There are many things a man is prepared for when he wakes up from a nap on the couch.
The world ending, alien abductions, having to fight off a terrorist cell intent on conquering his kitchen, or simply feeling like he had been sedated for a week.
Gabriel felt exactly like that.
His body was contorted in a way that probably seemed comfortable to his unconscious mind, but upon awakening, it looked like something from a circus act. His skin felt sticky yet cold, while his mind was sluggish and slow. It was as if his brain was trying to crawl out of a quagmire of fleeting dreams and shake off the effect of a nap at the same time.
With a yawn and a stretch, he sat up on his old couch, ignoring the spring poking his calf, letting the thin blanket slide off his protesting body until he heard a satisfying pop and crack.
Smacking his lips, he rubbed his eyes before getting up and padding over to his small bathroom-slash-toilet. There was enough room to turn around, but if any other person entered, it became too crowded.
A few minutes later – relieved, with less sticky skin, and marginally refreshed – he padded back to his old couch and threw himself down with a sigh, taking in his room in a daze, still feeling the aftereffects of the nap.
Gabriel closed his eyes and let out another yawn, feeling his entire body relax a little. Then he opened them and stared blankly forward, trying to reboot his brain.
A few seconds later, he closed his eyes again, only to open them a second later.
The previous cloudiness was gone; only alertness remained in his cerulean irises.
“This is not my fucking room,” he muttered, confused, as he tried to take in everything in front of him.
Gone was the minimalist apartment he had spent years perfecting, where everything had its place, maximizing space usage and quality of life. Gone were the myriad of kitchen tools he used to brighten up his days or delight his friends. Instead, he was surrounded by a broken-down mess: an ugly couch, peeling wallpaper, the beginnings of hairline cracks in the corners, the color fading on what kitchen furniture he could see – and most importantly – an untidy floor.
Empty bottles – both alcoholic and non-alcoholic – leftover takeout boxes, and a wide assortment of dirty clothes were scattered about. Gabriel couldn’t say he was the cleanest person in general, but over the years, he at least learned how to take care of the space he owned. This looked more like the state of his place when he first moved out of his parents’ house.
The biggest difference, however, was on the walls.
In his own apartment, there was nothing on them aside from a single corkboard for random notes and memos. Drilling holes was a pain, so he generally didn’t like hanging things up. Here, instead, the walls were covered in old and new posters.
Most of them were of seemingly bands – rock and metal, judging by the style and design – but he could spot a few things that couldn’t be anything but movie posters.
Several depicted women dressed in superhero uniforms, posing provocatively in front of flags, buildings, cars, ships, and various other backdrops, with bold text proclaiming their names and greatness.
One particularly caught his attention.
It showed a blonde woman with… prominent personalities, dressed in a skin-tight red-and-silver suit with ample cleavage and a self-assured grin. Like she knew exactly why the photo existed, and she had no problem with it. Beneath it was a single word:
BOMBSHELL
Whether it was a movie, TV show, or something else, Gabriel was just thankful no eyes had been scratched out and no suspicious holes had been cut out with scissors.
Another one had three women, each of them dressed in different colored full-body suits – red, green, and blue – posing with their backs to each other. Naturally, the zippers in the front were pulled down, artfully revealing tantalizing flesh.
FLOWER POWER
The last one that caught his attention showed only one woman, in heavy goth makeup, piercings, and other accessories, wearing a racy gothic-lolita maid uniform that showcased her figure while hiding everything important. In the background was a generic-looking cafe, and she was holding a serving tray in her hand.
Under it, in purple with a black outline, was a name.
PURPLE DEATH
The rest of them were in similar vein, proving once again that the person whose place he had taken was a rather simple man.
“What the hell…”
Half an hour later, he had determined that his new location contained a small bathroom, a combined living room and kitchen, and a small bedroom with a dresser, a desk with a laptop, and a bed that looked like it hadn’t been made since it was bought. The living area also featured a table that functioned as both a kitchen and coffee table (sitting in a rather awkward spot), a couch where he had been sleeping, and a TV from a brand he didn’t recognize.
Outside the windows, he could see the midday skyline of a city he couldn’t recognize. At first, he thought it simply lacked one of the famous landmarks belonging to the many cities of Earth, most of them visible from anywhere, but then he spotted several buildings tall enough to be called skyscrapers – structures he was sure he would have remembered if they existed back home.
As he stared blankly at the funky, high-budget-movie-looking architecture, ideas began to percolate in his mind.
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Then he saw a suspiciously human-shaped figure fly past his window.
It lasted only a moment, but amid the confusion and shock, Gabriel felt as if time had slowed, allowing him to observe the figure soaring over the street below. Blue tights, red matador-style shirt, and a black cape.
“No capes…” he muttered, still scarcely believing what he was seeing.
The moment passed as the figure continued flying, fists clenched, arms extended straight ahead. The whooshing sound barely registered in his overworked mind.
“At least he’s not wearing his underpants outside his pants…” he continued, the half-formed ideas in his mind solidifying as a sort of hysterical laughter bubbled deep within him, ready to erupt at the slightest provocation.
Like a sleepwalker, he pulled the ratty curtains closed and returned to the couch, collapsing onto it with the same gravitas as someone sitting down after being told they had cancer.
Gabriel didn’t know how long he stared at the blank TV screen before he noticed it.
It was just sitting there on the table.
Somehow, he could tell it was perfectly centered on the wobbly surface. A rectangle – about an inch tall, three and a half inches long, and two and a half inches wide.
