I had barely taken ten steps off the bus, one hand still in my hoodie pocket, thinking about which stall had the best noodles, when the crowd ahead exploded into chaos.

  Great, try to get between an Asian with his ever-first noodle or taco cheese mix in this world, will ya? What does an Asian gotta do to get some food around here?

  Screams cut through the boardwalk as people scattered in every direction. Cars swerved, horns blaring. A man shoved past me, clutching his kid. Somewhere farther ahead, glass shattered the sharp, cascading sound of a storefront window imploding. All the chaos and none the wiser regarding public safety.

  Brockton Bay, ladies and gentlemen. Only here in B effin Bay.

  Mall cops around the world would cheer "Finally.. it's my time to shine!" except that you're up against potential superpowered freaks like a pseudo evil Batman and deranged Wonder Woman on crack. In this world? Most of them turned villains for reasons, because people with powers? Deep down, they are all depressed, broken people and need therapy, so yes...a deranged Wonder Woman on crack is a real possibility here.

  Just sayin-

  Superhumans who take crime a little too seriously because a tumour in the head keeps egging them to use their powers. None of the "With power comes responsibility "shtick, just use powers nao, more data, mmm...data. Yummy data. Now use it on people, too. Conflict creates more data. Shards are none the wiser, creatively bankrupt and can't think beyond certain parameters because they lack emotions and empathy.

  It does make you wonder why none of the shards ever want to bond or understand their host, instead of using them for new data. Like I said. Dumb parasites are dumb. At least the Xelnaga were the chipper kind of people, till Amon came and went..Nuuuuu...fuck Eternal Life. Let's have chaos instead. Eh, you know what? screw these aliens. Both of them are morons.

  Not two blocks away, near the small shopping mall that overlooked the boardwalk, I could see them, a group of masked figures spilling out of the entrance, weapons raised, their movements too coordinated to be random thugs.

  I shook my head exasperatedly as my stomach started to grumble. Too tired to work, and I dont have a mask to wear now. What then?

  Just...ugh.

  I don't know what it was that snapped first. my patience or my stomach. Probably my stomach. Because nothing, and I mean nothing, ruins my appetite faster than idiots with guns deciding to turn a food court into a concert venue. Let alone a hungry asian.

  Nah...fuck this.

  I had come here for noodles and tacos, and I found none. Got no bubblegum to chew on, too.

  I hadn't decided. But now, instead of grilled meat or the smell of a delectable char siu bao...I dont even know if they sold them here, but all I could smell was gunpowder and broken dreams of a tired man. No meat, no bun, no more fried stuff or taco cheese! I can still smell the cheese when I came here from the bus! Cheezy tacos? forget about it.

  Just gunpowder and this angry asian.

  "Of course," I muttered, ducking into a half-trashed clothing store as another sonic pulse shook the glass walls. "Of course, this happens before Lunch. Why not? Perfect day. But Providence have to ruin it, Ham ka ...liao."

  The mannequins stared blankly at me while I rummaged through the racks. I grabbed the first bandana I saw, a red one with an edgy flame pattern, and tied it over my face. A pair of tacky green sunglasses from the discount rack followed. Then I pulled my hoodie tighter over my armour until I looked like a grumpy street racer who took a wrong turn into a riot, except the rioters are all bunch of note wearing pansies that call themselves the Chorus gang.

  Terrible name, blergh.

  I checked my reflection in a cracked mirror. I look like a damn mugger on crack with zero fashion sense "Congratulations," I told myself dryly. "You now look like an idiot with confidence. Hou yeng ah. very stylish."

  Outside, one of the Chorus thugs kicked open a vending machine, barking orders into a headset. The others were herding terrified shoppers toward the exits, one of them carrying a submachine gun that was absolutely not legal in any country with a functioning government.

  And that was it. That was my breaking point.

  Bro doesn't even hold it right.

  "You picked the wrong day to debut, boy band", I muttered, stepping out of the store.

  The first guy turned just in time to see me swing a metal pipe into his ribs. The armour servos in my arm flared, adding a mechanical whine to the impact. He went flying into a display case of novelty sunglasses, shattering both the glass and his dignity.

