A Marvelous Gamer

by cursedgamer1

Summary:

Congratulations! You’ve been thrown into Marvel.
No superpowers. No genius intellect. Just a normal guy trying not to get erased by some random cosmic entity. But if survival is a game, then he will play to win by any means necessary.
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Posting simultaneously on FF, SH, WN, RR, and AO3 under the same username.

Chapter 1: Taxi Driver

Chapter 1: Taxi Driver

It was just another ordinary day at the Empire State University.
The cafeteria buzzed with chatter and laughter as students gathered in groups around tables. The groups vaguely reflected the various cliques and social hierarchies that existed within the college.
Around one such table sat a group of girls and boys. The girls wore cheerleader outfits one or two sizes too small, while most of the boys donned letterman jackets, indicating that they were athletes and, based on their confidence, were at the top of their game. The group appeared to be led by a tall, large, blonde-haired boy. Each of his gestures and expressions exuded confidence.
The cafeteria's focal point was that table of elites, occupied by those at the top of the college's social hierarchy. The cheerleaders’ smiles were as sharp as their perfectly rehearsed routines, while the boys laughed loudly, their confidence filling the room like an invisible aura.
Most of the boys discreetly glanced at the girls around the table, especially the blonde-headed cheerleader, who was the most beautiful. However, that was as far as it went. None of them had the guts to stare openly; they didn’t want to get their asses kicked by the football team, particularly by the team captain, who was dating the head cheerleader and was very possessive.
Similarly, most girls secretly glanced at the boys around the table. Naturally, many had their eyes on the tall and handsome captain. Yet, like the boys, they didn’t dare to stare openly. Like the football team captain, the head cheerleader was also quite possessive. And sometimes, girls can be meaner than boys.
Of course, if there were the famous, there were also the nerds at the bottom of the hierarchy. Away from the golden glow of popularity, another group sat at the far end of the cafeteria. Hunched over their trays, the nerds spoke in hushed voices, their laughter subdued. They knew better than to attract attention. The wrong kind of gaze could mean trouble.
But there was one exception, a lone boy who sat alone. He was even lower, perhaps at the end. Maybe due to his exceptional intelligence, he was ostracized even by his fellow nerds. He was like an outcast, rejected by his kind. He didn’t seem to care and was already used to such behavior.
He silently jotted down notes, flipping through the pages of his book while absentmindedly picking at his lunch. It was the same predictable routine until today.
Two girls, with beauty no less than the head cheerleader, joined him at his table. One had blonde hair that reached her mid-back, and the other had long red hair reaching her waist. The entire cafeteria suddenly quieted down, seeing that spectacle.
“Hey Peter, would you mind if we joined you?” the blonde girl asked, smiling at the boy.
Peter blinked, his pen pausing over his notebook. His gaze lifted to meet Gwen Stacy’s bright blue eyes, and for a second, his brain stalled. ‘Is this real?’ He quickly shoved down the surprise, forcing himself to appear composed.
“Oh, Gwen, no, please sit,” Peter said, looking up from his book. He was taken aback when his secret crush suddenly talked to him, but he quickly schooled his expression and invited her and her friend to sit.
Gwen thanked him with a smile and sat in front of him. The redhead sat beside her.
“She is Mary Jane, my good friend,” Gwen introduced the redhead beside her.
“Hey Peter, you can call me MJ,” MJ chirped.
“H-hi, MJ,” Peter said, shy from the girl’s charm and outgoing personality.
The boy, the leader sitting at the elite table, frowned and felt a pang of jealousy seeing that. He might be the famous Flash Thompson, the football team star, but he was secretly envious of Peter’s intellect and straight As in the tests, which made him feel inferior. The effortless way Parker aced every test was the opposite of how he barely scraped by. It pissed him off. That's why he liked bullying him so much.
But seeing Gwen, who usually sat with them, and her equally hot friend sitting with the nerd made him feel even more inferior.
“Harry, who is she? Why are they sitting with that nerd?” In a low, growling voice, he asked the only boy among them who was not wearing a letterman jacket.
“I don't know Flash. I think Gwen told me that her friend would also attend university. I think she may be her,” Harry answered nervously in a low voice. Looking at him, no one could tell that he was the son of Norman Osborn, one of the wealthiest businessmen in the USA.
“Useless,” Flash growled at the answer.
He noticed an empty juice box on the table, and his lips curled into a cruel smile. ‘Parker, you don't deserve all this attention,’ Flash thought menacingly, throwing the juice box at Peter’s head. He looked forward to seeing Peter make a fool of himself in front of the girls.
But it was as if Peter had eyes in the back of his head. Just as the juice box reached him, his muscles tensed up. He turned slightly and caught it with astonishing agility, shocking the students in the cafeteria. Peter frowned and glanced at the perpetrator, who looked at him in shock. “Seriously? Grow up, Flash,” Peter said, feeling annoyed.
“What did you say to me, you nerd? You think you’re something special just because you caught that by chance. You’re just a nerd; know your place,” Flash roared. His words infuriated him further. He felt like Peter, who was always at the bottom, was looking down on him, the one at the top. Moreover, his girlfriend, Liz Allan, was glancing at Peter with interest, which only fueled his rage. He rose from his seat and moved toward Peter to confront him.
Peter stood up from his seat and easily dodged the punch. He effortlessly avoided all the punches thrown by Flash. By this time, the students in the cafeteria had crowded around them, too excited to miss the fight. Meanwhile, two boys remained seated at their table near the back.
“Kevin, come, let's go and watch the fight. It's not every day you can see fights like that,” one of the students, a fat guy, said excitedly, his eyes lit with excitement.
Kevin barely glanced at him. “You go, Marko. I’m not interested.”
Marko gave him a disbelieving look. “Really?”
Kevin just nodded, already tuning out the fight.
“Well, your loss,” Marko said, leaving excitedly to watch and record the fight on his phone like the rest of the students—no doubt to upload it later on his LifeDestroyer profile to get views.
Kevin barely spared the fight a glance. He had more significant problems than some dumb college brawl, like the fact that he was in the middle of a crisis himself.
— Kevin —
Note to self: never click a suspicious link again.
Others are either scammed or have their privacy compromised, but here I am, torn from my world and thrown into this messed-up place with uneven power dynamics. One moment, you might encounter some street thug wielding a knife, and the next, a green giant could crash through your building, crushing you in the process.
Fucking Marvel.
I knew there was something suspicious about it when there was no cross icon to close the pop-up with the tagline “ARE YOU TIRED OF YOUR CURRENT LIFE?” in capital and bold letters. I thought, what's the worst that could happen? My bank account was practically a joke, and I had no sensitive data worth stealing.
So, like an idiot, I clicked the only option available: "YES."
Fuck past me.
When I woke up today in an unfamiliar room, alarms rang in my head, yet I remained surprisingly calm. Something compelled me to be relaxed.
Taking advantage of it, I calmly analyzed my surroundings. The room resembled an average teenage boy's space. Honestly, the Captain America poster made my heart race a little. However, I remained optimistic, and the strange force soothed me again, which also helped.
I got up from the bed and walked over to the mirror. I looked different from how I had looked in my previous life. Surprisingly, I don't remember what I looked like, but I didn't resemble the image reflected in the mirror.
I thought for a moment that I might have lost my memories. However, I could recall all the significant events from my previous life. I remember graduating from college, working a dull job, and living my life like a cog in a machine. Monotonous. My only entertainment was substituting myself as the protagonist in various novels, anime, games, and movie worlds.
I remembered clicking on the strange pop-up. Then my computer exploded, a blinding flash, a split second of searing pain, then nothing.
After that, I reincarnated here, judging by the absence of injuries and the fact that I looked at least ten years younger.
I also remembered my name.
“Wait a minute, what's my name?” That's what I shouted when I realized I couldn't remember my name.
The only name I remembered was Kevin Kolt, the name of the person I saw in the mirror. Certain troubling aspects of my memory were erased.
Just as I ‘remembered’ that my name was Kevin Kolt, his memories washed over me like a tide, confirming that I was now him.
From these memories, I realized that I didn't take over a dead body. I was reborn in this world, but my memories only returned to me today.
I sighed in relief that at least I didn't have to look over my shoulder, constantly worrying that whoever killed him might come back to finish the job. Small victories.
But my relief didn't last long, as my worst fear came true. The poster didn't belong to Captain America from Marvel. Captain America was very much real in this world, likely still asleep, but undeniably real. So were Tony Stark, Reed Richards, and Norman Osborn, among others, whom I could search for on the Internet without drawing unwanted attention.
Of all the damn universes to be stuck in, why Marvel? Why not something safe, like Pokemon? At worst, I would get electrocuted. Here? One wrong move and I could be collateral damage in an alien invasion or get snapped out of existence by a purple sociopath.
Fuck Marvel.
Oh well, there was no crying over spilled milk.
My inexplicable ability to stay calm kicked in again, keeping me from freaking out over my objectively ridiculous situation. Marvel Universe? No problem. No safety net? Could be worse. Maybe. Probably.
After getting ready, I left for the university. Since the memories were ultimately mine, settling in was no problem. Marko noted my weird behavior but ignored it. By lunch break, I had combed through all my memories.
Now for the good news.
...There is no good news.
There’s just bad news and even worse news.
The world is not based on a particular timeline, like the MCU, other movies, or even the comics. It is a strange mashup, with something even weirder mixed in.
What's even worse news is that I am an orphan. My mother died during childbirth. My father, a professional criminal, gave up his life in crime to do some honest work after I was born. We weren’t poor, but neither were we rich. But he tried. Unfortunately, he died of illness when I was in high school. It might be my feelings before my memories awakened. I felt a bit sad about him. But that was it.
I completed my schooling with the bit of money he had left, and, with my good grades, I was admitted to Empire State University. However, the money he left was nearly depleted, and I had to look for a job.
However, finding a job is not too hard. My father had a very close friend from his days in crime. He told me to look for him if I got in trouble, which was the only silver lining, if any, in my situation.
In conclusion, I am in a weird fucked mashup of Marvel worlds and an orphan to boot, with almost nothing to my name. I am not some great genius who can use either tech or science to compete with literal gods. I am not some martial arts genius. Until now, my X-gene has not triggered, so I don’t put much hope on it either. I don’t know if I have any mysticism talent, but I won’t keep my hopes high for that.
I have no interest in exposing myself to random chemicals, hoping to get some strange powers, as happened to many Marvel characters. It has a much higher chance of backfiring, leading to severe damage, death, or becoming an abomination, so I will not use myself as a guinea pig for science experiments.
However, if it's tested on enough guinea pigs, then we’ll talk.
I have only two options at hand.
I can just live my life like a normie with my head down and pray that I do not become collateral damage in the fight between the various superheroes and supervillains.
Or I can try to use whatever means I can get and take my fate into my own hands.
I know the second choice is the hardest, but I prefer dying on my own terms.
Instead, I don’t want to die at all. Why consider dying when I can achieve long age, immortality, or even godhood in the world? Using my meta knowledge, I can rule worlds or dimensions with an iron fist, though I don’t know how much of that knowledge will still hold.
Sure, it's crazy, but crazy is better than helpless.
Of course, reality check: I’m a nobody in a world where literal gods roam the streets. No superpowers, no genius intellect, no secret martial arts skills. Yet.
But I’m not planning on staying at the bottom. I will if I have to climb through a mountain of swords to get there.
Long-term goal? Get strong—ridiculously strong—and be able to make my own decisions, not just react to whatever cosmic disaster happens next.
That is the long-term goal, but I also need some short-term goals. Of course, money is the first priority, and then I will find a way to strengthen myself so that I can finally have some self-protection ability.
First, let’s aim to earn enough money to pay for tuition and food, and then I will move on to further plans.
After classes today, I plan to visit my father’s old friend. The guy runs a taxi company, and I can use a part-time job. Driving a taxi may not sound like much, but it’s a good way to learn the city, pick up some street smarts, and maybe get the lay of the land in this weird Marvel mashup.
The fight is already over when I snap out of my thoughts.
Flash is sprawled on the floor, clutching his stomach, his face twisted in humiliation. Someone's going to be crying for his mommy tonight. As if he ever had a chance. The guy’s just a glorified schoolyard bully.
How can he even match Peter Parker, enhanced by the spider bite? He should instead pray that Peter controlled his strength; killing him in one punch is no big deal for Parker.
All because of some stupid jealousy, Mr. Insecure got his ass handed to him by the famous nerd.
Of course, Gwen would want to sit with Peter. After all, last week, during the science tour at Oscorp, he impressed not only Dr. Curt Connors but also Gwen Stacy with his knowledge.
More importantly, that’s when he got bitten by the genetically enhanced spider from one of the labs and finally got his iconic powers.
Peter is still learning to control, as it has only been a weekend since then. But he has done a good job so far, considering Flash still has enough energy to glare at him despite feeling intense pain in his abdomen.
Forget it. What Peter does has nothing to do with me. I don't give a shit about him as long as he doesn’t stand in my path to the top. Unless, of course, I want to trouble him.
—
After the classes ended, I went to the taxi company with Marko.
As I read the words “Bellic Cab Service”, I again felt the urge to curse this world.
As we walked inside, I felt greater dread with every step. Once inside, we were greeted by a pudgy man in his early fifties, dressed in a shirt and pants, who looked all too familiar, even if he looked older.
“Hey, Dad,” Marko greeted him.
“Hey, Uncle Roman,” I added my greeting, calling his all too familiar name.
Roman. Fucking. Bellic.
Remember when I said the world has something even weirder mixed in?
Yeah. Turns out Grand Theft Auto exists here, too.
Roman Bellic didn’t just stay in Liberty City. It turned out he pissed off the wrong people, had to relocate his taxi company to New York, and brought his whole damn family with him. His wife, Mallorie Bardas. His cousin, Niko Bellic. And, of course, his son—Marko Bellic.
The guy standing right next to me.
…What the actual hell?
This small detail completely shattered my understanding of this world. Was this the only crossover, or were more surprises waiting to sucker-punch me?
Oh yeah, there’s also a Los Santos City.
Wait a minute.
If Los Santos exists…
Does that mean Trevor is running around somewhere?
That lunatic is crazier than most of the psychos in Marvel. He can make even Joker look at him with respect.
Wait.
Did I just jinx myself?
“…”
Fuck Marvel.
“Hey, champs. How was college?” Roman asked cheerfully as he turned his attention from his computer.
“Same old, boring,” Marko replied disinterestedly. He didn’t mention the fight; no need to worry his old man.
“Boring is good,” Roman laughed and turned his attention back to the screen.
“Uncle Roman, I have a favor to ask,” I said hesitantly.
Roman looked up again. His face showed a basic idea of what I wanted. Marko also looked at me with curiosity, wondering what I wanted.
“Can I work here part-time?” I asked with a serious face.
Many other part-time jobs are available for students, but most still require a fixed schedule. However, as a taxi driver, I am technically not bound by any specific time and can work at any time. Moreover, although relatively new in New York, Roman's company still has a name due to its decades of business in Liberty City.
“Of course, Kevin, you can work here part-time. But, like I have told you, Desmond was like a brother to me, so you don’t have to feel shy or burdened to ask me. I will help you,” Roman said.
Roman continued as I was about to say something, likely knowing what I was about to say.
“But I still respect your effort to earn a living. It demonstrates maturity. So, what do you say? I'll give you one of my cabs. You can use the company network to accept rides. All the fares and tips you earn are yours, and you’ll only need to cover gas and maintenance. You can use it whenever you want to make some extra cash. And I won’t take no for an answer,” Roman said sternly, though his care was evident in his words.
“Thanks, Uncle Roman,” I said sincerely. Any more words are unnecessary. The terms he gave me are too favorable for me. The employees at his company need to pay at least 50% of the fare. For a money-loving person like him, it speaks volumes about his care.
“No problem, kiddo.” Roman laughed and returned to his screen. I wondered if he was working or simply passing the time.
I said my goodbyes to the father-son duo and went to the back garage to take my new ride. It looked like a regular yellow cab; nothing was different. I opened the door and sat in the driver’s seat.

First time sitting in a taxi driver’s seat. Taxi Driver mission activated.
Mission: Taxi Driver
Description: Complete successful taxi rides
Objective 1: Complete 20 successful taxi rides
Reward: Passive Skill: Driving (Apprentice)
Objective 2: Complete 50 successful taxi rides
Reward: Passive Skill: Driving (Adept)
Objective 3: Complete 100 successful taxi rides
Reward: Passive Skill: Driving (Expert)

Nani, the fuck?!

Chapter 2: Quirky Passengers

Quirky Passengers

Oh sure, now I find out I have a system. Because obviously, my first instinct after waking up in a strange world should’ve been, ‘Hey, let’s check my invisible game menu.’
I leaned back in the driver’s seat, examining what I was dealing with. The system wasn’t sentient—no annoying AI companion talking in my head. That was a relief. My mind only has room for one voice, and that’s mine.
The name? The Gamer System.
It basically lets me live like a video game character. Missions like the Taxi Driver mission from earlier pop up, giving me ways to get stronger quickly.
At first, I didn’t like the idea of being pushed into tasks like some NPC following a questline. But turns out I was worried for nothing. Missions aren’t mandatory. I can ignore them or pick the ones that benefit me. No forced servitude—just opportunities.
The system had some pages: one showing the current missions and the other my status. Another showed the map, except most of it was covered in fog, revealing only where I’d been since regaining my memories.
I clicked on Status, expecting something decent.
What I got made me want to curse this world all over again.

Name: Kevin Kolt
Tier: F1
Attributes:
Strength: F1
Agility: F1
Defense: F1
Endurance: F1
Vitality: F1
Intelligence: F2
Wisdom: F2
Perception: F2
Willpower: F3
Charisma: F1
Skills:
Gamer’s Mind [Passive]: This ability keeps the user calm in all situations and gives the user immunity to psychological status effects and mental powers.
Gamer’s Body [Passive]: Allows the user to live their life as a game character.
Observe [Active]: Can observe the status of anyone.

Okay, I get it. I’m a weak, squishy human. No need to rub it in.
The only thing above rock bottom was my Willpower. Great. So I could endure my own pathetic stats without having a breakdown. How reassuring.
I sighed, rubbing my temples. Alright. Fine. I’ll work with what I’ve got. But this is going to change. Fast.
The tier system was simple enough. The stats were divided into major grades from F to A, then S, SS, SSS, and EX. Each is further divided into three subgrades from 1 to 3 other than EX. The F grade is for humans. The F1 subgrade represents normal humans, the F2 subgrade represents stronger trained humans like athletes or soldiers, and the F3 subgrade represents peak human capabilities. Starting from E grade is already superhuman.
In short? I was completely useless.
Fantastic.
Forget it. Let’s think about good things, like the taxi driver mission.
Its rewards are awesome. I discovered that the Apprentice stage driving skill is equivalent to an average driver’s two years of experience, five years for adept, and ten years for expert.
And I can get it after a hundred successful taxi rides. It may seem like a grind, but that was nothing compared to getting ten years of driving skills.
As for how I was even legally driving a taxi without proper experience?
…Let’s not think too hard about that.
I started the engine and pulled out of the garage.
Welcome to my new life as a taxi driver in the Marvel Universe.

Ride Accepted
Fare: 20$
Tip: 3$

The tip will decrease continuously based on the time taken to reach the destination, driving skills, driver behavior, etc. This is not absolute and can vary based on circumstances. If the tip is reduced to 0, the fare will start decreasing. Once the fair reaches 0, the ride will be considered a fail.

I raised an eyebrow. Oh. So, this system actually expects me to be a good driver. Harsh.
Well, time to test my non-existent skills.
I pulled up to the pickup spot, and my first customer of the day stepped in—a middle-aged man who looked like he bathed in money.
Finely tailored suit. Polished shoes that probably cost more than my monthly college tuition. A watch that gleamed just enough to remind people they were poorer than him.
He barely acknowledged me, lounging in the backseat, glued to his phone. A few seconds later, it buzzed, and he let out an exasperated sigh before answering.
“Yes? … I told you, I’m on my way to the board meeting.” His voice was controlled, professional, but irritation flickered underneath.
“A taxi, of course. My car stopped working.” He paused, and his grip on the phone tightened slightly. “You can hear the damn engine in the background… What do you mean by sending a picture of the inside—? Oh, for the love of—again with this?”
His tone dropped lower, more clipped. “You seriously think I—? No, I don’t have time for this, not now. We’ll talk later.”
The moment the call ended, he tossed his phone onto the seat beside him and breathed a tired, frustrated sigh.
I might be nineteen in this life, but I’d been an adult before. And while I had no luck with women, even I could tell what that was about.
“Woman troubles?” I said to lighten the mood.
The man let out a dry, bitter chuckle. “You could say that.”
“Every time I step out of the house, my wife assumes I’m sneaking off to cheat. It’s relentless.” His hand rubbed his temple as if just thinking about it gave him a headache. “I tell her it’s real, demanding, exhausting work, but she never believes me.”
“Sounds like she doesn’t trust you much,” I said, keeping my tone neutral.
“Trust? Hah.” He let out a sharp exhale. “If I come home late, I’m guilty. If I leave early, I’m guilty. If I so much as glance at my phone too long, I’m guilty.” His fingers drummed against his knee, tension building.
“Doesn’t matter that I’m running three companies, handling mergers, making sure she never has to lift a damn finger. No, in her mind, I’m always one step away from running off with some secretary or model.”
“So, are you?” I asked, mostly as a joke.
The man paused, smirking as he ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair. Then, with a low chuckle, he answered, “That’s the funny part—I do. Just not when she thinks I am.”
I raised an eyebrow. Well, damn. This ride just got interesting.
“When I actually cheat?” He leaned back comfortably, a grin creeping onto his face. “She never suspects a thing. I cover my tracks, keep everything smooth—no sudden changes, no dumb mistakes. If anything, I act more attentive, more loving, and she eats it up.”
“But the moment I’m actually drowning in work? When I barely have time to breathe? That’s when she’s convinced I’m sneaking off to some hotel suite.” His grin faded into frustration.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “So, what? You’re mad that she only suspects you when you’re innocent?”
“Exactly!” he scoffed. “When I cheat, I put in the effort to be foolproof—to be the perfect husband. And she doesn’t bat an eye. But the second I’m grinding, losing sleep to keep the business alive? Boom. I’m suddenly the villain.” He exhaled, shaking his head.
“Yeah, you sure have it rough,” I said lightly, half-mocking.
“You don’t know the half of it,” he muttered, staring out the window.
A beat of silence passed. Then, he glanced at me. “Hey kid, you got a girlfriend?”
“Nope. Still single,” I said, smirking. “And looking at you? Relationships sound exhausting.”
“Oh, they are,” he sighed. “But listen—never get into one where you have to keep proving your innocence. If she doesn’t trust you when you’re being honest, she sure as hell won’t trust you when you actually give her a reason not to.”
“Huh. That’s… actually decent advice,” I said, genuinely impressed by the cheating mutherfucker.
“See?” He grinned. “I might be a terrible husband, but I give great life lessons.”
After that, the conversation fizzled out, leaving only the hum of the engine as I focused back on the road.
While driving, I experienced my lack of driving skills.
Who knew it was so hard to control a damn car?
I had to wrestle with the steering wheel every few minutes just to keep this deathtrap straight. Barely missed a guy in a crosswalk. Almost sideswiped a parked car. Someone actually jumped into a bush to avoid me.
Horn blasts and angry cursing followed me down the street.
But in the end, I somehow made it to the destination. A bit slower than necessary, but hey—no casualties.
The businessman got out, glanced at the car, then at me. Then, without a word, he handed me $22.
Huh?
"Here, have some beer with it," he said casually, passing me the bills.
I blinked. Was this a tip or a consolation prize?
The man hesitated for a second. “Wait, you can drink, right?”
“Nope. I’m nineteen,” I said, flashing a shit-eating grin.
The businessman chuckled, shaking his head. "Then have some milk with it."
And just like that, he walked off.
I let out a small snort of amusement before pulling away.
As I drove to my next ride, my mind wandered.
The hell is up with this 21+ drinking law, anyway?
So at 18, people are old enough to get into debt, sign contracts, and get sent to war. But booze? Nah, wait three more years, kiddo.
Like yesterday, I was an immature brat, but today—poof!—magically wise enough to make all my life decisions. What complete bullshit.
Shaking my head, I focused back on the road.
One step closer to being the best taxi driver in the world.
—
You sure encounter strange and quirky characters while working as a taxi driver.
It’s been three days since I started, and I’ve completed eighteen trips. Currently on my way to the nineteenth.
I would have done more, but I only drive a few hours daily. One more ride, and I’ll level up my driving skills to Apprentice.
I gained the driving skill after completing my third trip.

