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AND
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Dominic Anderson stood near the tall window of his private study, a glass of dark liquor in hand. The twilight spilled orange across the city skyline, casting shadows over the opulent room. Behind him, the heavy double doors creaked open.
Nia entered with slow, measured steps.
Dominic didn't turn to face her yet. "So. How did it go?"
She exhaled. "Jason defeated me."
That made him turn. His thick brow arched, scarred face unreadable as his dark eyes locked on her. "Jason… defeated you?"
"Yes, sir," she said, head bowed respectfully.
Dominic stepped forward, lips tugging into the ghost of a smirk. "Well, that's a good thing, right? He's learning. Means you're a good teacher. You did well."
Nia didn't lift her eyes. Her voice, however, wavered slightly. "Sir… he didn't just defeat me once."
She looked up.
"He defeated me every. Single. Time. Like I wasn't even a threat. Like I was... an insect."
Nia didn't understand what had Happened—but she felt it. Deep in her gut, something was wrong. That wasn't Jason. Or if it was, it wasn't the Jason she'd trained for years.
The old Jason dodged training like it was a tax. He flirted, joked, drank too much, and treated the family name like a burden he never asked for. But this new Jason? He was something else. Dangerous. Precise. Brutal. He moved like a man who had lived ten lifetimes in warzones, who had carved power from blood and bone.
A small part of her wondered if he was an imposter, wearing Jason's skin. Or perhaps some outside force had taken hold of him. But she kept her doubts to herself.
Because in the Anderson family? Being wrong about the heir could mean one thing: death.
And besides… there was a second reason.
She liked this Jason more.
The fire in his eyes. The purpose in his step. Sure, he still had the charm, the smug smile, the arrogant little quips—but beneath it all was a man with a plan. Not some spoiled brat trying to escape his legacy… but a predator ready to claim it.
So she said nothing about that.
Instead she continued, "I've trained dozens of our best. I've sparred with hired killers, spec ops, cartel monsters. Jason… Jason made them all look like amateurs. He didn't just win. He dominated. Every move, every read, it was like he had decades of experience. His body's stronger, faster, more precise than ever. He's not the same."
Dominic finally chuckled, stepping back toward the large portrait of his late wife, Maria, hanging above the unlit fireplace. He looked up at it fondly.
"Hmph… Our son's a genius, eh?" he muttered. "Hear that, Maria?"
Nia remained still.
Dominic turned slightly. "He may be different, but if that difference means he survives in our world? Then so be it."
He reached for his cigar case and lit one slowly.
"Let him know he'll be coming with me tomorrow evening for the Black Mask deal," he said through the smoke. "No more sitting on the sidelines. I want him to see how the family runs things. First-hand."
"Yes, sir," Nia replied, bowing slightly before turning to leave.
As the doors shut behind her, Dominic stood in silence once more, eyes lingering on the portrait.
"Our boy finally found his fire," he muttered. "God help anyone who tries to put it out."
...
Jason's room looked like something ripped out of a billionaire bachelor's dream.
A polished marble floor reflected the dim golden hue of custom chandeliers. On the far wall, a floor-to-ceiling glass window overlooked the city skyline, half-covered by thick black curtains. The bed—king-sized, of course—had dark red silk sheets and a velvet headboard stitched with the family crest: a silver serpent coiled around a black dagger.
There was a sleek bar cart near the corner, filled with aged whiskey and vintage wine. A wall-mounted rack displayed a few antique pistols and blades, supposedly "decorative," but Jason was starting to think otherwise. A built-in fireplace crackled with ambient flames below a massive OLED TV. The scent of fine cologne and gun oil lingered in the air.
At the moment, Jason sat at a glossy black desk, hunched over a top-of-the-line custom gaming laptop. He scrolled through the browser, face lit by the soft blue glow of the screen, his expression shifting from boredom… to confusion… to what the actual hell.
He blinked.
Then leaned back in his chair slowly.
On screen were headlines like:
"Batman Saves Gotham From Killer Croc—Again."
"Superman Stops Terrorist Cell in Metropolis."
"Flash Neutralizes Rogue Speedster in Keystone City."
"Wonder Woman Delivers UN Speech on Meta-Human Rights."
"Teen Titans Expand Reach to West Coast."
"Justice League Responds to Alien Invasion Attempt."
"…No. Freaking. Way," Jason whispered, jaw slightly slack.
He kept digging. Cross-checked news archives, satellite footage, meta-human registration acts. It wasn't a hoax. This wasn't cosplay or some alternate-history Earth.
This was the DC Universe.
Jason leaned back, exhaling sharply.
'Batman… Superman… The actual Justice League…'
He rubbed his temples. "What the hell did I get reincarnated into?"
Just moments ago, he'd been content planning his rise in a criminal empire. Now? Now he realized he was a street-level nobody in a world where gods walked the earth, aliens shattered planets, and wizards rewrote time.
"I need to get stronger," he muttered, eyes narrowing.
Way stronger.
Stronger than anyone here.
Stronger than even Sukuna—the King of Curses from his past life.
With renewed focus, Jason typed again, this time researching his own family.
Dominic Anderson – Business Tycoon. Philanthropist. Investor.A cursory online search painted the man as a self-made billionaire, a global entrepreneur, and a beloved public figure. Articles sang praises of his donations, his clean record, his model image.
But Jason wasn't a surface-level guy.
He dug deeper, into forums, dark web listings, leaked financials. And the truth emerged like rot beneath polished wood.
Drug routes. Murder-for-hire. Bank laundering. Human trafficking. Intercontinental arms smuggling.
Dominic Anderson wasn't just a kingpin. He was the king. The smiling face of one of the most feared underground empires on the eastern seaboard.
Jason sat in silence for a moment, letting it all settle.
That's when the knock came.
Knock. Click.
The door creaked open without permission.
Jason turned his chair toward the doorway—and his breath hitched slightly.
Standing there was her.
Tall. Striking. Mediterranean beauty carved from perfection. Long, flowing black hair that cascaded over a form-fitting designer jacket. Olive-toned skin. Emerald green eyes that could cut through glass. Bold, furious, and absolutely stunning.
"Excuse me—?" Jason barely got the words out—
WHAM.
Her fist crashed into his stomach.
Jason didn't flinch much. It stung, but barely. He blinked, looking mildly amused as she froze in place, hand still buried in his abs.
"JASON, YOU IDIOT! DID YOU REALLY ALMOST DIE TONIGHT!?" she screamed, stepping back in shock.
"Huh?" Jason raised an eyebrow.
She clenched her fists again. "YOU ABSOLUTE MORON!"
Behind her, a panicked guard peeked in.
"Miss Valentina, please… Don Dominic is asleep—"
"SHUT UP! I'M TALKING TO MY BROTHER HERE!"
Jason's eyes widened slightly.
'Brother? Damn. That's a fucking shame…'
Still, he played along, sitting up straighter with a sheepish grin. "Uhm… can we talk quietly? I don't wanna get Dad mad."
Valentina clicked her tongue and crossed her arms, nostrils flaring. "Tsk. Fine."
/*\
If you Like this story! Check out my other storys ! Lord of Chaos In Dc! and Dragon Slayer in Marvel!
AND
If you wish to read more or simply support me just because ? than check out my patreon at
"https://www.patreon.com/Riadooo"
You can Get Access to 3 More Chapters OR 7 More Chapters if you want !