If what gripped you in The Violent Century was following Fogg and Oblivion from the “Vomacht” awakening into decades of Bureau black ops, you’ll love how Bitter Seeds pits British warlocks and spies against Nazi-engineered superhumans. The moral quagmires are as thick as any Oldman debrief—trade a village for a victory, a soul for an edge—and the clandestine missions echo those shadowy hops from war-torn Europe into the Cold War. It’s that same blend of covert ops, superhuman assets, and chilling what-ifs that made the Bureau’s files so irresistible.

You liked how The Violent Century keeps circling back—Oldman’s interrogation pulling you through jump-cuts in time as Fogg and Oblivion’s choices refract across eras. Life After Life leans into that same non-linear pull: Ursula Todd lives and relives lives through the Blitz, each iteration tilting history’s needle. If those out-of-order Bureau case files and decades-spanning flashbacks hooked you, Atkinson’s elegant replays of wartime London will scratch the same itch, with each return deepening the emotional weight of fate versus choice.

If the smoky, hardboiled mood of The Violent Century drew you in—the Bureau’s gray ethics, Oldman’s relentless probing, Fogg and Oblivion slipping through borders and allegiances—The City & The City delivers that same grim tension. Inspector Borlú’s murder case unfolds across twinned cities that must “unsee” each other, a rule as chilling and arbitrary as any Bureau directive. The atmosphere is all late-night safehouses and state secrets, with the kind of moral compromises that would fit right into one of Oldman’s classified transcripts.

If what stayed with you was Fogg and Oblivion’s fraught bond—comrades-in-arms reshaped by power, loyalty, and Oldman’s agendas—Vicious gives you that same dark mirror. Victor and Eli emerge from an experiment with extraordinary abilities and an ethics vacuum, and their alliance fractures into a personal cold war. Like the Bureau’s “heroes,” they test how far you can bend a conscience in the name of purpose, turning every confrontation into a reckoning as intimate—and devastating—as those quiet, loaded scenes between Fogg and Oblivion.

If the question that kept you turning pages was the one under every Bureau file—what do powers do to people, and what do people let powers do to the world?—then The Power is a perfect follow-up. As women worldwide awaken a lethal new ability, governments, militias, and true believers pivot much like the states and agencies that tried to weaponize Fogg and Oblivion. Watching movements calcify, loyalties shift, and morality blur has the same charge as seeing Oldman steer “heroes” toward outcomes that look righteous on paper and ruinous up close.