Driving (Novice)

Progress.
Now, where was I? Oh yeah—quirky passengers.
First, there was the woman.
One of the chattiest people I had ever met. Once she started talking, she didn’t stop. Workplace drama, neighborhood gossip—who was cheating, who was stealing, who was secretly plotting world domination (okay, maybe not that last part, but it felt like it).
I swear, she unloaded her entire life story in a single cab ride.
Maybe she had nowhere else to vent, so she let it all out when she got into a stranger’s car.
Then there was the man in black.
Suspicious? Understatement.
Black hoodie. Black gloves. Black boots. A huge suitcase. He sat on edge the entire ride, eyes constantly flicking to the street.
For a $40 ride, the tip showed $200.
And it didn’t drop at all, despite my admittedly rough driving.
Did I say he was looking suspicious?
Once we reached his destination, he passed me the money and said, “You never met me.”
I blinked. What man in black with a suitcase? Never heard of him.
Without another word, he disappeared into an alley.
Did I just intentionally or unintentionally aid a criminal escape? Possibly.
Did I care? Not really.
And then there was the wannabe vigilante.
Wearing a goddamn cape.
I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing when he got in.
Apparently, he was "on his way to document criminal activity."
Ah yes. Nothing screams "I’m secretly watching crime" like a full-ass superhero cape.
For his sake, I hoped he wasn’t tailing actual criminals. Otherwise, he’d probably end face-first in a dumpster by the night's end.
Speaking of vigilantes, Peter Parker still has a long way to go before becoming the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.
He’s probably focusing on using his powers for quick fame and money. Only after Uncle Ben dies will he start his hero arc.
…What? Save Ben Parker?
Why the hell should I? What do I gain from that?
If anything, Ben’s death is an opportunity. With him out of the picture, May Parker becomes vulnerable. And Peter? Easier to manipulate using her.
Oh yeah, I’ve seen May Parker.
She’s not the frail old lady from the comics. Mid-thirties, fills out a dress nicely.
Okay, calm down. Focus.
I was getting carried away again. Even with a system, I’m still at the bottom.
How do I know? Because my driving is so shit that my tip bar keeps dropping to zero.
Other than that cheating rich man and the guy who definitely didn’t have a body in his suitcase, every other customer docked my fare down.
What? You’d think the non-stop talking woman would at least tip me for being a good listener.
Nope. Turns out, listening skills don’t compensate for near-death experiences behind the wheel.
…Anyway. Back to vigilantes.
When I first got the Taxi Driver mission, I had a feeling other system missions were hidden in this world.
And that wannabe superhero in a cape? He just gave me an idea to unlock one.
Turns out, finding crime in this city is ridiculously easy.
I took a drive through a slightly shady area and, on my very first attempt, found a live mugging happening in a deserted alley.
The scene? Classic.
A stoned-looking junkie waving a knife at some poor bastard, demanding his wallet. Probably desperate for his next fix.
Now, let’s get one thing straight. I am not some hot headed idiot looking to fight 200 rounds with a knife-wielding maniac. I am a squishy human, and I like staying alive.
So, I did the next best thing.
I quickly downloaded an MP3 of a police siren and blasted it through my taxi’s speakers at full volume—windows down for maximum effect.
Was it 100% realistic? Nope.
Was the volume probably too low? Yeah.
Did it matter? Absolutely not.
The second the stoner heard the wailing siren, he froze. His pupils widened in panic. Then, without a second thought, he bolted like the cops were actually right around the corner.
I smirked. Idiot.
And just like that, I barely unlocked my second system mission.

Mission: Vigilante
Description: Eliminate serious criminals
Objective 1: Eliminate 20 serious criminals
Reward: Strength (F3)
Objective 2: Eliminate 50 serious criminals
Reward: Active Skill: Brutal Strike
Objective 3: Eliminate 100 serious criminals
Reward: Strength (E1)

I glanced at the mission details and raised an eyebrow.
Huh. Looks like my system doesn’t buy into Marvel or DC’s philosophy of giving criminals infinite second chances.
One strike, and you’re out, huh? Brutal.
Of course, that stoner idiot wouldn’t qualify as a "serious criminal." If the system is strict, only gang members, hardened thugs, and high-tier criminals will count.
Which means... I won’t be starting this mission anytime soon.
I am still just a normal guy. No powers. No combat training. Until I fix that, this mission can stay untouched.
Of course, despite the high difficulty, the rewards matched the efforts. I can obtain peak human strength by completing one objective, worth it. And as long as I can complete all objectives, I can even get superhuman strength.
Superhuman strength—real, tangible power—is within reach.
I just need to be patient.
For now, I’ll focus on getting stronger the smart way—step by step, without rushing or making dumb mistakes.
I got sidetracked again.
Oh, looks like the destination is here.
My passenger climbed out without a word, barely handing me the full fare before shooting me a disgusted look and muttering something about shitty taxi drivers.
Hey, you bastard, I just dropped you off in Hell’s Kitchen. The least you could do is tip me for the trauma.
I sighed, exhaustion settling in. Balancing college, taxi driving, and planning my rise to power? A nightmare. Over the past few days, I’ve mapped out a general direction for my future, but execution? That’s the hard part.
The rude passenger vanished into a dimly lit alley, swallowed by the rundown district.
Even though this was just the outskirts of Hell’s Kitchen, it felt like stepping into a different world.
The air was heavier, thicker. The flickering street lights barely pushed back the darkness. Trash lined the streets, and somewhere in the distance, a dog barked, followed by a distant argument.
Time to leave.
I might check this place out later, but for now, the brighter parts of the city sound much better.
I reached for the gear shift, ready to drive off—
BAM.
The passenger door swung open.
A man stumbled inside, breathing hard.
My entire body went rigid.
His face was half-hidden beneath a hoodie, but what caught my attention was his stomach—his hand pressing against a dark stain, wet and spreading.
Blood.
He slumped against the seat, chest rising and falling rapidly, his breath shallow. The air inside the cab grew thick with the scent of sweat and iron.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I swallowed hard. My gut screamed at me—something was very, very wrong.
“Uh… man, you okay?” I asked, forcing my voice to stay even.
No response.
He kept panting, gripping his side, his fingers digging into the wound like he was trying to hold himself together.
Then, in a single, sharp motion, he pulled something from his jacket.
A gun.
Cold, black steel gleamed under the streetlights.
My stomach dropped.
A new, unfamiliar feeling washed over me—something sharp, cold, primal.
Fear.
For the first time in both of my lives, I felt real, actual danger.
"Drive."
The man’s voice was raspy, strained. The gun’s cold steel pressed against the back of my head.
First time in Hell’s Kitchen, and I already have a gun to my skull.
Even with a system, I’m apparently playing life in Hell Mode.
I tried to focus on anything except the weapon touching me. Random thoughts, dumb jokes, anything to stop my brain from spiraling into full-blown panic. Thankfully, Gamer’s Mind helped me calm down.
I took a deep breath, steadying my voice. “Okay, man, stay calm. No need for violence. Where do you want me to go?”
“Just drive straight. I’ll tell you when and where to turn,” he muttered, wincing as his injured stomach throbbed.
Then his voice hardened. “And you better not do anything funny, or you’ll go home with a hole in your head. Understand?”
"Absolutely. No funny business," I reassured him a little too quickly.
“Shut up. Just drive,” he snapped.
Fine, whatever. I could take a verbal lashing. A bullet? Not so much.
I hit the gas and started driving.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realized this still counted as a taxi ride.
If I survived this, I’d complete the first objective of the Taxi Driver mission and finally get the Apprentice driving skill.
…If I survived.
I used my skill Observe on him. It showed he was at F2 Tier.
The system didn’t show individual stats, just an overall Tier. But an F2 Tier meant he was at the trained human level, which put him above me in every physical category.
Great. Even without a gun, he could still snap me in half.
Meaning? Escape was impossible.
Minutes crawled by.
As I drove deeper into Hell’s Kitchen, the streets grew darker, grittier.
Neon signs flickered weakly, barely lighting the narrow alleys filled with shadows. Thugs loitered near street corners, watching passing cars with sharp, predatory gazes.
The city here felt hungry, waiting to swallow anyone foolish enough to get lost in it.
After half an hour, we pulled up in front of a rundown, decaying house.
The air inside the car felt thicker, heavier.
I swallowed hard. This was the kind of place people disappeared in.
The man stepped out of the taxi.
Then, he turned—and pointed his gun directly at my face.
My breath stopped.
The cold steel glistened under the dim streetlights, its barrel trained between my eyes.
Oh shit.
A sharp, metallic taste filled my mouth—I’d bitten my tongue. Cold sweat dripped down my back, soaking into my already damp shirt.
My mind raced. Run? No. Fight? Definitely not. Beg? Useless.
Think.
"I don’t know you and have never seen you," I blurted out, my voice fast but steady.
The man stared at me.
For a long, agonizing moment, he didn’t move.
Then, slowly, he lowered the gun.
“Smart kid,” he muttered. “You’ll live long.”
Then he gave me a final, wordless threat before stepping into the house, vanishing into the darkness.
I sat there frozen, watching until the door fully closed.
Then, I slammed the car into reverse and got the hell out of there.
I didn’t stop driving until I was well outside Hell’s Kitchen.
Once I finally pulled over to a safer part of the city, I let out a shaky breath.
My hands gripped the wheel so tightly that my knuckles turned white. My shirt? Completely drenched in sweat.
This was my real welcome to the Marvel world.
For the first time, it truly hit me.
I could have died.
No respawns. No second chances. Just a bullet and it would’ve all ended here.
I exhaled, forcing my heartbeat to slow. I’d survived.
For now.
I leaned back against the seat, closing my eyes for a moment.
He’ll pay. Not today. But soon.
I took a break on the roadside to cool my head and calm my nerves.
A few minutes later, I finally decided to look at a few notifications I had received earlier but had chosen to ignore.

Mission: Taxi Driver
Objective 1: Complete 20 successful taxi rides (Completed)
Reward: Passive Skill: Driving (Apprentice) (Ready to receive)

I accepted the reward.
And instantly, something shifted in my mind.
It was subtle at first—then it hit like a wave.
A flood of instincts, reactions, and precise hand-eye coordination filled my head. Gear shifts, sharp turns, braking techniques—all of it suddenly made sense.
From a newbie driver, I’d just become someone with two years of experience.
I blinked, gripping the wheel, testing the new muscle memory.
Well, at least something good came out of that shitshow.
I checked my second notification.

Helped an injured person receive medical aid. Paramedic mission activated.
Mission: Paramedic
Description: Heal people
Objective 1: Heal 20 people
Reward: Vitality (F3)
Objective 2: Heal 50 people
Reward: Health Regen Increase (+100%)
Objective 3: Heal 100 people
Reward: Vitality (E1)

A slow smile crept onto my face as I read the new mission.
I might just give him a slightly less painful death.

Chapter 3: Failed Persuasion

Failed Persuasion

The night air carried the distant hum of traffic, honking cabs, and the muffled chatter of pedestrians from the main road.
Behind a small, dingy diner, the alley was dimly lit, the cracked pavement littered with cigarette butts and discarded flyers. A rusted fire escape loomed overhead, its twisted shadows stretching against the graffiti-covered walls.
Niko Bellic stood with his arms crossed, watching Kevin shift awkwardly into a fighting stance.
It wasn’t completely hopeless, but damn, was it painful to look at.
His shoulders were stiff, his fists too tight, and his legs… well, they looked like he was bracing for an earthquake rather than a fight.
Niko sighed. "Your feet are wrong."
Kevin adjusted slightly, exhaling in frustration. "Yeah? I thought you said balance is important."
"Yes. Balance is important." Niko nudged Kevin’s foot into place with his own. "Looking like you are about to piss yourself? Not so much.
"Wider stance. Knees bent. You want to be solid—but not stuck. You need to move when the time comes."
Kevin rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen up. "Right. So I’m supposed to look intimidating but also ready to dodge when some asshole tries to cheap-shot me. Got it."
Niko smirked. At least the kid was listening.
"Good. Now, lesson one: do not get hit. You think you are tough until someone lands a good punch. Then you are just another idiot on the ground, wondering why your nose is broken."
Kevin smirked. "Yeah, I figured that one out myself. Thanks."
Niko moved fast.
A sudden jab shot toward Kevin’s face.
Kevin flinched hard, his hands dropping for a split second before he stumbled back a step.
Niko pinched the bridge of his nose. "And this is why you do not figure things out yourself."
Kevin reset his stance, shaking his head. "You could at least warn me before you—"
Niko’s fist shot out again.
This time, it stopped just before Kevin’s nose.
Kevin flinched again, his body jerking before his brain caught up.
Niko smirked. "You flinch, you lose."
Kevin groaned. "Oh, I see. You’ll just keep punching me until I stop reacting, huh?"
"Close." Niko motioned for him to continue. "In a real fight, your opponent will not warn you first. If you flinch, you lose."
Kevin exhaled sharply. "Duly noted. I’ll stay relaxed next time someone swings a bat at me."
Niko ignored the sarcasm and feinted a third time.
Kevin still flinched, though this time, it was smaller—his shoulders twitched, but his whole body didn’t recoil.
Niko nodded slightly. "Better. At this rate, maybe in five years, you will not get knocked out in the first ten seconds."
Kevin rolled his eyes. "Appreciate the confidence."
Niko raised his hands. “Now, throw a punch at me.”
Kevin clenched his jaw and swung a right hook.
It was wild, unbalanced, and slow.
Niko barely had to move to dodge it. His expression didn’t even change.
Then, before Kevin could react, Niko snatched his wrist mid-motion and twisted slightly.
Kevin tensed, his body locking up.
“Too predictable. Too stiff. You load up too much before you throw. A real fighter sees that coming from across the street.”
Niko released him with a small shove. “Again. Tighter. Faster.”
Kevin exhaled through his nose and threw another punch, this time more controlled.
Niko dodged just as easily.
“Better,” Niko admitted. “But still weak.”
Kevin scowled. “Yeah, well, maybe if you’d let me actually land one—”
Before he could finish, Niko smacked him lightly across the head.
"Lesson two: in a fight, there is no 'fair.' No rules, no rounds. Just survival.
You don’t get to complain that the other guy isn’t playing nice. A fight is not a conversation.”
Kevin rubbed the side of his head, muttering, “Sure, yeah, let’s not discuss things like civilized men.”
Niko snorted. “You think civilized men fight?”
He stepped forward, tapping his own jaw. "Aim here? You knock them out.”
“Here?" He pointed at his throat. "They cannot breathe."
"Here?" He gestured to his ribs. "Liver. That one takes the fight out of them."
Kevin smirked. “What, no pointers on eye gouging? Or should I save that for when I really need to make a statement?”
Niko chuckled. “Only if you want to end up in prison.”
Then he cracked his knuckles. "Now, let's see how you handle someone actually fighting back."
Kevin blinked. "Wait, wha—"
Before he could finish, Niko moved.
Not full speed, but fast enough that Kevin barely had time to react.
His body moved on instinct.
He stumbled back, dodging at the last second.
Niko smirked. “Good. But next time? Counter.”
Kevin straightened, rolling his neck. “Fine. Let’s try that again.”
This time, when Niko feinted, Kevin didn’t just dodge—he stepped in and threw a quick jab toward Niko’s ribs.
Niko blocked it effortlessly.
But this time, he nodded.
“Not bad. Maybe you won’t get your ass kicked outside a bar after all.”
Kevin exhaled, shaking out his hands. "Yeah, thanks for the confidence boost. Really feeling the family love here."
Niko grinned. “You are still breathing. That is love.”
The real lesson had just begun.
— Kevin —
So yeah, I finally got my real welcome to the Marvel world—with a gun to my face.
At least it was better than getting turned into collateral damage during some superhero slugfest.
Yay, me.
But fear wasn’t the only thing I felt.
Rage burned beneath the surface. Not just at the man who pulled the gun on me—but at my own helplessness.
How utterly incapable I had been.
He stood there, weapon in hand, and I couldn’t do a damn thing.
That man? First on my hit list.
And he’d be the first to pay.
I had originally planned to explore the city more to unlock new missions.
But after that night? Priorities changed.
I needed to learn how to fight.
And Uncle Niko was the best option I had.
Military experience. A past in organized crime back in Liberty City. A GTA protagonist with an F3 Tier to match.
There wasn’t a better mentor I could find right now.
So, the next day, I went to him and asked him to train me.
Maybe he saw the conviction in my eyes because he didn’t ask why. He just nodded and said one thing.
“I will not ask or stop what you want to do. You are a smart kid and old enough to fight your battles. But always remember—you are not alone. You have a family.”
I nodded back seriously. More words weren’t necessary.
For the last two weeks, I’ve been training under him.
I had to cut down on my part-time job just to make enough time for it.
But it was worth it.

Martial Arts (Novice)
You understand basic stances and strikes but lack real combat experience.

My Gamer’s Body skill allows me to live life like a game character.
That includes grinding to learn skills.
And grinding, I did.
Night after night. Sweat, pain, exhaustion.
Finally, last night, after hours of relentless practice, the system acknowledged my efforts.
Just like when I unlocked Driving, knowledge flooded my mind.
Stances I had struggled to hold now felt natural.
Incorrect postures corrected themselves as my body adjusted.
Movements that once felt sluggish now had a sharpness to them.
It wasn’t much.
But finally—finally—I had at least some form of self-defense in this unforgiving world.
No matter how small it was.
Of course, combat wasn’t the only thing I was learning.
Thanks to my new mission, I needed to heal 100 people to complete it.
One problem—I’m not a doctor.
I have no healing powers, no magic, nothing.
So, my only option? Learn First Aid.
At first, I wasn’t sure if it would even work.
But apparently, it did.
Even though my two uncles are no longer active in the criminal world, they still have old friends who visit occasionally.
One of them showed up with a knife wound on his arm.
He was lying low for a while, trying to disappear from the gang members chasing him.
His first aid method? A dirty cloth wrapped around the wound.
Genius.
I saw an opportunity.
I offered to patch him up, using him as a guinea pig. After some convincing, he reluctantly agreed.
My technique was rough, and I could tell he was wincing from my lack of experience.
But it worked.
Looks like the system doesn’t care about quality—just results.
Good to know.
The man grunted his thanks, even though I knew my work was shit.
I still told him to get proper medical attention.
Not that it mattered—criminals don’t just stroll into hospitals.
If they do? They get questions. Questions they don’t want to answer.
So, what’s the alternative?
Shady clinics hidden in dark alleys.
Illegal medical practitioners.
Or, learn how to fix yourself.
Few qualified doctors willingly treat criminals. The ones who do? Work for big gangs exclusively.
That makes independent doctors, the ones who patch up wounds without asking questions, extremely valuable.
And that house I dropped that guy off at in Hell’s Kitchen?
That was probably one of them.
Maybe I’ll check it out later.
If I feel like it.
For now, I had other priorities.
I checked the ride count on my system. It was my 46th ride.
Over the last two weeks, I’d barely managed 25 rides.
My schedule was a mess, and I had to balance combat training, first aid training, and trying not to get killed.
I exhaled, rolling my sore shoulders as I pulled onto the street.
Time to get back to work.
I reached the pickup spot, and my passenger stepped into the taxi.
She was covered from head to toe.
A hoodie that hung low over her forehead.
Big sunglasses shielding her eyes.
A mask pulled up from her top, covering everything up to her nose.
The rest of her face was hidden behind black hair.
Oh great. Another weirdo.
Whatever. I started driving toward the destination—a hotel in a shady part of the city.
Not suspicious at all.
She seemed deep in thought, so I didn’t bother with small talk.
Some passengers love to talk. They spill all sorts of things, and you never know what useful information you might hear.
Others? Silent the whole ride.
I respect both kinds. As long as they pay.
Speaking of payment...
I glanced at the system tab to check the fare.

Fare: 0
Tip: 0

…Huh?
Must be my imagination. Maybe I was too tired from training.
I blinked and checked again.

Fare: 0
Tip: 0

Motherfucker.
I frowned and opened the taxi network app. The company’s app showed the fare should be $22.
What the fuck?
My system shows different fares from the app. The app shows the standard fare and the system starts at the standard fare and starts reducing it if I empty my tip bar.
I know my driving is shit, but not so much that within 5 minutes of the ride, it will empty both bars. Even more so when I am already at the Apprentice stage in my Driving skill.
Hell, even when I didn't have the skill, it never decreased so fast. Moreover, despite the zero fare, she didn't complain at all, sitting in silence, thinking deeply.
Since it is unlikely the system made a mistake, it means only one thing.
This fucking bitch doesn't intend to pay me at all.
That was the only explanation.
My jaw tightened.
I wanted to slam the brakes, turn around, and call her out immediately.
But what was I going to say?
"Hey, I know you plan to rob me because my magical game system told me so, so get the fuck out of my car?"
Yeah. Not happening.
I exhaled slowly, fingers tightening around the wheel.
Alright then. Let’s see how this plays out.
Let’s wait and watch.
Let’s see how she plans to talk her way out of not paying me.
But you better be prepared, bitch.
There is no way in hell I’m letting my hard-earned money slide.
I glanced at her in the rearview mirror.
She was still silent, staring out the window—until she suddenly turned her head toward the rearview mirror.
I looked away, playing it cool. Focused on the road.
Then—

Note: Kara Killgrave used her pheromones on you. Affect nullified.

Pheromones?
Wait—Kara Killgrave?
As in Zebediah Killgrave’s daughter?!
What the fuck is she doing in New York City?!
I immediately pulled up Observe.

Name: Kara Killgrave
Tier: E1
Power: Mind Control

E1 Tier?!
Her power must be boosting her rank, because physically, she’s probably not much stronger than me.
Wow. My first supernatural encounter. And she was trying to mind control me.
"I am just a normal passenger in your taxi, like your everyday passengers," Kara said in a low, calm voice.
Huh?
Is she…justifying that she’s not suspicious?
Because that sounds like something a suspicious person would say.
Ah, I see. Kara is a mutant and inherited mind-controlling powers from her father to mind control using her pheromones and giving verbal commands.
She’s probably hiding her purple skin under all that fabric.
She likely thought she hypnotized me using her pheromones.
Too bad for her. My Gamer's Mind makes me immune to any type of mind control.
At least, with that, I don't have to worry about becoming someone’s unwilling or, even worse, willing puppet.
Puppets are only useful when they belong to me.
"You decided to give me a free ride," Kara continued smoothly.
Ah. So that’s how this bitch plans to pay—mind control me into thinking I already agreed.
Interesting.
Even if she’s one whole tier above me, that’s only because of her powers.
Which, fortunately for me, and unfortunately for her…
They don’t work on me.
"But I never said I would give you a free ride," I said, fighting the smirk creeping onto my face.
Kara stiffened.
Then—

Note: Kara Killgrave used her pheromones on you. Affect nullified.
Note: Kara Killgrave used her pheromones on you. Affect nullified.
Note: Kara Killgrave used her pheromones on you. Affect nullified.

She was pushing harder now.
I saw a hint of skin peeking out of her hoodie, turning a deep shade of purple.
Panic.
She realized something was wrong.
"Stop the car!" Kara snapped.
I kept driving.

Note: Kara Killgrave used her pheromones on you. Affect nullified.
Note: Kara Killgrave used her pheromones on you. Affect nullified.
Note: Kara Killgrave used her pheromones on you. Affect nullified.

