Mysterious Letter – Anonymous Sender: Dear Carl, I'm very interested in your bar in Queens. Perhaps a million dollars is a fair price. Three days from now, I'll be bringing some people to discuss the details. I trust you won't refuse. After all, you wouldn't want any... unfortunate accidents, would you? Scene: New City – Queen Street It was already late at night, but under the glow of dazzling neon lights, the city pulsed with life, more vibrant than even during the day. Inside a luxurious high-rise apartment, Carl sat on a leather couch. His right hand clenched a crumpled letter, veins bulging slightly from the pressure. Carl (scoffing): "Seriously... and he thinks he can threaten me?" He tossed the letter aside in annoyance, then casually picked up a crystal wine glass from the coffee table. Taking a slow sip, he gazed out through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the sprawling, glittering skyline. Carl (softly): "What a view." Twenty-four years ago, Carl had arrived in this world. As he grew older, he learned that this city was called New City. At first, he thought he'd transmigrated to some foreign metropolis on Earth, until the day he stepped into the Steve Rogers Memorial Museum. Captain America. That name alone was enough for Carl to realize what kind of world he'd landed in. Marvel. A world full of superheroes, aliens, gods... and unspeakable dangers. But also one of endless possibilities. Carl hadn't come here empty-handed either. He'd brought with him a [Check-In System], a classic cheat device in transmigration stories. Only, his version worked a bit differently. He could set a check-in location and duration, one year, two years... even longer. Once the duration ended, he would receive a massive reward. The longer he waited, the greater the payoff. The only catch? He had to wait. After receiving two straight rewards of baby formula early on, Carl made a bold, and slightly reckless, decision. He set his check-in location to New City, and the timer to 25 years. Now, after twenty-four years had passed... He was still a perfectly "ordinary" human being. Well, black hair, black eyes, absurdly handsome, and ridiculously wealthy. So, technically... ordinary. After being adopted as a child by a wealthy, childless bachelor in his fifties, Carl had taken the man's last name: Carl Smith. It was an odd pairing with his Asian features, but Carl kept the name out of respect for his adoptive father. Years later, the old man passed away peacefully in his sleep. Carl inherited everything. Several properties, two bars, and stakes in various companies, including the man's original business. Once he realized the truth about this universe, Carl began rebalancing the portfolio. First, he sold off the original company and most of its assets. Then, he converted everything into liquid cash. After that? He began investing heavily in names he recognized: Stark Industries Hammer Industries Pym Technologies Oscorp Iron Man. Iron Man's rival. The original Ant-Man. The Green Goblin. These weren't just companies, they were tied to major Marvel characters Carl remembered clearly from his past life. Thanks to these decisions, his wealth multiplied tenfold within a few years. Today, he was worth tens of billions. The letter from earlier? It had appeared without warning in one of Carl's bars. Signed at the bottom: Wilson Grant Fisk. The name might've sounded unfamiliar to the average person. But Carl knew better. Kingpin. The Emperor of the American Underworld. One of the top-tier villains in the Marvel Universe. His enemies included: Spider-Man Daredevil The Punisher Even the X-Men and the Fantastic Four had crossed paths with him. Kingpin ruled a massive criminal network, earning the hatred of countless heroes. And now, for whatever reason, he'd set his eyes on Carl's bar. Carl was still a normal human, technically speaking. Sure, he had trained in martial arts from a young age... But compared to someone like Kingpin? No contest. Still, getting muscled out of his own bar? That was crossing the line. He'd had many assets over the years, but those two bars were special. He kept them even after liquidating everything else. They were personal sanctuaries. Quiet spaces. Memories. And now someone wanted to use intimidation to snatch them? Not happening. Carl wasn't entirely without a backup plan. He had already located Peter Parker, a student at Midtown High School. At this stage, Peter was just a regular teenager. The spider hadn't bitten him yet. Carl had been watching, preparing to intercept the moment when destiny came crawling. He admired Spider-Man deeply. But when survival was at stake, sentiment had to take a backseat. It was just a precaution back then. Now, with Kingpin on the move? That backup plan felt shakier than ever. The only thing Carl could truly count on now was... [The System]. He glanced at the clock. 11:55 PM. Just five more minutes. The final countdown of a 25-year wait. If this reward turned out to be another joke? Carl might seriously consider hiring supervillains to wipe Kingpin off the map. Or just sell the damn bar and vanish from the city. Raising his glass again, he sat in silence. Five minutes later, [Check-In Complete. Reward Delivered: Silver Superman Template] A cold, mechanical voice echoed in his mind. Carl's entire body trembled slightly. Silver Superman. The 25-year reward had finally arrived. And it was more than he ever hoped for. As a transmigrator, Carl knew exactly what this meant. The Silver Age Superman. The most ridiculous version of Superman from the DC Comics' Silver Age. Far beyond the modern Kryptonian in power. He could: Sneeze stars into oblivion Move solar systems Travel across time and space Blow out suns Absorb magic Even devour Kryptonite itself Silver Superman might not have been the "strongest" in every canon, But he had one terrifying trait: No limits. If the story needed him to awaken a new power in the middle of battle? He would. Because plot said so. Now, Carl had that same power. With this, there was no longer any need to intercept Peter Parker. Let Spider-Man rise in his own time. As for Kingpin? Let him come. Carl would be waiting.