In the nighttime of Queens, Ian stood behind the convenience store counter, wiping down the old coffee machine.
The uniform was a T-shirt distributed by Vought to partnered businesses, its collar frayed at the edges, but he kept it clean.
Ahead.
“Hey, kid.”
A middle-aged man in a leather jacket, reeking of alcohol, slammed two cans of beer onto the counter.
He hadn’t queued, cutting directly in front of a Black teenager wearing headphones.
The teenager looked up, glanced at the drunkard, then at Ian, and without a word, took a step back.
Ian swept his gaze over the red light of the surveillance camera, then over the drunkard’s bloodshot eyes.
He didn’t argue, simply extended his index finger and pointed toward the black dome in the corner above, blinking with a red dot.
The drunkard followed his finger, looked up, muttered a curse under his breath, grabbed the beer, slapped a few coins onto the counter, and staggered out through the glass door, disappearing into the night.
Ian placed the coins in a small dish.
Throughout the entire process, his expression remained unchanged.
He had experienced this too many times, from the initial panic to now, as if he had merely shooed away an annoying fly.
His shift ended at 11:30 p.m.
He walked through the back alley of the convenience store, stepping over weeds growing from cracks in the sidewalk, and finally turned into an old apartment building.
Two-thirds of the motion-sensor lights in the stairwell were broken.
He lived on the fourth floor, with no elevator.
As he inserted the key into the lock, noise from a TV seeped through the crack of door 402 next door, along with a strong smell of curry—the elderly Indian landlady staying up late watching a nighttime drama.
Ian opened the door, entered, habitually locked it from the inside, and fastened the chain.
The entire room was fifteen square meters.
A single bed, a chipped desk, a plastic chair he had picked up from the roadside.
In the corner stood a secondhand suitcase, its zipper broken and tied together with rope.
Ian placed his backpack on the chair and took out a paper bag from inside.
Inside the bag were day-old bread from the convenience store, originally priced at $3.50, discounted to $1.20 with the employee discount.
There was also a box of crushed cupcakes, expiring today.
The store manager had intended to throw them away, but Ian said, “I’ll take them,” and didn’t pay.
He placed the cupcakes on the table, rummaged through a drawer for a candle, and stuck it into the collapsed cream at the center.
Then he pulled out his phone from his pocket and checked the time.
23:58
Two minutes left.
Ian sat on the edge of the bed, back straight, hands resting on his knees.
He didn’t turn on the light; only the neon sign from the building opposite cast a red glow into the room.
23:59.
Ian lit the candle.
Eighteen years ago, a Chinese woman who had smuggled herself into the country gave birth to him in an abandoned garage in Queens, then stuffed him into a cardboard box next to a dumpster and disappeared.
00:00
Just as he was about to blow out the candle, a small celebration of his coming of age, a sudden, sharp pain shot through his head.
Countless images flooded his mind—memories of another world, the plot of The Boys, the truth about Compound V, and…
himself.
He remembered who he was.
He remembered how he had come to be.
It was as if he had broken through the mystery of the womb, awakening memories of a past life.
Ian clutched the edge of the bed tightly, sweat instantly soaking through his T-shirt and dripping from his chin onto the floor.
Memories of his past and present lives churned in his mind.
Surge, merge, and finally settle into calm.
The pain abruptly ceased.
In its place, a deathly silence.
Ian slowly raised his head.
In the center of his vision, a red interface materialized.
No sound, no animation—just an extremely minimalist interface and text projected directly onto his retina:
[Multiverse Traversal System]
[Energy Reserve: 0.1% (Charged by absorbing internal energy.
Full charge enables world traversal)]
[Current World: The Boys]
[Host Ability: Duplication (System Upgraded Version)]
[Rule Explanation: Direct physical contact with a target allows the duplication of one of their superpowers.
Duplication progress is displayed in real-time; the target cannot be changed before progress reaches 100%.
Each person can only be duplicated once, and the selection is irreversible upon confirmation.
More powerful abilities require longer contact time.
When duplication reaches 100% completion, the ability is permanently solidified.]
Ian stared at those lines for a full ten seconds.
Amid the fusion of memories from two lifetimes, he recalled memories from his infancy in this life.
He had been injected with Compound V, not just once.
After being abandoned, he was taken to a nearby hospital and placed with many other infants.
Those doctors had dripped Compound V into his body via IV bags.
With his memories from his previous life, he finally remembered.
That was a hospital funded by Samaritan’s Embrace—an organization that appeared to be a charity on the surface but was actually controlled by Vought.
It was a place where newborns were injected with Compound V to maintain the lie that Supes were chosen ones.
However, after the injection, he had not awakened any superpowers—not even the most basic Physical Enhancement, nor any side effects.
Vought discovered this anomaly and injected him with different versions of Compound V, but it was like throwing a stone into the sea—no reaction whatsoever.
In the end, he was discarded to an orphanage under Vought’s name.
In the early years, people frequently came to examine his body, but gradually, it seemed he was forgotten.
He grew up smoothly in that orphanage until he was 16, then moved to his current apartment after earning a scholarship with decent grades, saving up for college.
Now it seems…
could it be that the system absorbed all the Compound V for me?
“System, was it you?
And my ability—what does ‘Duplication Upgraded Version’ mean?”
[After traversing worlds, energy resets to zero.
It needs to absorb internal energy to maintain basic operations.
Your originally intended ability was Duplication, which could only temporarily copy partial abilities and was only effective against powers derived from Compound V.]
[The upgraded version allows permanent duplication and storage of abilities.
Abilities of the same type can be merged and upgraded, and duplication is effective against all individuals.]
“So it really was you.
What’s the point of going to college now?
Homelander is about to rule the world and set up concentration camps.
Better focus on self-preservation first.”
He sat down, picked up a sticky note, and began writing.
If he could only choose one ability per person, he needed to plan carefully.
First, Homelander—tentatively choose flight, as it’s the fastest flying speed in the entire series.
Then, Soldier Boy’s Super Physique—immortality, chest blast.
Choose one between the chest blast and the physique.
A-Train’s speed.
Kimiko’s healing ability.
Heat vision—could try contacting Butcher and that baby from the plot who can shoot lasers.
Combining the two should make it comparable to Homelander’s.
Stormfront’s immortality or lightning, Gen V’s Cate’s mind control, Translucent’s skin, and super senses are still needed…
Ian put down his pen and stuck these sticky notes on the wall according to priority, like a hit list.
“But for now, the most important thing is to test it out on a few low-level ones first.
The system says the more powerful the ability, the longer it takes to make contact.
As for these people, I—a regular civilian, and an Asian one at that—don’t have the chance for now.”
“So the first step is to get in touch with some low-level Supes and boost my own physique first.
I don’t want to get run over by A-Train while walking down the street someday.”
Ian walked back to the bed, lay down, and closed his eyes.
He was recalling the plot and the information from this life, trying to figure out every public appearance and personality weakness of the Vought heroes.
Just then—
Boom!!
The wall shook violently.
Immediately after, a short, sharp scream came from next door in 402, followed by the dull thud of something heavy collapsing.
Ian got up and looked at the wall that separated him from 402 by just a single partition.
From the other side of the wall came heavy, phlegmy gasps.
The sound of something heavy being dragged across the floor.
And the sound of some kind of liquid dripping onto the floor—drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Ian pressed his ear against the wall and listened for five seconds.
He walked to the bed and pulled out a rusty toolbox from underneath.
The box only contained some tools, but sometimes, tools could also become deadly weapons.
He picked up a claw hammer.
Another thud came from next door, and the entire wall trembled again.
Ian slowly walked toward the door, already prepared.