Hugh Jass shot upright, breath shallow, heart slamming against his ribs like it wanted out. The mattress beneath him was stiff a cheap, lumpy thing that smelled of dust and god-knows-what else. For a split-second he wondered if this was a fever dream. There was a cold draft brushing his bare arms, and when he ran a hand through his hair, it felt gritty from sweat. The room around him was unyielding: blank, pale walls, linoleum floor, no hint of personality. Not his place.
"What the hell… where am I?" he croaked, sitting up. This wasn't his dorm, wasn't his shared apartment, wasn't any place he'd ever called home. This was too clean. Too empty.
The corners of the room brimmed with silence, disrupted only by the distant hum of machinery, like the growl of a lazy beast hiding just out of sight. Hugh's gaze darted about, searching for clues, for anything familiar. His eyes landed—like a magnet—on a strange panel embedded into the wall. It pulsed, bathed in angry red light, letters flickering across it in cold digital font:
"Summoning System Activated"
He stared. The reality of it didn't sink in at first. Summoning system? Was he playing some kind of messed-up prank version of a video game? He'd seen systems like these in webnovels, sure, but not in… not in real life.
"Summoning system?" he muttered. "Are you kidding me?"
He tried to stand but his knees buckled. Everything about his body felt off: lean, not stocky like before; taller, maybe. His heart thudded in his chest as he shuffled toward the panel. Before his fingers could brush its surface, the room echoed with a voice calm, mechanical, emotionless.
"Welcome, Hugh Jass. You have been transmigrated into the DC Universe. Your summoning system is now online."
"Oh, hell no." Hugh's mind spun with questions, none of them with easy answers. DC Universe? Did he get isekai'd into Gotham or worse the crossfire of some super-powered melee? "Am I dreaming, or did someone spike my coffee?"
He pinched his arm, hard. It hurt. He breathed in, and it smelled like Gotham he'd read enough comics to know the city's reputation for filth and fear.
He shuffled to the panel and squinted at the text, which had shifted to a simple menu:
Random Summon Mode: Active
Once per Month: Summon Enabled
Loyalty: Complete
Assimilation: Enabled
"This has to be some kind of sick joke," Hugh muttered, his voice trembling between sarcasm and honest worry. But even as panic clawed at him, curiosity crept in. If this really was Gotham if this was really the DC Universe he was as good as dead without a system.
Man, am I gone crazy or is this just another stupid-ass dream? If I really landed in DC, I'm definitely cooked. Not like I can survive Superman—or, hell, Batman. At least I got a system. Maybe I got a shot.
A ripple of memories, alien yet familiar, slid through his head. He was Hugh Jass at least, that's who he was now. The body he inhabited was young, slightly handsome, brown hair a little too messy and jade green eyes bright even in the gloom. Orphaned at fifteen thanks to a robbery gone wrong. Lived in Gotham's shithole apartments, scraping by, keeping his head down when the city went mad. Today had been his twentieth birthday; he'd died quietly in his sleep.
Well, sorry, man. I'm taking your body now because this world is merciless, and you weren't built for it.
He let out a breath. Time to roll the dice.
"All right," he said to the panel, "let's see if any of this is real…"
He reached forward and tapped the panel's largest button:
"Activate First Summon."
The air vibrated. Hugh stumbled back a step as invisible energy swept through the apartment; dust motes danced and the panel flared with blinding light. In the middle of the room, the space began to twist and shimmer, rippling as if reality itself was bending out of shape. He shielded his eyes, squinting into the glare.
A vague silhouette formed amidst the glow—tall and lithe, armored from throat to toe, hair silver and eyes like chips of ice. The aura was unmistakable: strong, disciplined... inhuman.
The shimmer faded to reveal a woman he immediately recognized, from countless hours of games and fan art: sleek black and white battle suit, a sword strapped to her back, expression unreadable.
"Holy cow"
"Wait—are you… 2B?" he blurted.
Her head tilted just slightly. Her voice was mechanical but laced with subtle curiosity.
"Designation: 2B. Awaiting orders."
Hugh stared, mouth dry. "No freaking way. First summon's 2B?"
The system beeped approvingly, the words scrolling on the panel once more:
Random Summon: 2B (NieR: Automata)
Loyalty: Absolute
Assimilation: Available
He stepped back, adrenaline pounding through his veins. "Holy shit… this...this is actual cheat mode."
She stood perfectly still, eyes fixed on him. Hugh couldn't resist; all his otaku instincts screamed at him to ask for a selfie. Instead, the reality of the DC Universe weighed on him.
He cleared his throat. "Uh, welcome to Gotham, 2B. You're… you're on my side, right?"
Her gaze was unwavering. "Yes. I am programmed to protect and serve my summoner. What are your commands?"
Hugh grinned, letting some of his nervous chatter spill out. "Well, for starters, keep me alive. Gotham's not exactly the safest place in the multiverse."
She nodded once, her posture clearly ready for action.
Later that night, Hugh lay sprawled on the squeaky bed, the city's endless noise echoing in through the cracked window. The red system panel glowed softly, casting angular shadows over 2B, who stood silent sentinel at his door. Hugh couldn't help glancing her way a mix of awe and nerves flickering across his face.
He pulled up the system interface, eyes skimming the options:
Assimilate: Ready.
Hugh chewed his lip, contemplating the feature. Assimilation wasn't just some power-up; using it meant the character was gone, and he'd inherit their powers, skills, and memories. The urge was there—imagine being able to fight like 2B, dodge bullets, leap rooftops—but he hesitated. For all his perverted otaku bluster, some characters were simply too precious.
He turned to 2B, watching her scan the flat with calm efficiency, every movement precise. "So, 2B, what do you think about this assimilation thing?"
She paused, her eyes focused on him, unreadable. "My purpose is to serve and protect you. I will not resist, should you choose to assimilate."
Hugh's face flushed, waving his hands. "No way, no way! I'm not gonna assimilate you. You're… you're way too good to lose.
Besides, what kind of idiot waifu collector gets rid of his first S-tier summon?"
If she was surprised, she didn't show it. "Understood."
He leaned back, thinking aloud. "Maybe if I get some background mooks or some OP but annoying villain… I could try assimilation then. But you? Nah."
He grinned, mischievous twinkle in his jade eyes. "Gotham's crazy, but I'd rather survive with my favorite android bodyguard than risk turning into a walking emotionless robot. Plus, I'd never live it down with the boys in the forums. 'Guy gets waifu—immediately absorbs her for OP stats?' Big no-no."
The system chimed gently:
Assimilation available. Use caution. Excessive use may affect host personality.
He flicked the prompt away with a smirk. "See? Even the system knows I'm dumb enough to lose myself if I go nuts with the feature." He hesitated, voice softer. "You're not just powers to me, 2B. You're the best teammate a guy could ask for."
2B inclined her head, her eyes almost warm for a second. "Acknowledged."
Hugh rolled over, gazing up at Gotham's grim ceiling. He wondered who he'd summon next—the possibilities were vast: superheroes, anime legends, or even villains. But one thing was certain. He'd rather keep his companions close and only assimilate when absolutely necessary.
After all, survival was one thing. But losing the ones you loved even if they were summoned from another world was a price he wasn't ready to pay.