Henry strolled onto the film set at a relaxed pace—only to find absolute chaos unfolding around him.
This wasn’t the usual morning hustle he’d come to expect. Normally, at this early hour, crew members would be setting up shots, actors would be in makeup chairs, and costumers would be herding people into outfits for the day’s scenes.
Makeup went in priority order: leads first, then supporting roles, and finally the background extras—like him.
But right n...
Whoosh!
Alex slowly descended in front of the Bloodthirsty Devourer, his eyes scanning the creature’s condition. He raised an eyebrow, a hint of confusion crossing his features.
The creature’s defense was ridiculously strong. Despite taking so many of Alex's punches, it hadn’t died.
If it were any other creature of similar size, it would have been reduced to a pulp by now.
But here it was—still alive, just barely. Its combat abilities were gone, but...
“ROAR!”
The creature’s furious, bone-shaking roar echoed through the air.
The wounds caused by Alex’s heat vision hadn’t done much damage—it only served to enrage the beast further.
Its fury escalated, and the beast, like a force of nature, flapped its massive wings and shot toward Alex, its eyes burning with murderous rage.
Pushing through the oncoming heat rays, the creature powered forward, cutting through the air like a demon, until it was r...
“Cough… cough…”
The ragged sound of coughing broke through the settling dust. Blackrow, bruised and bloodied, staggered to his feet, face contorted in pain. Purple blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, glistening unnaturally in the low light.
He wasn’t the only one.
Around him, several other Mogadorians—hulking, pale-skinned aliens—groaned and pushed themselves off the ground, their sleek armor cracked and smoking. These were elite invaders, g...
"Six—stand down!"
Smith’s voice rang out, sharp and urgent, cutting through the standoff between Number Six and Selene. His face was grim as he shook his head with a weary sigh.
There was no winning this fight. Not now. Not like this.
Even if Six somehow managed to overpower Selene—an even match at best—what would it change? At most, she’d beat one of Alex’s subordinates. It wouldn’t shift the balance. It wouldn’t stop what was coming.
It wo...
“Cough, cough!”
Smith choked out a raspy cough, struggling to push himself off the ground. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, and his limbs trembled as he fought to rise.
But his body was too broken.
Still, he managed to grab the edge of Number Six’s coat, trying desperately to pull her away. “You shouldn’t have come out! Go! Now!”
But Number Six refused to leave. Instead, she threw herself in front of him, arms outstretched, shielding ...
With the order given, two vampires immediately advanced toward Smith. Without a word, they reached out to grab him, planning to take him down.
Snap!
Snap!
Two soft sounds echoed as their hands landed on Smith's shoulders.
However, as they tried to exert force and drag him away, they were shocked to find that Smith didn’t budge. It was as though he were a mountain—completely unmoving!
Even with their vampire strength, they couldn’t shift him an ...
Spring mornings in Los Angeles had their own kind of magic—sunlight soft and golden, just warm enough to push back the lingering bite of early-season chill.
Henry drove with the windows down, one arm resting casually along the open edge of the car door. The streets were surprisingly calm—L.A.'s infamous traffic didn’t really hit full swing until rush hour, which gave him time to cruise leisurely toward the Screen Actors Guild office.
Breakfast joints weren’t full...
Spring had arrived in Los Angeles, and the beach was back to being a postcard fantasy.
Bikini-clad sunseekers lounged in the sand. Tanned, chiseled dudes flexed like walking steroid ads, their muscles glistening with baby oil and questionable choices. The air was thick with heat, hormones... and the distant whir of opportunity.
For Henry, spring wasn’t just a change in the weather—it was a shift in momentum.
Two weeks after registering with the actors’ union...
Somehow, without even noticing, Henry had stumbled his way into 1991.
He didn’t even remember the new year starting. After finally settling into his new place, life had been a blur—one jam-packed task after another. No breaks. No downtime. Just the relentless grind of carving out a life in a city that chewed up dreams and spat them back out as cautionary tales.
He’d hit up both acting unions just like Gary suggested. And, just as Gary warned, the results were... un...
Gary took another swig of beer, cleared his throat, and kept going.