She wasn’t used to failing. I almost felt bad for her. Almost.
"I said stop the car, or I will call the cops!" she shouted.
I finally let the smirk breakthrough.
"Sure, go ahead. Call them.
I’m sure they’d love to find a mutant walking the streets openly.”
She went dead silent.
— Kara —
I stepped into the taxi, settling into the backseat.
A hotel in a shady part of the city—the perfect place to stay low while I look for my man-whore of a father.
Mind control has its perks.
Getting a free ride? A small perk. But useful.
The driver was young, maybe around my age.
Good-looking, too.
If I was here for fun instead of tracking down that bastard, maybe I’d see if he was obedient enough to be entertaining.
But right now? I had bigger priorities.
Zebediah Killgrave.
The man who let my mother leave him and never once asked about her. Or his newborn daughter.
Fucking bastard.
Growing up, Mom told me she divorced him and moved to Canada.
I was born there, raised there, and for the longest time, I thought,
"What kind of weak, spineless husband lets his wife leave him pregnant and doesn’t even fight for her?"
A cuck. That’s what kind
Mom worked hard but barely supported us.
And despite all the men who came and went, I don’t think she ever really got over him.
One rebound after another.
I lost count of how many sleazy assholes I saw in our home.
Life wasn’t great, but it went on.
At least high school was easy. I was popular. People liked me.
By the end of it, I’d grown another five inches, my body filling out.
It was fun teasing the boys—watching how they squirmed when I leaned in just a little too close.
It was a game. A harmless one. And for a while, I thought that would be my life.
Then?
Everything changed.
At first, it was small. A weird tint to my skin. Almost like a shadow that wouldn’t go away.
Then?
It got worse. Within days, my skin turned completely purple.
I locked myself in my room, terrified. Was it a disease? Some kind of sickness?
I begged my mother for answers. She didn’t say a word.
She knew. She knew what was happening to me. And she stayed silent.
A few days later, my normal skin color returned.
I waited, watching. Terrified that it would happen again.
When it didn’t, I forced myself to go back to school.
Mom? She sighed in relief. Like she was hoping it was over. Like she wanted to pretend it never happened.
But she was so wrong.
It happened at a party. One of those drunken, wild, typical high school parties. A jock cornered me in a room.
Okay, fine—I went in there knowing full well what would happen. In my defense, I thought he was cute.
But his personality leaked out once we were alone, away from prying eyes.
I tried to leave. He didn’t let me. His hand braced against the wall next to my head.
The easygoing flirt vanished, replaced by something pushier, meaner.
"Oh, come on," he slurred, the alcohol thick on his breath.
I stiffened. Nope. Not doing this.
"Move." I tried to push past him. He grabbed my wrist.
Something in me snapped.
Heat surged through my veins—an intense, unnatural sensation.
And then—
His eyes widened. His grip loosened.
I barely had time to register his expression before I saw it—
His skin. It was turning purple. And through the mirror behind him? So was mine. I gasped.
"Let me go."
He immediately stepped aside. Not reluctantly. Not angrily. It was just like the most natural thing in the world.
A chill ran down my spine. I turned toward the mirror, horrified. My entire body had changed. I was purple. And him? The exact same shade.
I was breathing too fast, my pulse erratic. What the fuck is happening?! I wanted it to end.
Then, as if responding to my panic, the purple receded. My skin returned to normal, and his did, too.
He blinked, confused.
"Wait—" his words slurred, "How’d you get over there?" He lunged again.
I flinched—
And again, my skin turned purple. So did his. "Stop."
He froze.
I stared at him and ordered him to go to bed. He obeyed with no protest or resistance.
He just collapsed onto the mattress, fast asleep.
The moment his breathing evened out, I released whatever hold I had over him. We both returned to normal.
I bolted.
When I got home, I confronted my mother. She hesitated. For the first time in my life, I saw guilt in her eyes. And then she finally relented.
She told me the truth. Zebediah Killgrave. My father.
The man who let her leave.
The man who never once came looking for us.
The man who abandoned me.
I felt a storm of emotions.
Anger. At my mother, for leaving.
Rage. At my father, for never coming after us.
And yet, underneath it all…
A small, pathetic part of me wanted something else.
Wanted to prove myself. Not just to be different. To be better.
Because maybe, just maybe…
If I was better than him, stronger than him, more powerful than him—
He’d regret leaving me behind.
Somehow, I barely survived high school. I had to be constantly on guard, terrified I’d slip up and use my powers by mistake.
Because I refused—absolutely refused—
To end up hated, ostracized, or worse—locked away in some underground lab, treated like a test subject.
After high school, I wasn’t in the mood for college. I had more important things to do. Like mastering my powers.
At first, I told myself I was using them for good. Proving that I was better than my father. That my abilities could help people instead of manipulating them. That even though he didn’t know, I was fixing his mistakes.
Of course, sometimes I used them for myself—small things that could easily be considered payment for my services.
The real goal? Finding him. Tracking down the man who abandoned me.
It took months, but eventually, I had a lead. When I learned the truth, I saw red.
He never cared. Not about my mother. Not about me.
While we struggled, he was changing girlfriends every few days. Likely mind-controlling them to love him.
Leaving one woman after another.
Creating his criminal empire in New York City, living life without a single goddamn regret.
Fucking bastard.
Once I had a rough idea of his whereabouts, I left Canada and came to New York.
Money? Not a problem. It turns out that persuading people to give you things is incredibly easy.
That's how I crossed the border, found a place to stay, and booked my hotel. It wasn’t fancy, but it was perfect—low-profile, fewer prying eyes. I’d be safe there.
While I was thinking, I felt it. A gaze. My driver. He glanced at me through the rearview mirror, casual, smooth—but just a little too precise.
A normal look. A split-second thing. And yet—
Something felt off.
I narrowed my eyes slightly, shifting my posture.
Because of the angle, I couldn’t see his face clearly, not even in the mirror.
But a woman’s intuition is rarely wrong.
Was he suspicious of me?
I knew my outfit didn’t scream "normal," but I dressed like this for a reason.
If my skin ever turned purple by accident—
Which happened less than before but still happened when I got too emotional—
At least this way, no one would notice.
Whatever.
I was going to use my powers anyway.
It didn’t matter if I did it now or at the end of the trip.
A quick command, nothing noticeable.
I’d keep his skin purple for only a second—long enough to take effect but not long enough to raise suspicion.
Besides, there wasn’t much traffic here.
With my powers, I can’t make deep, long-lasting impressions. Once I remove control, the target is free, unless it’s some special case like with the jock who remained sleeping even after I removed my control, the alcohol in his system probably played a part in that.
However, if the command is simple enough and not against the target's basic thought process, it could still work for some time. This is enough for the duration of the trip.
I used my pheromones on him. My skin turned purple, but it was not visible because of how I dressed.
“I am just a normal passenger in your taxi, like your everyday passengers,” I ordered him to perceive me as just another normal passenger.
“You decided to give me a free ride,” I continued. Can’t forget the free ride part.
Done.
My skin returned to normal. I relaxed, shifting my gaze back to the window. And then—
"But I never said I would give you a free ride."
What? This has never happened before. Did the subconscious commands not work on him? Or did he resist the entire mind control?
I stiffened, swallowing my unease.
Whatever it is, I no longer want to stay in this taxi.
I used even more pheromones on him and ordered him to stop the car, but he behaved as if he hadn’t listened and continued driving.
What is happening? Is he immune to my powers? Where is he taking me? Does he know about me? Is he my father’s enemy and wants to use me against him?
My pulse quickened as beads of sweat formed on my temple. Panicked, I once again used my pheromones on him.
“I said stop the car, or I will call the cops,” I threatened, hiding the panic in my voice.
“Sure, go ahead if you don't mind looking at your purple skin. I am sure they would love to find a mutant walking on the streets openly,” he said.
What?!

Chapter 4: Sins of the Father

Sins of the Father

Alright, better slow down before she starts hyperventilating.
Not everyone gets to have a Gamer’s Mind, which keeps them calm 24/7.
I’d used the stick enough. Time for the carrot—or something close to it.
"Oh, don’t start acting like the fucking victim here," I said, keeping my voice even but sharp, just enough to shift her focus. “People love doing that these days.”
She stiffened.
Her breathing slowed slightly. Still on edge but no longer spiraling.
Progress.
"You’re the one who tried to brain-fuck me for a free ride. So don’t even pretend like you’re innocent," I added, watching as the realization hit her.
Her expression faltered. She couldn’t even argue.
Someone suddenly realized the irony of her actions.
But it looked like she still didn't want to give up.
"What do you want?" she asked, her voice steadier now but still cautious.
I grinned.
"What do I want? Just the fare for the ride, obviously." I shrugged, all casual-like.
"After all, I’m just an honest guy trying to make an honest living. Unlike you, who uses her powers to rob hard-working men of their well-earned money." My smirk sharpened.
She pressed her lips into a thin line.
"So you’re not handing me over to the cops?" she asked after a long pause.
I let a beat pass before answering.
“I will… if you don’t pay me the taxi fare. With a generous tip. For my mental damage,” I replied with a mock, threatening tone.
I watched her eyes widen. It's like something finally clicked.
"You… don’t care that I’m a mutant?" she asked. Her voice held genuine disbelief.
Ah. There it was. That desperate little desire almost all mutants had—the need to be accepted. To belong.
Too easy.
I kept my expression bored.
"What the fuck does that have to do with anything?" I scoffed like she’d just asked the dumbest question in the world.
Kara hesitated. "You’re not afraid of me? Of my purple skin?"
I laughed.
"Afraid? You were about two seconds away from hyperventilating in my backseat. Why the hell would I be afraid of you?"
Her cheeks flared red, and she looked away, clearly embarrassed.
Now we were getting somewhere.
“Why did my powers not work on you?” Kara demanded.
It was the first time in her life that she could not manipulate someone, which completely threw her off.
I grinned. “Maybe my mind is too strong,” I said playfully.
Kara narrowed her eyes.
“Are you also a mutant?” Kara asked, not backing down. She made an expression of looking forward to the answer.
That expression, desperately trying to find some belonging.
That small, pathetic hope. That need to find someone like her.
“Sorry for the disappointment, but I am not,” I replied with a smirk.
Her expression fell. I could see the exact moment the disappointment hit.
But hey—truth is truth.
Gamer’s Mind is a hundred times better than any mutant power.
She looked like she wasn’t convinced but didn’t push it.
Instead, she shifted tactics.
“Do you know who my father is?” Kara asked.
Did she want me to give her clues about her father? Since her purple skin does not freak me out, did she think I may know someone with similar skin to hers?
“No, I do not. Is he someone famous?” I asked, feigning ignorance.
Kara’s jaw tightened. “No, he is not,” she said, with a bit of hatred though a tinge of sadness hidden deep in her emotions.
Is she here to confront Zebediah?
Interesting.
I leaned back, smirking.
"Wait, did you just play the ‘Do you know who my father is?’ card on me?"
I clicked my tongue.
"What? The little princess needs daddy dearest to save her ass?"
First, she was caught using her powers to do something illegal, something she despised her father for doing the same.
Now, she was mocked for using her hated father’s name to escape the mess she had created.
Her entire body tensed after I said that.
For a moment, I thought she’d lunge at me.
"I don’t need his help," Kara snapped. Her voice was sharp, almost a growl.
Her fingers curled into fists, nails pressing into her palms.
"I don’t need his name, power, or help to fix my mistakes. Unlike him, I don’t run from them."
Ooh, looks like someone has heavily repressed daddy issues.
“Okay, that's cool. Then, you can pay me if you don’t run from your mistakes like your father,” I smirked.
Her expression once again changed. Her pained expression screamed that she was not used to paying, and maybe she didn’t even have much money.
“Fine, I will pay you. There is no need to repeat yourself repeatedly like a broken radio,” Kara said with gritted teeth as if she were being robbed.
I smiled inwardly when I saw the fare update on my system screen. Though, the tip still made me scowl.

Fare: 22$
Tip: 0

Oh well, just getting the fare was already a win.
But am I letting the tip go? Of course not. If not in money, she’ll pay in some other way.
The car fell into silence. Her destination was still far away as I continued driving.
“By the way, what’s your deal with your father?” I said it casually like I wasn’t prying at all. Which, of course, meant I was.
"None of your business," Kara snapped.
She turned toward the window, staring outside like I didn’t exist.
Oh, we’re playing that game?
“Oh, come on. I’m doing you a favor here. Allowing you to share your thoughts with someone,” I glanced at her, grinning.
"The way you’re traveling all covered up? The way our conversation went? You clearly have little to no friends to share your problems."
"Who said I have no friends?" Her head snapped toward me, eyes narrowed. "I have many!"
“Oh, really? Then tell me, other than me, is there anyone who knows about you being a mutant and calmly accepts it?” I asked, still with a casual tone, like I wasn’t pushing her toward the edge of a cliff.
“Of course, my mom,” Kara smirked like she’d just won the game.
“Oh, good for you,” I said.
Her smirk widened—
"But anyone other than her?"
Silence.
Kara’s smile froze. Her lips pressed together. Her jaw tightened. She didn’t answer. She couldn’t answer.
I grinned. Her silence was more than enough.
“Oh, don’t be so sad,” I said in a sympathetic tone—just enough to comfort her.
“You are lucky that your mom accepts you. Many mutants are directly disowned by their parents when discovered. You are fortunate in that case.”
Breaking someone too fast makes them useless. Slow and steady—mold them right, and they'll never even notice.
Kara exhaled softly. "Thanks," she muttered.
But she still felt bitter regarding her mother’s past actions.
I smiled. “How about it? I will be your friend,” I offered.
Kara’s head snapped toward me.
For a split second, her eyes lit up with something I’d seen before. Hope.
But it was drowned in suspicion almost immediately.
"Really?" she asked, cautious.
“Yes,” I nodded.
She hesitated. Then, slowly, she nodded back.
"Then… yes." Her voice was quiet and shy, as if she wasn’t used to the situation. Getting a friend sure made her happy.
Then, her expression shifted to something playful. She asked, “If we are friends, does that mean this ride is free?”
“Haha, nice try, but no,” I laughed.
“Can’t blame a girl for trying,” Kara sighed dramatically and then laughed together with me.
The rest of the time, we talked about each other. We got a lot closer in just a single taxi ride. We even talked about our past.
From what I understood about her past, it was not the same as the stories, but it was not that different either.
And those daddy and abandonment issues?
Oh yeah, those are going to be fun to work with.
A loyal, mind-controlling minion?
Sign me up for that.
As we reached our destination, Kara got out of the taxi.
By the time we reached her destination, she was comfortable.
She got out of the taxi, waving casually. "Bye, Kevin. See you later."
She turned to leave, walking a little too fast like she was running from a crime.
I rolled my window down.
"Ahem, Kara."
She froze.
I held out my palm, grinning. "Are you forgetting something?"
Kara’s face twisted into a pained grimace.
Reluctantly, she marched back, slapped the $22 into my hand, and turned around immediately.
Yep, this bitch didn’t give me a tip.
"Bye, Kara," I called after her.
She sped up.
"Bye, Kevin!"
She didn’t look back once.
She all but sprinted into the hotel.
I leaned back in my seat, watching her disappear inside.
That was... fun.

Congratulations! Feat Achieved!
Surviving First Encounter with a Superhuman
Reward: Dungeon Unlocked

—
“Hey Kevin, have you heard? There is a new vigilante who is aggressively taking down criminals. He calls himself Spider-Man and is seen wearing a themed costume,” Marko’s voice dripped with excitement as he spoke between bites of his lunch.
I barely acknowledged him because I was looking at Peter—or, more specifically, at the walking pity party he’d become.
Gwen and MJ sat on either side, whispering comforting words. Unexpectedly, even Liz Allan was there, sitting across from him.
Then there was Flash. Sitting at his usual table, glaring. Seething.
Peter had stolen his girlfriend, and he couldn’t even do shit about it, not after getting his ass kicked.
I turned back to Peter. Look at this player. Drowning in more pussy than he knows what to do with and still sulking. Some people just don’t appreciate what they have.
Oh well. Not my problem.
But judging by his gloomy face and what Marko just said…
Ben Parker’s probably dead.
So, currently, Peter is in extreme rage mode, hunting criminals one by one. Desperate to find the bastard who pulled the trigger.
Once he finds him, he will finally find some inner peace and officially start his career as the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.
Shouldn’t take long.
“Hey, are you listening?” Marko’s voice pulled me back.
“Yeah, I listened. A wannabe superhero is running around kicking thug asses. That it?” I asked.
Marko looked at me, stunned. "Don’t you find that cool?" He sounded almost offended.
I shrugged. “Meh, he's okay,” I said to rile him up. It was fun.
Before Marko could retort, a girl walked into the cafeteria.
The cafeteria was always buzzing with students. A girl entering wasn’t exactly a headline event.
But this one? She turned heads.
Platinum blonde hair. A figure that made people do double takes.
She stood out. Effortlessly.
She was-
"Felicia Hardy!" Marko slapped my arm, nearly making me drop my fork. His voice boomed across the table.
"She finally came to the cafeteria! I was waiting for this!"
A bit of drool glistened at the corner of his mouth.
"She joined our university and is in our year. Saw her in another class. Knew she’d come eventually, and here she is." He grinned like he’d just won the lottery.
Looks like someone has a crush.
It is understandable. Her beauty was on par with Liz, Gwen, or MJ. Our university had barely adjusted to the third great beauty, and now we had a fourth. The boys were practically vibrating in their seats.
Felicia, of course, ignored them all. She walked confidently, never faltering under the weight of the stares. Even the so-called "elite table" guys tried to get her attention. She brushed past them like they didn’t exist.
I leaned back.
How far along is she in her burglary career? Is she just starting? Or is she already pulling jobs that make the Kingpin sweat?
If it’s the former, I can try to recruit her. A formidable burglar can be a valuable asset if used properly.
If it’s the latter, forget it. I know my current worth. I would be ignored the same way those pathetic boys were dismissed.
As if Felicia felt something, she turned towards me. Our eyes met. I smiled and waved at her without feeling flustered or removing my gaze.
She paused for a second, then smirked and waved back.
Ha. Peter, are you ready to lose the first of your future love interests?
The moment passed. We went back to eating.
This was only the first meeting. Being in the same college meant many opportunities to interact with and influence her.
—
It's time to wrap up the day.
Juggling classes, combat training, taxi driving, and planning world domination? Exhausting.
I closed the taxi network app after I dropped my last passenger.
When I was about to reverse to leave the area, a man suddenly barged into my taxi.
I froze. For a second, I felt a strong sense of déjà vu.
Wait a minute…
Ah. Yes.
Not too long ago, a criminal entered my car and put a gun to my head.
Such a pleasant memory. How could I forget?
The man who entered this time was different. He was middle-aged with a receding hairline, fat, dressed in a black windbreaker. He sat there scrutinizing me.
I sighed. “Sorry, man. I am done for the day. You can find another taxi,” I said to my mystery passenger, hoping he would get the clue and fuck off.
The man grinned. But he didn’t move.
“That’s too bad, Mr. Kolt. I was hoping to chat with you,” the man said with a grin.
Huh? Mr. Kolt?
Then he pulled his windbreaker slightly to the side. A pistol tugged in his waist.
Of course, a fucking gun. The only thing missing in the equation.
Motherfucker. He came for me.
But why? I haven’t done anything that should put me on someone's radar.
“Can we have it tomorrow? I am feeling pretty tired.” Worth a shot.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Kolt. It won’t take long,” the man said, his grin widening.
He sounded so casual as if he were ordering coffee. He thought he had all the control.
I took a deep breath. This was going to be a long night.
"Sure." I kept my voice even. "What do you want to talk about, Mr.…?" I trailed off, fishing for a name.
The man chuckled. “Oh, look at my memory. I forgot to introduce myself,” he said in mock embarrassment.
Then he took out something from his pocket and flipped it open. A fucking police badge.
“I am Captain Robert Davis,” Robert introduced himself smugly.
…Motherfucker.
After a thug, now a cop? Fuck my life.
"What can I do for you, officer? I believe I haven’t broken the law," I kept my voice neutral, adding the last part in my head.
Robert tilted his head slightly. “Really? But how did I find that you aided an infamous criminal to get medical attention,” he asked.
My stomach tightened. How did he know?
“Mr. Kolt, it's not that difficult to find out?” Robert chuckled. He read my reaction like an open book.
I exhaled. Fine. Let’s play this game.
"I didn’t do it willingly," I said, keeping my tone even. "He put a gun to my head. I’m the victim here."
Robert nodded. "I believe you, Mr. Kolt," he said.
I wanted to feel relieved but could sense a ‘but’ coming.
"But, you see… my associates aren’t happy,” he said calmly, almost apologetically, as if discussing bad weather.
"Because of what you did—whether willing or not—he survived.” He sighed. "And we finally had the chance to take him out of the picture."
Awesome. A fucking corrupt cop. What my life was just missing.
What to do? I have a dangerous gang and a corrupt cop on my back.
Should I ask Uncle Niko for help? But I don’t want to trouble him when he and his family are helping me more than enough.
Even my newly unlocked dungeon isn’t of much help in this case.
When I was calculating my next move, Robert leaned forward slightly.
“Mr. Kolt, when I was looking through your file, I found something interesting,” Robert said with a smile, suddenly switching the topic.
Oh, I don’t like where this is going.
Robert’s grin widened. "Who knew?" He chuckled. "You’re Desmond Kolt’s son."
I stayed silent.
"A renowned name in organized crime in Liberty City."
His voice was almost… impressed?
"Your father’s something of a legend there."
“He left the life of crime after I was born,” I countered.
"Oh, he did," Robert sighed, shaking his head. "But he never got the punishment due for his crimes."
I exhaled sharply. "He’s already dead. Died three years ago. You’re a bit late."
“Yes, he did. I am sorry for your loss,” Robert said, looking sorry, though it didn’t reach his eyes.
I only nodded in return. My fingers were clenched on the steering wheel. A bad feeling was crawling up my spine.
Should I ask Kara to mind-control him? No, we are still not that close that she would help me mind-control someone with an order, much less a police captain.
“Mr. Kolt, have you heard the saying? Like father, like son,” Robert asked, changing the topic again.
My chest tightened. Alarms went off in my head.
“What do you mean, officer?” I asked with a steady tone.
Robert smiled. But this time, it was sharper.
"What I mean, Mr. Kolt, is that as the son of such a dangerous criminal…” he trailed.
He leaned in slightly and continued, "You may very well follow in his footsteps."
“Bullshit. I never broke the law. I am studying seriously to get my degree and find a respectable job in society,” I retorted. It might be far from the truth, but it was the truth on the surface.
Robert nodded slowly. “Yes, I know. I really appreciate a hard-working, honest kid like you.”
He leaned back, casual and relaxed.
“You study at the famous Empire State University and work hard as a taxi driver in your free time to cover your expenses. A modal citizen, indeed,” Robert said appreciatively. But I didn’t buy his nonsense.
Robert sighed dramatically.
"But…" He clicked his tongue.
"What would happen, I wonder, if some… evidence… suddenly appeared? Evidence that linked you to a serious crime?” His grin widened, enjoying the game.
"Maybe something, tying you to a dangerous criminal. Like the one you helped the other night. It would be so sad,” Robert said, shaking his head as if feeling sorry for me, but the mocking smile on his face was grating my nerves.
“Bullshit, no one will believe such fake evidence,” I said with a low simmering voice.
“You think so? But who will people believe? A respectable police captain or the son of an infamous criminal,” Robert chuckled as his eyes glinted with amusement.
“Even if, after many years of fighting in the court, you will somehow clear your name, though it is doubtful… your future? Already ruined. You can forget about ever getting a respectable job in the country. Your bright future will be crushed and replaced by a desperate and cruel reality,” Robert said, feeling pleasure for cornering me.
I controlled myself from lashing out, as it would only worsen my situation and give him more ‘evidence’ against me.
I forced myself to breathe to calm down the murderous thoughts.
“Get to the point. What do you want?” I asked in a steady voice, feeling impatient with how he talked in circles.
“Ah, a straight-forward person. I like it,” he said. His grin stretched further like he’d been waiting for me to ask.
“As I told you, my associates were quite… displeased… when you foiled their plan.”
Robert sighed dramatically. “But I stopped them from putting a bullet in your head when I told you how you can be useful,” he said, looking as if to suggest that I lick his feet to show my gratitude.
Did I feel happy that I dodged a bullet to my head? Yes.
Did I appreciate the fat fuck for his ‘help’? Absolutely no.
The fucker was already second on my kill list. The only gratitude he would get from me was a slightly less painful death.
His grin became wider, looking at me. He liked this game of cat and mouse.
I flashed a fake smile. “Thank you so much for saving my life,” I said sarcastically. “How can I be useful to you?”
“Oh, you can be useful. As a taxi driver, it is your job to roam the city. So, it won’t look out of place if—once in a while—you stop by certain locations… to deliver some packages,” Robert said, introducing the ‘job’.
“And I believe you will not tell me what will be in those packages?” I asked with a flat voice, knowing the answer.
Robert beamed. "This is why I like working with smart people. They know their boundaries," he said happily.
Then his voice lowered slightly, and his eyes darkened. "Yes. And let’s just say, Mr. Kolt, "finding out what’s inside won’t be good for your health."
I gritted my teeth. Fucking figures.
“How long do I need to do it? I will not be your personal mule who you can order for life. If this is a lifelong gig, I’d rather roll the dice in court,” I said.
“Of course not, Mr. Kolt. You just need to pay back the damages you cost me and my associates. After that, you will be free to leave,” Robert said reassuringly.
A big fat lie.
You and your associates will use me until I am no longer useful and then discard or finish me.
Of course, I would not say that. But your associates are already third on my kill list.
“Fine. Then what do you want me to deliver,” I said impatiently.
Just give me the package and get lost.
Smiling, he took a package from the inner pocket of his windbreaker and handed it to me. It was not very heavy. I had the urge to look inside it later, but I curbed my urge. My life is more important than my curiosity.
“Deliver it to this address by midnight. Don’t be late,” Robert ordered.

