The silence in Earth-4464 is usually heavy, filled with the low-frequency hum of servers and the paranoid ticking of mechanical clocks. But on Earth-138, the silence was different—it was deafening. Hobie Brown sat in his Camden squat, staring at the ceiling with a look of pure, unadulterated loathing. For the first time in his life, there was no one to fight. The fascists were hiding, the streets were quiet, and the revolutionary fire had dimmed to a dull, boring ember. To Hobie, a world without conflict was a world without air. ​He couldn't stand the peace for another second. He needed noise, he needed chaos, and he needed a distraction that didn't involve staring at the same four walls. With a sharp flick of his wrist, he activated his multiversal watch. A jagged, glitching portal of neon pink and yellow tore through the air, crackling with rebellious energy. Without a backward glance at his quiet world, he stepped through the rift.

​He emerged directly into the dim, tech-cluttered sanctuary of Guest’s room. The air here felt different—tense, smelling of ozone and old wires. Hobie didn't even look around to see if he was interrupting anything. He marched straight toward the PlayStation sitting under the monitor, his heavy combat boots thudding rhythmically against the floorboards. From a hidden pocket in his studded tactical vest, he pulled out a scratched, well-loved game disk—the only thing that had survived his last three riots. ​With practiced, nonchalant ease, he slid the disk into the console, listening to the familiar whir of the machine taking hold. Without asking, without a greeting, he turned and threw himself onto the bed. He collapsed back against the pillows, stretching his long, lean frame out across the mattress and tossing his boots aside. He looked completely at home, his eyes fixed on the screen as the game began to boot up, leaving the room’s owner to process the sudden, chaotic intrusion.