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Link wasn't afraid of the chaos in Hell's Kitchen because he was strong enough. As a transmigrator, he had his own "golden finger"—he possessed the body of Superman.
A year ago, the original Link had just graduated from the police academy. One night, after celebrating with his classmates, he got drunk and accidentally fell by the roadside on his way home. At that moment, another soul, also named Link, took over his body, devouring the original soul, and from that point on, Link was no longer the same person.
After standing up and relying on the original's memory, Link made his way home—a three-story row house built in the 1950s. Link lived alone; his parents had died in a car accident a year ago, leaving him the house and some savings, along with a substantial insurance payout.
He quickly adapted to his new identity. However, after reading some news, Link discovered that Stark Industries existed in this world, and so did Tony Stark. Realizing that he was now in the Marvel universe was an unsettling revelation. With Tony Stark, the beacon of this world, making headlines as usual, Link realized how dangerous his new reality was.
He was overwhelmed at first, tossing and turning until late into the night. When he finally fell asleep, the next morning's sunlight bathed his bedroom, warming his entire body. To his surprise, his body started to change, growing stronger by the minute. This discovery puzzled him at first since there was no system to guide him, but everything seemed to require his own exploration.
In the days that followed, Link focused on completing his police internship while also sunbathing whenever he could. Even when patrolling the streets in a police car, the sunlight still reached him, and when he was off duty, he basked in his bedroom. Over time, he developed powers like X-ray vision and super hearing, confirming that he had indeed inherited Superman's abilities.
So, when he was assigned to Hell's Kitchen, he wasn't worried for his safety—if anything, the criminals should be worried about him.
…
Despite possessing the powers of Superman, Link had no intention of becoming a superhero. He wasn't going to risk his life unnecessarily. His goal was simple: to one day get his hands on an Infinity Stone and then let the rest of the world deal with its own conflicts.
Upon reporting to the West Midtown Precinct, Link learned that he'd be patrolling alone, an unusual assignment for a newly promoted officer. In New York, police salaries weren't particularly high. As a college graduate, Link's starting salary was around $50,000 a year—decent but not much in a city like New York. Overtime pay made up a substantial portion of their income, but the work itself was dangerous, especially in a country flooded with guns.
In Hell's Kitchen, where the police were always short-staffed, patrolling alone wasn't uncommon. Word had it that he had angered the district attorney, so they had decided to let him patrol solo.
Link didn't mind. He was issued a Glock 19 as his service weapon and purchased a Glock 26 as a personal backup, which he kept hidden, usually strapped to his ankle during his shift.
The first few days on the day shift were uneventful. However, things took a turn when the night shift began.
At 8 p.m., Link left the precinct in his patrol car, heading into the dangerous streets of Hell's Kitchen. The night air was thick with tension, and faint gunshots could be heard in the distance.
Link kept his ears open to the radio chatter as he cruised the streets, his eyes scanning the area. The streets were nearly empty except for a few cars, but his enhanced vision picked up the presence of people hiding in the shadows—street thugs who would disappear the moment they saw a patrol car and reemerge after it passed.
"Attention all units, there's a reported shooting at XXX Street. All nearby units, please respond immediately." The dispatcher's voice suddenly crackled over the radio. Without hesitation, Link grabbed the mic, reporting that he would respond, then switched on the lights and siren, flooring the gas pedal as he headed toward the scene.
As he approached, the gunfire became louder and more chaotic. Activating his super hearing, Link could distinguish the situation ahead. It was a firefight between the Russian mob and the Irish mob, both well-armed and competing fiercely in the high-end escort business.
This intel didn't come from the gangs but from the nearby patrol officers, whose vehicles were circling the area, lights flashing, yet conspicuously staying out of the fray. They were doing everything they could to create a sense of tension without actually getting involved.
Link considered slowing down, but his foot remained on the gas pedal, driving straight toward the action. He knew the real reason he'd been sent to Hell's Kitchen. By offending the district attorney—a key figure in the legal process who vetted cases brought by the police—he had landed here, where danger lurked around every corner.
But Link wasn't one to shy away from danger. The thrill of his newfound powers and the challenge of this job kept him engaged, even though he could easily make a fortune in Las Vegas with his abilities if he wanted to. But that would attract too much attention.
Instead, he found police work amusing and a perfect way to spend his time. If he ever tired of it, he could always quit, but for now, it was still fresh.
The engine roared as Link sped toward the scene. He arrived at a restaurant where a group of men, using cars as cover, were firing into the building. The restaurant was Russian mob territory, and though the Irish mob had brought heavy firepower, they were no match for professionals.
Link parked his car facing the Irish mob, then quickly stepped out, drawing his gun and pointing it at the gang. "NYPD!" he shouted.
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