Manhattan, New York. In the city that calls itself the capital of money and skyscrapers, the skyline is jammed with towers stabbing into the clouds. The most obnoxious one is Vought Tower, plastered head to toe with giant billboards of smiling supes.
Inside the staff building just to the left of the main tower, room 4027, a young man with sharp features stood frozen in front of the mirror, jaw practically on the floor.
"Putain de merde… No fucking way. Actual Isekai shit really happens?"
The guy staring back at him looked identical — same face, same build, like they'd been poured from the exact same mold.
But the fresh memories dumped straight into his brain made it brutally clear: he had crossed over. And he was now inside the body of a man who shared not only his face but also the exact same name.
Only now that name was Ivan Greevs.
How the hell did the original guy die, though?
His eyes flicked down and landed on the shattered glass water cup on the floor. A quick flash hit him — the last moment of the poor bastard's life.
The idiot had gulped down water too fast, choked hard, lungs seized up, and after a violent coughing fit everything went black.
Choked to death on water. A death so stupid it sounded like a curse. Turns out it was real.
Ivan let out a low whistle, half impressed, half horrified, then started sorting through the new memories flooding his head.
The original Ivan Greevs had come to America thirteen years ago with his uncle and aunt from France. They'd settled in Queens. He went to a regular high school, grew up obsessed with supes and the whole "hero" fantasy. After college he applied for a security job at Vought. Today was supposed to be his first day on the job.
"Vought Group…" Ivan muttered, frowning. "Why does that sound so damn familiar?"
The second he tried to dig deeper, a sharp spike of pain slammed into his skull. He winced and wiped the cold sweat off his forehead. Great. Maybe crossing over came with side effects.
Right then, a knock sounded on the door.
"Greevs? You okay in there? I heard something smash in the hallway."
The voice was familiar. A slightly dopey-looking white guy popped into Ivan's mind — Blitz, the other new hire who started today. Born optimist, always grinning like an idiot. Seemed like a decent enough dude from the short time they'd spent together.
"I'm fine!" Ivan called out. "Just dropped a damn water glass."
"Want me to get housekeeping?"
"Relax, man. It's just a fucking cup."
Ivan quickly cleaned up the glass shards and water, then stepped out into the hallway.
"You look like you're in a good mood," Blitz said. He was a few centimeters shorter than Ivan and built like someone who actually enjoyed the gym.
Ivan almost laughed. No shit he was in a good mood.
Three years stuck in a paralyzed body back in his old life, and now he was standing here, healthy, whole, and breathing.
The rush of it was impossible to explain.
Ivan kept scanning the sterile white hallway while he spoke. "Man, landing a job at Vought and actually getting to work around real supes? That's been my dream since I was a kid. Of course I'm fucking thrilled."
He wasn't exaggerating. From the memories he inherited, this security gig paid a solid five grand a month. Not game currency — actual U.S. fucking dollars. Not bad at all for standing around looking, right?
Blitz walked beside him and burst out laughing. "Same here, buddy. Same fucking thoughts."
"Hey, quick question," Blitz continued, "who's your favorite supe? A-Train, the human bullet train? Or Homelander, that guy's been everywhere lately. Me? I'm all about Queen Maeve. That outfit is straight-up sex. Back in high school I used to jerk—"
Ivan cut him off instantly. "Whoa, easy there."
The names Blitz just dropped hit him like a truck. Even though he'd been paralyzed in bed for three years, his eyes still worked, and the nurses had constantly left the TV or anime running for him. He knew exactly who these people were.
They were characters from The Boys.
The second he remembered how these "heroes" casually murdered people whenever they felt like it, a headache started brewing behind his eyes. Crossing over into this world was anything but safe. And here he was, working security for Vought itself. Danger level: maximum.
"Tell me," Ivan said, rubbing his temple, "is it too late to quit right now?"
Blitz shot him a look. "Dude, that joke isn't even a little bit funny."
He pulled out his phone and waved it in front of Ivan's face. "Our assignment just dropped. We're on crowd control at the filming site. We've got twenty minutes to get there."
"Relax, it's easy work. Just keep the crazy fans from rushing the set."
"Fine," Ivan muttered. "Give me two minutes to wash my face and I'm ready."
He couldn't quit anyway. He'd only signed the contract yesterday. Breaking it now would cost a fat penalty fee, and his wallet was currently running on empty.
After linking up with the rest of the team, they piled into a van and headed straight to the shoot location.
The entire area had already been cordoned off with bright yellow tape.
Hundreds of fans were packed behind the barriers, waving glowing signs and screaming in excitement as they waited for the supes to show up. The energy was insane.
The moment Ivan stepped out of the van, it reminded him of those unhinged celebrity-chasing scenes he used to see on TV.
"Shit, can you assholes be any slower?" a sharp voice snapped. "Some idiot already snuck past the perimeter and got inside the set! If anything goes wrong, it's all on you!"
The woman chewing them out was a sour-faced white lady from Vought security. Her spit was practically flying into Ivan's face.
"Miss Asia, they're just newbies. I'll handle it," a deep voice called out.
A big, burly man came walking over. This was Al, the squad leader in charge of Ivan's team.
Even though Al's rank wasn't lower than hers, the two of them clearly had some bad blood between them.
"That's right, keep your bunch of rookies on a tight leash," Asia snapped. She flipped her hair, turned on her heel, and strutted off toward the set, her tight little skirt hugging her ass like it owed her money.
The second she was out of sight, Al spat on the ground and growled, "Fucking bitch. Always acting like she owns the place."
After blowing off steam, Al's face hardened and he started barking orders at Ivan and the rest of the team.
Ivan got assigned to crowd control at the main exit. He changed into the stiff security uniform and planted himself in front of the surging fans.
Gotta admit — the job really was easy. The morning dragged on without any real trouble until noon, when Queen Maeve finally showed up.
She stepped out of a sleek red supercar, steel headband gleaming, leather skirt riding high. Fans went absolutely feral, screaming her name as she posed for photos, flashing that signature sultry smile while cameras flashed like machine-gun fire.
Escorting the supes wasn't Ivan's problem. He just stood there like a good little barricade.
Maeve didn't even glance at the random security guy standing off to the side. But the moment she walked right past him…
A sharp, burning sting slammed into Ivan's eyes.
Then came the explosion of colorful light beams — thick ones, thin ones, every shade imaginable — all rushing together to form a glowing panel in his vision.
[Main World: The Boys (Cannot be upgraded)]
[World Level: Two Stars]
[Player: Ivan Greevs]
[Fantasy Points: 100 (Fantasy Points can only be earned in the main world. Changing major plot events or killing key characters may grant points. Points can be used to switch main worlds or travel to other fantasy worlds, provided their level is equal to or lower than the current main world.)]
[Talent: Analyze, Fuse (Approach a selected target, choose an ability to analyze, then fuse it with your own. Friendly reminder: the stronger the ability you want to analyze and fuse, the harsher the conditions will be.)]