Chapter 4 Not Enough Money.

Viktor sat back in the plush leather armchair, his gaze fixed on the large, high-definition TV mounted on the wall in front of him. The mansion's opulent living room was bathed in the soft, amber glow of a crystal chandelier, the rain pattering lightly against the floor-to-ceiling windows. Everything about the place screamed luxury—from the polished mahogany floors to the intricately carved furniture that looked like it had been lifted straight out of a European palace.

Beside him, sprawled across a silk-covered chaise lounge, was a woman in her early thirties—blonde, voluptuous, and draped in a provocative black lingerie set. Her soft, tanned skin glistened in the dim light as she writhed sensually, completely unaware that she was lying there, all alone, touching air. To her, though, she was locked in a passionate embrace with Viktor, caressing his body, kissing him deeply. Her lips parted slightly, a contented moan escaping her as she continued to lose herself in the illusion he'd planted in her mind.

Viktor gave her a fleeting glance, his eyes narrowing in mild amusement. She was the perfect mark—a millionaire's bored wife, left alone in this enormous mansion while her husband handled business abroad. And now, she believed Viktor to be her secret lover, a young 18-year-old man who had given her the thrill of escaping the monotony of her life.

He smirked slightly before turning his attention back to the TV. The news broadcast flickered on the screen, and the voice of a serious-looking female reporter echoed through the room.

"Good evening, Gotham. Our top story tonight—the mysterious vigilante wreaking havoc across the city. Earlier this week, the unknown figure, dubbed 'Spider-Man' by some, has been spotted attacking a group of gang members believed to be associated with the notorious Golden Dragon gang."

The screen shifted to grainy footage taken by a bystander, showing Viktor—masked, in his, black suit—swinging between skyscrapers with effortless grace, rain glistening off his suit as he landed on a rooftop, the red spider symbol on his chest stands out ominously. The crowd below could be heard gasping in awe and confusion, as some use look in awe at the spectacle.

Viktor's lips curled into a dark smile at the memory of his first big night out. He'd left the gangsters battered and broken, though he wasn't sure if he had killed anyone. And if he did, he didn't care.

But the sight of their mangled bodies, some even wrap up in webbing which will likely melt into nothing a few hours after that incident and being dragged into ambulances was enough to leave a mark on Gotham. He could practically feel the city's fear and fascination growing with every passing hour as he watches his 'Fame Points' from the system increase.

The reporter continued, her voice grave. "The vigilante did not leave any casualties, but several of the gang members were left critically injured and hospitalized. Some traumatize screaming the Spider was out to get them. Authorities are struggling to track down this individual, which has been deemed a dangerous vigilante by officials, but opinions on Gotham's streets are divided. Is this 'Spider-Man' a hero? Or a dangerous criminal? We spoke to a few witnesses for their thoughts."

The screen cut to a man in his mid-forties, his face flushed with excitement. "Man, did you see him? Dude was leaping through the air, swinging from building to building like those Flying Graysons! He's gotta be some kinda superhero, right, like the same ones in the comic books? I mean, yeah, those thugs got wrecked, but come on! They had it coming."

"+1 Fame from witness."

Next, the camera zoomed in on an older woman, shaking her head disapprovingly. "He's no better than those criminals. Vigilantism is illegal. Someone like that? He's a menace. Mark my words—this 'Spider-Man' will only bring more chaos to Gotham."

"+1 Fame from skeptic."

Viktor smiled showing the grin in his eyes, "She ain't wrong, I plan to be more of a menace that the future Batman ever will." he said as he leans back further into the chair as the broadcast played on. Gotham was buzzing with speculation, but none of them had any idea who he really was or what he was capable of. He'd made sure to leave no traces behind, no fingerprints, no clues. The suit hid his identity perfectly, and his diamond form, made him virtually indestructible, not even dead skin leaving no traces of DNA on site.

The reporter's voice broke his thoughts. "Whether this mysterious figure is a force for good or evil, one thing is certain, Gotham hasn't seen anything like him before. And the authorities are scrambling to catch up."

The segment ended, looking at the Fame Points he acquired for a day is only close to 50, if this keeps up it will take atleast a year for him to get around 1,000 fame points. Which honestly to him is too long. Not only is his suit made from Junk Parts he doesn't even have any proper offensive ability. Telepathy is a strong tool but if he keeps using it, there will be less and less people that will give him points.

It would be better for him to just use his skill to make a company and increase his money to make better suits. With that thought, Viktor reached for the remote, turning the volume down. He glanced at the blonde woman again. Her body still twisting in pleasure as she ran her hands over the empty space, she believed was his Excalibur.

