He stood outside his newly acquired warehouse, watching as the workers carefully hoisted the sign into place. The board read "Fox's Mechanical Repairs and Custom Mods." It was a name that captured the essence of what he wanted to offer—expert car and bike repairs alongside custom mechanical modifications. The sign looked good up there, solid and professional. He could have started as a material supplier but he didn't think that the stuff would go along easily. Afterall, the government would immediately start to interfere in that business immediately. Still, he could do it for personal use and under the table transactions.

"Make sure it's centered," Kevin called out, squinting up at the sign. "And check the alignment on the left side."

The workers adjusted the board, making small tweaks until Kevin gave them a thumbs up. Satisfied, he watched as they secured it firmly. He could have done it himself easily with his telekinesis, but he didn't want to reveal all his abilities to the people around him. Better to keep some secrets for now, gradually letting them out when necessary.

"Thanks, guys," Kevin said as the workers descended the ladders. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a stack of bills, counting out their payment. "You did a great job."

The foreman accepted the money with a nod. "No problem, Mr. Fox. If you need anything else, just give us a call."

Kevin shook hands with the foreman and watched as the crew packed up their tools and left. He turned back to the warehouse, a sense of accomplishment washing over him. It wasn't perfect yet, but it was a start.

The warehouse looked much better than before. Everything was painted new and repaired. Something which he desired for his new base of operations. There were security systems going to be involved within a couple of days. For now, it was simply cameras and reinforced gate.

His PRT-issued phone buzzed in his pocket. No new messages, just a reminder of his registration with the PRT and some messages containing guidelines for rogues like him. They'd given him the phone to stay in touch, primarily for any emergencies involving the Endbringers. He knew they expected him to be available during those fights, and honestly, he was curious. The tales and videos weren't enough to gauge the Endbringers properly. He needed an in-depth analysis, a firsthand look.

As he pocketed the phone, he thought back to what he had learned about the Endbringers. Apparently there were not just villains or monsters; they were apocalyptic forces of nature. The Simurgh, Behemoth, and Leviathan had wreaked havoc across the globe, each attack more devastating than the last. The Simurgh's mental manipulations, Behemoth's raw, unstoppable power, and Leviathan's relentless assaults on coastal cities—they were terrifying, and yet, strangely fascinating.

His curiosity was more piqued by the nature of these beings. In his past life, he had faced many powerful adversaries, some capable of planetary destruction if left for too long. But the Endbringers were different. They weren't just powerful; they were enigmas. No one truly understood their motives or origins, which made them all the more intriguing. Afterall, why did even Leviathan bothered to arrive to land. It could simply sink landmasses while casually sitting inside the depths of sea. Why even bother to walk into land and get into fights with the capes? It could simply avoid confrontation and still succeed. The whole thing didn't make any sense.

Could they be defeated, or were they simply a part of this world's fabric, destined to return again and again to sow destruction?

"Endbringers," Kevin muttered more likely to himself, slipping the phone back into his pocket. "This is gonna be interesting."

The prospect of facing such formidable foes didn't scare him; it intrigued him. He was confident in his abilities and eager to see what these legendary beings were truly capable of. Plus, with all the cape drama on this earth, he figured he could actually achieve a lot here. This place was chaotic, but in chaos, there was opportunity.

He walked back inside the warehouse, surveying the space that was slowly becoming his own. There was still a lot of work to do—cleaning, organizing, setting up his equipment—but he felt a surge of optimism. Brockton Bay was a messed-up place, but it was his messed-up place now. And he was ready to make the most of it.

As he began unpacking a crate of tools, his mind wandered to the potential ahead. He could carve out a niche for himself here, away from the shadow of the Null Void. Here, he could build something meaningful, something that was truly his own.

"Alright, Fox," he said to himself, setting a wrench on the workbench. "Time to get to work."

With a final glance at the sign outside, Kevin rolled up his sleeves and dove into the task at hand, ready to shape his new life in this strange, exciting world.

