Beatrix recalled that his memory of superhero comics was quite limited.
He vaguely remembered that during the Marvel Civil War arc in the comics, when the Superhero Registration Act was passed and a census was taken, it was said that over 3,000 registered superheroes were living in New York City alone.
And that was just Marvel's New York, not counting the countless other heroes scattered around the globe—let alone the Inhumans, Mutants, and other fringe groups...
That number didn't even include the DC Universe next door. Compared to Marvel, DC wasn't any less ridiculous—there were still mountains of obscure and forgotten heroes nobody cared to count.
No one could say just how many utterly useless heroes had been dumped into this game's gacha pool.
His excitement about pulling new characters immediately cooled.
It felt like someone had dumped a cold bucket of water over his head just as he was getting pumped—like being forced to read a whole textbook of Confucian quotes right in the middle of foreplay. Even lying on top of a burning stove wouldn't reignite the mood.
He blew the rest of his hero points in a blur.
All he got were two more heroes with zero practical use—along with a piece of gear called "Hawk Eye Wristband," which didn't seem helpful either.
The 2,400 points he had been so excited about just minutes ago?
Gone.
It was like watching a firework explode once with a pop—and then vanish forever.
He felt like someone who had just been crushed by a predatory gacha game all over again.
Still! It didn't matter!
He still had the hero voucher he earned from last night's mission. It granted him eight single draws!
As a certain wise man once said: "A hero never flees the battlefield!"
And another said: "If it's meant to be used, use it. Saving it means nothing."
"I have to pull right now!"
When the third draw of this new round came up—
A dazzling light filled the screen.
From the radiance stepped a tall, sturdy figure clad in deep blue. He stood proud and unwavering in the center of the screen. His uniform was sky blue, his helmet stamped with a bold white letter A, and on either side of his head—little white wings.
No doubt about it.
This was Marvel's legendary Avenger—the shield-bearing patriot himself:
Captain America.
You'd be hard-pressed to find someone who didn't know the name Captain America.
But compared to his teammates in the Avengers—most of whom were literal gods or aliens—Cap stood out as a bit… grounded.
Even though he led the team, it was mostly due to his experience, tactical brilliance, emotional support, and leadership. He was essentially the team's therapist and motivational speaker.
Of course, Beatrix didn't care about that.
What mattered to him was: combat ability and equipment stats.
So far, all the heroes he had pulled had been completely overshadowed by Batman—inferior in every possible category.
But this time was different.
Captain America might not be as wealthy or as tech-savvy as Batman, but in terms of raw physical stats, he was far ahead.
After all, Batman was still a regular human.
Captain America, on the other hand, was a Super Soldier.
He was the comic book world's poster boy for "enhanced humans"—someone who pushed the absolute limits of human potential in every field.
Exactly how strong Captain America really was had always been one of comics' great mysteries.
His enhancement serum was vague and inconsistently explained. Some writers portrayed it as a purely physical boost, while others treated it like some mystical energy that amplified the user's willpower.
Official statements claimed that Steve could bench 1,200 pounds (about 545 kg) with no external help.
But when it comes to comic book stats, everyone knew:
"Writers talk nonsense. Readers nod along. Take it seriously, and you've already lost."
So in some issues, you might see Captain America struggling against mid-tier villains like Crossbones.
In others? He's bare-handing helicopters or even going toe-to-toe with Thanos.
It's like Naruto's "Hatake Kakashi Rule"—he adapts to the enemy's power level. If his opponent is weak, he goes easy. If they're strong, he gets a new power-up.
"Scaling is irrelevant. Plot armor is king."
Now the real question: Would that kind of "writer-dependent power scaling" translate into actual gameplay mechanics?
Previously, Beatrix would have said no.
But after witnessing Batman resist a world-ending psychic storm through sheer will—he wasn't so sure anymore.
After all, he had watched his Batman withstand spiritual trauma, overcome illusions of his dead parents, and fight through infection while showing unbreakable determination.
That made Beatrix think:
"Maybe I'm not just controlling their powers…"
"Maybe I'm also controlling their spirit."
It wasn't like these heroes had full sentience. They didn't disobey or act on their own—they followed orders exactly.
If he told them to log off, they logged off.
If he told them to charge and die, they didn't flinch.
But they weren't mindless either.
Batman had clearly been affected by the infection. He had suffered hallucinations.
And yet, he powered through—not because Beatrix ordered him to, but because it was part of who he was.
So Beatrix came to a conclusion:
"The characters aren't just skins with powers.
They carry their backstories, their mentalities, their core values."
Take Batman, for example:
He doesn't kill. He's haunted by his parents' death. He has extraordinary willpower.
All of that is part of his identity—and it came packaged with the character.
So maybe, in this game, the heroes weren't just playable avatars.
They were projections of those characters from alternate worlds—complete with power, personality, and principle.
Even so, they were still just characters under the player's command.
The player wasn't roleplaying them—just commanding them from behind the scenes.
Kind of like a Captain, Admiral, or Doctor—the one pulling strings from the shadows.
In most games, this background role doesn't show up in the story. You never see their face, and they rarely affect the plot.
Still, Beatrix was hopeful.
If this newly acquired Captain America came with Kakashi-tier scaling, then even better.
But even if not—his base stats alone were solid enough to deal with infected enemies easily.
And then there was the highlight of his kit:
The Vibranium Shield.
This wasn't just any shield.
Sure, it looked like a gaudy manhole cover with a star slapped on—but its durability was insane.
Canonically, it was nearly unbreakable and could absorb kinetic energy.
Captain America could literally use it to smother a live grenade or take an RPG to the face—without a scratch.
Even though Thanos cracked it in Avengers: Endgame, that didn't diminish its sheer broken-ness.
Beatrix felt… satisfied.
"Finally, a real powerhouse."
This was his first legitimate superhuman draw from the gacha pool.
He still had two pulls left.
And while he had already calmed down after drawing Cap, he figured: why not?
First draw: another "Thanks for participating."
Second draw…
FLASH!
A blinding light. Something massive filled the screen.
Beatrix stared.
"Wait…
Is that a bat signal?!"