Pathetic, he thought, he already had fun with her and to be frank although it was exhilarating at first, he grew bored quite quickly, it's probably because she is coerce with his telepathic powers and her emotions are not guanine leaving him unsatisfied, his mind then buz with calculations as he plan his future steps. The money he had taken from the Golden Dragon gang's safe houses over the past day was substantial, and while he could manipulate people to stash it for him, doing so didn't earn him the points he craved. That's where she came in. The wealthy, lonely housewife who was all too eager to help her new, exciting lover without ever questioning where the money came from. He even got Fame points from the onlookers on the bank, thinking his, a lucky boy toy of this woman.

"Enjoying yourself?" Viktor asked coldly, his voice dripping with false affection.

The woman's eyes fluttered open as she smiled dreamily. In her mind, she was staring into his eyes, her fingers tracing his sharp jawline. "Always," she purred, unaware that Viktor was sitting several feet away, his gaze fixed on the computer screen in front of him.

He let out a small chuckle and turned his attention to the desktop on the table. The Wayne Tech computer hummed quietly, its interface somewhat more modern compared to the mundane technology in the rest of the house. The fridge, for instance, was just a standard, expensive model, it's not even a smart fridge like the ones he remembered from his previous life.

As he navigated through various news outlets and sites, he searched for information that could help him understand this world better. His fingers danced over the keys with expert precision as he pulled up articles on this worlds technological level, and what stood out to him most was the inconsistency.

"Some tech here is ridiculously advanced," Viktor muttered, scanning a schematic for a Wayne Enterprises computer. "But then there's the car in the garage—nothing special. No AI, no self-driving capabilities. It's like this world is stuck in some weird limbo compared to the rest of its advances."

He paused, his eyes narrowing as an article caught his attention. 'Blue blur saves family from train collision. No further details confirmed.'

A woman in a strange outfit back in World War 1 although the picture is old and grainy black and white, her beauty cannot be denied.

"Interesting," Viktor murmured, leaning forward. There were other stories too—rumors of warlords with supernatural abilities, demons sighted in England, a swimmer who could supposedly outpace ships, and whispers of strange creatures in the oceans. 'Mermaids', they called them.

And yet, despite these odd occurrences, there was no clear presence of superheroes—no Batman, no Superman well there was the blue blur which is most likely Superman, but his not parading as a super hero in that ridiculous spandex. As for recent trending news there's the names Oliver Queen and Bruce Wayne, billionaires who are both missing, or so the news says. They hadn't surfaced yet. If anything, it seemed like the world was in its early stages, a time before the capes and masks emerged.

The thought made him smirk. "I'm ahead of the game", he thought. "Before the heroes rise, Gotham's already got its very own Spider-Man."

He step away from the computer and stood up, walking past the woman without even taking a glance glance. She was still deep in her illusion, moaning softly, unaware of how far away Viktor really was.

Months passed and Viktor sat in a luxurious leather armchair, staring at the mountain of cash stacked neatly on the desk in front of him, cash which he earned from raiding gangs around Gotham as Spider-man. Beside him, the 32-year-old woman lay sprawled on the velvet chaise longue, clad in nothing but provocative white lingerie. Her blonde curls cascaded over her bare shoulders as she smiled dreamily, imagining the touch of Viktor, the forbidden tryst she believed she was enjoying.

Viktor glanced at her for a moment, his sharp gaze softening only briefly. With a flick of his wrist, the mental image broke, and the woman's body stirred as if waking from a dream. She looked over at him with a lazy smile. "I can't believe we did that… again."

Viktor chuckled, his mind calculating, already planning his next move. He didn't even have to look at her to bend her reality. "Yeah," he said with a nonchalant shrug, "but I think it's time we ended this little fling." Her smile faltered. "What?"

"Yeah, it's been fun, but you're already bored of me. You're going to tell yourself that this was just a fling, something to pass the time while your husband's away. And soon, you'll forget this ever happened," Viktor said, his voice silky smooth as he planted the thought in her mind.

The woman blinked, her expression changing as if she had suddenly realized the truth. "Yeah, you're right… I was getting bored." She got up, pulling on a silk robe and tightening it around her waist, already walking away as if Viktor had become a distant memory.

As she left the room, Viktor's gaze fell back on the money. His thoughts raced. This won't be enough, he mused. The cash he had amassed from raiding the Golden Dragon and other small-time gangs was substantial, but nowhere near what he needed to start his operations, he can't even build a good armor with this money. He had a vision, something bigger than the petty crime rings that littered Gotham.