“What I just said—that’s mostly for film. TV and radio? Even simpler. Bigger volume, smaller circle.”
Henry leaned in, intrigued.
“Most of the time,” Gary explained, “all the actors—leads, extras, even background nobodies—are handled in-house by the production company or the agencies backing the main cast. So, if you’re hoping to land a TV gig through union listings? Forget it.”<...
Gary didn’t even try to play it humble. He smirked, leaned back in his chair, and said, “Eh, I know a thing or two. If you’re trying to make it big—that’s mostly luck. But if all you want is to survive in this town, yeah, I can help with that.”
“Well, that’s refreshingly honest,” Henry said, raising an eyebrow. “Aren’t you supposed to give me a whole motivational speech right now? You know—talk about believing in myself, chasing dreams, yada yada…”
Henry had finally moved into Gary’s apartment building.
They say having an old man around is like having a treasure—and while Gary was only pushing sixty and not exactly someone you’d call “wise,” he did have one thing going for him:
He was old-school Hollywood.
Not from some elite family of directors or A-listers. Not the kind who could name-drop their way into a studio. But his family had lived near Hollywood since before it became Hollywood. And in a ...
When Henry first landed in this world, he figured his standards for housing would be rock-bottom. A roof, four walls, and running water—what more could a Kryptonian in exile ask for?
Turns out, quite a lot.
The more places he toured, the more he realized: every apartment had something wrong with it. Some were too loud, others too damp, too dark, too sketchy. In hindsight, it made sense—if a place was actually decent, it wouldn’t have landed in Fabio’s lower-tier ...
Fabio—the not-so-slimy Italian “real estate liaison” Henry had picked up via a photo studio detour—was, in fairness, not entirely out to fleece him. The guy actually had legit listings.
After digging around in his leather briefcase, Fabio laid out several sheets on the table, spreading them out like tarot cards for a future yet to be determined.
“These ones here,” he said, tapping a stack, “are near Hollywood, but renting solo isn’t cheap. Most people co-...
America prided itself on being a melting pot, but let’s not kid ourselves—people here still sorted themselves into hierarchies, even among the so-called "white" crowd. Just being white didn’t mean much when the descendants of the Mayflower looked down on anyone who didn’t have tea with the Queen.
And so, people banded together. Ethnic groups formed tight-knit communities, complete with their own languages, rules, and invisible walls that kept outsiders out. You couldn...
Henry couldn’t stop staring at the relic of a computer on the counter—an honest-to-god 486. It was ancient by his standards, but instead of writing it off, his mind started spinning.
Sure, he’d grown up on AAA games and cutting-edge tech from the 2020s, but that didn’t mean the stuff from the ‘90s was worthless. Some games weren’t about graphics or grind—they were about concept. Look at Tetris. Even on a toaster with buttons, that game slapped. Good design never a...
After wrapping up the bank visit, Henry headed to a nearby photo studio. In the 2020s, these places were nearly extinct—relics of the analog era. But back in the early '90s? They were still everywhere, especially in Los Angeles, where Hollywood’s shadow loomed over everything.
Every storefront had glossy sample shots on display: airbrushed beauties, shirtless hunks, sultry headshots bathed in dramatic lighting. Some studios even showcased prints of real celebrities—either...
Henry didn’t exactly look homeless, but he also wasn’t dressed like someone expecting red carpet treatment. His jacket was decent, the beard clean-shaven courtesy of a quick heat vision trim, but his hair? Wild, unkempt, like a man who’d fought a windstorm and lost.
The old backpack on his shoulder didn’t help matters.
Well… at least it looked full. If it’d been flat and empty, he might’ve looked more like someone planning to rob the place than open an acco...
Dinner that night was a delivered pizza with a complimentary two-liter bottle of soda—good ol’ high-fructose happiness.
Looking at the greasy box and the oversized soda, Henry couldn’t help but think: No wonder Americans keep getting bigger. It wasn’t just a stereotype—it was practically engineered. Food here was cheap, dense, and designed to hit every craving center in the brain.
And it wasn’t like the rest of the world didn’t have shut-ins and couch potat...
