thoughts did little to improve his mood, so he decided to dig deeper.

  There was no umbrella organization for the supers Helix employed. Most operated as independents or in small groups, depending on the situation. But the fact that those teams consistently featured complementary power sets and were always branded as “hometown heroes” or “local up-and-comers” told Gabriel everything he needed to know.

  Fortunately, there was even an open-source website tracking local gang activity and hero territories. After some fumbling, he filtered the data to display only Helix-affiliated supers – and saw the truth.

  Their patrol routes and territories covered nearly sixty percent of the entire city.

  Another minute of tinkering with the settings – and realizing someone else had already anticipated this curiosity and created a convenient preset filter – revealed something even worse.

  The megacity was effectively carved up among corporations, each controlling its own slice of territory.

  Helix Group controlled roughly sixty percent of the sprawling metropolis. Arbora Life Sciences – the sponsor behind Flower Power – held around ten percent. Atlas Retail controlled another solid fifteen percent. The remaining fifteen percent was divided among smaller corporations and businesses.

  Though with a little digging, he uncovered several suspicious threads linking at least half of those smaller entities back to Helix.

  Closing his eyes, he exhaled softly. ‘So Helix controls and effectively owns the city. Logic dictates that they have access to the government systems – both bureaucratic and technical. Security cameras. Databases. Everything. Excellent…’

  No doubt, any superpowered individuals who refused to fall in line would quickly be persuaded otherwise through access to blackmail material, financial or social pressure, or worse.

  Or they would simply vanish.

  Groups like that hated wildcards.

  Scratching the back of his head, he groaned quietly. “But what does that mean to me? Tomorrow’s Sunday. I have until Monday morning to figure something out… Then it’s back to the grind.”

  He would have loved to quit his job, but unfortunately, he still needed money to eat.

  “At least nobody pays attention to grocery workers…” he declared with forced optimism.

  Pushing aside his existential dread for a moment, Gabriel instead returned to his research. He needed to familiarize himself with the local scene – where materials could be sourced, who controlled what, and how everything interconnected. If he wanted resources for fusion, he needed to know where to find them.

  Time slipped by as his fingers practically flew across the keyboard – desperately wishing for a mouse – until his tired eyes drifted to the clock in the top-right corner of the screen.

  “Damn! After midnight?”

  He yawned and nodded to himself. “Alright. That’s enough for today.”

  Gabriel closed the laptop, then absorbed it with one of his cards – unwilling to risk anyone spying on him – and he headed for the bathroom.

  After finishing his ablutions a few minutes later, he changed into his pajamas – boxers and an old, ratty shirt – and crawled into bed, immediately aware of the mattress’s unforgiving springs.

  ‘Ugh, I can already feel tomorrow’s back pain…’

  Still, exhaustion claimed him quickly, sleep wrapping him in blessed darkness.

  BAMMM

  CRASH

  He bolted upright in bed, heart racing, adrenaline surging through his veins as the sounds of explosions and destruction echoed around his room.

  The walls trembled.

  Something heavy collapsed outside his window.

  And a fine rain of dust drifted down from the ceiling onto his blanket.

  Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he saw the room flickering with orange light – flames reflecting through his poorly covered window.

  Scrambling out of bed, he rushed forward and practically tore the curtains apart.

  The sight outside was horrific.

  The neighboring building – which had stood in faded, stubborn dignity only hours earlier – was now a burning hill of debris. Flames roared from shattered windows, black smoke twisting into the sky. Car alarms screamed in chaotic chorus while water from ruptured pipes mixed with sludge and ash, turning the pavement into a foul river.

  Only then did he fully register the human noise – shouting, crying, panicked voices overlapping into one continuous wail of terror.

  He stared, wide-eyed, as the inferno across the street climbed higher and higher. His own building shook again as if a giant had slammed their fist against the foundation, intent on tearing it down.

  Then came a sound like the sky itself tearing apart.

  A shockwave cracked through the air, and a familiar figure burst into view.

  Bombshell hovered above the burning street, hair whipping violently in the updraft, not even a smudge on her perfectly applied makeup. She wore reinforced chest plating, bracers, shin guards, and a half-mask across her upper face. The air around her shimmered faintly, distorted by a barely contained force.

  Across from her floated a man in tattered black clothing. His skin was midnight-dark, his eyes glowing with cold, electric blue light. The smoke bent around him as if repelled, forming a hollow in the air.

  For one suspended heartbeat, the battlefield froze in front of Gabriel’s eyes.

  Then the man raised his hands.

  Blue concussive rings detonated outward – not beams, but layered pulses – each one compressing the air in front of them. They tore forward, shredding smoke and scattering embers like sparks in a forge.

  Bombshell reacted instantly, kicking off empty air like it was solid ground. She vanished sideways in a blur, leaving a spiraling wake in the smoke. Instead of hitting her, the energy pulses struck the ruined building behind her.

  The impact was catastrophic.

  Concrete disintegrated – atomized into a gray cloud. A delayed boom followed, deeper and heavier, rolling through Gabriel’s chest like physical pressure.

  The street below disappeared behind a wall of dust.

  Bombshell countered immediately. She drew back her arm and punched the air.

  Reality seemed to dent.

  A beam of force – visible only by the way light bent across it – rocketed forward. When it struck the man in black, the sky flashed white as the attack hit even more electric blue pulses.

  The collision produced a layered shockwave – glass burst outward across half the block, including Gabriel’s window.

  He barely had time to flinch.

  The pane exploded inward, a spray of glittering shards slicing through the air like thrown knives. The blast of pressure hit him a fraction of a second later, staggering him backward and throwing him to the floor.

  His ears rang.

  His heart hammered behind his ribs, threatening to explode.

  Outside, the two figures were already moving again – trading sky-splitting impacts like artillery gods, each clash destroying more and more of the surroundings and launching debris and smoke into the air.

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