  The others shouted some fired. Bullets sparked off my hoodie as the neosteel underneath deflected most of the hits, leaving bruises but not holes. It would hurt like hell, though, if it's ordinary Kevlar. But this is effin Neosteel sheet. The peak of Terran Impunity. Dominion tech supremacy! One of them even bounced off and shot at one of the gangers' butt.

  "Ahh!! my butt!!"

  "Yeah, that's gonna sting tomorrow," I grunted, grabbing a trash can lid and hurling it like a frisbee. It smacked another thug square in the face, sending him tumbling over a counter. woowee, I just did a Captain America on pure luck. Being young again sure feels great! I get to flex my APM wrist precision like a frisbee.

  "Is he...He's attacking us?!" someone yelled.

  "Yeah," I said, stalking forward as another sonic grenade whined to life and I punted that thing to another crowd of gang members ", And I'm starving."

  The guy tried to activate his gadget, a handheld speaker-glove thing that buzzed ominously. Was it Tinker Tech? Honestly, I dont care, so I jammed my pipe into it before it could release a pulse. The device backfired with a fwoomp and a burst of smoke, leaving him clutching his hand and wheezing.

  "Pro tip," I said, flicking the broken device aside. "Don't overcharge unshielded tech. Tinker 101. You look like an effing noob doing that." Terran tech 101, actually, we could reverse engineer the Protoss shield, we could reverse engineer anything. Suck on that Protoss! and you too gangers! Shitty tech should just fail and get scrapped!

  The remaining two decided discretion was the better part of survival and started backing toward the mall exit.

  "screw this! I didn't sign up to fight a cape! I thought we had time!"

  I didn't let them.

  A few quick steps, a running kick, and one of them went down clutching his leg. The other tried to raise his gun, but I ducked under his aim, slammed a punch into his chestplate, then another into his helmet. He went down like a ragdoll, his gear scattering across the tile. The minor servos of my tiny cabling joint, neatly connected to the power armour I'm wearing, winded. Surprisingly, it does pack a punch against ordinary people.

  Terran Civilian gear 1/ ganger 0

  It sucks to be a normie.

  Points for me for deciding to go out with a basic exoskeleton with neosteel pads. Silence followed, broken only by the distant wail of sirens and the ringing in my ears. I stood there, breathing hard, surrounded by groaning thugs, cracked glass, and dropped guns. The mall was a mess, but the civilians were gone. No one got shot. And I was still hungry. If only they knew it was just a tired, cynical ex-gamer who hadn't eaten since breakfast.

  The sound of a gunshot cut through the chaos.

  I thought I dealt with everyone.

  My head snapped toward the food court entrance.

  There, near the edge of the shattered fountain, was a girl in a green skirt and outing jacket crouched over another young woman, her hands glowing faintly with that unmistakable, soft biolight of a healer. Amy Dallon. Panacea has triggered, and her eyes are manic with tears, trying to save her dear sister.

  "Hands off the freak, or I'll put another hole in your sister!"

  He barked. His mask, painted white with a jagged black music note, flickered with static. Definitely the leader. His voice carried that smug, overconfident reverb of a man who thought power meant control. The Chorus gang? What a stupid ass name.

  Amy froze, hands still trembling.

  I exhaled through my nose, slow and tired.

  "Seriously...One day. It's just... one day since I came here," I muttered under my breath. "Of course, it's the one day I forget to bring a rifle."

  "You! Dreamhack prick!" he shouted, gesturing with the gun. "Yeah, hoodie guy! The one who just flattened my crew! You think you can take the Chorus? What are you, huh? Some new cape? Some wannabe vigilante?"

  I looked down at my armour-stained hoodie, the faded orange logo still visible for everyone to see, the DreamHack 2011 Finals. My last tournament. My last real victory. Now, apparently, my superhero name is Dreamhack? Heck fucking no, that's so lame!

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Do they even have Dreamhack tournaments in this godforsaken world?

