Reborn as the God-Emperor in Marvel

Solomon left the library and hailed a taxi to take him to Angel Bay, located on the outskirts of town. As he climbed into the cab, he had already concocted a cover story and started chatting with the driver. Though Solomon disliked socializing, he had no problem lying when necessary. The taxi driver, a dark-skinned man of mixed heritage who had lived in the town his whole life, painted a bleak picture of Collinsport. The town was unremarkable—no rare minerals, no industry, and aside from fishing, few opportunities for work. The local public school system was terrible, with high school graduates struggling to find a way out, usually leaving for the big cities in search of a future.

In many ways, Collinsport was just another small, struggling fishing town—a microcosm of many such towns scattered across America.

But Solomon skillfully guided the conversation to get more valuable information from the driver, eventually bringing up the Collins family. At the mention of the name, the driver, who had been "born and raised" in Collinsport, became animated. He claimed that before her disappearance, Angelique Bouchard, the lady of Angel Bay, was the town's beloved sweetheart—a beautiful and kind woman. He even remembered seeing her as a child, and the memory seemed to have left a lasting impression.

"Hey, man, I'm telling you, I saw her once when I was a kid. Damn, I've never seen a woman that beautiful in my life. Hell, she still shows up in my dreams, but don't tell my wife that!" The driver's voice bubbled with excitement, and he gestured with one arm while keeping the other on the steering wheel. "You doubt me? Man, I'm telling you, if you'd seen her, you wouldn't question it. I'll never forget how she looked in that red dress. You couldn't find a woman like her in New York or LA, I swear. She was one of a kind."

Through the driver's rambling, Solomon managed to extract some useful details. After Angelique Bouchard's disappearance, the Collins family quickly regained control of the town's fishing industry. No one knew what had happened to Angelique, but every old man in town seemed to speak of her like a figure from a distant dream, mysterious and elusive.

"Did you ever hear where Angelique Bouchard disappeared from?" Solomon asked casually, feigning disinterest. "I'd think the police would make every effort to find someone like her, considering her status."

"I dunno," the driver shrugged. "They say the Bouchard family just showed up here one day, and then one day, they were gone. Makes sense to me."

"Yeah, I guess it does…" Solomon muttered, turning his gaze out the window, lost in thought. The car slowly entered Angel Bay, a once-thriving area that had fallen into ruin since Angelique's disappearance. The Collins family had absorbed all its resources, leaving Angel Bay in a state of decay. Fishermen refused to sell their catches to Angel Bay anymore, and the once-bustling canning factory now lay in ruins. Rotting boats and fishing nets littered the harbor, while only hungry seagulls visited now, scavenging for any scraps of decayed fish they could find on the wooden pylons stretching into the sea.

Solomon felt as though invisible threads, woven from darkness, extended from the Collins family, ensnaring the entire town like a finely meshed fishing net. It trapped everything in its path, from the local police to the media. Without the clues Solomon had uncovered in the dusty old documents at the library, no one would have suspected that the seemingly benevolent Collins family, which provided the town with its livelihood, hid such deep and sinister secrets.

Since 1972, the town had experienced a string of mysterious deaths, but the investigations were always half-hearted, and the media coverage often ended abruptly. Initially, people whispered about the gruesome details of the bodies found with their throats torn out, but over time, no one seemed to care about the victims of these violent deaths anymore.

Solomon spent the entire day driving around town with the driver, piecing together what he could about the mysterious deaths and disappearances. Afterward, they arranged to meet again the next day. Solomon opened a portal in a secluded alley and returned to Kamar-Taj, where, though it wasn't night, he collapsed into bed, utterly exhausted from sorting through the chaotic mountain of clues and information.

When he awoke, Solomon prepared for his confrontation with the vampire, gathering silver and the necessary spell components to face such a creature. After quickly eating—he didn't even know if it was breakfast, lunch, or dinner—he opened another portal and returned to Collinsport, where the driver awaited him.

"To Collinswood Manor," Solomon said as he climbed into the car, his face steely with resolve. He had mentally prepared himself for the task ahead. His plan was to extract information about the witch from Barnabas Collins, and if necessary, eliminate the vampire.

"They're cursed," the driver said, glancing nervously at Solomon. Perhaps because Solomon had paid him generously, the driver didn't want him venturing into the creepy manor. Despite the Collins family's dominance over the town's economy, they weren't exactly loved.

"It's fine," Solomon muttered under his breath. "That's exactly why I'm going there."

---

"Willie! Stop drinking, you bald drunk! Get this place cleaned up—now!" Carolyn Stoddard shouted from the top of the grand staircase that overlooked the manor's large foyer. Though it was broad daylight, the heavy, dark velvet curtains in the hall were tightly drawn, allowing only thin slivers of light to filter in. Most of the room remained engulfed in shadow. Carolyn, with her curvaceous figure, was a striking woman, still shapely even after reaching middle age. Time had not dulled her beauty, and her figure remained as appealing as ever.

Her shouting wasn't without reason. Her younger brother, David Collins, who had mild autism, had once again dropped food onto the rug. Her loud, shrill voice made David tremble, his curly black hair bouncing as he flinched.

"Calm down, Carolyn," said a silver-haired woman sitting at a chessboard in the shadows. Though she was quite old, her movements and mind were still sharp. After making a move, she added, "Don't stress David too much. And cut Willie some slack; he's getting old."

"You still refuse to let me turn you into a vampire, don't you, Elizabeth?" came the smooth voice of the man sitting across from her on the couch. He had short black hair, pale skin, and was dressed in the refined fashion of an 18th-century British gentleman. His elegant black coat was adorned with colorful gems, and the cuffs and hem were richly detailed. A white lace cravat was tied around his neck. After a moment of contemplation, he made his move on the chessboard.

"We've rebuilt the Collins family. Look around—everything in this hall, every intricate sculpture and collection was restored after the fire. And this—" he gestured to the crystal chandelier above them, "—I want you to see it all, to witness our family's return to glory."

"Aging is part of the beauty of life, something you can't understand," Elizabeth replied gracefully. "I'm tired. Let Carolyn and David take care of things."

"Willie! Willie!" Carolyn's voice rose in pitch as Willie failed to appear. 

Suddenly, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the hall, and the door burst open.

Bald and breathless, Willie ran into the room, gasping for air. "Master...huff...huff..."

"Relax, Willie," Barnabas Collins said, standing up and handing Willie a glass of champagne. "Take a breath. Now, tell me—what happened?"

"Someone...someone's here..." Willie stammered, gulping down the drink.

"The police? Journalists?" Barnabas turned to look at Elizabeth, unconcerned. "I've already taken care of them."

"No, not the police...not journalists!" Willie's eyes were wide with fear. "He looks like...a sorcerer!"

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