An Unexpected Awakening

Héctor opened his eyes slowly. The cold of the pavement seeped into his skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of the blood that had once soaked his clothes. He had hoped to wake up in a hospital bed, surrounded by sterile white walls and the beeping of medical equipment. Instead, he found himself lying on the unforgiving ground, his suit and shirt disheveled and stained, and his sunglasses cracked. The betrayal by his second-in-command was still fresh in his mind, the ambush a brutal reminder of the cutthroat world he once ruled.

The cacophony of sounds around him pulled Héctor from his daze. Shouting, the wailing of sirens, and the distant hum of a city far more advanced than any he had known filled his ears. Struggling to his feet, he took in his surroundings. The signs above the buildings were adorned with images of people in strange outfits—almost like pajamas or elaborate costumes—but the letters were foreign to him, unrecognizable and unreadable. He was in a place that seemed light-years ahead of Earth in technology and design.

Héctor moved towards the source of the noise, his instincts honed by years of navigating dangerous situations. Keeping his face hidden from the numerous cameras that dotted the streets, he made his way closer to the commotion. As he drew nearer, the cameras became less frequent, and he eventually stumbled upon a chaotic scene. A crowd had gathered around a police car, and five figures in distinctive costumes were locked in combat with a gang of seven thugs. The heroes' abilities were immediately evident.

One hero had a body that could morph into a perfect sphere, rolling around the battlefield with incredible speed and knocking gang members off their feet. Another projected bright blue energy from his hands, forming solid squares that he used to shield his allies and trap enemies. A third, a small creature with grayish skin and spiky hair, hurled flaming projectiles at the thugs, the fire clinging to whatever it touched. The fourth hero wielded a massive hammer that seemed to appear out of thin air, swinging it effortlessly despite its size. The last hero, dressed in traditional samurai armor, had a blade that extended and retracted with deadly precision.

The gang, outnumbered and outmatched, fought desperately. Only one of them had any powers—a tall, lanky man who seemed to absorb and mimic the abilities of anyone he touched. Despite their best efforts, the heroes were slowly gaining the upper hand.

Just as it seemed the fight would end without further incident, one of the gang members dropped his weapon and pulled out an old revolver. His hands trembled as he raised the gun, fear etched into his features. The heroes hesitated, clearly unaccustomed to facing firearms. The gang member fired a shot, the loud crack echoing through the street. One hero went down, clutching his wound, and another quickly moved to shield his fallen comrade with an energy barrier.

Héctor watched the scene unfold with a calculating eye. "They've never been shot at before," he thought, observing the heroes' nervous reactions. The police officer at the scene moved with urgency, producing a pair of thick, oversized handcuffs and a gun from the trunk of his car. The officer's actions were methodical, his movements indicating that firearms were heavily regulated and likely the great equalizer in this world of superpowers.

The gang member fired again, hitting another hero who was saved by the energy projector. The mimic, seizing the opportunity, touched the samurai and extended his stolen blade, cutting down a hero with a swift strike. The police officer opened fire, his shots scattering the gang. The boy with the revolver emptied his clip in a wild frenzy, killing one hero and injuring another before the gang fled into the night.

Sirens wailed in the distance, signaling the approach of more patrol cars. Héctor decided to move deeper into the area, away from the cameras and security. As he walked, he absentmindedly checked for his jewelry. His rings and gold were gone, but he still had a gold necklace with a saint medallion. He tucked it inside his shirt, unsure if anyone here would recognize it or if religion even existed in this strange new world.

After some time, Héctor found a bar. Despite it being around six in the evening, the place was bustling with people. Strange individuals entered and exited, their appearances and behaviors unusual. Drawing on his grandfather's advice, "Always enter as if you own the place, so no one will question you," Héctor straightened his clothes and walked in with the confidence of a man who belonged.

The bar was dimly lit, filled with the murmur of conversation and the clinking of glasses. Héctor took a seat at the counter, observing the patrons around him. They were a motley crew, some with visible powers and others who looked just as out of place as he felt. He needed information, a way to understand this new world and find his footing.

The bartender, a burly man with a cybernetic arm, approached him. "What'll it be?" he asked, his voice gruff.

"Whiskey, neat," Héctor replied, sliding a bill across the counter. The bartender raised an eyebrow at the foreign currency but took it without question, pouring the drink and setting it in front of him.