  The goons around him murmured, and the fucker actually smirked at me! He smirked. "Guess what, boys! Looks like we've got ourselves a new player on the block! Let's see what DreamHack can do."

  I stared at him. Then at Amy. Then at the hole where my patience used to be, oh hell naw, you did not just officiate my cape name in public like that. Mother effer...

  "DreamHack?" I groaned, rubbing my temple. "Seriously? That's what you're going with? Out of every possible name?"

  The thug blinked. "You're not denying it?"

  "I'm ignoring it," I snapped.

  He scowled and aimed the gun at Amy again. "Last chance, hero. Walk away before I-"

  He never finished the sentence as I pummel him with an iron pipe to the face. I moved before I even thought about it, the armour servos in my legs firing as I lunged forward, closing the distance in less than a second. His shot went wide, sparking against the tile. I grabbed his wrist, twisted, and slammed his hand against the nearby pillar. The gun clattered to the floor.

  That's one dumbass down.

  Dreamhack? really?

  He screamed. I didn't give him a chance to recover. Screw him, screw everyone here. One hard punch with a servo-assisted velocity straight into his chest. His amplifier cracked, feedback screaming through his speakers. I followed up with a knee to his gut, then a backhand across the mask that sent him spinning to the floor.

  "Name's not Dreamhack, got it? It's just a hoodie for god sakes. Call me Hoodieguy or Terran lord! Anything is better than a tourney name!" I muttered, standing over him. "Remember it. Or don't. I don't care."

  I turned toward Amy, who was still frozen mid-motion, her hands hovering over Glory Girl's chest while she was healing her as fast as she could.

  "You good?" I asked, voice softer now.

  She blinked, like her brain had to buffer for a moment. "You.. You-you're not with them?"

  "If I were, they'd have better aim,ashole shoots like a stormtrooper", I said dryly. "Keep healing. I'll make sure no one else interrupts Lunch...uhh, I mean, your work."

  Amy blinked again, probably unsure whether to thank me or call the PRT. preferably the first one, I really dont wanna deal with PRT or any law enforcement right now. Just wanna get some good food. Meanwhile, the leader groaned on the floor, his amplifier still sparking. Oh, the asshole is just asking to get kicked in the nuts.

  He's down for the count.

  Do I kick it?

  My mind is telling me no, but my heart says...yes!! Kick it! DO IT! Sigh...I wanted to do that to the fucker, but instead, I went to the fucker, I crouched, grabbed his jacket, and whispered close enough for him to hear through the feedback.

  "You ever point a gun at someone again, and I'll introduce you to a SCV's drill to your ass, got it? Understand?"

  He nodded weakly. I doubt the asshole even knows what an SCV is. It's probably not a good idea to leave breadcrumbs around, but really, eventually, he will need to debut. For now? Oh, I'm famished.

  I dont think I'm thinking straight. Need to get out of here.

  By the time the last of the Chorus goons hit the floor, the mall was a disaster zone, a symphony of chaos that had finally gone quiet. I stood in the middle of it all, breathing hard, knuckles sore, armour humming faintly beneath my hoodie. My green plastic sunglasses were cracked, my bandana had slipped halfway down my face, and somewhere in the distance, a security alarm wailed like a dying cat.

  I looked around at the unconscious bodies, with half of them groaning, the others too busy regretting life choices, and I had to pinch the bridges of my nose in contempt and disappointment and what just happened today. Disappointed that I intervene. Contempt at the gall of these idiots calling themselves proper naughty boys like they're worth shit when superpowers are a factor in this world.

  "Congratulations, Jason. You just beat up a local gang on an empty stomach. Real productive." Not to mention the potential heat in this. Ugh...day one. Seriously? This was dumb. I could probably do it better if it weren't crucial.

  Behind me, I heard a groan.

  I turned, and there she was, blonde hair, glowing faintly gold under the flickering mall lights. Glory Girl. Victoria Dallon. She was awake. Amy was beside her, helping her sit up. Her expression was somewhere between relief and disbelief. No aura blast, so that's a good thing.

