City

He needed money, and he needed it fast.

After all, Ryan planned to go back tomorrow. Who knew how long a job would take?

So, following the example of a certain brown-haired Railgun, he went looking for trouble on the quieter streets.

The area must have had lousy security. He had barely reached an empty street corner

when several young men sitting by the curb, smoking, blocked his way.

They asked Ryan to lend them some pocket money.

Vought International had provided Ryan's clothes. They were well made and looked expensive.

The men were so shameless they even wanted to strip his clothes off and sell them.

They surrounded Ryan, their expressions vicious.

"Hand over your clothes and your pocket money."

A terrified Ryan casually kicked one man away, then grabbed the other two as they tried to run.

He was unfailingly polite.

"Don't do this again. Now, I'm charging you for the beating. Give me your wallets."

Words mattered. After Ryan talked things over with them, his wealth grew considerably.

With money in his bag, he felt like getting something to eat. People streamed through the city in the evening.

To be fair, Becca wasn't a bad cook. Ryan had simply eaten her food for years.

He wanted to try something new. He could cook a few dishes he'd learned from recipes himself,

but they were only just edible.

Ryan wandered down the street and slipped into a pastry shop.

He passed through the revolving door and saw colorful pastries displayed on the counter.

Preferring milder flavors, he bought a fried honey pastry and set it on a table in the shop.

The table stood beside a window. Through the glass, he could watch the endless flow of people outside.

Ryan picked up the pastry and took a bite. It tasted as good as its golden appearance promised.

It was crisp and delicious, with a sweetness to it.

The fried pastry was dusted with snow-white sugar, and the lingering taste of cinnamon came through.

He had no complaints about the flavor. Ryan ate while looking out the window.

Traffic flowed past,

along with a figure moving at incredible speed.

To anyone else, it looked like nothing more than a gust of wind that made women hold down their skirts. Ryan's eyes caught it, though.

A man in black sunglasses was sprinting down the street.

He moved so fast ordinary people never noticed him.

Ryan wanted a closer look, so he finished the pastry and left the shop.

Then he used his long-range vision to lock onto the figure.

He found an empty corner, took to the air, and quickly caught up.

If anything, Ryan was faster.

He remembered seeing the man before, endorsing running shoes on a billboard.

Rumor had it he could run like the wind.

The superhero A-Train.

Ryan had known about A-Train for a while, but this was the first time he'd seen him in person. He accelerated past him

and waited along his route.

Back on the ground, Ryan glanced at the building beside him. It had a clock tower.

Its enormous hands showed the time.

Ryan estimated that A-Train would reach this spot in a few minutes.

He folded his arms and waited.

As he waited, he noticed the men and women on the street.

There were plenty of affectionate couples around. Watching them only made him want to look away.

Ryan looked anyway.

One man and woman seemed to be parting.

They were about to cross at the lights. The woman stood on the crosswalk while the man tried to hug her goodbye.

As they moved closer together, Ryan felt the ground tremble.

He immediately looked toward the intersection.

"A-Train's coming."

"Move! Move!" shouted the man in goggles.

Cars and trees went flying wherever he passed, leaving a straight path behind him.

Directly ahead of A-Train stood a child who looked utterly lost.

The boy appeared frozen with fear.

Only then did A-Train think to brake or change direction, but his pumping legs failed to slow him as he wanted.

He hurtled straight toward the boy.

At the instant of impact, A-Train winced.

It wasn't because of the tragedy about to happen. He was imagining the boy reduced to scraps and fragments.

His expensive clothes would be ruined, and blood on his face would be a pain to wash off.

The thought of it all irritated A-Train.

"Get out of the way!"

He shouted, but still slammed into the boy. A tremendous bang rang out.

The man and woman had yet to embrace. They stared toward the noise in shock.

A man in sunglasses went flying, while a child remained where he stood, brushing off his clothes in disgust.

Realizing something was wrong and that staying would be dangerous, the couple took each other's hands and hurried away.

Ryan looked ahead. A-Train had hit him and bounced back, his body embedded in a building's wall.

He looked terrible, but he was still in one piece.