Received a classified package for delivery. Delivery mission activated.
Mission: Delivery
Description: Complete classified deliveries securely under strict time constraints
Objective 1: Complete 20 classified deliveries securely under strict time constraints
Reward: Endurance (F3)
Objective 2: Complete 50 classified deliveries securely under strict time constraints
Reward: Stamina Regen Increase (+100%)
Objective 3: Complete 100 classified deliveries securely under strict time constraints
Reward: Endurance (E1)

I smirked internally. Looks like his death date just got extended.

Chapter 5: Black Cat

Black Cat

I was on my way to drop the parcel after dumping that fat fuck Robert somewhere.
Because, of course, he had to make my life harder.
And the bastard didn’t even pay me.
"Consider it adjusted toward your debt," he had smirked before slamming my dashboard like it was some kind of tip.
Fucking fat piece of shit.
I gritted my teeth and focused on the road.
The good thing was that I unlocked the Adept stage for my [Driving] skill after completing fifty taxi rides. Having five years of driving experience forced into my brain surely made things easier. Now, I get tips from most of my rides.
To pass the time, I checked my current unlocked missions.

Missions:
Taxi Driver (60/100)
Vigilante (0/100)
Paramedic (4/100)
Delivery (0/100)

I am making good progress on my Taxi Driver Mission. I should be able to complete it in a month.
There is no way I will touch the Vigilante mission before I have some confidence in my fighting ability. Maybe I will try it after reaching the Apprentice stage in [Martial Arts] skill.
I don’t get many chances to increase the objective count of the Paramedic mission. Moreover, I can only do so much with just some first-aid skills. So, the progress of this mission is as slow as a snail.
The last is the newly unlocked delivery mission. It does not look as dangerous as the Vigilante mission and does not require a separate skill set like the Paramedic mission.
As long as I get more delivery jobs from Robert, I should be able to complete it quickly. However, I will look into other ways to complete it faster.
After driving for some time, I reached my destination. That fatty certainly did not make it easy for me. Harlem might not be as dangerous as Hell’s Kitchen, but it wasn’t a walk in the park either, teeming with criminal activity.
Many infamous crime lords, like Cottonmouth, Black Mariah, Diamondback, Shades, and Bushmaster, were the main competitors contesting the place, with many small-time gangs surviving in the fringes.
And me? I was just a nobody trying to drop off a package and not get shot.
I arrive in front of the house and check the address given to me. Yep, that is my destination.
No one outside. Just dimly lit houses and flickering street lamps.
The house is in the better part of Harlem. I exit the car and move towards the mailbox for the house.
I slid the parcel into the mailbox as instructed in the address slip.
The mailbox creaked. Too loud. For a second, I froze. My eyes scanned the street. Was someone watching me?
Nothing. No voices. No shadows shifting. Just my own paranoia.
I exhaled. It’s time to leave.
I had no intention of sticking around Harlem longer than necessary. Last time I went to Hell’s Kitchen, I ended up with a gun to my head.
And today? Let’s not repeat that.
I slide into the taxi and start the engine. The familiar rumble should be reassuring, but a chill runs down my spine.
No. No, no, no. How is it possible? It will not happen again, right?
I take a slow breath, trying to steady myself. I’m just being paranoid. Right?
A quick scan—front, back, left, right. The streets are empty. Not a soul in sight.
I sighed, sinking into the seat. Maybe I’m just exhausted.
The engine's hum and the rhythmic flicker of a distant streetlamp should be calming. For a moment, it is.
Then—
I relaxed too soon.
I saw a figure dressed in black running towards me through the rearview mirror.
BAM
The door slammed open. Before I could react, the figure slid inside, loudly shutting the door.
This motherfucker. Again?!
Am I cursed? Is that it? Did Uncle Roman give me a cursed taxi?
Once. Twice. And now thrice.
“Drive, quickly,” the figure ordered in a hasty, almost desperate feminine voice.
I have had it.
Even a cornered mouse dares to bite a cat.
And I was done being a fucking mouse.
Now, even if I die, I will kick that woman's ass out of my taxi.
Just before I turned back to give the mystery passenger a piece of my mind, something clicked in my mind.
Wait. Kick the ‘woman's’ ass?
I turned to look at the back seat.
Platinum blonde hair. Explosive body covered in a tight, black bodysuit. Eyes covered by a black mask. Curves in all the right places.
She is—
Oh, hello, Black Cat. Or should I say Felicia Hardy?
My bad. You and your tight booty can stay in the taxi.
I might even give you a 1% discount for the ride. Just kidding.
“Quickly drive, or they will catch up to us,” Felicia said, panic creeping into her voice.
I heard it this time. Engines. Tires screeching. Shouting. Shit.
I glanced in the rearview mirror. Headlights flared. Engines roared. Three SUVs were in the distance. Tires screeched as one car swerved aggressively—too aggressively.
I turned back to her. The desperation on her face showed she was still a rookie. The badass Black Cat would never make such a face.
Interesting. She was still a rookie. Still moldable. Still recruitable.
Felicia’s eyes flicked to my face. A small crease formed between her brows. Recognition? No—confusion first. Then, her lips parted slightly, only for her expression to quickly reset, like flipping a switch.
The small sign of recognition was quickly covered as she didn't want to blow her cover.
"Please, drive," she pleaded, her tone softer this time. "They’re dangerous people. They might think you’re my accomplice."
Maybe she felt sorry for involving an acquaintance so she was more mellow than before.
I looked back at the cars racing towards us and returned to the front with a smirk.
Time to finally put my [Driving (Adept)] skill to test.
Felicia better be ready to pay because I charge more as a getaway driver.
The second my foot hit the gas, the taxi shot forward like a bat out of hell. Tires screeched, the engine roared, and Felicia was instantly thrown back against the seat.
The taxi fishtailed slightly before I corrected the wheel, merging onto the road in a blur of neon reflections and streetlights.
Felicia braced herself against the door, her gloved fingers gripping the seat as the first of our pursuers—a black SUV with tinted windows—closed in.
Felicia gripped the door handle. “Please tell me you know what you’re doing.”
I yanked the wheel left, narrowly missing a parked truck. “I’ve played a lot of racing games. That count?”
Her eyes widened. “Are you serious—”
The first SUV accelerated, trying to flank us. I let them think they had me, easing off the gas just enough for them to get cocky. Then—bam—I slammed the brake and jerked the wheel left. The taxi drifted in a sharp arc, tires screaming as I narrowly avoided the incoming streetlamp.
The SUV? Not so lucky. The driver overcorrected, and with a sickening crunch, the side of the vehicle clipped a parked car. Sparks flew as metal crunched metal, the SUV grinding to a halt.
“Ooh,” I muttered. “That’s gotta hurt.”
One down.
I entered an alley wide enough for my taxi but not enough for the SUVs on my tail to enter.
The taxi scraped the alley walls, sparks flashing as the mirror on the side barely cleared the brick.
Felicia hurriedly tied her seatbelt as we barreled down the narrow alley. “Are you trying to get us killed?!”
“Sit back and relax, sweetie. Enjoy the ride,” I said, adrenaline coursing through my veins.
As I emerged from the other side of the alley, the second car was already to the left. I took a sharp right, barely missing the lamppost.
The second car caught up to our right, its tinted window rolling down just enough to reveal a gun's muzzle.
Oh, hell no.
“Duck!” I barked.
Felicia didn’t hesitate. She dove to the side just as the windshield exploded. Glass rained down, the bullet narrowly missing my head.
“Okay, assholes,” I gritted my teeth. “You wanna play?”
I swerved right, ramming the taxi’s side into the SUV. The impact rocked both vehicles, but mine had the advantage of sheer stubbornness.
The SUV veered, its tires catching the curb. It couldn’t turn in time, slamming into a fire hydrant.
Two down.
A second later, water erupted like a cannon blast, drenching the street.
Water slammed against my windshield. For a second—I couldn’t see shit.
Felicia gasped.
"Hold on!" I flicked the wipers on and gunned it forward.
“So, who did you steal from?” I asked casually, as if armed criminals weren’t currently hunting us down.
Felicia’s eyes widened at my question.
“I didn’t st-”
"Stop right there." I cut her off with a deadpan look. "I can literally see the small sack right there."
Felicia gave a sheepish smile. “It was Cockroach.”
“You have some balls trying to steal from Dontrell Hamilton,” I whistled.
Felicia blinked. "You… actually know who he is?"
I grinned. "Of course. And just because his gang is weaker than the big players in Harlem doesn’t mean they’re harmless. They’d kill you just as fast."
All hail meta-knowledge.
Felicia huffed. "In my defense, I only hit a normal house. How was I supposed to know the owner had a brother in Cockroach’s gang?"
She sighed. "Bad luck, really. Just as I was about to leave, I got spotted. One call to his gang, and now, as you know, here we are."
I smirked. "Oh, I know."
By then, the third car had caught up to us. A truck was coming out of an alley from the left. Soon, it would block the whole road.
I didn’t slow down but instead turned up the gear.
“Wait—” Felicia’s voice spiked.
"Hold on to your assets, sweetie!" I drawled with a southern accent.
A split-second judgment call. I gunned it—if I was even a second late, we were dead. The taxi shot through, the left mirror shearing off against the truck's backside with a scream. I didn’t even have time to check if my back bumper survived.
I only hoped that Uncle Roman wouldn’t kill me upon finding the state of the taxi later.
The roar of the SUV engine followed behind us.
Too late.
A delivery truck backed up completely, blocking the gap.
The SUV slammed its brakes, tires shrieking, but it was already too late.
BOOM.
The truck’s back end crumpled. The SUV’s hood folded like paper. Smoke curled from the wreck, the horn blaring non-stop as airbags deployed inside.
The impact sent shockwaves through the air.
Three down.
I kept driving, heart hammering, adrenaline singing through my veins. A quick glance at Felicia—her chest rising and falling rapidly, her mask slightly askew.
I grinned. “That was awesome!”
I drove for half an hour more, ensuring no one followed us. Then, I stopped. The area had low traffic, and the street was practically deserted since it was past midnight.
I took a deep breath of relief. That was enough adventure for one night.
The rush faded, leaving behind the dull ache of tension in my muscles. My heartbeat slowed, though the ghost of adrenaline still buzzed under my skin. I had been inches from death.
But did I regret what I just did? Probably not.
I knew the day would come when I would have to face the danger head-on. It might as well be today.
This would soon be my everyday life, so accepting and adapting as quickly as possible was good.
“You want me to drop you somewhere?” I asked my masked passenger.
Felicia was also taking deep breaths to calm her rapidly beating heart.
I was sure that, even if it was not her best adventure, it should be one of the best she had had to date.
Good first impression, I guess.
“No, here is good,” Felicia said as she exited the taxi. She walked to my window, leaning down with a flirty smile, and said, “Thanks for your help.”
“No problem,” I replied smoothly.
She flashed another playful smirk before turning to leave.
I blinked. That’s it?!
Oh, hell no, bitch. You ain’t leaving without paying me.
Three before you tried it. Two are on my kill list, and the third will have to pay with eternal loyalty. You will be joining her soon.
“Hey, where do you think you are going?” I asked slightly, raising my voice, and exited the taxi.
Felicia paused, her body tensed. She pulled her loot sack closer to her body.
Did she think I wanted to snatch her loot? Or that I wanted to blackmail her?
Well, she was not completely wrong.
She turned back cautiously; her eyes were sharp as knives.
Good expression. It would be fun to break it later
“What do you want?” she demanded, hostility lurking beneath her voice.
As long as I said anything she found annoying or worse, she wouldn't hesitate to attack me, forgetting all about the slight good feelings she had for me for being an acquaintance from the same college and saving her life.
Saying I was not afraid would be a lie.
Just because she was still a rookie burglar didn't mean she was weak. Her tier was F2, the same as the thug who pointed his gun at my head the other night. Achieved by her hard work.
I knew that having the same tier didn't mean being equal. Even in a single stat, having a strength at the same tier didn't equal their strength. The tier merely indicated the range or order of the strength, not the exact measure. Within the same range, there could be highs and lows.
But it didn't matter here. Whether she was stronger, weaker, or equal to the thug, she was strong enough to fold me in half. I was just a squishy F1 tier, no match for her.
But did that stop me? No.
Because at this point? I didn’t give a single fuck.
I was already beyond pissed with the day’s events.
First, a fat bastard blackmailed me into running deliveries for a gang.
Then, Felicia came out of nowhere, dragging me into a high-speed chase with a pack of psychos who wouldn't hesitate to gut me alive if they got their hands on me.
And for what? Because she botched a job and didn’t check who owned the damn house?
Sure, the adrenaline rush was fun. But that’s not the point.
I was tired. Pissed. Past the point of caring. So, to hell with the consequences.
“The best getaway driver in the city just saved your hot ass, and you want to leave before giving a cut from the job,” I said, smirking, keeping my posture relaxed.
Outward, I showed a confident expression, but inward, I was chiding my trembling heart.
Felicia blinked. For a second, she actually looked stunned. Then, just as quickly, her expression shifted. A slow smirk. A tilt of her head.
Danger passed.
Banzai. I wouldn’t be going home with broken bones tonight.
“Oh, do you think my ass is hot?” She asked with a silky voice as she walked towards me seductively. She moved intently, her hips swaying just enough to make it obvious.
As an adrenaline junkie, the earlier car chase gave her the much-needed adrenalin rush. After all, that was one of the reasons she stole, to feel the thrill.
That increased her interest in me, which was further increased by our current conversation.
“Of course it is,” I replied with a straight face. “But that's beside the point. So, don't change the subject; I want my cut,” I said, giving her a challenging look.
Felicia's face became sultry as she heard that. She crossed her hands, pushing up her very generous breasts, and stuck to me. Those bombshells touched my chest intimately.
Due to the way she kept her costume’s zipper down, I could see a significant amount of her cleavage accentuated by her actions.
“Really? Then what do you think about my breasts?” Felicia asked seductively, ignoring the second part of my sentence. She tilted her head up, eyes half-lidded.
Now, I was in a different kind of danger, but my F3 willpower and sheer exhaustion kept me grounded.
I was never so happy about having the F3 willpower.
“Of course, they are great too. Very soft but firm,” I replied, maintaining eye contact.
She had a massive misunderstanding if she thought she could turn me into a bumbling fool like other teenage boys.
Felicia froze at my reply. It once again caught her off-guard.
Too used to bumbling fools. Too used to men melting at the first sign of cleavage. It was a fresh experience for her.
The interest on her face increased. She pressed her breasts further in.
“My, isn't someone being too brazen,” Felicia said. The arousal was practically dripping from her face.
Ooh, the kitty was in heat.
She leaned her face toward my right ear and whispered softly, “Would you like me to pay you with them? I am sure you will enjoy your payment." Her lips softly brushed my ears.
She was testing my patience here.
I leaned in likewise towards her left ear.
“I am sure I will,” I whispered, lightly blowing in her ear. A shiver ran down her spine.
“Maybe I will take you up on your offer some other day. But today, I want some cold hard cash,” I said, pulling back and making some distance between us.
That was a close call. Any more, and I would have bent her over the taxi to punish her naughty kitty. Then, I would've gone home with all 207 bones broken. A close call indeed.
Felicia stared. Like she couldn’t believe what just happened. Like she had just lost a game, she didn’t even know she was playing. Her expression twisted as her face covered with frustration and rage at being denied.
But that couldn't mask the increased arousal and interest she was feeling.
“You,” Felicia screamed in anger.
I said nothing and only showed a cocky smile.
"Fine. Here’s your damn cut," she snapped, shoving a wad of cash into my chest hard enough to sting. "I hope you choke on it."
I calmly took it and started counting in front of her.
Felicia huffed, arms crossed, her frustration and irritation almost radiating off her.
Holy shit. One Grand!
More than what the guy who definitely didn't have a body in his suitcase gave.
If she gave me this much, that meant she had more cash. And from the bulge of the sack, there should be jewelry or other valuables in it. There was no way a low-level thug could have that much money. That gang member was likely one of the gang enforcers.
Even after the repair costs, I’d have a solid payday. Fortunately, the back bumper survived, or even this money wouldn't be enough.
“Nice, I didn't know being a getaway driver was so profitable,” I clicked out my thoughts, further irritating Felicia.
“As long as the pay is this good, I don't mind helping you with more jobs,” I said with a smirk.
“Who needs your help?” Felicia scoffed.
“Today was the last time you helped me. I will not need your help in the future,” Felicia growled. Then she turned around and stormed off.
I looked at her swaying backside as she disappeared in the shadows.
My gaze lingered on her backside for just a second longer than necessary.
Yeah, I’d tap that ass soon.