  Amy's healing aura faded as she looked at me with guarded eyes, suspicious of me. really girl? You're gonna be suspicious of the guy who just saved your life? Panpan..what the fuck? My first impression of you just went out the door. Victoria, on the other hand, didn't do guarded. She did loud. There's a reason she's the collateral Barbie and gets called that for good reason. The girl doesn't know when to hold back. I doubt my neosteel and limited servos could do much in a straight-up brawl.

  "Who the hell are you!?" she demanded, floating to her feet, her golden force field shimmering back to life. "And what did you do to these guys?" ahh there it is..the love me beam. God, that is annoying. I'm a 70-year-old soul who died of old age, feeling some sort of affection for a young girl like that...This is so disgusting and yet also weirdly comforting. That beam is just nasty. At least it ain't some NTR beam.

  I blinked...that came out wrong.

  "...I hit them until they stopped shooting people?" I said. At least these pricks are alive. Terran weapons dont have non-lethal options. They are made to kill zergs and all manner of alien scum. and each other...mostly each other. Eh...Terrans love beefing with each other.

  Amy winced. "Vicky, he helped us. He stopped the one who was about to shoot me."

  Victoria didn't lower her guard. Her eyes scanned me up and down, landing on the logo on my hoodie.

  "'DreamHack'?" she read aloud. "That's your name?"

  "Oh, for the love of..." I rubbed my face. "No. That's just a hoodie. It's a gaming event. I'm not..."

  "Never heard of a gaming event with that name", Victoria said, crossing her arms. "People are gonna call you that now. You realise that, right?"

  I groaned. "That's not a superhero name. That's a brand sponsorship."

  Amy, despite the situation, almost smiled. Almost. "You could do worse. I mean, there's a cape named Uber."

  "...Point taken," I muttered. effin Uber..I totally forgot about that dude. Victoria lowered her aura slightly, but still hovered just off the ground, that faint golden glow outlining her like an accusation. "You took out ten armed gang members. Alone. Without powers?"

  "Without food, too," I added. "That's the real tragedy."

  Amy gave me a look, half curious, half cautious. "Is that armour underneath your hoodie?… It's not Tinkertech I recognise. You made it yourself?"

  I shrugged. "Something like that. I tinker."

  It wasn't a total lie perse, technically, I refurbished a bunch of neosteel lying around in the supply depot and made a pseudo armour. The depot could procure and process steel and various metals and turn them into Neosteel. So I just acquired some materials and made a shoddy job at it. Victoria frowned, still not entirely convinced. "So what, you're some kind of vigilante? You working with the Wards?

  "Hell No, Do I look like ward material to you?" I said flatly. "I'm just a guy who wanted some food and got interrupted by an off-key garage band."

  Amy muttered under her breath, "He's not wrong."

  The distant sirens were getting louder, definitely PRT. Time to go. I wasn't ready to get dragged into some registration mess.

  "Look," I said, adjusting my hood. "You two should probably get out of here before the PRT shows up. They'll want statements, and I don't exactly have an ID for… legal reasons."

  Amy raised an eyebrow. "You're just going to leave?"

  "I'm allergic to paperwork. Deal with it, you're the capes." and I'm hungry, think I'm almost seeing things in double. Am I hypoglycemic? nahh.

  Victoria floated a little higher, hands on her hips. "You saved us. That means something. At least let us thank you-"

  "Thank me by not calling me DreamHack," I said, backing toward the side exit. "And maybe tell your PR people I'm not a villain, yeah?" To be frank, I dont even know if I want to be a hero. It's just not my thing.

  Amy's expression softened slightly. "...You could've just run. You didn't."

  I paused for a second, meeting her gaze. "Yeah. Well. Old habits die hard." Helping people in need is a basic human decency, and it's what I was taught growing up. With that, I turned, pushed open the emergency door, and slipped into the cool afternoon air, the faint hum of my armour blending with the distant sirens. Brockton Bay. If it ain't windy..it ain't right. At least this part of town dont smell like piss and arid sea and rust like in the trainyard.

  Behind me, I could just barely hear Victoria mutter: "He just left? Just like that? You'd think he designed that hoodie on purpose.DreamHack. Seriously? What kind of name is that?"

