I always suspected my death would be underwhelming.
For all my might—my centuries of conquest, of shaping an empire through blood and will—I understood one simple truth: if I were to die, it should be at the hands of someone superior.
Anything less would be… insulting.
And yet—
To perish in the heart of a star, torn apart by the Viltrumite traitor, Mark Grayson…
Pathetic.
My consciousness had unraveled in fire and pressure, my body finally failing where countless others had not. There had been no glory in it. No witness. No real legacy.
Just silence.
…
And then—I awoke.
—
My eyes open to a sky choked with pollution.
Clouds hang low and gray, stained by industry. The air itself feels… wrong. Thin. Contaminated. Beneath me stretches a dense, dimly lit urban sprawl—crude architecture stacked upon itself with no regard for symmetry or strength.
I hover in place, arms at my sides, expression tightening.
"…Primitive."
The structures are large by human standards, but poorly designed. Inefficient. Fragile. I can see corrosion on metal, cracks in concrete—even from this height.
This is Earth.
But not the Earth I knew.
I descend slowly, boots touching pavement with barely a sound. Immediately, I am noticed.
Humans freeze. Some stare. Others avert their gaze entirely.
Fear.
Good. At least that remains consistent.
I reach out without warning, seizing one by the front of his clothing and lifting him effortlessly from the ground. His body goes rigid, his breath catching in his throat.
"You," I say flatly. "Identify this location."
His eyes dart wildly. His lips tremble before forcing words out.
"G-Gotham City."
I pause.
The name means nothing.
My brow furrows slightly.
"Clarify. Is this 'Gotham City' located within the United States of America?"
"I—yes! Yes, it is! Please—please let me go!"
A warm liquid begins to spread down his leg.
I glance down at it, disgust evident in my expression.
"…Filthy."
I release him. He collapses instantly, scrambling backward without a shred of dignity.
I rise back into the air, ignoring him completely.
Gotham City.
Not in any human map I committed to memory.
Which leaves two possibilities.
"…Temporal displacement. Or dimensional deviation."
I scan the skyline again, unimpressed.
"If this is the future… humanity has regressed."
My ears twitch.
The city is loud—offensively so. Engines grind. Metal screeches. Distant gunfire cracks through the air like background noise.
Crude weapons.
Cruder society.
And beneath it all—
A voice.
"Please! I don't have the money! I just need more time—I can pay next week, I swear!"
I turn my head slightly.
Closer.
A second voice answers, dripping with amusement.
"Heh… that's not how this works, sweetheart. But hey—maybe we can work something out right now."
…
I should ignore it.
Human affairs are beneath me.
And yet—
"…Curious."
I move.
—
The alley is narrow. Dim. The scent of rot and waste lingers in the air.
A large human male has a smaller female pinned against a wall. She struggles, striking at him with little effect.
I watch in silence for a moment.
Then speak.
"Is this a mating ritual?"
—
Both of them freeze.
The man turns first, irritation flashing across his face.
"The fuck did you just say?"
He releases the woman, stepping toward me with forced confidence. His posture is aggressive—but his eyes betray him.
He's already afraid.
Interesting.
Up close, I study him. Scarring across the face. Decent musculature by human standards.
Perhaps a low-level combatant.
"I asked a question," I reply evenly. "Your actions appear… reproductive in nature. Is this how your species selects mates?"
The woman stares at me like I've lost my mind.
The man, however, scowls.
"Who the hell are you supposed to be?"
"I am—"
I stop myself.
"…Thragg."
No title. No empire. Not anymore.
He steps closer, invading my space, grabbing my collar.
"You're in Black Mask territory, asshole. You don't get to just walk in and—"
His breath hits me.
Putrid.
I stare at him.
He continues speaking.
I stop listening.
A wet sensation hits my boot.
He has spat on me.
…
There is a brief moment of silence.
Then—
I move.
A single, effortless motion.
My hand cuts through him.
Clean.
Precise.
He separates at the torso before his mind can even process what has happened.
Blood spills outward.
His body collapses in two halves.
—
I flick my hand once, removing the blood.
Then I look at the woman.
She is frozen. Breathing hard. Eyes wide—not just with fear, but confusion.
"…Was he your mate?" I ask. "If so, I may have disrupted a pairing process."
Her mouth opens slightly.
Then shuts.
"…What? No! He was trying to—"
She stops herself, shaking her head.
"No. Definitely not my mate."