The sun was just beginning to climb in the sky. The sprawling expanse of rusted metal and discarded machinery stretched out before him, a treasure trove for someone with his skills. The air was thick with the smell of oil, and the sound of clanging metal echoed in the distance. He parked the pickup truck he had arranged for himself, its engine rumbling to a stop. The truck was the first vehicle to arrive at his shop, a sentimental piece owned by an elderly man who couldn't bear to part with it despite its decrepit state.

Walking up to the operator's shack, Kevin knocked on the door. The operator, a burly man with a stained baseball cap and grease-streaked overalls, looked up from his paperwork, eyes narrowing at him slightly.

"Morning," Kevin greeted, pulling out his wallet. "I need access to the yard. How much for a one-time fee to take whatever I can in one go?"

The operator sized him up, his gaze lingering on Kevin's face before flicking to the cash in his hand. His eyes went to the pickup truck then. "That'll be hundred bucks."

Kevin nodded and handed over the cash without hesitation. "Here you go."

The operator counted the bills meticulously before pocketing them with a grunt. "You got the whole day. Take whatever you can load once."

"Thanks," Kevin replied, heading back to his truck. He surveyed the yard, mentally cataloging the various vehicles and scrap pieces he could make use of. The place was a goldmine for someone with his abilities. Rows upon rows of cars, some merely shells, others more intact, lay abandoned and forgotten. Rusted tools, old machinery, and heaps of scrap metal were scattered around, waiting to be repurposed. How much it was going to be repurposed, no one knew.

The pickup truck, which he had already spent some time restoring, stood ready to haul his finds. The owner had brought it in, hopeful yet skeptical that it could ever run again. The motors were rusted, wires frayed, and the body was riddled with rust, holes and dents. The man had been reluctant to part with it, as it had belonged to his late wife and held deep sentimental value.

Kevin had assured the man he could bring it back to life for a reasonable fee. In reality, it had taken Kevin less than five minutes to transform the dilapidated vehicle into a gleaming, fully functional machine. Using his abilities, he had grown enough metal and that combined with the Galvanic Mechamorph abilities, he had replaced the old metals with new ones, generated through his powers, and restored the electrical systems effortlessly. The only tasks remaining were the furnishing and finishing touches, which he planned to complete later.

He had given the truck's owner a timeframe of about a week, claiming the need for extensive inspection and sourcing old parts. The truth was, he just wanted to drive the truck around and use it to haul scrap from the yard. The old man didn't need to know that; he was just grateful for the chance to see his wife's truck in working condition again.

Kevin hopped back into the driver's seat and drove slowly through the scrapyard, eyes scanning for potential treasures. He spotted a few promising vehicles: a battered sedan, a rusting motorcycle frame, and an old sports car that had seen better days. He could definitely see some stuffs for him now.

He parked the truck and began loading up his finds. He could lift about a ton and more, if he pushed himself. If he accessed the other abilities subconsciously, he could easily go for more than that. The highest even he didn't know.

His telekinesis allowed him to move the large, rusted parts effortlessly, while his Galvanic Mechamorph abilities enabled him to quickly assess and start minor repairs right on the spot. No one afterall saw how his hand turned to a green jelly like state to analyse the equipments.

The sedan, with its broken windows and sun-bleached paint, had a surprisingly intact engine. Kevin knew he could get it running with a bit of effort. The motorcycle frame was solid, with only minor rust damage that his powers could easily handle. The sports car, despite its outward appearance, had a chassis that screamed potential. He could already envision it restored to its former glory, maybe even enhanced with a few custom modifications.

As he worked, his mind drifted to the plans he had for these discarded relics. He could restore them to their former glory—or better—and sell them for a hefty profit. It was a perfect setup: low investment, high return, and a steady stream of projects to keep him busy.

The hot sun climbed higher as he loaded the last of the scrap into the truck. Sweat dripped down his forehead, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand. He stood back, admiring the haul he had gathered. It was a good start, and he knew he could make something great out of these neglected machines. He climbed back into the truck, ready to head back to his shop and start the real work. He had to make three tips, lest he revealed some of his powers. A case which he didn't want currently.

Three tips to tow three different vehicles. They were gonna worth it though.