The two emerald-green ninjas stared at Cal from across the dining table, perfectly still and eerily synchronized, like two statues judging him for daring to breathe. One of them, eyes sharp with irritation behind the fabric mask, arched an eyebrow.
"Well? Are you going to stand there all morning, or are you coming down to join us? Your brother, sister, and I are waiting."
Cal jerked back to reality.
Right. Family. Ninjas. Breakfast.
Totally normal things to wake up to after opening your eyes in a stranger's body.
He hurried down the narrow stairs, nearly tripping twice, and slid into the open chair beside James's sister. She clicked her tongue the instant he sat.
"Ugh. Finally. Thought you were going to stand there until lunch, loser."
Cal ignored her petty aggression, mostly because he was too busy staring at the two masked figures across the table. They remained motionless for a moment longer before reaching up in perfect unison and tugging their masks down.
Cal's breath hitched.
Same face. Same bone structure. Same jawline.
One in his late twenties.
One middle-aged with stern, weather-beaten features.
Older brother. Father.
They looked exactly like him, or rather looked exactly like James, the body he was currently occupying.
Before he could recover, Father lowered his head. The siblings followed. Cal scrambled to mirror them, almost knocking over his chopsticks.
"We thank thee, Jade Emperor," Father intoned, voice deep and solemn. "For the lives we are about to consume. Strengthen our bodies in your name and guide us to carry out your will. Until the day all our foes are crushed beneath our boots, we pray. Long live the Jade Emperor."
"Long live… Long live… Long live…" the siblings echoed.
Cal joined in halfway through the second long live, hoping no one noticed.
Jade Emperor? Foes crushed beneath our boots?
Did I transmigrate into a cult family!?
The moment the chant ended, Father reached for the porcelain bowl, ladling steaming congee into his bowl from the claypot in the center. Eve swooped in next, a triumphant smile on her face as she glanced at Cal, scooping up several fat meatballs. Older brother followed, scraping the last of them into his bowl.
When Cal finally reached the pot… There was nothing.
Just pale, watery congee staring back at him like a cosmic insult.
"What's wrong with you today, James?" Older brother asked, narrowing his eyes. "You usually beat Eve at grabbing the meatballs."
Cal forced a tight, nervous smile. "I'm not really feeling up to it today..."
Father snorted. "Of course you're not. You have strayed from the grace of the Jade Emperor." His gaze hardened. "Snap out of it, son. Our family has lived to serve the line of the Jade Emperor for generations. It is time for you to forget your other ambitions and take your place in the Jade Dragon Army like your brother."
Eve smirked. "James thinks he's too good for second-stringers like the Jade Emperor. He wants to serve someone in the big leagues. Like Doctor Death."
Cal stiffened.
Doctor Death?
Jade Emperor?
A faint memory stirred… then everything slammed into place.
Those were characters from Stupendous Comics.
More specifically, those were super villain characters.
His spoon clattered against his bowl.
Did I transmigrate into a comic book world!?
Father slammed the table hard enough to rattle the dishes. "The Jade Emperor is not second-string! He is our lord and master!"
Eve rolled her eyes. "Pa, please. The guy can't even expand past Brooklyn. Entomon hands him his butt every time he crosses the Brooklyn Bridge."
"That insect coward hides behind swarms of bees! He refuses to fight like a man!"
"I don't think the Jade Emperor would even want to fight someone with the proportional strength of a dung beetle in hand-to-hand combat," she shot back.
Cal silently wolfed down his bland, meatball-less congee.
Entomon... another character from Stupendous Comics. An A-List superhero with the power of 6 different insects. In the comics, he always clashed with the Jade Emperor and the Jade Dragon Army. They were practically his weekly punching bags.
Eve wasn't wrong. The Jade Emperor was definitely a second-stringer. He was B-List super villain at best. His only superpower was being able to revive twenty fours after death, assuming of course that his body was still intact.
But Doctor Death? Doctor Death was top-tier. If this world classified villains, he'd be S-Class at least. He was a supervillain on the level of world-ending plots, multi-book title crossovers, and ultimate boss villain energy. If James, Cal's host body, served under Doctor Death…
Cal puffed out his chest a little.
Sure, he'd be a minion. But a minion of a legendary villain, is a minion above minions. In the world of superhero villainy, that was practically a prestigious career path. If Cal were to think of it in terms of where he came from, it would be like being employed by Big Tech or a Corporate Giant.
I wonder what the salary comp is like for a Death's Head Soldier?
He ate the rest of his congee with newfound dignity and felt his lips curve in a soft smile.
"What are you smiling at?" Older brother snapped. "At least we work for someone who controls one of the five boroughs. Your boss is just a small-time affiliate villain."
Cal blinked.
…Small-time? Affiliate villain?
Eve leaned forward with a wicked grin. "What do you expect from someone who got kicked out of the Mastertasker's Institute? Working for Silver Dollar Savelli is the best he'll ever do."
Cal felt his soul detach, float up, and weep.
Silver Dollar Savelli.
A glorified footnote.
A two-bit mobster wannabee who barely maintained control over a street corner in Hell's Kitchen.
A comic book extra that existed solely to make actual villains look good by comparison.
Older brother shook his head. "That's why you should join us in the Jade Dragon Army. At least in Brooklyn, everyone knows not to mess with us."
Cal stared numbly at his bowl.
He wasn't a soldier of Doctor Death.
He wasn't even part of a mid-tier villain crew.
He was…
A henchman.
A henchman working for a bargain-basement villain.
Cal Weston, 50 year old otaku turned accidental transmigrator, felt his newly acquired future crumble like stale bread.