  And Amy's quiet reply: "The kind that probably didn't ask for it. I think he means it, Vicky."

  "Are you okay, Amy? you just triggered and-"

  Yep, not my business to know. I'm out. Not getting my dumbass interest in teenage cape drama, Nope. I'm out. Now what? Can't eat here. What's the closest place nearby to get any authentic noodles around here? Ah...is AZN badboys territory. Ya know what? Why should I be afraid? I'm asian. I can talk the talk and walk the walk.

  I'm heading up North, it's nearer to the Trainyard anyway, easier walk to base.

  I pulled my hood tighter, hands shoved into these damn tiny pockets, and started walking aimlessly down the cracked sidewalks. The streetlights flickered with that cheap orange glow that made everything look a little tired, or was it just mr feeling that?

  Must be the hunger talking. Note to self, never fight hungry, I could literally feel the sugar rush leaving the body. It's how a diabetic feels when they get a sugar crash...probably. After ten minutes of wandering, the scenery started to change. Lanterns started to appear, hanging over doorways. Neon signs in Chinese, Japanese, and Korean flickered half-alive.

  Honestly?

  It's a little too stereotypical for my taste. Then again, the boomers love these sorts of things. Happened back home, too. Lanterns and blinky lights. Always the damn blinky lights like it's Christmas every day.

  The graffiti was in different languages too; it's in Chinese, Korean, Japanese, and old posters written in kanji peeling off the walls. Lanterns hung over narrow streets, the smell of cooking oil and spices filling the air..Oh wow..that hits the spot. I smell malatang like Szechuan pepper.

  Sirens were still echoing somewhere behind me, bouncing off the cracked walls of Brockton Bay, but I didn't care. Let the PRT handle cleanup. I'd done my civic duty for the night. All I wanted was food.

  ABB's territory was actually fine, at least here in the Asian market district.

  A younger me might've turned around, but honestly? I was too hungry to care about gang turf wars. Worst case, I get jumped. Best case, I get Lunch. Worth it. Feels a little like home, almost. Kinda like Petaling Street meets Chinatown in New York. Now all it needs is some Bengali peddlers selling bootleg CDs, and it would be perfect. Just like home.

  a small noodle shop tucked between two pawn stores, red characters painted above the door:

  老张拉面 - Lao Zhang's Noodles.

  Now that is a smell of an asian kitchen. You can smell the wok hay from that smoke. Steam drifted out of the doorway, thick with the smell of soy, Szechuan chilli, and beef broth. I swear, I almost cried. The bell jingled when I walked in. Warm light, clattering bowls, the sound of someone hand-pulling noodles in the back, Real hand-pulled noodles. Like music to my soul.

  The woman behind the counter looked up, smiled like she'd seen this story before.

  "Ah, you hungry, young man? Sit, sit! You want lamian?"

  I nodded so fast my neck cracked. Those sweet, sweet words coming from this Auntie, "One Beef lamian. Big bowl. Please."

  She laughed, calling something in Mandarin to the kitchen. The guy back there started pulling dough, stretching it out and slapping it on the counter like an art form. That rhythm of simple Lamian noodles hit right at home for some reason. It is chewy, oily, spicy, just the way I like it. For the first time since being dumped into this world, I felt like a real human being again and not a confused Terran with a construction mech parked in a junkyard tacos? Its fine..I can find tacos another time.

  This? This is the ultimatum, the pinnacle of my existence since coming here. To enjoy a good bowl of Beef Lamian. For a minute, I wasn't stranded in a different universe full of parahumans and walking disasters. I was just some guy waiting for noodles. No Terran Supremacy propaganda bullshit is gonna ruin this for me. This is it. Beef Noodles. All hail the beef noodle!

  "Nei tai, that new guy ah? Asian one in the hoodie? see ah? He eats like he hasn't seen food in days."

  "Maybe homeless lah," her husband replied from the kitchen. "Or student. He looks tired."

  When the bowl came out, I nearly forgot how to breathe. Steam rising, the smell of chilli oil, slices of beef glistening like treasure.

