After a slight distortion in space, Solomon's tall, straight figure appeared without warning in a dark, damp alley.
Having squeezed the last shred of value out of the world of The Boys and copied and fused all the Supes' abilities and attributes, he felt no attachment whatsoever. He traveled straight to another world, beginning a new journey.
Except... Solomon looked around at the peeling graffiti on the walls and smelled the pungent stench of cheap alcohol and sour, rotting garbage in the air. The corner of his mouth twitched.
Why did every trip between worlds always land me in some filthy dead-end alley?
This inexplicable sense of déjà vu... don't tell me a few street scumbags with a death wish are about to jump out and rob me again?
The thought had barely crossed Solomon's mind when, right on cue, a crude, mocking whistle sounded beside him.
"Hey, bro! Dressed that sharp in the middle of the night, you must have some cash on you, right? How about lending us boys some spending money?"
Three Black thugs reeking of alcohol and dressed like hoodlums swaggered over from the alley entrance, surrounding him.
Their leader pulled open his loose jacket and drew a silver revolver gleaming coldly from his waistband, pointing its dark muzzle straight at Solomon's head.
Solomon sighed speechlessly. That familiar opening line, that clumsy way of robbing someone...
Apparently, these bottom-of-the-barrel scumbags were all the same, no matter which world's Earth they lived on.
Solomon raised his eyelids in utter boredom, about to casually call down a bolt of Plasma Violet Lightning and let these three pieces of trash experience instantaneous vaporization.
Whoosh!
An exceptionally sharp rush of air suddenly came from the night sky overhead, as though some enormous bird of prey had torn through the air!