Ryan couldn't help admiring how tough the guy was. Literally.

Apparently, the abilities superhumans showed off were merely their most recognizable ones.

They were no longer human to begin with. With bodies that strong, trying to fake an injury against a car would only wreck the car.

Out of concern, Ryan approached the crater in the wall. Bits of brick and plaster drifted through the air. He waved them aside and saw a half-dead man with a steel bar through his stomach.

A-Train couldn't move.

"Looks like you need help."

Ryan was nothing if not considerate.

"It hurts! It hurts like hell! What's wrong with you? Why didn't you break apart?"

"I'm built tough. And screaming about the pain won't make it hurt any less."

Eager to help, Ryan tried pulling him off the steel bar. He wasn't very good at it, and the wound grew larger.

When Ryan saw the blood pouring out, guilt welled up inside him.

"Maybe we should wait for a professional."

"So they can come collect my body?"

"Then you'll have to hang on a little longer."

"You're the one who did this! Why are you suddenly giving me a pep talk?"

A-Train felt like crying. He should never have taken this route today, only to crash into someone who sent him flying.

"I can feel my life slipping away."

"Agreed. You're bleeding nonstop. I felt the same way when I had blood drawn."

"Stop staring at my wound like it's fascinating. Someone's dying here."

The moment Ryan heard that A-Train was dying, he hurriedly patted his pockets. Out of habit from his previous life, he ought to take a photo and call 120.

The number here was probably 911. Ryan checked his pockets and sighed regretfully.

"No phone."

And the superhero A-Train lay on the ground like a dead fish, gasping for air.

"Get someone to help."

"But I'm the one who put you in this state. I should take responsibility."

"Are you one of those people who refuses to ask for help?"

"Maybe I am."

"Shit."

As they spoke, a figure flew overhead. Ryan noticed

and looked up, spotting someone in a flying suit.

Probably one of A-Train's teammates. Ryan, for his part, had always preferred to do good deeds anonymously.

Once he saw A-Train's teammate arrive, he immediately jogged away so no one could thank him.

There was another reason, too.

Superheroes belonged to Vought International.

They were celebrities,

security guards,

and hired muscle.

Vought publicly presented them as a team of seven. If they arrived and saw A-Train like this, they might attack whoever was nearby.

Ryan had no intention of fighting for no reason.

Besides, Ryan had little respect for what A-Train had done. If he hadn't happened to be in A-Train's path, A-Train would certainly have turned the innocent couple at the intersection into minced meat.

Hurting others for no reason was nothing but cruelty.

Ryan might have Homelander's powers, but he'd grown up watching Spider-Man, Tiga, and all kinds of heroic shows and films.

In other words, he had grown up admiring heroes. Now that he had powers, of course he wanted to help people.

After leaving, Ryan turned into an alley. His shoes struck the asphalt as he made his way through it.

The alley was filthy and cluttered, with trash cans against the walls. Several rats as large as cats were pinning down an old cat and eating their dinner.

Ryan wanted to save it, but it was already dead. This world had Compound V, which could turn ordinary people into superhumans. He wondered if he could find a dose and pour it into the cat's mouth.

Would it come back to life as a superpowered cat?

With those thoughts in mind, he continued through the alleys. The superheroes had surely seen A-Train's condition by now

and would be looking for Ryan everywhere.

But they didn't seem to have noticed these hidden corners. Ryan had also suppressed his vital signs, making him even harder to find.

There were always different sights to see in the alleys.

Around one corner, several homeless men in thin black clothes huddled around a burning trash can for warmth.

Wisps of smoke rose from it.

Was it cold? Ryan wondered. Ever since his powers had awakened, heat and cold had barely bothered him.

He paid the group little attention as he passed, but then he noticed something.

One of the men was powerfully built, wore an expensive leather jacket, and carried himself with an unmistakable air.

Ryan took a closer look and recognized him, speechless.

Bruce Wayne.

How had he recognized him? The man looked almost exactly like he did in the movies.

Holy shit, Ryan thought. Wasn't this the world of The Boys? What was Gotham's noble young master doing wandering around here?

Had I crossed into another world again?