As Héctor sipped his whiskey, he listened to the conversations around him. Bits and pieces of information began to form a picture in his mind. This world was indeed different from his own, a place where superpowers were common and crime was handled by those with extraordinary abilities. Yet, despite the differences, some things remained the same. Power, influence, and control were still the currencies that mattered most.

Lost in his thoughts, Héctor was interrupted by a young bartender. "Excuse me," she began, "This bill... United States of America?" Of course, when he handed over the money, he hadn't considered the possibility of being treated as a fraud. "Sorry, it's from my country, I come from very far away…" Héctor lied.

"Yes, but I've never seen this bill before, and we get a lot of foreigners here. Where exactly are you from?" The girl's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Héctor remained silent for a few moments, observing the first bartender approaching, seemingly watching over her. "Enough... What do you want?" the burly bartender asked, his voice firm.

Héctor downed his whiskey in one last gulp. "I come from very far away... and I'm looking for work."

The burly bartender stared at the girl, seeking her approval. She hesitated but eventually spoke, "Mhh... you could help clean up when we close, that'll cover the—" but she was interrupted by a loud crash. Two men were fighting, one very large and tall with a steel hand, the other an old drunk, trying to dance his way out of the situation. "Who do you think you are, huh? You're gonna pay for that drink!" the large man shouted, his shirt soaked from a spilled cocktail. The old man just smiled and kept dancing until the steel hand struck, sending him straight to the floor, the sound of his jaw breaking and his body hitting the ground silencing the bar.

"Looks like we've found how you can help us…" the bartender remarked, looking at the girl. "...Yes," she affirmed.

Without hesitation, Héctor cracked his knuckles and approached the still shouting giant, who stood at least a head taller than him. "That's what you get!" the giant roared, clearly intoxicated.

"Alright, friend, it's time to go," Héctor said, his voice rough from the whiskey and the thrill of the impending fight, placing a hand on the man's shoulder.

"Says who? You? I'll leave you in worse shape..." the giant threatened.

"Says the boss," Héctor pointed back at the bartender, "But if you want to do it the hard way... I'll have to throw you out myself."

Barely dodging the giant's swing by a few centimeters, Héctor countered with a right hook straight to the jaw. Thunk, the sound of hitting steel under the giant's skin. Héctor stepped back, gritting his teeth in pain and blocking the steel hand with his forearm. He swung to the side and kicked the giant's right knee, making him fall sideways. Wasting no time, Héctor delivered a swift kick to the giant's throat. Thank God there was no metal there, and the kick went straight to his windpipe. The patrons in the bar cheered and laughed, returning to their drinks as Héctor lifted the man with all his strength and shoved him out of the bar.

Outside, the giant regained his breath. "Bastard..." he muttered. He threw two hooks, which Héctor easily dodged, now getting back into the rhythm of hand-to-hand combat. Dodging the third hook, Héctor swung back, landing a blow to the giant's head, pushing him against the wall. Without losing momentum, Héctor grabbed the giant by the hair and slammed his head into the wall twice, leaving a spray of blood.

The giant collapsed, unlikely to rise for several hours. "And don't come back," Héctor warned, stepping back into the bar.

The patrons resumed their conversations, but now there were whispers about Héctor. The bartender nodded approvingly. "Not bad, you've got guts," he said. The girl seemed impressed, though still wary.

"Thanks. I've had some practice," Héctor replied nonchalantly, rubbing his knuckles. "So, about that job…"

The bartender smirked. "Alright, you're in. We could use someone like you around here. Start by helping clean up, and we'll see what else you can handle."

Héctor nodded, feeling a strange sense of accomplishment. This was a start, a small step towards establishing himself in this new world. He had no powers, but he had something just as valuable—experience, cunning, and a willingness to do whatever it took to survive.

As the night went on, Héctor got to work, cleaning tables and listening to the patrons. He picked up snippets of conversations, learning more about Neo City and its inhabitants. He was particularly interested in the mentions of various gangs and the black market. This was information he could use, a way to start building his network.

By the time the bar closed, Héctor was exhausted but more determined than ever. He had made his first move, however small, and he knew there would be many more to come. As he lay down in the small room the bartender had offered him for the night, Héctor's mind raced with plans and possibilities. He was a stranger in a strange land, but he was also a survivor. And he would find a way to thrive in this world, just as he had in his own.

His journey was just beginning.