He pulled up a file on the computer in the study, a brand-new WayneTech laptop he upgraded with Tinkerers ability, with processing speeds well beyond the consumer market. The light from the screen illuminated his face as he began typing away, sketching out the foundation for his next move. A new company he will call Frost Jewelry.

The name made him smirk. "Perfect," he whispered to himself. It was a play on his current powers—his diamond form—and a delicious jab at Lucrisha, the woman who had tormented the original Viktor. What better way to honor the old Viktor than by building a fortune out of spite? he thought with malicious glee, he might also get luck by getting kryptonites or might as well purchased some when he has enough money to spare.

His idea was simple but ingenious: a website where men could sell engagement rings after getting rejected. Viktor would buy them at 60-80% of their value which is more than they could get from pawning it or selling it to random people, he will then refurbish them, and resell them online for more than their own value. In the future, this kind of business would be common and explode in popularity, but Viktor was getting in ahead of the curve with the knowledge he has from his original world, ready to ride the wave before anyone else.

He tapped away at the keyboard, pulling up contacts and arranging meetings with a few people to kick off his company. Even though the internet was still young in 1997, Viktor knew how to exploit its potential. His time in his original world, had given him a deep understanding of technology that this world hadn't even begun to grasp.

"I'll need a flashy way to present the site, maybe something clean and elegant…" he muttered to himself. He leaned back in his chair, running his fingers through his slick blonde hair, a sharp contrast to the expensive but comfortable clothes he now wore—a tailored black sweater and gray slacks, no logos, no flash, just quiet luxury.

Turning his head to the side, his eyes fell on the Alpine white Porsche 911 Carrera 4S parked outside the mansion. The sleek lines of the car gleamed under the morning sun. It was under his name now, a parting gift from the woman who thought she was having an affair with him. 'A nice touch,' he mused, as the image of the car reflected in his cold, calculating eyes.

With the money from the gangs and the connections he could was the blood money and make them clean through his business and with the woman's affluent circle, Frost Jewelry would be the start of his other business ventures. He imagined the smug look on Lucrisha's face when she saw it—thinking it was just another success story—only to realize it was Viktor who was behind it all.

"Frost Jewelry… a thank you to the old Viktor," he said to himself, chuckling as he clicked the final confirmation button to set the domain live. As the site launched, Viktor leaned back, grabbing a bite from the fridge before leaving as he set out to start his company.

---

A year and a half have passed, it's now 1998. The sound of clinking champagne glasses and quiet, refined laughter filled the grand ballroom of Viktor's new coastal mansion. The room was an architectural masterpiece: floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the space in the orange hues of a setting sun over the crashing waves, the light reflecting off marble floors and shimmering chandeliers. Expensive, hand-carved wooden furniture was scattered across the space, giving it a sense of understated luxury. The guests are politicians, millionaires, and social elites of Gotham, milled about in tailored suits and designer dresses, their polished smiles only thin veils over their ambition and greed.

Viktor stood at the center of it all, a perfectly calculated image of wealth and charm. His dark green and black suit was impeccably fitted, the crisp white shirt underneath unbuttoned just enough to suggest a relaxed air. His slicked-bloned hair gleamed under the light, and his sharp features radiated confidence. In his hand was a glass of bourbon, the amber liquid catching the light as he swirled it idly.

To his right stood Vicki Vale, Gotham's top journalist. With her sharp eyes and impeccable instincts, she had built a career exposing the city's darkest secrets. Tonight, however, she wasn't here to tear someone down—at least not yet. She was here to interview Gotham's newest rising multi-millionaire, a man who had risen to prominence faster than anyone in the city's history.

Vicki, in her mid-twenties, exuded professionalism. She wore a form-fitting red dress that stopped just above her knees, her blonde hair falling in soft waves over her shoulders. Her piercing blue eyes never left Viktor as she prepared her next question. Her reputation for getting to the truth was well-known, and Viktor, ever the manipulator, was well aware of the challenge.

"Mr. Frost, your rise to wealth and power has been nothing short of meteoric," Vicki said, her voice smooth and poised. She gestured to the grand surroundings, a soft smile playing on her lips. "From Frost Jewelry to giant of a company now named Frost Industries, your success seems almost too good to be true. How did it all happen so quickly?"

Viktor smiled, his expression disarmingly sincere. "I've always believed that opportunity is everywhere. You just have to look hard enough to grab it, even when you're at your lowest there will always be a way to get out of the gutter."

He took a breath, his voice dropping just slightly, adding a hint of vulnerability. "When I started Frost Jewelry, it was out of necessity. I had lost someone close to me, and… well, I found myself in the same situation as many men—left with an engagement ring that represented nothing but heartbreak. That's when the idea came to me: what if I could help other men in the same position?"