The waitress came by to swap out Henry’s half-empty coffee pot with a fresh one. “You lookin’ for something specific?”
“Yeah. First thing’s a cheap motel,” Henry replied, flipping through the Yellow Pages. “Otherwise, I’ll be sleeping in a public park tonight.”
She leaned over, flipped past the page he was on, and tapped an ad with a painted finger. “Try this place. Not the Ritz, but it’s safe enough.”
Henry raised a brow. The address was...
Henry folded the map and set it aside. “I’d like to try a bit of everything,” he said with a crooked grin. “Though chasing the dream? That one’s a long shot—depends on luck.”
The waitress gave him a slow once-over, eyes flicking from head to toe before landing back on his face. Her lips curled into a sly smile.
“With a face like that, hon,” she said, “you’d do real well up in the Valley.”
Ah. The Valley.
San Fernando Valley. Known fo...
Turns out, Old Tom—the man who nearly earned himself a Kryptonian punch—was right about one thing.
Nobody checked a damn thing when you rolled off a ferry from Alaska into the Port of Los Angeles.
No inspections. No bag checks. Not even a bored glance under the hood. Just show your ticket when you get on, and drive off like you’re coming home from the grocery store. Pre-9/11 America: land of paranoia abroad, but blind confidence at home. If trouble happened, it was...
If Henry was serious about stepping into the entertainment industry, the first question was simple: on-screen or behind the scenes?
Behind the scenes meant skills—real ones. Audio, camera work, color correction, depth of field, lighting, production design, editing… sure, some of it came down to talent, but you still needed the foundation. Without a solid understanding of film theory, you weren’t getting anywhere near a Hollywood set unless you were holding someone’s cof...
The ferry wasn’t exactly a cruise ship, but it did have a small shop on board. If you were hungry and hadn’t packed food, you could buy the usual survival rations—packaged sandwiches, stale cookies, instant noodles. The most popular items? Hot coffee and alcohol. Of course.
At night, most people claimed a row of seats in the public lounge, wrapping themselves in their coats and pretending they could sleep through snoring, body odor, and the gentle symphony of creaking ste...
So he left.
Standing near the ferry’s railing, Henry watched the churning waves of the Bering Sea slam against the side of the vessel. The ferry wasn’t exactly a cruise ship, but compared to the glorified bathtub he’d been crabbing on the last two months, this was luxury. At least it didn’t feel like the ocean was trying to beat the boat into kindling every ten seconds.
Still, it brought back memories—none of them particularly pleasant.
He’d thought ab...
Curiosity kills the cat. Henry had known that long before he ever got thrown into this weird new universe. Back home, people sticking their noses where they didn’t belong ended up on the news—ruined, arrested, or worse. Getting too curious was just asking for trouble.
He wasn’t about to forget that now.
Especially not when his first two decades in this world had been spent locked inside some underground research facility. He’d barely been in Alaska for what—two...
Henry didn’t have to wait long. Whatever meeting Tom was having inside his office wrapped up soon after Henry arrived.
Granted, they might’ve already been deep in conversation when Henry walked in, but from what little his delayed super-hearing caught, he only managed to catch a phrase like “...just find the target quickly.”
If he really wanted to, Henry could’ve mentally rewound the ambient sound from memory—analyzed the vibrations stored subconsciously, pro...
George wrapped things up with a few quick words, and the group dispersed without much fuss—each man peeling off to handle their own business.
As Henry was about to leave, the gilled mutant he'd saved last trip slung an arm over his shoulders. "Hey, since we've got the day free, wanna hit the strip club with us?"
Henry blinked. "This early? There's someone already shaking their ass on stage?"
The young mutant grinned. "During crab season? Those clubs never stop. ...
Seven days passed in a blur.
Henry was ready to head out solo this time—no one driving him, no one making introductions. He'd earned his place now.
Behind the bar, John was doing what he always did: fiddling with something that didn't look like it needed fiddling, like he was allergic to stillness.
He glanced up. "You sure George is setting out again? Might wanna give him a call first. No point in driving down there for nothin'."
"Doesn't matter. I need t...