Cal finished the last of his plain congee in silence, set down his spoon, and excused himself from the table. He didn't wait for a response. He just needed to get away. Away from the Jade Emperor cult family breakfast, away from James's condescending siblings, and away from the crushing realization that he wasn't a top-tier villain's henchman but a bottom-of-the-barrel goon.
Back in his room, Cal shut the door, leaned against it, and breathed out a deep sigh.
Okay, Cal you can do this. New world. New body. New… extremely questionable employer.
His new isekai life wasn't off to a great start. Actually it was off to a hilariously disastrous start, but that didn't mean it was hopeless. Plenty of webcomic main characters started in worse situations than this. He didn't have a system. He didn't have access to this body's memories. But he did have something just as valuable:
Knowledge.
Knowledge of this world, its villains, its heroes, and the events about to unfold.
Based on what he knew about the lore of the Stupendous Comics universe, the Jade Emperor being alive meant that the current timeline is set before the Vir'ad alien invasion took place. That meant the World Hero League wasn't formed yet, and this was still the golden age of villains. A relatively safe era for non-powered goons like him to spread his wings and gain experience and power. The dark heroes, the ones who liked to whale on powerless villains, like Major Prejudice, Dark Wolf, Templar, and the others, hadn't risen yet.
Good. That means henchman mortality rates should still be at a minimum.
First step then is to assess the body he was going to be working with.
Cal lifted his arm, flexed experimentally, and whistled. Lean, toned muscles. Balanced posture. Good reflexes earlier in the bathroom, when he was able to stop himself from slipping.
The fact that he was able to understand Cantonese perfectly even though he had never spoken a word of it before in his previous life, meant that subconscious knowledge and perhaps even muscle memory can be used automatically.
He needed to test his theory on the full extent of this body's abilities. That meant going out and possibly encountering people James knows. He needed to prepare. He needed a crash course on everything James Kai. Luckily, an extensive resource on the matter is close at hand.
Cal grabbed James's phone and scrolled through old photos, videos, and tagged posts. He studied James's friends and contacts, the places he frequented, the way he dressed, how he talked, the swagger in his expressions. Thanks to Cal's eidetic memory, the information sorted itself neatly in his mind. Faces, names, relationships. Every single piece of data, meticulously filed away for later use.
About an hour in, James's mom knocked sharply on the door and scolded him in rapid Cantonese again, telling him to stop lazing around and get to work.
Perfect timing.
Cal raided the closet and picked out clothing combinations he'd seen James wear in the photos. Cargo pants, oversized jacket, and a black fitted shirt. At the weapons rack, he hesitated only a moment before equipping himself like a proper henchman. Brass knuckles, throwing knives, and a retractable baton. Each one slipped neatly into pockets like his hands knew exactly where they belonged.
He stood in front of the mirror.
Alright, Cal... I mean James, time to fake it 'til you make it.
He hazarded a guess and shouted, "Ma, I'm off to work!" and sprinted down the stairs, praying he was running toward the actual exit.
A reply came in Cantonese. An affirmation. He had gotten it right.
Outside, pavement greeted him like a warm, familiar friend. He released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding and activated his GPS. Thankfully, "Work" was already saved.
One train ride away. Manageable.
Cal headed for the L train, blending into the morning crowd. When he saw a group of teenagers jump the turnstile, he followed suit.
Might as well get used to breaking the law, I'm supposed to be a villain anyway. Skipping fares should be like breathing air to me now.
He vaulted cleanly over the barrier; it was executed so effortlessly that he startled himself.
Wow... Okay then. This body is really cheating.
Inside the train, he took a seat and instinctively eyed the doors. Old habits die hard. But he forced himself to relax.
You're in the body of a martial artist. Correction, you're in the body of a martial arts villain. Time to act like it.
As the train left the station and rattled forward, he began hyping himself up, silently remembering and channeling every single anime villain and mafia boss he'd ever admired. Intimidating posture. Cold eyes. Controlled breathing. In his mind, he tried to replicate them all. What the heck, auras were fifty percent imagination anyway.
He was so into the performance that he completely missed the group of street thugs prowling down the car, harassing passengers.
Until one of them stopped right in front of him.
The thug puffed out his chest, then froze. His bravado evaporated as Cal's unintentional death glare drilled directly into his soul. He yelped, calling his buddies over.
The gang gathered, trying to salvage their pride. Their leader stepped forward and shouted something at Cal.
Cal didn't hear a word of it.
He was too deeply immersed in his thoughts and into character.
The leader grew bolder from the silence, pulled a switchblade, and waved it inches from Cal's face.
That was when Cal's body moved on its own.
A hand shot out.
A wrist twisted. Bones snapped
A knife clattered to the floor.
Cal stood and slammed a palm into the gang leader's throat, then lifted him and choked him by the same, as if he weighed nothing. The man kicked and wheezed, face turning blue, while Cal held him effortlessly and expressionlessly with one hand.
The other thugs froze, held in place by Cal's gaze, which was sharp enough to cut steel.
And then Cal snapped back to awareness.
His eyes widened.
He was choking someone.
One-handed.
In public.
He released the leader immediately, letting him collapse to the floor, gasping. Cal cleared his throat, stared at them, and said the most villain-esque word he could muster:
"Scram."
It worked beautifully.
The thugs grabbed their leader and ran off as if the devil himself had boarded the train.
Cal sat back down, heart pounding, adrenaline soaring.
Then he nodded and congratulated himself.
Not bad for his first confrontation... EVER!
He was so lost in patting himself on the back for a job well done, he was jolted back into reality when he heard a voice shouting:
"James? Is that you?"