"Then his behavior was non-consensual," I conclude. "And yet, you did not terminate him."
She stares at me.
"Terminate—? I tried! Did you not see that? He's huge!"
I glance down at where the corpse lies.
"Marginally."
"He's like six-six!" she snaps, frustration breaking through her fear. "What did you want me to do, bench press him?!"
I consider that.
"…If you lacked the strength, you should not have engaged."
"I didn't choose to engage!" she fires back. "He cornered me!"
I tilt my head slightly.
"So human males frequently overpower females of your species?"
She hesitates.
"…Not like that. I mean—yeah, men are usually stronger, but that doesn't mean—" She cuts herself off, exhaling sharply. "God, you're weird."
"I am not human," I correct.
"…Yeah, I figured."
She studies me more carefully now.
"You some kind of meta? New hero or something?"
The word again.
Hero.
I feel irritation stir.
"I am a Viltrumite," I state. "Your classifications are irrelevant."
"…Okay, 'Viltrumite,'" she says, dragging the word out skeptically. "I'm Sasha."
I nod once.
"Thragg."
She glances nervously at the body.
"…You just… killed him. Like it was nothing."
"He was nothing."
She exhales slowly.
"…You're not wrong."
A beat passes.
Then she crosses her arms, eyeing me.
"So what, you just go around asking people if assault is a 'mating ritual' and then slicing dudes in half?"
"If necessary."
"…Right. Of course you do."
Despite herself, there's a hint of dry humor in her tone now.
Interesting.
"You will provide me with lodging," I state.
She blinks.
"…Excuse me?"
"I require a place to rest. My current state is… suboptimal." I pause briefly, acknowledging the unfamiliar sensation of fatigue. "In return, you will not be harmed."
She raises an eyebrow.
"That's a terrible sales pitch."
"It is not a negotiation."
"…Yeah, I got that part."
She sighs, running a hand through her hair.
"…I've got an apartment. It's not great. And it's definitely not safe—Black Mask's people own half this area."
"Irrelevant."
"…And my ex owes them money," she adds. "So there's a decent chance we get jumped on the way there."
"Irrelevant," I repeat.
She studies me for a long moment.
Then shrugs.
"…You know what? Sure. Why not. Worst case, you slice a few more guys in half."
"Correct."
"…That was a joke," she mutters.
"I am aware."
"…You did not sound aware."
—
We walk.
Slowly.
Painfully slowly.
I restrain the urge to leave her behind.
Humans are inefficient creatures.
Sasha, however, talks.
A lot.
"…—and I told him, if you're gonna borrow money from a crime boss, maybe don't skip town right after? But nooo, apparently that was too much common sense—"
She stops mid-sentence, noticing I'm not responding.
"…Do you listen to anything I say?"
"No."
"…Wow. Okay. Rude."
She moves closer as a group of men across the street begin watching her.
Their expressions are… predictable. Lust of varying degree. It seems all humans care about is mating.
She grabs my arm.
I look down at it.
"…Explain."
"…Just—don't make it weird," she mutters. "They're less likely to mess with me if I'm not alone."
"They are already less likely," I reply, glancing at the men. My gaze cold and a silent invitation.
They immediately look away.
"…Yeah," she admits. "That too."
Another man approaches—dirty, limping.
He opens his mouth—
Then meets my gaze.
He freezes.
Does not speak.
Does not move.
Good.
—
"Where is your residence?" I ask, irritation finally surfacing.
"Like a mile north—"
I do not let her finish.
I lift her over my shoulder and ascend instantly.
—
She screams.
Loudly.
Directly into my ear.
I grimace.
"Silence."
"I WOULD'VE LIKED A WARNING!"
"We have arrived."
I descend just as quickly, placing her back on the ground.
She stumbles, dizzy.
"…You're insane," she mutters. "Cool—but insane."
I ignore that, focusing on the building in front of us.
Large.
Deteriorating.
Overcrowded. If the numerous sounds i hear are any indication
"…This structure houses multiple family units?"
"Yeah. It's called an apartment building."
"…I see."
I do not hide my displeasure.
"This is where you choose to live?"
She shrugs, though there's a flicker of defensiveness.
"It's what I can afford. Not everyone gets to float around judging real estate."
"…I am not judging," I reply.
A pause.
"…This is simply inferior."
She snorts.
"Yeah. No shit."
She gestures toward the entrance.
"…You coming, 'Viltrumite'?"
I step forward without hesitation.
"For now," I say, "this will suffice."