Chapter 6: Burglary 101

Chapter 6: Burglary 101

“Hey, Kevin, have you heard? We’ve got a new superhero team in town,” Marko said, practically vibrating with excitement.
I glanced around the cafeteria. He wasn’t the only one hyped. Students were huddled in groups, eyes glued to their phones, animatedly discussing something. A few even wore cheap knockoff merchandise. Already? Damn, that was fast.
It’s been a week since my high-speed getaway. Some significant developments have happened since then.
Apparently, successfully completing a getaway driver job counted towards the Taxi Driver mission count. That's one more avenue to complete the mission quickly.
The only problem, I didn’t know where to find more jobs like that. Black Cat may be a good source for stable jobs, but currently, she is still sulking over our playful banter the other day.
Yes, Felicia, I could see you sneakily glaring at me while pretending to stir your drink. Acting like you didn’t want to chew my head off. Poor girl, she didn't even know I knew her secret identity.
Whatever, let’s forget about the sulking kitty and move on.
Second, I finished four more deliveries for Captain Corrupt. No rival gangs sniffing around, no cops breathing down my neck. Lucky me. Well, for now. I’m pretty sure my supply of luck is running dangerously low. Or maybe I was just born unlucky. Shit, that’d be worse.
Anyway. My Vigilante mission count increased to five.
No, I didn't let my successful escape from those gangsters get to my head and go out looking for trouble. Neither was I consumed by revenge against my oppressors. Nor did my recent experiences awaken some deep, brooding sense of justice. That sounds exhausting.
Instead, it happened as a result of our high-speed chase. During the chase, some gangsters in the cars apparently died in those violent crashes.
Who could’ve seen that coming?
The system did because their deaths counted toward my Vigilante mission progress.
Oh well. A happy coincidence for me, a fatal one for them. At least they were good for something.
Initially, I worried the cops might come after me. But—nothing. No knocks at my door, no patrol cars trailing me. Looks like the gang cleaned up their own mess. Not like they could exactly file a police report against me.
"Officer, we’d like to report that this taxi-driving lunatic murdered our guys during a high-speed chase."
Yeah. That’d go over well.
So, no cops. Just an entire gang of violent criminals who now wanted me dead.
Which, while absolutely terrifying, is still better than having law enforcement breathing down my neck. I could avoid thugs. I couldn’t avoid a city-wide manhunt. I was nowhere near powerful enough to slip through that net.
I didn't have to worry about the gang members attacking me openly in the brighter parts of the city, as they were also not big enough to disregard the law openly.
Because that’s what this world boils down to—power and influence.
Currently, I was a piss poor lad with less influence than a flea-covered street dog. If the cops arrested me today, that’s it—I was done. They’d lock me up, throw away the key, and move on with their day.
But if I had enough money and power to buy law enforcement, like those big players like Kingpin did, then law enforcement would be the easiest to evade.
People like Kingpin didn’t “evade” law enforcement. They owned it.
One day, I’d get there.
Yes, there were many above the law enforcement, some who couldn't be bought, but that's the problem for the future me.
But today? I had a deranged lunatic with a six-barrel shotgun—creatively named “Six-Barrel Shotgun” (because, of course, he did)—and a bunch of his psycho friends actively trying to murder me.
For what it's worth, at least, they were not the strongest gang after my life. Our dear, corrupted Robert Davis had a status to maintain as the police captain. Even if he decided to work together with gangs, he would choose those at least similar to his status. And Cockroach’s gang is far from that level. So, the gang with which our dear, corrupt fatty worked was a gang much larger and organised than Cockroach’s band of lunatics.
It could be considered a silver lining. Right?
Man, fuck my life. Barely a month in this world, and I was already on the chopping block.
Fuck Marvel.
At least someone was finally happy.
Peter Parker must’ve finally found Ben’s killer, meaning he’s officially out of his "tragic teen out for revenge" phase. The friendly neighborhood Spider-Man should start popping up as a daily headline in the Daily Bugle any day now.
Meanwhile, Marko was still buzzing with excitement. “They call themselves the Avengers! How cool is that?” His eyes practically sparkled.
Yep. After the Fantastic Four, we now have our second official superhero team.
No, that purple maniac space tyrant hadn’t attacked yet. Yet. But an equally terrifying green monster full of overflowing rage did attack.
“I still don’t get it,” Marko muttered. “Why the hell would they let the Hulk join the team when he’s caused so much destruction? Shouldn’t they, I don’t know, lock him up?”
Honestly? Fair question.
The team formation was nothing grand like in the movies. The Avengers' formation roughly followed the comics' timeline.
Loki (that arrogant bastard) manipulated the Hulk into going on a rampage—probably because he was bored. This led Thor, Iron Man, Ant-Man, and Wasp to try (and fail) to stop him. Then, at some point, Thor realized Loki was behind the chaos, so they all teamed up to whoop the trickster’s ass instead.
Boom. Avengers assembled. That's how we got our second superhero team.
Of course, the general public had no clue about the Loki part. All they saw was Hulk smashing through everything like a sentient wrecking ball before the heroes miraculously “convinced” him to join their new team.
I knew because I had a front-row seat to the carnage.
It was like watching a Godzilla movie in 3D—except without the safety of a movie screen.
I witnessed the giant green rage-ball transform SUVs into origami, flip buses like he was playing with Hot Wheels, and reduce entire streets to rubble.
So yeah. If this is how the Avengers were starting out, I couldn’t wait to see what kind of shitstorm they’d cause next.
I summarized the rest after reviewing the limited news coverage of the fight.
Was I being too harsh on Hulk?
He only fought back because the superheroes misunderstood him and attacked him first. And in the end, he teamed up with them to stop Loki.
What a good person.
Maybe I’d even sympathize with the tragic green hero…
If he hadn’t nearly crushed me into a fucking pancake.
Yeah. Fuck that guy.
To be fair, I was kind of asking for it.
A superhero fight was happening so close, and my inner fanboy brain decided, “Hey! Let’s get a better view!” So, naturally, I drove way too close to the action.
Big mistake.
Because right when I thought I had the best seat in the house—
BOOM.
Hulk landed right beside my taxi.
The impact shattered the mirrors, and the force shook the entire car. I swear to OAA, my soul left my body for a moment.
For one brief, horrifying second, I thought I had died.
I was so close to the death door that I would have met Lady Death before Thanos or Deadpool.
Speaking of Thanos, since the attack on New York didn't happen, I still don't know what his current mindset is. Was he a self-proclaimed messiah fighting for the universe's future or a cosmic simp with a genocide kink?
Not that it mattered. Either way, he’s still planning to annihilate half the damn universe.
The only way that won’t happen is if Thanos just straight-up didn’t exist in this timeline.
…
Yeah, no. With my luck? That’s a damn pipe dream.
Sigh. Fuck Marvel.
Marko, completely misunderstanding my sigh, nodded. “So you agree they were wrong to include Hulk in the team?”
I just gave him a blank look. Sure, Marko. Whatever you say.
Then, he asked the real buzzing question among the common folk.
“Hey, do you think that Thor guy is actually a god?”
The question wasn’t unreasonable. Most people don’t immediately accept the idea that some muscle-bound hammer swinger is a deity. Most of them dismiss his claims outright, thinking he is a superpowered man with a god complex.
“Maybe he’s just an advanced alien,” I said, just to humor him.
Marko scoffed. “What? Aliens aren’t real. That’s just some conspiracy theory crap made up by nutjobs who think the government is hiding them in Area 51.”
“…”
I stared at him.
I opened my mouth.
Then closed it.
Because, honestly? I didn’t even have the heart to tell him how wrong he was on so many fucking levels.
“But why hide their faces?” Marko questioned, leaning forward as if he were earnestly trying to solve a mystery. “With their popularity, they could become instant celebrities.”
He moved on too quickly from the alien talk. Looks like he also bought into the general consensus about Thor.
“Not everyone’s like the Fantastic Four,” I said, shrugging. “They don’t care about revealing their identities. But some people prefer to separate their personal and superhero lives.”
After all, Iron Man, Ant-Man, and Wasp were all masked.
In the excitement of watching the fight up close, I even actually forgot to use my Observe skill on them, so I didn’t know their true identities.
I was sure Iron Man was Tony Stark. I mean, come on. The guy literally called himself Iron Man. It wasn’t some cheap rip-off name like "Ironheart".
But Ant-Man and Wasp? No clue.
Hank Pym? Scott Lang? Maybe that rogue S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, whose name I didn’t even remember, who got an Ant-Man suit? Could be any of them. Hell, it could be some random fourth guy.
It's the same deal with Wasp. Was it Janet Van Dyne, Hope Van Dyne, Nadia Van Dyne, or someone else entirely?
Maybe it was Hank Pym donning the Wasp suit.
...Actually, wait. Did both Hope and Nadia even exist in this world? Or just one? Or neither?
Too many questions. Zero answers.
Marko still didn’t look convinced. “Maybe,” he said, hesitantly.
“But still, it would’ve been a blast if the Fantastic Four had joined the fight.”
And then I saw it. The look. That stupid, pervy grin. Oh, this dumbass.
“Just admit it—you wanted to see Susan Storm,” I teased, smirking.
Marko immediately turned defensive. “Oh, come on. As if you don’t want to.”
I just shrugged, playing it cool. “Never said I didn’t.”
For a second, he looked at me, then grinned.
And just like that, we both started laughing, finishing up our lunch.
—
“What are you waiting for? Get in, quickly. Don’t make me regret calling you,” Black Cat snapped, motioning toward the vehicle before me.
As expected, the infamous hissy fit finally came to an end. It only took, what? Seven days? Damn, this kitty sure knew how to hold a grudge.
With a holier-than-thou attitude, she called me for a job, acting as if she were bestowing a favor by offering me an opportunity to showcase my driving skills.
Reality? She just needed a getaway driver for her latest heist.
This kitty was not only grudgeful but is also a tsundere.
You are walking a fine line here, kitty. Tsunderes can be either the most beloved or the most hated characters. Choose your actions wisely.
As for how she got my number, come on, we were from the same university; how difficult could it be for her to acquire it?
Not one to pass up an opportunity, I accepted her offer and arrived at the meet-up place an hour before midnight.
She was already sitting in the vehicle's passenger seat while glaring at me.
I can still feel my lips twitching as I watch the black vehicle before me.
Why? Because a fucking Black Boxville was in front of me.
What was it doing in Marvel? Why did Black Cat have it? When did she stop scaling rooftops to drive an armored van?
Felicia, you were breaking my immersion.
Oh, right, a correction. It would be me driving it.
I look at Black Cat’s face, which is becoming increasingly irritated as seconds pass by. With a tired sigh and a resigned look, I boarded the vehicle.
I just hoped driving it would not be as difficult as it was in the game. I was unsure if Adept-level Driving skills could help me with this.
So, where are we going?” I asked, eyeing the grumpy kitty beside me.
“Harlem,” Black Cat said casually.
“What?!” I shot her a look. “Just because you call yourself Black Cat, do you think you actually have nine lives or something?”
Did she think I didn’t have enough people already trying to kill me? Now she wanted me on another gang’s hit list?
“Stop being so dramatic. It’s just Harlem,” she waved off my concerns like I was overreacting.
"Just Harlem?" I repeated, incredulous. “You do remember last time, right? Or was that high-speed chase with armed thugs just a minor inconvenience?”
Felicia sighed, exasperated. “Relax. This time, I did my research. I know the layout. I know the security. What happened before? Won’t happen again.”
Sure. And I’m the King of Wakanda.
Logically, I should not believe her words. I should laugh in her face and walk away.
And I didn't believe her. Not for a second. In this world, for now, I only believe in myself.
I could walk away from here, from the danger. However, that would mean walking away from Black Cat forever, a valuable asset for my future plans.
Whether I agreed or not, I would still be a delivery mule. At the same time, I would live in fear that someday, someone from Cockroach’s gang would track me down and kill me. Or maybe the corrupt cop or his gang buddies would finally have no more use for me, and they would bury me with their secrets.
If I agree, I would take a risk. A risk to get a chance to break the status quo. An opportunity to start my crawl to claw my way to the top.
Risk is in everything, but risk and reward coexist.
A businessman risks his investment.
A criminal risks his freedom.
A politician risks his reputation.
A gambler risks everything.
A risk can make or break a man. A successful risk can push a man to the high heavens, while a failure can damn him to the ninth hell.
But it is a fact that all great men reached their position by taking risks. Unless everything is served to you on a golden platter, taking risks is necessary to achieve your dreams, become what you desire, and earn what you deserve.
Sigh.
I was sighing too much lately.
“Fine. Let's go,” I accepted.
Did I accept because I believed in Black Cat? No.
Was it a logical choice? Hell no.
But sometimes logic had to go on a vacation to make room for risk.
“Took you long enough to agree,” Black Cat grumbled while crossing her arms. However, I could see a slight smile that flickered briefly when I agreed to her proposal.
“And wear this,” Black Cat continued as she tossed me a mask.
It was a black ski mask. When I saw Boxville, I knew something was missing; now, I knew what it was.
Donning the mask, I look at my face in the rearview mirror.
A man wearing a black balaclava and a woman in black tights with her eyes covered by a mask. Yep, we definitely look like criminals.
Is she sure the cops won't arrest us before we even reach our destination?
—
Never thought I would be back here so soon.
Standing in the dead silence of Harlem’s streets, I kept my eyes on Black Cat as she worked the lock. The Boxville loomed behind us, looking suspicious as hell with its back doors hanging open.
It screamed, "Hey, cops, look at me!" but hey, maybe Harlem was used to worse.
"So, who’s the unlucky bastard this time?" I whispered, more to pass the time than out of actual concern.
“No one in particular. A small gang member in Mr. Fish’s gang,” Black Cat whispered while still focusing on the lock.
I blinked. My brain short-circuited for a second.
Mr. Fish?
Ok, deep breaths.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
My eye twitched as I swallowed the urge to curse her past nine generations.
“Do you have a vendetta against Harlem’s gangs? First, Cockroach, now, Mr. Fish,” I whispered, irritated.
Yes, I knew Mr. Fish was just a pathetic excuse of a gangster, and in extension, his gang members, who were all laughed at by the other gangs in Harlem. However, that’s when compared to other gangs or superheroes who dealt with them daily. For normal people, he was still a dangerous criminal.
Black Cat smirked but didn’t take her eyes off the lock. "Relax. The gang had a party, so the place is empty. Perfect time to sweep it clean."
Click. The lock gave way, and she pushed the door open like she owned the place.
I finally see the Black Cat in action. Her stealth skills couldn’t match her peak, but they still should be around Adept-level. On the other hand, I had to take each step carefully so as not to make any noise.
As we arrive in the living room, we see three thugs passed out on the sofa and the floor with alcohol bottles littered everywhere and enough cocaine on the table to make Tony Montana proud.
I turned to give her an accusatory look, and she merely shrugged. Such audacity.
"So what now?" I asked through gritted teeth. I was already this deep. No way I was leaving empty-handed.
Felicia flashed me a “That’s a good boy” look, which only sped up my blood pressure.
"Now," she whispered, her voice dripping with amusement, "we take everything valuable and load it into the truck. Simple. You grab the electronics and appliances. I’ll go for the cash and jewelry.” She winked and slinked toward the bedrooms.
Oh great. So now I was the getaway driver and the hired muscle. Fucking fantastic.
Oh well. Let’s start the back-breaking work.
I started with a pain in the ass, the television. A 43-inch flat screen stared back at me. I yanked the cord out, took a deep breath, and lifted.
Holy hell. It was heavier than I had expected, and my arms immediately began to protest. I moved at a snail’s pace, carefully balancing it like a bomb that would explode if I tripped.
I could see the outline of a gun on the waist of two of the thugs, and I didn’t want to know what they could do with it if they woke up from the noise.
The sheer effort of not dropping it made my legs tremble slightly. Each step felt like it took a year.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I reached the truck and carefully placed it inside. One down. Didn’t know how many more to go.
For the next half hour, I slowly packed everything of value into the van: microwaves, home theater systems, laptops, mobile phones that the thugs had not kept on their persons after removing their SIM cards, home appliances, and so on. I was thankful to the thugs for being out cold, which let me pull off my first burglary job relatively easily. Black Cat also helped with some lighter items to speed up the job.
I peeked into the kitchen, eyeing the fridge. Hmm… worth it? I tugged at it—nope. Way too heavy for one person. Let’s not tempt fate.
“You done?” Black Cat whispered as she appeared in the living room from the hallway at the same time.
“Yep, just the main bedroom remaining,” I whispered.
“Mine too. Let’s go together,” Black Cat whispered.
Maybe I became a bit too comfortable because everything felt so easy that I knocked over an empty alcohol bottle lying on the floor by mistake.
“Huh,” a thug opened his eyes and muttered groggily, "Hey… Jimmy… you still drinking?"
I dropped behind the couch, Felicia doing the same. She shot me a glare. I gave her a "whoops" look.
The thug scratched his head, blinking at the half-empty room.
"...Man… this new shit is good," he slurred, taking a lazy swig from a beer bottle lying beside him. "I’m so tripping, I swear half the stuff in this place is just… gone."
Felicia and I didn’t move a muscle.
Please go back to sleep. Please go back to sleep.
The thug let out a long yawn and then slumped back against the couch, snoring.
I exhaled slowly, releasing a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding.
Felicia shot me a look. Be careful this time, idiot. I gave a mock salute.
She just rolled her eyes and slinked toward the bedroom. I followed close behind, placing each step as carefully as walking in a landmine field.
We slipped inside the main bedroom. Inside, another thug was sleeping on the bed, snoring loudly, with a woman, likely a prostitute, with the amount of glitter on her face and skin, both equally naked. The room reeked of alcohol and cocaine, the floor littered with empty bottles. Considering that he got both the bed and the girl, he should be higher in the gang than the thugs outside.
I groaned as I saw another television. Ugh, let’s hope my back won't give up on me. Black Cat, meanwhile, looked for any hidden stashes in the room.
I came back after loading the television. Black Cat found the stash location. It was a safe in the cupboard. I scanned the room one last time, looking for anything small but valuable. Nothing worth the effort.
With nothing else to do, I leaned against the wall and watched Felicia work. Her hands were steady, and her fingers moved with experienced precision.
As she tried to open the safe with a lockpick, it suddenly made a clanging noise.
The thug's snores stopped suddenly, but he didn’t get up. We watched him with bated breath; my hand was dangerously close to the vase on the side table.
Fortunately, he started snoring again a few seconds later. We both sighed in relief at that.
Black Cat returned to open the lock. Soon, she opened it and quickly filled her duffel bag with cash and jewelry. After she was done, we left quickly, making as little noise as possible.
We got in the Boxville, and I drove away fast. No one spoke the entire way, and we looked in the rearview and side mirrors to see if any cars were following us.
Finally, we reached the lock-up where the Boxville was kept and exited after parking it inside.
We came out together and saw each other. And then we laughed. Hard.
“Not bad for your first job, rookie,” Black Cat praised.
“I will not say I had a good teacher,” I replied playfully.
“You little,” Black Cat said, playfully punching my arm.
“I know a fence. I will sell the stuff as soon as possible, and then we can split the money. How about a 30% cut?” Black Cat asked.
“Sure, good for me,” I said easily.
Was I worried that she might run away with my cash? Not really.
If she were to really do that, I knew where to find her.
When Black Cat heard that, she smiled, pleased. Then, her smile turned flirtatious, and she moved gracefully toward me like a cat.
“How about I give you a little reward in advance for the good job you did?” Black Cat asked, her body mere millimeters away from me.
“Oh, what reward?” I asked with a smile.
She didn’t say anything and directly locked lips with me. The kiss soon became heated as our tongues battled for dominance. My hands were on her hips as I groped them harshly while her hands were behind my head, pulling my head in.
Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, and so did our kiss.
“Goodbye, rookie, till we meet again,” Black Cat said as she smiled seductively and turned around.
She left, her hips swaying more than usual, intentionally. I watch her swaying backside moving rhythmically.
Yep, I would tap that ass very soon.

Chapter 7: First Fight

It’s been a week since Felicia and I pulled off that heist. A whole month has passed since I woke up in this world, and I’m finally getting comfortable, not just with Marvel but with the start of my criminal life.
Progress has been steady. My missions are advancing, my skills are sharpening, and most importantly, I’ve finally completed my first mission.
My first completed mission. It was a great accomplishment for me. And damn, was the reward worth it.
When I received the Expert level [Driving] skill, my entire perception of the road changed. It wasn’t just knowledge flooding my brain—it was instinct. Suddenly, I wasn’t just handling a car; I was commanding it.
Precision driving, J-turns, curb riding, PIT maneuvers, spin recovery—things I had only seen in action movies felt natural. I could predict weight shifts, engine responses, and road traction without thinking.
The explanation said this skill was equivalent to ten years of driving experience, but let’s be real—no casual driver reaches this level in a decade. This was professional driver territory.
And I earned it.
With this, I wasn’t just some taxi driver anymore. I was the getaway driver.
But that wasn’t my only improvement. After the fifth successful first-aid attempt, I unlocked my third skill: First Aid.
As soon as I received it, I learned the basics of proper wound cleaning, hygiene, and dressing, how to apply pressure to stop bleeding without hesitation, basic CPR, and a few other essential skills.
I flexed my fingers, remembering the sensation of securing a bandage the right way, of feeling a heartbeat under my care. The difference between an amateur and a better amateur who actually knew what he was doing.
Of course, I did not get many chances to use this skill. Since then, I have managed only one more successful first aid incident.

Skills:
Driving (Expert)
Martial Arts (Novice)
First Aid (Novice)

And then there was Martial Arts. The one skill that was not progressing. I hadn't leveled up despite two weeks of daily practice alone and with Uncle Niko, and I knew why.
Training was not enough. I needed real fights. Sparring and drills would only take me so far—without combat experience, I would be stuck for months and maybe longer. I needed to hit someone and get hit back.
But was I about to go looking for a fight? Hell no.

Missions:
Taxi Driver (100/100) (Complete)
Vigilante (5/100)
Paramedic (6/100)
Delivery (10/100)
Burglary (5/100)

I finally completed the Taxi Driver mission. It was the easiest, and now that it’s over, I can focus on more… unconventional means of improving myself.
The others? Not so simple.
The Vigilante mission is staying on ice. I’m not touching that until I hit Apprentice level in Martial Arts. The five bodies I’ve racked up were unintentional—flukes of circumstance. Actively going out to pick fights with criminals? Yeah, no. That’s just asking for trouble.
The five thugs that died because of my actions? That was different.
I hadn’t planned to kill them. It just… happened.
Do I feel guilty? No.
Do I feel anything at all? …Not really.
Maybe that should worry me.
But I don’t have time for moral dilemmas. Not in this world.
The Paramedic mission is going nowhere fast. Even though I managed to get a First Aid skill after five successful treatments, I’ve barely had the chance to use it since. It turns out random people don’t just let you bandage them up, and without a proper medical background, I’m stuck waiting for someone to bleed out in front of me before I can do anything useful.
The Delivery mission is frustrating as hell. The only source of progress is the corrupt cop, which means my ability to level up is tied directly to that fat bastard’s whims. I even tried getting a job as a pizza delivery guy, thinking it would count. Nope. After running around like an idiot, I checked the mission log—zero progress. You’d think dodging traffic to deliver pizzas before time would count as high-stakes delivery, but apparently, my system doesn’t give a shit about pepperoni emergencies.
Finally, I have a new mission added to my list: Burglary. I got it after successfully completing the burglary with Felicia.

Description: Execute successful robberies without being caught
Objective 1: Execute 20 successful robberies without being caught
Reward: Skill: Stealth (Apprentice)
Objective 2: Execute 50 successful robberies without being caught
Reward: Skill: Stealth (Adept)
Objective 3: Execute 100 successful robberies without being caught
Reward: Skill: Stealth (Expert)

The skill in the reward will be a great addition to my growing list of skills, but I just can’t go every day looking for places to rob.
After our last job, Felicia stopped sulking and finally acknowledged my existence again. While she hasn’t invited me on another heist, she did let me borrow the Boxville whenever I wanted to do a job on my own. She even offered to fence my loot—for a cut, obviously.
As for my share from our last heist, I got three grand. That’s big money for me right now.
I’ve been using my taxi job to scope out easy targets. Since I don’t have Felicia’s expertise or connections, my options are limited to small homes in shady parts of the city—places with minimal security and no high-profile owners.
But I’m avoiding Hell’s Kitchen and Harlem like the plague.
That’s just asking for trouble. I already have enough trouble breathing down my neck—I’m not stupid enough to add another.
Oh well, let’s get back to my job. I have to make the eleventh delivery.
I stopped in a shady part of the city for the delivery, and I realized that this had been happening more and more lately.
Whatever, let’s drop the package and leave quickly.
The drop location was a trash can in an alley. When I found the trash can that matched the description, I dropped the package in it. As I wanted to turn around and leave, a voice stopped me in my tracks.
“Look, boys, a rat lost his way on our turf,” a thug said with a menacing grin that showed more rotting teeth than actual teeth as he came out with two other thugs from a building in the front.
I heard steps from behind and looked back to see two more coming from the back with sadistic smiles. With three in front, two in the back, and walls on my left and right, I was blocked from all sides.
The one in the lead in my front wore knuckles on his hands, two had bats, and the rest were barehanded.
I let out a bitter smile. Was I cursed? Or do I have a crow’s mouth? Just a while ago, I thought I wouldn’t fight, but here I was, surrounded by thugs who didn’t look like they would let me go with just a nice chat.
I held up my hands, playing it casual. “Oh, sorry, fellas. Someone called for a taxi, but I didn’t see that person. Probably a mix-up. I’ll just—”
The cold, hard tip of a bat pressed into my back. Ah. Thought so.
I held my ground as the lead thug stepped closer, his eyes locking onto mine. He was taller, bulkier—built like a guy who thought hitting the gym thrice a week made him invincible. His breath reeked of cigarettes and bad decisions.
“What’s the hurry?” he said, voice thick with fake politeness. “You can leave. But first, tell us what you put in the trash can.” His eyes never left my eyes.
Was that move supposed to scare me? It might have worked when I first woke up in this world, but with all that I had been through in the last month, that barely fazed me.
“What do you put in a trash can? Of course, it's trash,” I said matter-of-factly, maintaining his gaze.
The reply shocked him a bit. He didn’t think a scrawny guy like me would dare talk back to him in that tone. He started laughing hard, and his fellow thugs joined in the laughter. The kind of laughter that told me they were already thinking of ways to break my ribs.
“Boys, looks like we got a smartass here,” the leader smirked. Then, faster than I expected, his hand shot out, grabbing my collar.
His breath was in my face. Burnt tobacco and cheap beer.
“You better pray that’s the truth,” he growled, all humor gone. “Or you’re gonna regret talking to us like that.”
He jerked his chin at one of his guys without breaking eye contact.
The thug nodded and strutted over to the trash can. Slow. Deliberate. Like he already knew what he’d find.
I watched as he pulled out the neatly wrapped package and held it up, inspecting it. His fingers prodded the edges, searching for an opening.
Then, he pulled a knife from his pocket with a practiced motion.
Of course, he had a fucking knife. Just what was missing in the upcoming slugfest.
The thug jammed his knife into the package’s center and sliced downward. The moment the blade ripped through, a fine white powder began to spill down.
Of course, that fat fuck made me deliver drugs.
I put my hand on my head and rubbed it as a headache began to creep in. I exhaled slowly.
I was sighing too much these days.
The fight was inevitable.
“Remember, kid, if you ever find yourself in an inevitable fight, then remember three rules:
Hit first.
Hit hard.
Hit fast.”
I suddenly remembered Uncle Niko’s advice as I sighed once again for the inevitable.
“You have got balls, smartass. Our Black Dog gang just claimed this turf, and you delivered drugs here without our permission and without paying us the tax. Tsk, Tsk, Tsk. And on top of that you dared talk back to us in that cocky tone,” the thug said sneered.
Just as I was about to punch, I stopped. Black Dog?
“Is your leader’s name Volt?” I asked, half curiously and half trying to hide my smirk.
“What—” the thug became shocked by the question, and that was the perfect moment as I hit him with a perfect uppercut at the tip of his chin. One punch, and he hit the pavement like a sack of bricks. Uncle Niko would be so proud.
I looked at the downed thug and the other thugs looking in shock. Nah, they didn’t look like the type who could establish their own Cuntry.
The rest of the thugs stared at their fallen leader like their brains were buffering.
Taking advantage of their momentary lapse, I close in on another knife-wielding thug. He was currently the most dangerous. A sharp hook to his left temple. He reacted, but it was somewhat late. Though not perfectly, the punch connected as he jerked his head back. But the force was enough only to disorient him.
Since I couldn’t knock him out, I went for the next best thing and kicked the knife away from his hand. It was easy because, due to the pain and concussion, his grip was loosened.
Then the pain came. A bat slammed into my back. Fire shot through my spine, knocking the air from my lungs. My vision blurred for a split second as my knees buckled beneath me.
I held back a cry as I thanked OAA that the bat was not aimed at my head. Wincing in pain, I barely dodged another swing as I turned around. The other three thugs looked at me as if they wanted to gut me alive.
I cracked my neck, flexing my fingers.
Three-on-one slugfest?
Yeah, I’ve had worse.
Let’s dance, assholes.
I gritted my teeth and raised my left arm at a perfect ninety-degree angle, intercepting the bat swinging down toward my head. The impact rattled my bones, sending a wave of pain through my forearm. A second bat came swinging at my stomach—I barely managed to block it with my right arm.
With both my arms busy and me locked in place, I couldn’t block or dodge the punch to my solar plexus. The air rushed out of my lungs in a violent gasp as my knees buckled. It hurted like a bitch. My entire body screamed at me to drop—but I couldn’t afford that luxury.
Gritting my teeth, I tried to leave the encirclement. I needed to escape the encirclement and then run away, but doing it was harder than saying it.
I dodged a kick by stepping sideways, but was met with a bat to my right shoulder. A reckless idea popped into my head as I took that opportunity, and while the thug hadn’t pulled back his bat, I pivoted sharply and threw a low, brutal kick at one of the thug’s Achilles tendons while taking another bat near the left shoulder blade.
At least my reckless attack served some purpose. The thug was effectively out of the fight as he fell, taking the kick and lying on the ground clutching his foot, grunting in pain.
Two more to go.
It might be because my reckless, ruthless, and near suicidal way of fighting intimidated them, so they didn’t attack immediately. Hesitation was clear in their eyes as they looked at me, but they didn’t make the next move.
These kinds of thugs were used to bullying the weak, but the moment they came across someone more ruthless than them, someone who fought back, they were at a loss for what to do.
I considered taking the chance to run—I had already put one down. If I made a break for it now, I could probably escape with minimal injuries.
But before I could make a decision, a bloodcurdling scream echoed from the building where the first three thugs came out from.
The screams were chilling and horrifying, and they sent a shiver down my spine.
Gunshots rang out in the distance—but then, silence. No shouting. No threats. Just the eerie, suffocating quiet that came after a slaughter.
A thug came running out of the building. Visceral fear was painted on his face.
“Run!” he shouted desperately to his fellow thugs. He ran fast, but he didn’t make it.
It looked like the rest of the Black Dog gang members were deeper in the left alley, and something had happened to them that terrified that thug to his core.
A sharp crack rang out as a stone struck his back, sending him sprawling onto the pavement with a pained shriek. He tried crawling away, nails digging into the asphalt, desperate—but his body refused to cooperate.
And then she appeared.
She was dressed in purple from head to toe. A crop top clung to her form, ending just above her belly button. Skin-tight latex leggings hugged her legs, paired with a cropped biker jacket that barely reached her waist. A choker sat snug around her neck, complemented by fingerless gloves. High-heeled boots, just as purple as the rest, completed the look.
Okay, that was too much purple.
Her black hair, which reached mid-back, lightly swayed as she walked leisurely with a blank face towards the thug who had fallen from the stone hit.
He looked back at her with abject horror. His breaths turned into frantic whimpers.
He watched in terror as she reached his face. She didn't even bother to look down and stomped her heel down on his head.
SPLAT
The head was crushed like a fucking watermelon. She didn’t even look down. Didn’t even pause. Like she had just stepped on an insect.
She could hide her face behind a mask of indifference, but I think I saw something much deeper. It was like she was struggling with something outside her control, as if she didn't want to do what she was doing but had to do it for some reason.
Despite how indifferent and cold she tried to look, I noticed the momentary flickering in her eyes as she stomped her feet.
After that thug, it was the turn of the thug whom I hit in the Achilles tendon. He barely got up, but she held his head and smashed it into the wall.
She kicked his bat towards her hand and threw it towards another thug before me. The bat hit his head, and he fell with a shout. There was no way he would ever get up again.
The last thug was smarter and turned to run, but she picked up a broken brick from the side and threw it straight at him. The brick hit squarely on his head, and he was out.
With her strength and purple outfit, I had an idea of who she was. I think there is only one man who was so obsessed with her and the colour purple, so she could only be one person.