He blamed random internet videos of magicians explaining card tricks for knowing the exact measurements. Apparently, those late-night trips down the rabbit holes were useful for something…
It was a small deck of cards, face down. The backs were a dark, metallic gold color with simple black line patterns. From where he sat, he couldn’t tell if there was anything else on them.
For a long moment, he looked around, hoping for something – anything – to distract him from the innocuous-looking object radiating an unfriendly eldritch aura on the table. There were no visible effects around the deck, but in his mind’s eye, he just knew that it was sitting there, menacingly, waiting for him to touch it. And maybe also mocking him…
Sadly, that was the only thing in the apartment that he hadn’t examined. Truthfully, he really wanted to go on an internet deep dive, but the laptop was password-protected, and he had no idea what it was.
Gabriel sighed, ruminated, grunted, and searched for reasons not to touch the offending object sitting on the table.
Finally, he exhaled deeply, the sound carrying the finality of a condemned man walking to the gallows. With a groan, he stood and approached the wobbly table, staring down at the unmarked deck, noting that it had no identifying brand, logo, or symbol. Just non-reflective dark gold and black lines, pristine and new.
Using a plastic fork, he cautiously poked it.
To his immense surprise, nothing happened, aside from the deck shifting slightly.
“Of course, it is not that simple…” he muttered, tossing the plastic fork aside.
With mounting trepidation, he extended his non-dominant arm and slowly brought a single finger closer and closer until it hovered a hair’s breadth away.
He took one last deep breath and touched it.
Nothing.
No flash, no voice, no prankster leaping from the fridge announcing his participation in a park show. Just the smooth surface and sharp edges of the cards.
“Well, that wasn’t so ba—“
Then everything went black.
Light returned instantly, like a TV flicked on. Gabriel was still standing at the table, arm extended, but the light seeping through the curtains told him it was now late afternoon.
His body felt wrung out, his mind buzzing with knowledge, emotions, and foreign memories.
He shuffled quietly to the couch and collapsed onto it, face-first.
“Uggh…”
After a minute, he sat up while another groan left his mouth. Then he began massaging his temples as he stared at the deck now resting in his hand, fitting his palm as if custom-made.
As he absently turned it over, the bottom card revealed a pitch-black face, its non-reflective surface seeming to stare back with anticipation.
Sighing, Gabriel began sorting through the information dumped into his mind.
The first part was rather simple: the memories of one Gabriel Porter – a recent graduate of Oakvale Community College, associate’s degree in computer science acquired after six years of waffling around. Son of Lilly and Steven, both deceased. With no other relatives known, no major accomplishments, no outstanding skills, and no dark history. A perfect transmigration target.
What are friends? Can you eat them?
He didn’t even spare a thought for the fact that Gabriel Porter and he shared their names (at least the first one) and looks. The confirmed existence of the multiverse demanded more attention.
Sadly, his puny brain refused to wrap around the concept of infinity nestled in infinity, an infinite number of times, so he refocused his attention on the knowledge unceremoniously crammed into his mind.
The memories of Gabriel were like remembering reading a book a long time ago. He knew the gist of it, but the unimportant parts were clouded by the fog of time. Gabriel felt a little blessed that there were no emotions accompanying the memories, just a clinical list of a life belonging to a pretty boring person.
‘Who was also a slob…’ he mused as he looked around again, poking a pile of shirts with his toes.
The second set of memories concerned the world itself. Well, as much information as an apathetic person whose life he had usurped would notice.
A place of heroes and villains, monsters and saints, on the streets and in the skies. The posters weren’t fiction. They were real people.
‘Though some of them did act in movies…’ he thought as his eyes moved to a few specific posters.
His main question currently was whether he was in the silver age or a gritty dark reboot. Was he going to be mugged three times going to work? Did people snort drugs openly and did nihilism permeate the world, or was he going to stare as Mustardman went against Condimentman over copyright infringement?
Poor Gabriel was too preoccupied with online games and trying to stay afloat financially to pay attention to the superhero community, aside from watching the latest videos and reading the top news about who was dating whom and who was doing a bikini photoshoot.
Sadly, it would fall to him to do the research, which was made easier by gaining the password to it.
The final – and most confusing – piece concerned the deck itself.
The Deck of Infinity.
Fifty-two cards. Indestructible. Invisible in importance to anyone but him.
By touching the blank face of the card to an object, material, or energy source, it would absorb it and store it. Then eject it just by thinking about it.
But the most important part was that he could take two cards containing the same objects and fuse them together, which in turn would create a qualitative change. What that change was depended on the type of object or material he had absorbed.
Limits existed – but first, he needed proof this was real or if he was having an episode.
Drawing a random card from the deck, he held it in front of his face, staring at the abyss-black surface of the item, wishing very hard to be back in his own home with his orthopedic mattress and pillows.
Instead, he slowly reached out with the card and touched the blanket near him with it.
A flip of a mental switch in his mind, feeling completely natural despite never having done it, and the blanket vanished. There was no smoke, sound, or any other effect. One second it was there, then it vanished.
The card now displayed an image and the text: 1 x Blanket, surrounded by a white border.
‘Ah…rarities. Of course, why not give a guy who had never pulled a five-star in any gacha game a superpower with rarities… Makes total sense!’ he grumbled under his breath as he restored the blanket to its previous spot, the card going blank again.
“Now, the next question is: how to test it?” he mused out loud, casting his gaze around the room, looking for inspiration.
After a few seconds, his eyes stopped moving, sighting something in his open kitchen, while his face lit up with a tired grin.
“When you want a lot of something, you should get rice…” he murmured as he got up and took out the twenty-pound bag of rice resting next to the ancient fridge his landlord decided to provide.
“Let’s do some science!”