As Viktor spoke, he subtly controlled his own emotions, using his telepathy to enhance the sadness in his voice, the pained look in his eyes. To everyone around, it seemed as though they were witnessing a genuine moment of vulnerability from the billionaire.

"I took what little money I had saved and put it into the business. Buying engagement rings from men who had been through heartbreak, refurbishing them, and selling them online." He chuckled lightly, a sound that made the surrounding guests lean in closer. "It was tough at first, but then I got a deal from Google."

Vicki raised an eyebrow. "Google? The now-giant search engine?"

"Exactly," Viktor said with a nod, hiding the truth behind his smooth delivery. "I bought it for a million dollars. The founders were young, brilliant people, but they were more interested in their studies than running a company. It was a win-win for both of us. They got to pursue their dreams, and I ended up with a piece of tech that has transformed how we access information."

What Viktor didn't mention, of course, was how he had manipulated the minds of the Google founders. Their loyalty was assured the moment he touched their thoughts, leaving them eager to sell the company for a fraction of its worth after failing to sell it to Yahoo and run the company while pursuing their Studies, he might have tweaked their brain, forcing them to have the ability to handle the stress and easily process information, improving their thinking capacity and memory which put their lifespan at risk, but he doesn't care. None of that was necessary for the story he was weaving tonight, or for anyone for that matter.

Vicki leaned in, intrigued. "And now Frost Industries is one of the fastest-growing companies in the world, nearly closing the gap of top 100 companies. You've even delved into the gaming industry, electronics and entertainment, haven't you?"

Viktor grinned, leaning back slightly, enjoying the attention. "Ah, yes. We launched the Game Station just last year, and it's already making waves. The idea was simple: create a console that doesn't just play games but also plays movies and music. We're living in a digital age, and people want versatility." Good thing he got the Ps2 console from the system, although he can make something like that but building something from scratch is such a studious process, even for someone with the ability of the Tinkerer. If he remembers correctly in a few years the PS2 will be highly sought after, becoming the bestselling console of all time. He just took advantage of time when Sony is new to the gaming industry with their PS1.

He paused, taking a sip of his bourbon, eyes glinting as he spoke. "The competition had consoles, sure, but nothing like ours. We've signed deals with game creators and companies to bring exclusive titles to our platform. Frost Industries might be new to the game but with our highly advance system compared to other we we're able to get hold of the market quite easily."

Vicki's eyes flickered with admiration, but also with the sharpness of a predator waiting for an opening. "It seems like everything you touch turns to gold. So, what's next for Viktor Frost?"

Viktor chuckled, the sound deep and rich. "I might be lucky being bless with a team who are willing to go above and beyond, but maybe in a few years, Frost Industries will be synonymous with innovation in every household."

Vicki smiled, though her eyes hinted at more questions. "One last thing before I let you get back to your guests—what drives you? You've amassed wealth, power, influence. What keeps you going?"

Viktor's gaze turned cold for the briefest of moments, but he quickly masked it with a practiced grin. "Legacy," he said, the word rolling off his tongue smoothly. "I want to reach the same level as the inventors of our history, like Da Vinci or Tesla. Forever immortalized and someone that changes the world."

With that, the interview concluded, and Viktor turned to the rest of his guests, raising his glass. "Please, enjoy the party," he said, his voice carrying through the room with ease.

The crowd clapped politely, and the music resumed. Waiters dressed in white suits circulated the room with trays of hors d'oeuvres, and the scent of freshly prepared gourmet meals wafted through the air. The guests continued mingling, their laughter and conversations blending into a soft hum.

As Viktor moved through the room, shaking hands with various high-profile figures, he casually scanned their minds. Politicians, CEOs, and socialites—they were all here, but none of them were what he was truly looking for. No one here is part of the true ruling class of Gotham, he thought to himself. No one here is part of that group that control the shadows.

Despite the wealth and power on display tonight, Viktor knew these people were pawns in a much larger game. But for now, they were useful—investors, partners, and connections. He would play along, build his empire, and wait for the moment when he could seize true power.

With a final glance around the room, Viktor made his way to a quiet corner, looking out at the ocean beyond the mansion's windows. The waves crashed against the cliffs below, a soothing sound amid the noise of the party. He took a deep breath, letting the cold sea air clear his mind.

"This is only the beginning," he thought, a sly smile tugging at his lips. "Soon, they'll all know who truly runs Gotham."

As the night wore on and the party continued, Viktor's mind remained sharp, always calculating, always planning his next move.