Name: Jessica Jones
Tier: E3
Power: Superhuman Strength, Superhuman Durability, Superhuman Vitality, Limited Flight, Limited Healing Factor

Damn, she was my first E3. That was already a very strong superhuman. One wrong move, and I would join those thugs on the ground. The difference between us is like the difference between a street thug with a knife and a trained soldier with a large machine gun waving it around with practiced ease.
I wanted to use Kara to approach her on more neutral grounds for a slow, careful game, rather than when I was in enemy territory with her on the hunt for those enemies, and the possibility that she might consider me an enemy, too.
But plans don’t mean shit when you’re one heartbeat away from death.
I had to figure out a way to not only keep myself from becoming a blood splatter on the wall but also to influence her, as I didn’t know when I would get this opportunity again.
As I observed her subtle emotions and expressions, I felt that if I played my cards right, I could not only save my life but also make substantial progress towards securing a loyal enforcer.
But no matter how grand my plans were, I wouldn't lie, I felt my heartbeat stop for a moment when Jessica finally turned to me and looked at me with those cold, indifferent eyes.
I was suddenly having second thoughts.

Chapter 8: Breaking the Cycle

— Jessica —
I arrived at the turf of the Black Dog gang that they had recently claimed. They were a newly rising gang who were making their name in extortion, drug trade, and organ trafficking.
Of course, the neighbors didn't take kindly to their new neighbors and competitors. They hired my ‘master’ to remove their rising competitors before they could become strong enough to threaten them.
My disgusting, perverted, obsessive, psycho, control freak, master.
Every waking moment, I searched for a way out. A way to escape. A way to end him. But the longer I stayed under his control, the more impossible it felt.
A few years ago, I was just an ordinary girl. After I completed high school, my father took our family to an amusement park. But who would have thought I would lose my family, father, mother, and brother in an accident on the way back due to crashing into a truck carrying some chemicals?
I was in a coma for many months. After I recovered, I slowly went back to everyday life with my adoptive family, with my adoptive sister playing no small part in that.
Soon, I found that something was different. I felt stronger. I realized I had superpowers: superhuman strength, durability, improved healing, and the ability to jump very far.
I was excited about my powers and decided to use them to fight crime part-time at college.
The initial years were fun. Whenever I stopped crime in the city, I felt a sense of achievement, no matter how little time I had to patrol the streets due to my college commitments, while covering my face to protect my identity.
After four years, I completed college and wanted to dedicate more time to vigilante work.
But then the dreadful day arrived.
It started in a restaurant, just another meaningless brawl—thugs roughing up civilians while I stepped in to stop them. I didn’t know they were already under his control. I didn’t know he was watching.
When the police arrived, he gave his first command.
"Take care of them. I want to eat in peace."
My body moved before I could resist. The cops fell like dominoes. I wanted to stop, but my hands kept moving, and my strength turned against the innocent.
Then, I was ordered to join him for dinner and sat across from him without wanting to. That was the start of my nightmare.
Kilgrave saw the world as his playground. He controlled people like chess pieces, making them destroy themselves for his amusement. He took pleasure in breaking them, in proving his power was absolute.
With beautiful women, it was worse.
They weren’t lovers. They were dolls—used, discarded, replaced. His boredom set in quickly, and he’d cycle through them within a week. But me? I was special.
A weapon and a plaything wrapped in one.
I became his assassin, his enforcer. I executed rivals, silenced witnesses, and erased inconveniences. Whether I wanted to or not, my hands were covered in blood. In months, I had taken more lives than I could count. Each one weighed my soul, pressing down until I felt like I would suffocate.
And when I wasn’t killing?
He would take me to bed. He would make me perform degrading and humiliating acts just to satisfy his perverse mind. Sometimes, he even ordered me to serve his clients.
His control over me was absolute, but that didn't mean I didn't have free will. It's more like his commands override my free will. It didn't matter what I wanted; once he ordered something, I would do it, despite how much my brain was screaming at me not to.
Then came the worst night of them all. Kilgrave wanted to make a point—to show me how completely he owned me.
"Kill them," he said, gesturing to the family huddled before me. A father. A mother. Two children. Their eyes were wide, their hands clutching each other in silent prayer.
I tried to stop myself—I really did. I told myself I wouldn’t do it and would fight back this time.
But the moment the order left his lips, my hands moved. A crack. A choked gasp. A sickening crunch. The silence afterward was deafening.
I didn’t remember how long I stood there, staring at the blood on my hands. I didn’t remember leaving the room.
That was the day something inside me broke.
I had held on to the hope that I could escape. Perhaps one day I’d be free. But that night, I realized the truth.
I was never leaving.
I was never going to be the same.
The nightmares would never stop.
With my desolate thoughts, I finally found my targets. There were twenty-something thugs. Mostly with bats or knives, but a few also had guns with them.
“Damn, sweetheart, did you take a wrong turn on the way to your sugar daddy,” one of the thugs who noticed me mocked with a lecherous face.
Yes, I was aware of my outfit, but it was something selected by my master. The only thing he was as obsessed with as me was the color purple. And he really liked making me dress in provocative clothes to show off his claim on me.
His voice turned everyone's attention to me. All of their gazes were at precisely one point on me, or more like two points.
"Hey, Larry, I doubt you will last more than a minute with her," another thug joked, addressing one of his fellow thugs.
“Shut the fuck up, Barry,” Larry shot back, irritated. “That’s rich coming from a two-pump chump.”
“What did you just say, you motherfucker?” Barry stomped toward Larry, ready to throw down.
Their laughter echoed off the alley walls.
They didn’t care that I was there. They thought I was already theirs.
Whatever, it was not the first time. Let's get this over with. Although I was not interested in returning, I had to return as soon as possible, according to his orders.
Looking nearby, I saw a trash can. I picked up its lid and threw it toward one of the thugs with a gun. The lid spun like a frisbee and sliced that thug’s neck and another one who was directly behind him.
The wet thud of two objects falling silenced the entire room.
“Tom!” one of the thugs screamed and aimed his gun at me. I was already on the move. I ran and grabbed the nearest thug to use as a shield. The bullets behind me missed me entirely.
Even with my enhanced durability and vitality, I did not like being hit by bullets. Even if I knew these low-caliber bullets couldn’t even pierce my skin, they would still damage my clothes.
The thugs shot on my shield who flailed with each bullet impact. By the time they emptied their magazines, the thug was already shot into a sieve. I threw his body away and took advantage of the time they reloaded their guns.
I lunged at the nearest thug armed with a knife, my fist slamming into his throat. Cartilage crunched under my knuckles as he staggered back, choking on his own breath. His body convulsed for a second before he collapsed, his gasps turning into a wet, gurgling noise.
A thug took advantage of that and hit the back of my head with an iron rod. I looked at him, bored. It stung a bit, but that's it.
The thug stood there, the iron rod still raised but bent slightly due to impact, his face slowly morphing from triumph to sheer terror as he realized I wasn’t even fazed.
“M-monster,” he screamed in terror as the rod fell from his hands.
That's right. I was a monster.
I grabbed him by the throat and lifted him off the ground. His legs kicked uselessly, his hands clawing at my wrist. It didn’t matter. My grip tightened, his gasps turning into desperate wheezes. Then—snap. His body went limp.
I dived behind a crate as I dodged a bullet. The thugs were done reloading. They fired a few more bullets but stopped soon after.
They were closing in.
I dived out of my hiding place towards the fallen rod. The thugs shot at that moment but missed again. Picking up the rod, I threw it towards one of the thugs with a gun. The rod hit squarely in his chest, and it caved in.
I ran towards another thug while the last two thugs with guns tried to hit me. I grabbed the thug when I reached him and kept running towards another. The thug was held sideways to shield me from any stray bullets.
I reached for another thug and threw the one in my hand toward one of the gun wielders. He crashed into his buddy, and I heard a sickening crunch. One of them didn't survive the impact.
I dodged the knife of the thug in front of me and punched him in the face. That was enough to end him. I snatched his knife and threw it at the last gun-wielding thug. It hit his shoulder and lodged inside as the thug screamed in pain.
I should work on my aim. At least it disabled his main arm, and I was free for some time from any more bullets flying my way. That was more than enough time to finish the rest of the thugs.
I felt my soul scream at every kill, but I ignored its desperate cries as I downed one thug after another amidst their howling and begging for mercy.
Unfortunately, in the end, one of the thugs ran outside from behind.
A tiny part of me felt relieved that one got away. I didn't want to follow and kill him, but my body moved anyway. My orders were clear: eliminate the Black Dog gang as soon as possible.
I left the building from the back entrance and arrived at an alley. The thug was running away, and there were even more thugs outside.
When would it be over? I would have to kill even more people. Why?
There were a few fallen thugs. Did they have an internal conflict? Not that it mattered.
I picked up a stone and hurled it at the fleeing thug. He fell and started crawling. I walked forward and stomped his head while passing by.
Another thug who was on the ground barely got up. I grabbed his head and bashed it on the wall. Kicking his bat in my hand, I threw it, and it hit his head.
Another thug ran away, seeing that. No, I wouldn't waste my time finding him. I just wanted to escape from this nightmare. I picked up a broken brick and threw it towards the fleeing thug. My luck seemed to be good, as it again hit the head.
Now, only three thugs remained. One was standing, and another two were on the ground, one of whom was now trying to get up.
I turned to the only one still standing. I saw the same fear in his eyes I saw in the thugs, but strangely, it disappeared the next moment.
Was he no longer afraid of me? Weird.
Now that I looked at him, he looked different from the others. No tattoos, no scars, groomed appearance, and casual clothes. He looked a couple of years younger than me.
Was he merely a passerby who was at the wrong place at the wrong time? That would be worse as I didn't want to kill another innocent.
When I attacked my previous targets, there were no innocent civilians nearby. When I killed everyone, even if they didn't deserve to die, they were still criminals, so the guilt was a bit less. But it was different with an innocent civilian.
Of course, he could also be part of the gang, just that he didn't like to dress the part. I felt sick as just for that little uncertainty, I would have to kill him.
“Relax, miss. I am not with them. I am just a taxi driver and came here due to a misunderstanding. There, you can see my taxi standing right there,” the guy who claimed to be a taxi driver said. And indeed, there was a yellow taxi standing outside the alley on the street.
The urge to kill decreased, but it was still there. He might be lying. A cornered rat will do anything to save its life. But I could feel he was speaking the truth, at least partially.
Maybe because the guy understood that was not enough, he continued, “If you don't believe me, you can look around. These five thugs circled me. I was just here to pick up a fare, and these assholes decided to tax me for working their turf. I said no, and things got ugly.”
He gestured to the scattered thugs, “These two thugs lying down are because I hit them. Yes, I played dirty and attacked while tricking them. But I don't feel guilty when the fight was one against five. Moreover, you must have seen that me and those thugs with their weapons drawn, who were previously standing, were facing each other.”
Once again, it was the truth, but once again, not the complete one. However, the evidence was sufficient to prove that he was not affiliated with the Black Dog gang.
As he said, they certainly looked like they were fighting when I first saw them, and this guy was facing the gang members.
“Leave. Don't mention whatever happened here to anyone,” I said coldly. If Kilgrave found out that there was a witness, then my next task would be to eliminate him, which I certainly wouldn't want to do, but would have to do.
“Thank you,” the guy said and turned. I turned my attention to one of the thugs on the ground, still unconscious. I stomped his face—just the last one to go, who was slowly getting up.
But just as I wanted to kill him and be done with it, the taxi driver stopped in his tracks and turned around.
What did he want?
“You don't like doing this, don't you?” the taxi driver asked with a steady voice, though his tone felt more like a statement.
I stiffened.
"You don't want to kill them," he added, not even bothering to frame it as a question this time.
My fists clenched. "Stop this nonsense and leave. Or I don’t mind adding you to the bodies on the ground." I let a sliver of killing intent leak out. Just enough to make him back off.
I didn't know how he could tell what he said, but whatever the reason, he should stay away from the city's darker parts, especially from a murderer like me.
He flinched, but only for a second. Then, as if steadying himself, he exhaled slowly.
“I can see it in your eyes,” he continued, his voice quieter now but no less sure. “You don’t want to do it. But you have to. Because someone’s forcing you.”
My body tensed.
“It’s blackmail, isn’t it?”
I froze. What?
His expression didn’t change. He watched me, analyzing every flicker in my face and shift in my posture.
“I mean, to make someone as strong as you do something against your will…” He took a small step forward. “It has to be blackmail. Whatever the bastard holds over you, it’s enough to keep you in line. To make you follow orders like a doll.” He said those words despite knowing he might die for uttering them.
What he said was not far from the truth, even though it was untrue.
“That is none of your business,” I snapped, my voice colder. “You shouldn’t poke your nose where it doesn’t belong, or it may prove fatal to you.” He would only die faster if he continued poking in Killgrave's business.
He held my gaze. This time, he didn’t even flinch. He looked confident.
This little fucker was sure I wouldn't kill him.
He was right, and he was taking advantage of it. But even if I wouldn't kill him, I could still beat some sense into him. Perhaps then he’d understand how cruel this world can be.
He tilted his head, eyes dancing with amusement. “What do you do for fun?” He asked something strange.
I blinked. What?
The sheer absurdity of the question made me hesitate. One second, we were talking about blackmail and life-or-death situations. Now he wanted to discuss fun?
“I mean, if you’re free after… well, whatever it is you’re doing right now, how about we go for a walk in the park?” he asked.
I stared at him, waiting for the punchline. He had to be joking. But he didn’t look like he was.
What the fuck? Is he asking me out? Right now? Fucking horny teenagers.
“…Did one of the thugs hit you in the head?” I asked flatly. “Because that would be the only explanation for this level of stupidity.”
“Don't test my patience and scram,” I continued in an irritated voice. He was getting on my nerves.
Fun and dating were words that had no place in my life. I was not worthy of them.
He smirked. “Woah, chill, girl. I’m trying to help you.”
“By asking me on a date while we’re standing in an alley full of dead bodies?” I deadpanned.
He lifted a finger. “Correction. Mostly dead bodies.”
I clenched my fist. I hate him.
Before I could punch him, he suddenly turned and kicked the last thug, who had been trying to get up. The guy collapsed face-first with a grunt of pain. He barely spared the thug a glance before looking back at me with that infuriating grin.
“Tell me something,” he said, casually adjusting his shirt. “Did you ever bunk a class in school? Or college? Skip out just to have fun?”
My fist loosened slightly. Why was I even entertaining this conversation?
And no, I never bunked a class. Why should I? Even in college, I prioritized my studies while doing minimal vigilante work that wouldn't interfere with them. Only after completing college did I take the vigilante work more seriously.
He grinned wider. “No need to answer. You totally look like a goody-two-shoes rules follower.”
My fingers clenched again.
I can hit him, right? Just a little?
He took a cautious step back. “Hey, hey, hey, stop right there. At least let me finish my explanation.”
I exhaled slowly. If this so-called explanation wasn’t worth it, he was getting a few broken ribs. A couple of months on the bed should be enough to clear the fog in his head.
“What do you do in between your orders?” he asked another of his random questions.
I frowned. Why does he keep asking these pointless questions?
“Nothing,” I answered flatly.
What would I even do? I felt like a drone. When I did not follow my master's command, I was on standby to accept his next command. I either stayed in my room, looking at the wall, or wandered aimlessly. Sleeping always felt dreadful due to the nightmares.
He blinked as if the idea of someone doing nothing was inconceivable. “Nothing? Really?”
I didn’t bother dignifying him with another response.
He studied my face and exhaled. “Yeah, I figured that’d be the case. That’s why I turned around.”
I narrowed my eyes. Turned around?
“I want to help you,” he continued. “Even if you didn’t mean to, you saved my life today. I wasn’t sure I’d make it back in one piece against those thugs. And it turns out they had even more people inside—with guns. If you hadn’t shown up, my dead body might’ve been lying in a ditch right now.”
My eyes softened just a fraction.
He was sincere—I could tell that much. Both in his gratitude and in his desire to help. But…
I sighed. What can he even do?
“I appreciate the gratitude,” I said, my voice quieter than before. Then, a bitter smile tugged at my lips. I continued self-derisively, “But you need to understand. I’m a monster. A cold-blooded killer. You shouldn’t associate with someone like me.”
He tilted his head, then grinned. “What if I want to?”
I exhaled sharply. I can feel the headache coming.
His eyes sharpened. “What exactly did he order you to do?”
I frowned. “Why do you care?”
“Come on, humor me.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Just tell me. What were his exact words?”
I exhaled. Why am I even entertaining this? “He told me to eliminate the Black Dog gang and return as soon as possible.”
His face lit up. “That’s great.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What’s so great about that?”
He smirked. “This is why I called you a goody-two-shoes rules follower. You’re obedient even to your blackmailer.”
My fist twitched. A few bones should be okay.
He raised his hands defensively. “Wait, wait! Let me finish. I’m saying—you can’t break his rules, sure, but who says you can’t manipulate them?”
Manipulate Kilgrave’s rules. Was he serious? Kilgrave controlled me. How could I manipulate him?
The taxi driver continued when I didn't reply, “Define as soon as possible.”
Hmm? What? Define as soon as possible?
“Stop going in circles. What do you mean? Be clear,” I said coldly.
He sighed as if I had said something dumb. “Is as soon as possible equal to any definite quantity of time? He didn't say come back in one hour, two hours, by seven pm, etc. He asked you to come back as soon as possible. That time can be anything from a second to multiple hours or even more.” He looked at me, expecting me to follow his thought process.
I paused. The idea made my head spin. Could it really be that simple?
“That would be a lie. He would find out,” I said, shaking my head.
Hearing that, the guy makes a thinking expression.
“So, your blackmailer ordered you not to lie. Strange, how can he tell whether you lied to him? Whatever, we can still think of something else,” he said the latter part more to himself than me, as he thought of a countermeasure while looking blankly in the distance.
Of course, because one of the first orders he gave me was to be truthful.
A little part of me hoped he would think of a solution, and I watched him with strange anticipation.
He suddenly turned back to me, his eyes burning with intensity. “Give me five minutes. Just five. And don’t question anything I do.”
I stared at him, searching for any sign of deception. He looked… serious. Dead serious.
My rational mind screamed at me to walk away. But a sliver of hope coiled inside me for the first time in years.
“…Fine. Five minutes.”
He flashed me a smile before turning to the last remaining thug, who was still groaning on the ground. He crouched down next to him.
“Hey, buddy,” he said in a low voice, just loud enough for me to hear. “You saw what happened, right? How she killed your fellow gang members without a second thought. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not end up like them.”
The thug swallowed hard, his eyes darting between him and me.
“She gave me five minutes,” he continued, voice urgent. “We need to run—now. If we split up, we’ve got a fifty percent chance of surviving. If we stay here? We both die.”
The thug hesitated. His gaze lingered on the bodies scattered around us. His breathing was ragged, sweat dripping down his forehead. Then, as if something inside him snapped, he scrambled to his feet and ran deeper into the alley.
The taxi driver gave me a toothy smile and ran after him.
I still didn't do anything. Five minutes were not up.
Good. I told myself. Let them run. Everyone should run from monsters. Finding the thug after five minutes would be a pain, but that was enough time for that taxi driver to run away. He shouldn’t associate with me. But why did my chest feel tight? Was I disappointed by his choice?
He ran, picked up a fallen bat on the floor, and kept running. He soon caught up with the thug, unexpectedly swung the bat while running, and hit the thug’s knee.
I blinked. What?
Even I could hear the crunch. The thug fell and started howling in pain. The taxi driver dropped the bat and began searching for something. When he didn't find it, he went into the building.
Soon, he came out with a rope. He tied up the whimpering thug, gagged him with a torn piece of his own shirt, and then—without hesitation—dragged him toward a dumpster.
The thug flailed, muffled screams escaping through the fabric, but he didn’t slow. He ripped open the dumpster lid, shoved the thug inside, and slammed it shut.
Then he turned to me with a completely straight face.
“Oh no.” He made a mock, disappointed expression. “One of the thugs ran away and hid somewhere. Looks like you’ll have to search the entire city to complete your order.”
I stared at him. I opened my mouth. Closed it.
My lips twitched. Was that allowed?

 

*********************

I realized many of my readers have some doubts regarding the fanfic, so I decided to address a few.

Character Attributes:

Why didn't I use numbers instead of grades for attributes?

Tracking numbers across many characters and power levels becomes a nightmare over time. Grades let me show progression while keeping things clean and easy to follow.

To understand how this system works, revisit Chapter 2.

Some of you are confused about the sub-grades; they follow a format similar to F1, F2, F3. A simple way to understand it is that the higher the number in the same grade, the stronger the character is.

I initially wanted to use the standard F-, F, and F+. But I scratched the idea for two reasons.

First,  it created confusion between the F grade and the F subgrade.

Second, some platforms don't display symbols like "+", which leads to formatting issues.

(If the "plus" didn’t appear above on your screen, you now understand what I mean.)

Fanfic Theme:

This is a dark fanfic. The story delves into crime, manipulation, and moral ambiguity, exploring how such themes can impact a superhero universe like the Marvel world.

Themes often glossed over in superhero stories—I'll be diving into them unapologetically.

As you've seen in this chapter, such content won't just appear—it will intensify.

The protagonist? He's not your typical hero.

He is not a teen going through a phase that he will grow out of. He may appear to be a teenager here, but he was an adult in his previous life. He's manipulative and pragmatic and isn't afraid to use others for personal gain.

If you're looking for a noble, righteous lead, you won’t find him here.

If you're into a complex, dark, and morally twisted protagonist, you’re in the right place.

Release Schedule:

Now, the part most of you care about: chapter updates.

I will aim to release one chapter per week. That said, I have a full-time job and write only in my free time. So, no promises—but I’ll do my best.