  Mm, but ABB has been around lately," she said, lowering her voice. "I don't want trouble, you know? If they think he outsider or some new gang..."

  "Aiya! I told you already, stop staring at the customer!"

  "What staring? I'm checking if he ABB or not! You know they like to come pretend normal, then ask for free noodles!"

  "He not ABB lah! You think ABB eat lamian like this? They always want fried rice and Coke!"

  "You don't know! Maybe he's undercover ABB! You see his hoodie? Got big orange word, maybe gang code!"

  almost choked on my noodles. DreamHack 2011 ? gang code. Sure. The deadliest of gamer syndicates. First bite? Heaven. Actual heaven. While I try to ignore the gossip chatter behind. Oh..why haven't I learn how to cook lamien in my past life? Oh right. Why cook when you can call Uber Eats or Grab? So many choices back then...sigh.

  The wife huffed, ladle still in hand.

  "Undercover my foot! He looks like a tired office worker. Look at his eye bag, can put dumpling inside."

  Her husband peeked out again, frowning. "Office worker so strong meh? Look at his hand liao! big like a shovel! You see that muscle? Maybe he uses it for breaking kneecaps! oso hor, why do office workers wear hoodie?! Cheesin ah?!"

  I coughed; that was actually really funny to me. They froze like I'd just turned into the granddaddy triad lord Lung himself. I'm just glad this is some good noodles, ahh...the broth and the soup. This is happiness. This...is happiness.

  "See lah! You make him hear you! Now he angry liao!, Maybe he really ABB!"

  "You're the one talking so loud!! Stupid husband!" she hits her husband with the ladle as her husband cowers behind the wok.

  "You think I care? If ABB come, I'll throw you at them first! lousy wife!"

  At this point, I had to hide my face behind the bowl because I was grinning like an idiot. The tension I'd been feeling since the mall, since everything, just… cracked. These two were ridiculous. Comforting, in a way.

  I finished my noodles and leaned forward, pretending to inspect the menu. The wife noticed and hurried over, all smiles again. "Ah, you like the noodles, ah? Very good, very strong man needs to eat more!"

  Her husband muttered under his breath, "Strong man, sei cho ar-huh? Until ABB find him."

  "You shut up, you want curse customer, is it?" Her wife sneered at him.

  couldn't help myself "Don't worry," I said in English, friendly tone. "I'm not with ABB. Or any BB, really."

  The wife blinked, then laughed nervously. "Ah, of course, of course! We're just talking, aiya! small talk! Family business, you know!"

  "Yeah," I said, handing her the cash. "Family business."

  Her husband squinted, still suspicious, but took the money anyway. "You be careful outside," he said in accented English. "The ABB people… they don't like strangers. Especially young ones like you."

  "Noted," I said. "I'll make sure not to advertise my…uhh face?" That came out wrong.

  As I stepped out of the shop, I could still hear them arguing inside -

  "See? Nice boy! You always think everyone gangster! Boy soo lengzhai can't be gang member!" and smack her husband with the ladle again

  "Today, nice boy, tomorrow in the newspaper! 'Local noodle shop feed supervillain!'Yoy only see nice lengzhai boy!" rubbing his head in faux pain

  "Aiya, you watch too much TV lah!"

  Their voices faded as I walked down the dim street. Time to head back and see if there's anything I can build. Yeah, that shit was hella weird. 10/10 will come again for noodles. Damn...I'm hungry again. Should I head back? Or keep exploring Brockton Bay? Time doesn't fly much this afternoon. I saved Amy Dallon and Victoria Dallon, probably exposed myself to the PRT numbnuts. Maybe even invite the Ire of a certain Lawyer Karen in protective mom mode...dear lord, she's another issue, isnt she?

  Ugh...this has been one terrible afternoon.

  Except for the beef bowl Noodle.

  All Hail beef noodles!!

  Note to self, Protect Chinese Auntie and Uncle Laozhang Noodle. Sacred Treasure of Brockton Bay. It's the only good thing so far here in this hellhole.