The steady rhythm of keyboard taps echoed in a luxurious office, the only sound in the vast space. The office itself was the definition of power and wealth—its high ceilings, marble floors, panoramic city views, and minimalistic gold-accented design all screamed CEO.
At the center of it all sat a young man, his posture perfect, eyes glued to the screen before him. His fingers danced across the keys, precise and quick, like a maestro conducting an orchestra of success.
This was Zayne Callahan.
[Pic here]
Eighteen years old. The richest and youngest CEO in the world. A prodigy by every definition. Known across the globe not just for his genius but for redefining what ambition looked like in human form.
To the public, Zayne was a living legend. Headlines praised his innovations, charities admired his donations, and teenagers worshipped him like a rockstar. He was a genius, a perfectionist, a philanthropist. The kind of person who made it seem like he had twenty-five hours in a day. To many, he wasn't just successful—he was the modern representation of humanity's peak.
And it wasn't undeserved.
His company, Apex, stood at the top of the global food chain. A multi-trillion-dollar conglomerate with hands in almost every field—technology, medicine, global security, agriculture, and even AI research. If it could change the world, Apex was already on it.
But such greatness didn't come without sacrifice.
Zayne hadn't had a normal teenage life. While others partied, he was studying under elite mentors. While kids played games, he was training in combat and pushing his mind to its limit. At sixteen, he joined the Navy and didn't just survive SEAL training—he crushed it. No handouts, no shortcuts.
He demanded perfection from the world because he demanded it from himself first.
Yet beneath all the polished accolades and status, Zayne lived a surprisingly normal life… in his own way.
He was an orphan.
Though he technically had living relatives, they had never cared for him. When he was young and grieving, they ignored his existence entirely. It was the orphanage that raised him. Now, of course, those same relatives were desperate to reconnect—drawn to the billionaire light like moths. But Zayne hadn't forgotten. So he treated them the same way they once treated him.
With silence.
And despite being famous, admired, and ridiculously good-looking, Zayne was still a virgin. Not from lack of opportunity—temptation was everywhere—but from a lack of trust. He valued loyalty, and in a world full of fakes and opportunists, finding something real felt… impossible.
He also had a touch of OCD, which influenced everything from his diet to his hygiene. No alcohol. No cigarettes. Clean food. Clean routine. Clean life.
But beneath the surface of the calculated CEO was a deeply personal obsession.
Comics.
Zayne Callahan, world-class business tycoon and Navy SEAL, was secretly an avid fan of comic books, manga, anime, and superhero movies. A side of him only his house knew about. It was more than a hobby—it was therapy. He read everything obsessively, down to the last panel. Storylines, alternate universes, rare spin-offs. He had it all cataloged in his mind.
His favorite?
Power Rangers.
Not the flashy, kid-friendly TV show version—though he respected it. No, Zayne adored the Power Rangers comics. The lore. The darkness. The real stakes. It wasn't just nostalgia—it was personal.
The very first comic his father gave him before he died was a Power Rangers issue. He was five years old then. That book became his anchor. When the world crumbled, it reminded him of hope, of fighting back. Of power.
And just like any other night, he was ready to return to that world.
Zayne had just wrapped up a high-stakes virtual meeting with a private space exploration firm. The deal? Worth a potential five trillion dollars. A game-changer. If finalized, Apex would dominate the space frontier.
As the meeting ended, Zayne leaned back in his custom leather chair and exhaled slowly, stretching his arms.
"Whew… what a day," he muttered, rolling his shoulders. "Another win on the board. Time to go home... got a comic volume to finish."
He stood up, scanned his office for anything out of place—like he always did—then headed for the elevator.
The ride down was quiet, giving him a moment to unwind. When the doors opened onto the ground floor, several employees were still burning the midnight oil. Not unusual for Apex. Zayne stepped out, and immediately, the familiar greetings came.
"Goodnight, sir," one said, offering a respectful nod.
"Have a great evening, sir," added another.
"Rest well, boss!" chimed a third, smiling despite the fatigue on her face.
Zayne smiled and nodded in return. "You too. Thanks for your hard work."
Though many of his employees were older, they treated him like a younger brother they were proud of. And Zayne, in turn, respected them. To him, Apex wasn't just a company. It was a family. He didn't believe in corporate slavery or toxic culture. He wanted people to want to be here.
Minutes later, he slid into the driver's seat of his matte black BMW and pulled out into the quiet night.
City lights passed him by, but his mind wasn't on the skyline. It was on the mansion waiting for him.
His home was massive—a sleek, futuristic villa on a private hilltop. A place fit for ten families. But only one man lived there.
As he parked in the driveway, he stared up at the darkened windows.
"So big, yet so empty," he murmured to himself. Then he chuckled softly. "Maybe I should get a girlfriend. But… finding a loyal one is harder than getting to Mars."
He shook his head and stepped inside.
Zayne's nightly routine was fast and structured. Shower. Brush. Protein snack. Skin care. Check security. Lock systems. Then came his reward for the day.
He stepped into a dimly lit side room hidden behind a sliding panel—his sanctuary. The rest of the house felt like a gallery or a vault, but this room… this was sacred.
Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined the walls, each section alphabetized and sealed in temperature-controlled glass. Rows upon rows of pristine comics, rare first editions, manga box sets, and collector's volumes. Everything from Batman: The Killing Joke to obscure Japanese tokusatsu series. Signed. Minted. Protected like museum artifacts.
In the center stood a custom display case, and inside it—the crown jewel.
Power Rangers Issue #1. 1994.
The very one his father gave him the night before he died.
Zayne's eyes lingered on it. Not with greed or pride—but reverence. His expression softened, shoulders easing.
He ran a hand gently along the glass. "Still got you," he whispered.
Then he walked over to the reading shelf and carefully slid out the newest comic—Power Rangers: The Coinless - Volume 3. A fresh release. The edges were still razor-sharp.
He sat down cross-legged on the leather reading mat, like a kid again, the high-and-mighty CEO forgotten for a moment.
Page one.
Blood. Betrayal. Drakkon's forces closing in.
Zayne's brow furrowed. "No way they survive this arc... unless Zack pulls a miracle."
His eyes darted across the panels. He paused now and then to study the suit designs, to re-read the gritty dialogue bubbles.
"God, these redesigns are insane. Why can't the shows go this hard?"
He let out a low laugh when a Ranger used a brutal combo he'd once imagined in a fanfic. "Okay—whoever's writing this? Give them a raise."
By the time he reached the last page, his heart was racing. Not from adrenaline—but connection.
This wasn't entertainment. It was ritual. Nostalgia wrapped in storytelling. A glimpse into the version of himself that believed in heroes, before the world taught him not to.
He finally closed the book after an hour, placing it neatly back on the shelf with reverence. He stretched, yawned, and looked up at the ceiling.
"Yawn~ Alright. That's enough hero stuff for today. Time to crash."
He flicked off the lights, his bedroom slowly fading to black. His thoughts drifted as he pulled the blanket over his chest. Another productive day. Another peaceful night.
Or so he thought.
Because somewhere far beyond his understanding… something ancient was watching.
A presence that transcended dimensions.
A force older than time.
And it had noticed him.
The balance of the multiverse had shifted. Realities were merging. Worlds colliding. And the Omniversal Grid, the true source of all Ranger power and beyond, had made its choice.
Zayne Callahan was about to become the center of a crisis that would shake the foundations of existence.
--- ✦ ---
Next time on Power Rangers x Marvel
"Goddammit. Who the hell yeeted me into a Power Rangers x Marvel crossover?"
[The Omniversal Grid is at your service.]
Stay tuned for what is about to happen next