*********************

Drop a comment—it gives me the dopamine boost to continue writing more chapters.

Chapter 9: Fun

Chapter 9: Fun

— Jessica —
I still couldn’t believe his audacity. Manipulating Killgrave’s orders as if they were vague legal clauses.
Was that what people meant by “ignorance is bliss”? He didn’t even know who he was challenging with his actions. If Killgrave found out about it, his end would be worse than whatever those gang members would have done to him.
But at the same time, I felt tempted. For the first time, I thought I had a chance to be free of his control, even for a little bit. Should I take his offer? It felt like a forbidden fruit.
Maybe he could see the hesitation and confusion on my face.
“Some things in our lives are outside our control. Maybe you will resolve them in the future, but in the present, you can do anything but be helpless against them,” the taxi driver said with a serious face.
Then he took a step closer to me and looked me directly in the eyes, “Sometimes, if we can’t control something, it’s better to enjoy it.”
I couldn’t say anything with his intense gaze on me.
Then, his serious face melted into a warm, sunny, and encouraging smile. He extended his hand to me, “Let’s go find that guy who ran away.”
“Hmm,” was all I could say as I nodded and took his hand. Consequences be damned. I would face them when they would come.
He took me to his taxi. Like a gentleman, he opened the door for me, and I sat in the passenger seat. He went around, came in, and sat in the driver’s seat.
His gaze sharpened as he sat with his hands on the steering wheel. With a confident smirk, he said, “Let me show the skills of a driver with Expert level driving skills.”
Expert level? Was that some kind of weird brag or code? The age gap between us wasn’t that big—I’d know if that was some new slang.
Then he hit the gas, and the car roared to life, its tires screeching as it launched, leaving behind only the smell of burnt rubber and a trail of dust. Against all odds, I let myself smile.
For the next four hours, we were on a wild ride—literally.
We combed the city for the gang member who ran. I still had no idea what he meant by “Expert level,” but one thing was clear: the guy could drive.
He knew where he could push the law enough not to get a fine and drive as high as possible without getting in trouble. My heart leaped to my throat more than once when he skillfully snaked the taxi between the vehicles as they passed mere centimeters away from it.
I felt fear. I felt excitement. I felt the thrill of adrenaline after a long time. I screamed in excitement.
We went to a park, thinking the thug might be hiding there. I walked with the taxi driver leisurely in the park, taking in our peaceful surroundings. How long had it been since I felt so peaceful? I’d forgotten what that felt like.
Unfortunately, we couldn’t find the guy despite strolling casually to avoid missing a corner.
We discussed various topics while walking. The taxi driver said he was a college freshman, working taxi shifts to pay for his tuition. I told him I was a graduate looking for a job. We didn’t tell him more, and we didn’t ask for more. Such a simple conversation felt like a luxury.
Next, we went to a small but cozy diner. After all, we needed energy to continue our search for our guy. Once again, like a gentleman, he pulled the chair for me.
I wanted to pay for our meal as it was the least I could do. Moreover, I didn’t want to burden him with our food, as he had worked hard to pay for his studies. However, he was adamant about paying, stating that since he had invited me, he would cover the cost. In the end, I relented.
After that, we drove slowly, checking alleyways and peeking down side streets—still no sign of the thug. I wonder where he could be hiding.
It was already nighttime, and we decided to check out a club. Maybe the thug was hiding there, thinking no one could find him in the crowd full of sweat, music, and flashing lights.
We hit the bar first. He surprised me by refusing to drink. Said he didn’t like alcohol, and technically, he wasn’t even 21.
I blinked. Right. He was younger than I, but acted more mature than most men I’d met.
He said that I could drink. He took a soft drink to keep me company.
I raised an eyebrow, teasing, “What’s your plan? Get me drunk and drag me to a motel room?”
He grinned. “Nah. I value my life.”
We both laughed. I couldn’t remember the last time I laughed like that with someone. Freely. Genuinely.
We had a few drinks, or more like I had a few drinks. He only drank his one soft drink. And by the way, that much alcohol wasn’t enough to make me drunk. With my physique, I had a high tolerance for alcohol, which only increased as I drank more and more times since I was under Killgrave’s control to numb the pain in my soul.
But tonight was different; I drank because I wanted to, because I wanted to have fun.
This time, I paid. Only I drank alcohol, and the taxi driver’s drink wasn’t as costly as mine. There was no way I was letting a college student pay for my alcohol. This time, he agreed.
After drinking, we decided to hit the dance floor. He didn’t know how to dance and looked so goofy, but it was fun dancing with him. I taught him some moves, and he improved a bit, just a bit.
The remaining tension in my body dissipated, and I relaxed completely as I danced to the rhythm. Soon, the dance became hot and steamy as we danced, sticking to each other. I soon turned around as he held my waist from behind.
I twerked and ground my ass on his crotch. I felt his hard dick pressing against my ass. Seeing him squirming but trying to control himself and not cross a line, I felt like teasing him. I truly felt free at that moment.
I pushed myself further in, and he tightened his hold in response. His hands explored my body, but without crossing that invisible line. And it made me want to cross it.
Finally, after dancing to my heart’s content, we returned to the bar. He looked exhausted, but he didn’t complain. I felt guilty because I realized I had forgotten he was a normal human, and his stamina couldn’t match mine. But he still tried to accompany me to the end.
We left the club and found ourselves back at the park, quiet, still, where time seemed to slow.
As the time neared for me to return to Killgrave, I felt increasing dread at the thought of not being able to meet my new friend again.
I didn’t want the moment to end. Ultimately, I decided to tell him my name, and if I could get his name, it would be even better. I didn’t want to associate with him anymore as it would put his life at risk, but a selfish part of him wanted us to at least know each other’s names before parting.
I laughed—soft, unsure—trying to make it feel casual. “We’ve done all this and forgotten the basics. I don’t even know your name.”
He looked at me. Calm. Warm.
“Let me start,” I said. “My name is—”
His finger gently pressed against my lips.
I froze. Heat rushed to my cheeks. That gesture—so soft, so deliberate—felt more intimate than all the grinding and teasing we’d done earlier tonight.
But then… doubt crept in. He didn’t want to know?
Of course not. I should’ve known. The dancing, the laughter—it had to be a pity. A moment of mercy for a broken woman.
But I didn’t resent him. It would be good to live the rest of my life with the memories of this stranger. Maybe they would give me some strength.
I looked away, eyes burning. Why did this hurt so much?
Now, I just wanted to leave.
Maybe he felt my sadness as he said calmly, “I stopped you from telling me your name, not because I don’t want us to know about each other, but because, currently, it will be better for you if we don’t.”
I looked up into his eyes. His eyes were clear without any deception. But I couldn’t understand his logic. How could introducing each other not be suitable for me?
“Why,” I whispered. I didn’t understand.
“Because I could see how much pain you’re in from the start. If we exchange names, we stop being strangers. And when we stop being strangers, you’ll hesitate to open up. You’ll hold it all in—like you always do.”
He leaned forward slightly, his voice gentler now.
“Sometimes, it’s easier to bleed in front of someone you’ll never see again.”
I stood there, stunned. No one had ever said something like that to me.
“So go ahead,” he said. “You don’t have to tell me your name. Just talk. Yell. Cry. Scream. Tell me your frustrations. Say whatever you’ve never been able to say to anyone else. Because for tonight, I’m just a stranger. And you need one.”
Huh? Why was my face wet? I blinked and touched my cheek. Tears. I was crying?
He guided me gently to a nearby bench and sat me down like I was something fragile. I didn’t resist. Couldn’t.
I finally could no longer control my emotions and started crying.
Everything came out: the pain, the frustration, the helplessness, the despair. I told him how Killgrave had controlled my mind and made me do things I regretted every moment of my waking life. I confessed like I was trying to earn salvation, which I knew I didn’t deserve. He patiently listened to everything without interrupting even once.
Once I was done, I just burst into tears. I didn’t know how long I cried, but his attention was on me the entire time. He gently caressed my back with his hand.
Finally, I stopped crying. But I couldn’t look him in the eyes. I knew what the general populace thought about mutants; even though mutation was not the reason for my powers, for normal people, having powers was generally equal to being a mutant. What if he hated me for that?
I steeled myself for the worst—that he’d call me a mutant freak, say he never wanted anything to do with someone like me. Maybe he would stand up and walk away. Perhaps he’d even call the cops. And if he did, I wouldn’t blame him. I’d blame fate or whatever cruel force decided my path. Hope was never meant for someone like me: just silence and the slow ache of being alone.
But the words never came. Instead, he held my chin and gently turned my head to look at him. His eyes were still clear as before—no disgust or fear.
“Do you feel lighter now?” He asked with a smile.
Huh? Lighter? I… did feel lighter.
The pressure in my chest had eased. The weight wasn’t gone, but it no longer felt like it would crush me.
“Don’t you feel afraid of me?” I asked, despite being afraid to hear his answer.
“Afraid? Yes, I am afraid of you,” he answered thoughtfully.
I knew it. Of course. What did I expect?
But suddenly, his face changed to mischievous.
“Of course, I am afraid…” he leaned in closer, a smirk tugging at his lips, “that you might fall for me if I hang around too long.”
My mouth opened, then closed, then opened again—but no sound came out.
When I saw the infuriating smirk on his face, the sadness disappeared, replaced with the overwhelming urge to hit him again. A few bones were ok, right? I would even make sure not to cause any permanent injury to him.
“Hey, hey, chill!” he said, raising both hands, panic creeping onto his face.
But the infuriating smirk returned. “At least, I am sure you do feel lighter.”
You little—
And just like that, I laughed. Freely. Fully. The kind of laugh I hadn’t felt in what felt like ages.
He laughed with me.
Again, I felt something wet on my cheeks. But this time, they weren’t tears of sorrow. They were… relief. Joy.
I leaned and hugged him tightly. “Thank you, stranger.”
“Heh, no problem, stranger,” he whispered, his hand gently running across my back like he was reminding me he was still there.
After calming down, we talked again.
This time, he told me about himself. Like me, he didn’t tell me his name, but he did tell me what had happened to him recently. The thug who pointed his gun at him, the corrupt cop, being forced to deliver drugs for a gang.
Rage boiled inside me.
Every kill I had made until now was on someone else's order. But this time? This time, I wanted to kill. For him. He didn’t deserve all that. But maybe he was concerned for me, so he didn’t tell me any names.
“No big deal,” he shrugged after telling me. “Like I said, if you can’t control something, enjoy it. I can’t control my circumstances, so there's no point in sulking. Biding my time until the right moment to flip the table is much better. Till then, I will enjoy life,” he said with a carefree tone.
He said it as if it were obvious. Easy. Like he hadn't just told me, he was walking a daily tightrope with death on both ends.
He was younger than I. But damn… he acted more like an adult than I ever had.
And were his circumstances any less than mine? No, they weren’t.
Yes, I was turned into a puppet to do heinous things against my will, but my life was still not in danger. But him. Even though he downplayed it, I could tell he was constantly afraid. Afraid that someday those gang members or the corrupt cop would deem him useless, and then he would be thrown away, killed, and discarded like trash. And despite that, he had to play his part as an obedient delivery mule.
Still… he smiled.
Still… he helped me.
Still… he made me laugh.
As he cracked some goofy joke just to see me smile again, I didn’t laugh.
I just looked at him. Quietly.
And wondered…
Where the hell did someone like him get that kind of strength?
…
It was already late, so after talking for some time, we returned to where it had all started. We arrived at the familiar alley and stood before the familiar dumpster.
He pried open the lid of the dumpster and took out the bound thug, who was already conscious and struggling fiercely. It might be because the thug was struggling too much, so he only took him out halfway, such that the thug’s legs were still caught between the dumpster and the lid, which was back down.
Then he turned to me.
“So, this is it, huh?” I asked, feeling reluctant to let him go.
He replied with a smile, “Yes, this is it.”
We just quietly looked at each other’s eyes.
I wanted to say so much more, and there were many things I wanted to do and experience together. But all I could do was stand there.
“Mmhh, mmhh,” the gagged thug whimpered and struggled as he looked at me. I barely looked at the thug’s pleading look and looked back at the stranger.
In just a day, he felt so close to him. He made me feel human for a few hours in a life where I forgot what that meant.
“Mmhh, mmhh,” the thug tried to crawl out desperately to run away from me, but was unsuccessful as his leg was still under the dumpster lid. Couldn’t this fucker just fucking keep it down? I felt more irritated, but I turned back to the stranger.
I didn’t want to let him go. Would we ever meet again?
“MMHH, MMHH, MMHH,” the thug whimpered even more loudly.
“WILL YOU FUCKING KEEP IT DOWN? YOU ARE INTERRUPTING MY TIME WITH HIM,” I snapped and crushed the thug’s head with a stomp.
The alley fell into blissful silence.
I looked up to see him smiling at me, and I felt embarrassed by what I had just said in anger.
I gave up thinking and leaned in for the goodbye, which I desperately hoped would not be our last.
I kissed him on the lips. The kiss was short but sweet.
“Goodbye, stranger. Hope we meet again,” I said.
“Goodbye, stranger,” he replied.
Finally, I turned around and left.
That was for the best for us now. There was still a sword named Zebediah Killgrave hanging above my neck, and I didn’t want the stranger to be hurt because of me.

— Kevin —

Successfully convinced Jessica to go against her usual way of doing things.
Charisma Level Up (F1->F2)
Art of Persuasion Mission Activated
Mission: Art of Persuasion
Description: Successfully charm, influence, convince, manipulate, or intimidate individuals to get desired outcomes
Objective 1: Persuade 20 individuals to get desired outcomes
Reward: Charisma (F3)
Objective 2: Persuade 50 individuals to get desired outcomes
Reward: Passive Skill: Silver Tongue (Higher success rate for persuasion attempts)
Objective 3: Persuade 100 individuals to get desired outcomes
Reward: Charisma (E1)

Nice. I would have been offended if the system hadn’t rewarded me for today.
All in all, it was a productive day. I unlocked a new mission, helped a superhuman through an emotional crisis, and rode around in a taxi with my body screaming in pain. Worth it.
I knew Jessica’s real nature. She would let me go if she found out I was merely at the wrong place at the wrong time. Initially, I planned to walk away once she let me go. I’d already survived, hadn’t I?
But after a few steps, I paused.
It was extremely fortunate for me to meet Jessica in that way. I didn’t even know when I would get a chance to meet her again.
I wanted Jessica for two reasons. First, for the same reason Killgrave wanted her —a killer and a plaything wrapped in one. She had the aptitude to be a great enforcer. And second, with her, it would be easier to get Kara, too.
But it was extremely dangerous to get Jessica. I even thought it might be a good idea to drop the idea or try to get her some other time, some other way.
But then I remembered my heist with Felicia and my recent bout with those gang members. I wanted to play life comfortably in easy mode, but forgot that my life was hard-wired to hell mode.
Ultimately, it came down to risk and reward once again. So, once again, I took a risk and turned back to her.
If, following the original timeline, when Jessica would get out of Zebediah’s control, she would be a broken mess. I didn’t want that.
Moreover, even though she was morally grey after the incident, she remained righteous. I didn’t want that, either.
So, I had to protect her while also corrupting her. I considered the best method that would enable me to complete both goals simultaneously.
It is said that girls in true love would do anything for their lovers.
Usually, each time Jessica killed someone, she felt either disgust or numbness. Even against criminals, she still thought they should be punished by law.
Poor Jessica. She didn’t even realize that she didn’t feel any of those emotions when she killed that last thug, only annoyance because he was disturbing her moment with me. She killed not because of her orders but because of me. And the best part was that she did it subconsciously. Consciously, she was merely doing the job she was forced to do.
It would be fun to rebuild her from the ground up. By the time she was free of Zebediah’s control, she would be my permanently loyal enforcer and wouldn’t hesitate to execute any order I would give her.
It was time to go home, but before that, let’s meet our peeper. She wasn’t so great at hiding; she thought she was. When Jessica kissed me, I noticed her hiding in the corner. Let’s say hello to her.

— Kara —
What was he doing with her? Why was he having fun with her? Why was he kissing her?
I saw them together in the park at night, sitting so close. When they left, I hurriedly took a cab to follow them. Then they kissed in the deserted alley. Why?
Didn’t he say he would be my friend? Did he also want to betray me like my father?
And why was it the same woman in each case? First, it was my heartless father who replaced my mother with that woman, and now he had also replaced me with that woman.
That woman felt like a bane of my existence.
“Don’t know peeping is bad?”
I suddenly turned around and saw Kevin looking at me with a teasing smile.
“You! Who is she? Why did you kiss her?” I asked without thinking.
“Aww, are you jealous? Didn’t know you were the possessive type? And we didn’t even confess yet,” Kevin said with a teasing smirk.
I finally realized that my questions made me sound like a jealous girlfriend. I suddenly felt embarrassed that I didn’t know what to say.
“Who is jealous? I am jealous of anyone,” I said, a bit too strongly. He could see my defensive reply a mile away, but I was not backing down.
“Oh. Then why did you start interrogating me as a crime suspect?” he asked, still maintaining that teasing smile.
This bastard loved making fun of me. And I couldn’t counter his questions.
“Stop going in circles. Tell me, who is that woman? What is your relation with her?” I asked seriously. I was not letting him lead me in circles. I wanted answers, and I wanted them now.
I didn’t want to lose my only friend, but I wanted answers.
“You know who she is, don’t you?” He asked seriously. The previous teasing was no longer present on his face.
“...”
“Kara, answer me,” he demanded, looking directly into my eyes. I decided to tell him everything.
Yes, I knew Jessica. How could I not know her? Because of her, my man-whore of a father, who couldn’t stay with one girl for more than a week, had stayed obsessed with her for months. Of course, he must have replaced me and my mother with that bitch.
I hated that bitch.
Kevin listened to my story without interruptions.
“I don’t want to lose you. My father replaced me. What if you also replace me with her?” I asked with sadness. I looked at him to see his reaction.
“Don’t worry. Why would I leave you? You’re my dear friend—just like Jessica,” he said sincerely, genuinely meaning it. But why did I feel a flicker of disappointment when I heard that?
“You promise?” I asked. I didn’t want to lose my only friend.
“Promise,” he replied with a smile.
Then, he looked a bit sad.
“Jessica’s life is also not good,” he started with a sad sigh. “It might look like she replaced your and your mother’s position in your father’s heart, but if you find out what she has gone through and is still going through, you may hate her less.”
Then he told me what Jessica had told him. I couldn’t believe my ears. I didn’t want to think that my father would do such a disgusting thing. I wanted to shout and deny whatever he was saying.
But the sadness on his face looked so real. I had seen with my own eyes how she killed that thug, killing him so emotionlessly, which I previously ignored as I focused more on the fact that Kevin kissed her. She must be numbed to the pain by now.
I stayed silent as I digested what Kevin told me.
After a pause, he said, “You know… this could actually be an opportunity.”
My head snapped toward him. “What do you mean?”
He observed my expression, then said:
“Why don’t you snatch Jessica from your father… and take her for yourself?”
“What?” I blinked. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Don’t misunderstand,” he said quickly, raising both hands. “I’m not saying you become your father. I’m saying—you rescue her. You use your powers to pull her out of his control.”
I hesitated. “But I’d be mind-controlling her. Isn’t that the same thing he’s doing?”
Kevin leaned in slightly, voice calm but firm. “Is it really the same if you’re doing it to save her?”
I wanted to snap back—but I paused. My fingers curled at my sides.
“She’s already under his control, Kara. You’d just be interrupting it. You wouldn’t be ruining her—you’d be giving her a way out. Maybe she can’t fight back alone… but you can help.”
It sounded right. Too right. And maybe that’s what scared me.
“I don’t know…” I muttered. “I don’t want to hurt her. I don’t want her to suffer more just because of me.”
Kevin’s voice softened. “You’re not hurting her. You’re freeing her.”
I looked at him—something about those words stuck.
Wasn’t that what I wanted? To help others? To do something? Maybe this wasn’t revenge. Perhaps this was me finally doing the right thing with everything I had.
I thought back to the helplessness I felt when my mother told me about my father. Discovering he didn’t care about us and instead enjoyed a new girl every week. Watching him choose Jessica.
And now, I was watching another fall victim to him, becoming hollow under his shadow.
Maybe I could stop that cycle.
“I’m not like him,” I whispered, almost to myself. “I’m not.”
Kevin nodded. “Exactly. That’s why you’re the only one who can do it.”
Maybe I wasn’t being selfish. Perhaps I was just being smart, using what I had to fix what was broken.
And if it helped me feel whole again… if it gave me a little peace of mind back… maybe that wasn’t a sin.
“I should help her,” I said, this time with certainty. “Thanks, Kevin.”
Kevin smiled. “That’s what friends are for. And don’t worry—you won’t be doing it alone.”
I didn’t know what to say. So I didn’t say anything. I just hugged him—tight.

Somewhere in a secret hideout in the city:
A man in a purple suit paced around anxiously. He was Zebediah Killgrave.
Recently, he took a contract to finish an upcoming gang and sent his ‘loyal’ killer to do the job.
She left in the afternoon, and by the time it was already late at night, she had not returned. She had never taken so much time to complete any mission before.
‘Did she somehow get out of my control? But how is that possible?’ He thought while pacing anxiously.
His thoughts were interrupted by the door opening as a woman in purple clothes entered. She was Jessica Jones—his ‘loyal’ killer.
“What took you so long? Where were you?” Zebedia barked as soon as he saw Jessica.
Jessica already knew how to handle his outburst and replied flatly, “One of the thugs ran away. It took a while to find him.”
Zebediah stared at her without blinking. He felt something was amiss, but one of the first orders he gave her was to be truthful, so he didn’t think she lied.
But looking at her, he felt she looked different. Physically, she looked the same, but her aura felt different.
Zebedia felt a knot in his stomach. He thought that Jessica might be slipping out of his control. Still, he brushed it off. His pride wouldn’t let him accept the possibility that she might be slipping away.
No. She was his. Always had been. Always would be.
‘Whatever it is, I should still show that she belongs to me, and any thoughts of freedom are futile,’ Zebediah thought as he decided to show her that she belonged to him.
He sank onto a sofa and ordered with an arrogant smirk, “Strip and slowly crawl to me.”
Jessica’s body responded on its own. Clothes hit the floor. Her knees met the ground.
Even if she showed a disgusted expression, her body still moved. Zebediah especially liked to see her aversion while her body listened to his orders.
A memory suddenly echoed in her mind:
“Sometimes, if we can’t control something, it’s better to enjoy it.”
And just like that, it wasn’t his control anymore.
Suddenly, her body relaxed, and the movements that felt mechanical before became fluid. She chose to crawl.
Her hips swayed—not because he told her to—but because she allowed it. Because she played along.
Her body language gradually changed from reluctant to seductive as she covered the distance.
Zebediah once again felt something was amiss as he looked at her change, but all such thoughts left his mind as she reached him and removed his pants.
‘I don’t know when we will meet again, but till then, let me imagine that it will be you who will violate me,’ Jessica thought as she looked at Zebediah’s dick.
‘I will enjoy it until it is finally time to flip the table,’ Jessica thought as she leaned in and took him in.

Chapter 10: First Aid and Second Intentions

First Aid and Second Intentions

Yesterday was a fucking rollercoaster.
In a single day, delivering a package for a crooked cop, trading injury with street thugs, staring death in the eyes—death dressed in purple, no less—barely escaping her, then, like a total genius, going back on a date with said purple death… while looking like I lost a fight with a blender.
Yeah. Exhausting.
Good thing I’ve got that sweet [Gamer’s Body] skill. One solid sleep and boom—
Injuries? Gone.
Mind? Sharp.
Mood? Debatable.
But at least I wasn’t looking like a train wreck.
I didn’t have any classes this morning, so I figured I’d pick up a few taxi fares and earn some extra cash. While waiting for the next ride to appear in the app, I started flipping through the radio channels. The current playlist sounded like it was curated by a sleepy intern.
And that’s when I landed on her.
“Well, looks like somebody didn’t like the new kids on the block.”
“The city woke up to the smell of blood, regret, and bad tattoos this morning after an entire gang got turned into meat confetti.”
“Bodies in the alley, bodies in the hideout… basically, if you were wearing the wrong jacket last night, you’re now part of the city’s compost.”
“No suspects. No evidence. No motive. Just a pile of corpses and enough blood to start a vampire nightclub.”
“Cops say it looks ‘personal.’ Yeah, thanks, Detective Obvious.”
“No word yet on who did it, but whoever it was didn’t just send a message—they mailed it express with a steel fist and zero chill.”
“Locals say the gang was ‘new on the scene.’ Guess what? They’re not anymore.”
“So if you’re a wannabe crime boss thinking of making a name for yourself, here’s a fun idea—don’t. This city churns out new gangs faster than it consumes mayoral candidates.”
“This is Jenna Volt, Channel 7 and a Half—reminding you that in this town, anonymity is the only thing keeping your spine inside your body.”
Damn. Someone clearly skipped her decaf this morning.
And it looked like the cops finally stumbled onto Jessica’s little evening workout. But in a neighborhood with barely any cameras and way too many gangbangers, I doubted they'd ever pin it on her. Not unless she handed them a selfie holding a bloodstained “I did it” sign.
RING RING
Just as I was processing the gore-drenched news report, my phone started ringing. The name flashing on the screen made me grimace as if I’d just bitten into a lemon soaked in sewer water.
I sucked in a breath and slapped on my best customer service voice—if customer service meant talking to a corrupt asshole whom I couldn't punch.
“Good morning, Captain Davis. How may I help you on this pleasant morning?” I asked with a fake, pleasant voice dripping with sarcasm.
“You look like you are in a good mood, Mr. Kolt. I wonder, is it because you opened the package to look inside?” Robert accused.
“Yeah, no. I value my life more than my curiosity,” I replied flatly.
“Oh? Funny thing—the client told me the package was cut open. Papers everywhere. I’m sure you wouldn’t know anything about that… right?” he baited.
Papers. Not drugs. Baiting me, seeing if I’d correct him, maybe slip. Cute move.
Did he think I was dumb enough to say “drugs” out loud?
“Dude, my job’s to deliver, not babysit the drop. I left it untouched and walked. If someone played Dora the Explorer after that, it wasn’t me,” I replied, my tone growing sharper.
“Maybe you checked it after the drop. Figured that way no one would suspect you,” he suggested, voice smooth like a blade.
“If you want to grill me, at least come up with a good theory. If I wanted to snoop, I’d at least not be dumb enough to leave the contents strewn across the floor,” I sighed. “Come on, Robert.”
“That is true. You don’t look like the type who would make such a low-level mistake,” Robert easily accepted, but continued the prodding, “Then, did you meet anyone else at the location while delivering the package?”
Huh. So now you were finally asking what you wanted to ask.
You must be wondering how I escaped from those gang members.
Was that a test of how I would deal with those gang members, or was I reaching the end of my usefulness that his ‘associates’ had started looking for ways to dispose of me?
“No, I didn’t,” I lied with a straight face. “Was I supposed to give them a handshake and a selfie? I just dropped the package and got the hell out of that place. It looked shady as hell.”
There was a pause. Heavy. Calculating. I pictured him on the other end, weighing my tone, looking for cracks.
“Very well, Mr. Kolt,” he said at last. “I’ll be in touch soon with the next delivery.”
Click. He disconnected the call.
“…Motherfucker.”

Empire State University, Cafeteria, Lunch Break:
The cafeteria was buzzing with heated discussions. The topic was consistent—Spider-Man’s first defeat.
Apparently, he had his first fight against a supervillain, which ended up spectacularly with getting his ass handed to him.
“Hey, Kevin, do you think Spider-Man will win next time he fights Vulture?” Marko asked while eating his lunch. He looked let down that his new favorite superhero lost so easily.
Yep, one of the iconic Spider-Man villains finally showed up. Vulture had been targeting banks, large shops, and other establishments for the past few days. The Wing Harness he created granted him flight and increased strength. Law enforcement tried hard to catch him, but due to his aerial advantage, no one was able to catch up to him.
Finally, during his heist yesterday, he met the friendly neighborhood spidey. But to the sheer disappointment of his fans, the wall-crawler lost the fight.
Vulture fled after that.
“Spider-Man is only experienced in fighting thugs on the ground, not some guy who can literally fly. He was just not ready for the fight and was caught off guard. But I am sure he can come up with a solution to defeat him,” I reassured.
Marko nodded, looking deep in thought after my words.
Speaking of coming up with a solution, I turned towards the superhero in question.
He was sitting at his usual table with his lady friends. He tried to behave normally while talking to them, but I could see he was scribbling something furiously on his notebook, likely designing some device to help him with his next fight against Vulture. After all, spider powers or not, his brain was still one of his best weapons.
Vulture was a mere small fry compared to some of the greatest Marvel villains. He wouldn’t take too much effort to be defeated. Maybe once he joined the Sinister Six, then perhaps he would be worth some effort.
We soon finished our lunch, and the break was nearly over.
Suddenly, Marko looked toward me as if he finally couldn’t hold it in and asked what he was trying to for the entire lunch break.
Yes, I noticed he wanted to ask something. He fidgeted the whole time. I also didn’t push; he would ask when he was ready.
“Dude, I don’t swing that way. If that’s what you wanted to ask,” I joked with a serious face to lighten the mood.
He nearly choked. “Fuck you. I don’t either.”
But his shoulders relaxed. Tension gone. He let out a sigh and finally asked:
“Kevin… can I borrow $500?”
“Sure,” I said and passed him the money from my wallet. I earned a good amount of money from my various heists. $500 was no problem. Moreover, his family was extremely helpful to me. It was the least I could do for them.
Marko looked at me with wide eyes as I handed the money to me. He seemed to have prepared an extensive script to convince me to give him the money, but now it all went down the drain.
“Th-thanks, man. I promise I will return it as soon as possible,” he said, looking grateful.
“Whatever,” I shrugged. “Do what you want.”

—
I waited near a busy street, engine humming, watching the city move like a living beast. Neon lights. People laughing. Music spilling from nearby shops.
It was already past 8 PM. A couple more fares, and I’d call it a night.
The streets here were loud, alive, safe. Not like the darker corners of the city, where flickering streetlamps, barking dogs, and lurking shadows were all part of the charm. You could tell what kind of place it was by how many people pretended not to see things.
My next passenger arrived about two minutes later.
Denim jeans, black tank top, simple flats. No designer flash or over-the-top makeup. Just clean, confident style. Her curves were noticeable, sure—but tastefully wrapped. Her long black hair fell like midnight silk down her back.
May Parker.
Well, well. What a convenient coincidence.
When I saw the name May Parker in the taxi network app, it caught my eye – but I knew there was a good chance she was just another person with the same name.
I’d marked her as a target for later, but hey, no harm in building some early goodwill.
Rapport today, leverage tomorrow.
“Hi,” she greeted with a warm smile as she slid into the backseat.
“Hey,” I replied, matching her tone, and pulled into traffic.
A soft ping echoed in my head as a translucent map appeared at the bottom left of my vision. A glowing route traced through the city toward her house, and markers lit up on the road ahead.
That’d be my shiny new [Navigation Module], an upgrade to the [Map] screen. Handy as hell.
Getting it, though? Still pissed about that.
Turns out there was a hidden objective in the [Taxi Driver] mission—complete a hundred rides without a single screw-up. Not impossible… but it was the kind of detail the system conveniently forgot to mention until after you’ve stumbled into it.
Had I failed even once, I’d have still completed the mission, but missed this bonus entirely. Luckily, I ran clean.
Before, the map was little more than fog and memory. Sure, it uncovered areas I’d visited, but there were no routes, no markers—nothing useful except for a glorified mental breadcrumb trail.
Now? The [Navigation Module] gave me dynamic, real-time routing to any marked destination. Fastest path. Live adjustments if I took a detour. Context-aware, too—it didn’t just pick the shortest road; it decided the best one for my current ride: car, bike, or on foot.
For now, it marked May’s home.
"You heading home from work or just done saving the world?" I asked, glancing in the mirror with a polite smile.
She laughed lightly. “Just wrapped up some errands. Long day.”
“Yeah, tell me about it,” I said, easing the car into traffic. “Juggling college and driving cabs isn’t exactly a dream schedule.”
That got her attention.
“Oh? Which college?”
“Empire State. Computer Science.”
Her eyes lit up. I already knew what was coming.
“Really? My nephew studies there too! He’s in the Science Department.”
Bingo.
“No kidding? Small world. Who’s the lucky genius?”
“Peter Parker.”
She smiled, and it wasn’t just polite—it was the kind of smile that carried weight. Pride. Attachment.
Time to cash in.
“You’re Peter’s aunt? That’s awesome. I’m a big fan of the guy—seriously. Smartest kid in our year. He’s on a whole different level.”
Her smile grew, and I watched the way her posture softened, shoulders dropping just a bit like she'd exhaled something she'd been holding in.
She chuckled, trying to downplay it, but yeah—she was glowing.
“That’s kind of you. He doesn’t really talk much about school, so I’m always in the dark about how he’s doing socially.”
“Oh, he’s quiet, sure. But I tell you, the dude’s a machine. I saw him easily solve a lab problem once that had the TAs sweating.”
I laughed, just a little. Like, I was genuinely in awe.
To be fair, I kind of was. Peter was the kind of genius you wouldn’t underestimate.
“You seem like a smart one, too,” May said, her voice turning warmer. “Balancing ESU and work like this? That’s impressive. Shows maturity.”
She smiled at me in the mirror, gentle and sincere. “Your parents must be proud. You’ve clearly worked hard for what you have.”
And just like that… she handed me the dagger.
The smile slipped off my face like wet paint.
“Maybe,” I said, voice soft and just a little cracked. “If they’re watching from above.”
I smiled. Not a warm smile. The kind that made people uncomfortable. As if I were trying to hide something ugly underneath.
Her expression faltered instantly. Eyes wide. The horror on her face as it screamed, “shit, I fucked up.” Her entire body tensed like she’d stepped on emotional glass.
She opened her mouth, probably to say something comforting or backpedal—
And that’s when a high-pitched whine cut through the air, followed by something slicing through the sky overhead.
Look! Up in the sky!
It’s a bird!
It’s a plane!
No, it’s a bald old man with half his foot in the grave with fake mechanical wings!
And right behind him? Our friendly neighborhood nerd in spandex, swinging between buildings like a caffeinated circus act.
Vulture and Spider-Man. Fighting right here. Right now.
How convenient.
Whatever May had been about to say? Dead in the water. Let her sit with the guilt a little longer.
I kept driving as casually as I could while the world above us turned into a Michael Bay montage. Neither of us spoke, but the silence was full of glances. May kept stealing looks at me—lips tight, like she wanted to say something but didn’t know where to begin.
Then the traffic stopped cold.
Spidey had finally caught up, and the two started throwing punches mid-air, drawing everyone out of their cars like moths to a demolition site. Phones were up. Cameras rolling. No one was giving a single shit about flying fists or falling bricks. They were more interested in the views and likes they would receive on their LifeDestroyer profile when they uploaded the second face-off between Spider-Man and Vulture.
Gotta love this city.
Superpowered brawls weren’t like comic panels or Saturday morning cartoons. It was chaos. Loud. Violent. Full of ricocheting death.
Case in point: Vulture swooped low and slammed into Spider-Man, launching him into a building. The wall cracked, debris rained down, and even though Spidey tried to swing the biggest chunks away with his webbing, some still hit the crowd.
Screams. Dust. Blood.
And that was just the warm-up.
Vulture grabbed a streetlight pole, swung it like a baseball bat, and nearly took Spidey’s head off. He missed but smashed into the weakened wall, bringing more rubble down.
Spider-Man dodged the follow-up—some flying pole attack—and saved a trio of gawkers just before they became pavement jelly. He retaliated fast, webbing Vulture’s arm to his side, but the old bird just powered upward and broke free.
Then came the dive bomb. Again.
I didn’t need to watch the rest to know where it was heading. Spidey was adapting—looking for a window to use that little gadget he’d been designing earlier.
Meanwhile, I looked around.
Dozens of injured people. Screams. Panic.
I smirked to myself.
Finally.
Time to cash in on that [First Aid] skill.
The kit was already stashed in the glove box. I had no plans to leave without scoring my first milestone for the [Paramedic] mission.
Let the hero save the day. I’d settle for completing a few objectives while pretending to care.
I grabbed the first aid kit and stepped out of the taxi.
“Wait, where are—” May started, confused and concerned.
Didn’t bother answering. I was already moving.
First target: a guy sitting on the curb, clutching his bleeding arm. A shard of glass had opened him up—lucky bastard could’ve lost the whole thing.
“Let me take a look,” I said, kneeling beside him.
He looked ready to protest, but when he saw the kit and the way I wasn’t asking for permission, he just nodded, still skeptical.
With [First Aid (Novice)] kicking in, my hands didn’t fumble. I cleaned and dressed the wound like I knew exactly what I was doing—because technically, I did.
“Thanks,” he said, genuinely.
“Just doing my part,” I replied with a smile that looked selfless but wasn't.
May had shown up halfway through, her expression caught between admiration and worry. I ignored her and moved to the next one—a kid with a twisted ankle.
One patient after another. Sprains, cuts, bruises. The low-hanging fruit of emergency medicine. The mission counter ticked up each time.
May helped too—passing supplies, calming people, doing her best. We didn’t talk about earlier. Just stayed focused, played heroes. Well, she did. I was farming progress.
For the more serious injuries—shattered ribs, head trauma—I could only stabilize what I could. Slow the bleeding. Drag them out of the smoke. My skill wasn’t enough yet.
The mission counter stayed still for each of those.
“Watch out!” I shouted as I saw debris start to fall.
I grabbed May and pulled her aside just before broken glass and metal hit where she’d been standing.
She froze, wide-eyed. Shock creeping in.
“May. Hey—look at me. You’re okay. Just breathe,” I said, my voice calm and steady.
She blinked at me, trying to steady her breath. “Thanks, uh…” She trailed off, clearly realizing she still didn’t know my name.
“Kevin,” I said with a small smile.
“Thanks, Kevin,” she laughed nervously. “I’m May.”
“Yeah, I know. Already saw it in the taxi app.” I winked.
She laughed again, softer this time. That little moment helped her reset.
We went back to work—helping the able, avoiding the reckless. I made sure not to get too close to the fight. I wasn’t suicidal. A flying wing or broken glass could cut me up like paper.
Most people were too busy filming the cape brawl to notice me treating the wounded. But a couple did.
I had no interest in being famous or being known as a hero. Currently, I couldn’t handle such heat, and it would have been detrimental to my future actions.
Two different phones caught me in the act.
I walked over to one of them. “Mind deleting that for me?” I asked politely.
The girl blinked, nodded, and erased it on the spot. Easy.
The second one? Not so cooperative.
“Dude, it’s a free country.” He said arrogantly.
I sighed, snatched his phone, deleted the footage, and casually tossed it down the street.
He screamed and ran after it, swearing the whole way.
That was fun.
*********************
[Author's Note]
Hey everyone, we’ve hit 10 chapters—a small milestone, but a meaningful one. Thanks for sticking with the story so far. I appreciate all the support and hope you’ll continue to follow along.
If you’ve been enjoying the fanfic (or not), feel free to leave a review. I’m not asking for praise—just honesty. Whether it’s criticism or compliments, it helps me sharpen the writing. If something didn’t work for you, let me know why. I take notes.
Your support keeps the gears turning. Onward and upward.
cursedgamer1 out!

Chapter 11: A Background NPC in the Spotlight

A Background NPC in the Spotlight

After helping as many people as we could, we turned away from the high-heat zone. I wasn’t about to play tag with falling debris and stray webshots. Let the capes knock each other into buildings—I’d gotten what I came for.
Paramedic (33/100)
A third of the way there.
No idea when I’d get another perfect chaos-farming opportunity like this, so I’d milked it for everything it was worth.
And it paid off.
Vitality: F3 (Pending)
[First Aid] upgraded to Apprentice
Since I hit the first [Paramedic] milestone, my vitality stat got a bump, but I hadn’t accepted the change yet—no reason to do it out in the open. I’d finalize it later, probably while going to sleep.
And my [First Aid] skill? Finally hit Apprentice. Even if the mission counter didn’t go up from helping the seriously injured, every bandage still gave me XP. Now I could treat moderate injuries, stitch basic wounds, and even recognize early signs of infection.
All in all, not a bad day.
Then I heard the sharp whoosh overhead.
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
That damn old fucker. Since you like fighting with that wall-crawler so much, do it somewhere far away. Why do you have to bring the fight near me?
Vulture and Spidey had looped back around. The old bird was gripping the spider and barreling straight into a building like a heat-seeking missile.
At least Spider-Man finally got to use that little device he’d been working on. While Vulture held him mid-air, he slapped it onto the harness—a compact anti-magnetic disruptor. Smart kid.
Vulture’s flight pattern went shaky almost immediately. Spidey followed up by webbing him and slingshotting him straight into another building. Crash. Sparks. Classic.
Because of the disruptor’s interference and the awkward angle, Vulture couldn’t maneuver in time. His wing rig took a serious hit.
He tried to escape, flying back toward their original battleground, with Spider-Man right on his tail.
However, both of them overlooked one crucial aspect.
A small component had broken off when Vulture crashed.
And I saw exactly where it landed.
The fight here was quick—too quick for the crowds to relocate.
I walked over casually and planted my foot on the part.
Bent down to “tie my shoe.”
May didn’t even look twice—too focused on the flying circus act overhead.
I palmed the part and slipped it into my pocket.
“Let’s go, May,” I said, brushing off my jeans. “Looks like the show’s wrapping up and traffic might clear soon.”
She nodded, and we returned to the cab.
I sat back behind the wheel, hands on the steering, heart already calculating what I could do with the tech I’d just stolen.
I might’ve gotten into ESU’s Computer Science department, but let’s not kid ourselves—I was a normal genius.
In a world full of actual geniuses? Stark, Richards, Doom, Banner, Octavius? I was a background extra in a Mensa convention.
Even the bald old vulture had me beat—he built a working flight harness with his bare hands and a grudge. That counted for something.
So no, I wasn’t going to reverse-engineer the part I stole overnight, cook up a prototype tomorrow, and roll out mass production the day after.
This wasn’t Stark Tower, and I wasn’t Iron Man. Hell, I wasn’t even Iron Intern.
I’d study it. Break it down. But with my schedule? It’d take time.
By the time I snapped out of my thoughts, the fight was over. Vulture was webbed up like a piñata and hanging upside down from a pole, defeated and thoroughly embarrassed.
The traffic finally started moving, and we resumed our journey back to May’s place.
“Uhm… Kevin,” May called out hesitantly. I glanced up in the rear-view mirror, already knowing what she wanted to say.
“I’m sorry about what I said earlier. I didn’t know… about your parents,” she said softly, guilt heavy in her voice.
I gave her a soft smile while smirking in my head, “Don’t worry, I was not offended. I knew you meant nothing bad about it.”
Seeing my calm and reassuring smile, she also calmed down and smiled in return.
“Thank you, Kevin,” she said, then paused before adding, “But you know… I meant what I said. Your parents—wherever they are—would be proud. I know I am.”
Her face was filled with warmth and admiration. “You don’t need to be a masked vigilante to help people. As long as you have a good heart, you can help people all the same.”
“Thanks, May, for your words. Hearing you say that, I feel like it is my mom who praised me for all my hard work,” I said with a slightly choked voice. A single tear slid down from my eye.
You really were a good person, May. That’s why I became attracted to you. And that would make watching you fall all the more entertaining.
“Oh dear, please don’t be sad. I am sure she would be proud of your efforts and hard work,” May said emotionally. She was already in tears. She reached for a tissue, her hands trembling.
And like the gentleman I was, I handed her a handkerchief before that. She thanked me.
I smiled softly and let the silence do the rest.
The mood eventually settled, and the ride came to an end as we reached her place.
“Kevin, would you like to stay for dinner?” May asked hopefully. “You must be starving after everything that happened today. And I’m sure you miss real home-cooked food.”
I gave a regretful smile and looked down, my voice quiet.
“Thanks, May. That means a lot. But I’m incredibly sorry—I have a test tomorrow. I need to study and still get enough sleep for class in the morning.”
I hesitated, then added, “I’ll just grab some noodles on the way home.”
She looked like she wanted to insist, but relented with a sigh. “Okay. But don’t rely on fast food every day, alright? You’re still young—you need proper nutrition.”
She kept going.
“And studying is important, but don’t stay up too late. Sleep is just as essential. You can always review more in the morning.”
I smiled and nodded through her gentle nagging. Honestly? I liked it.
It felt… normal. Almost.
Eventually, she stopped.
“Take care, Kevin,” she said, her voice soft but warm. “And don’t be a stranger, okay? If you ever need anything, you know where I am.”
“Thanks, May. I’ll remember that,” I said with a genuine-looking smile and turned to leave.
She was almost disappointed that I said no. Perfect.
No navigation route appeared—my home wasn’t part of an active objective. So I manually opened the map, found the little house icon, and mentally set it as my target.
Part of the [Navigation Module] update included static marker support. I could tag key locations I’d already uncovered and use them as travel points. No fast travel yet, sadly—but still useful.
I stopped by a local place and picked up some noodles on the way.
Once I got home, I ate quietly, then opened my books and began studying.
What? I really had a test. And I was not missing or failing it. Not unless the world was ending or something similar. My pride won’t allow it.

Empire State University, Cafeteria, Lunch Break:
Once again, the cafeteria buzzed with heated chatter—and once again, everyone was talking about the same thing: Vulture’s defeat.
For the student body, it was a win. The rookie hero had finally stomped a real villain.
Footage of the fight was already flooding the internet, climbing by hundreds of thousands of views per minute. News anchors couldn’t shut up about it. Spider-Man, once the guy who beat up muggers and street thugs, was now being name-dropped alongside the Avengers and Fantastic Four.
I still remember the radio broadcast from earlier this morning, courtesy of our favorite snark queen, Jenna Volt.
“Spider-Man and Vulture went for round two yesterday—this time in the middle of rush hour. Because apparently, crime-fighting works best when the sidewalks are full and everyone’s stuck in traffic.”
“The airborne brawl ended with Vulture eating asphalt and Spider-Man swinging off like he had somewhere better to be. The good news? One less winged lunatic in the sky. The bad news? Half the block looks like a Michael Bay audition tape.”
“Vulture’s currently in police custody, hospital gown and all, mumbling something about ‘ungrateful youth’ and ‘drone privileges.’ Which, honestly, could just be Tuesday at any nursing home.”
“Falling debris injured multiple bystanders, and traffic was stalled. But hey, at least the crowd got some great footage for their social media. Nothing says civic pride like filming a live battle while concrete chunks aim for your skull.”
“Either way, skies are clear—for now. At least until another villain with wings and childhood trauma shows up.”
“I’m Jenna Volt, Channel 7 and a Half—reminding you that if you’re gonna fight a teenager with superpowers, maybe don’t do it in a bird costume held together with duct tape and delusion.”
I sipped my drink and leaned back.
This woman seriously needed to be dicked down. That level of sarcasm couldn't be natural.
“Did you see Spider-Man’s fight with Vulture yesterday? It was amazing! He looked so cool when he took that guy down,” Marko gushed, practically vibrating in his seat like he was the one who landed the knockout blow.
“Yeah, yeah, I saw,” I replied, voice flat. I didn’t bother mentioning that I had front-row seats. If I did, I wouldn’t get a moment’s peace for a week.
“Hey—show some enthus—” he started, but his voice cut off mid-word. His eyes went wide like someone just punched him in the soul.
I raised a brow. “Why do you look like you just saw Spider-Man bend Vulture over a lunch table?”
He didn’t respond. Didn’t even blink.
Then I heard it.
“Hey, boys. Talking about anything fun?” said a voice that oozed trouble and silk.
I sighed. Deeply. Recognized that voice instantly.
Why?
WHY?
I turned and found Felicia walking toward us, a flirty smile on full display, hips swaying like she had a camera on her. She sat down across from us like she owned the cafeteria.
What the fuck were you doing sitting at the table of two nobodies? If you really wanna sit with someone, sit with the elites at their table.
Seriously, Felicia, you were breaking my immersion. I was trying to play the background NPC, dammit.
Her move silenced the entire cafeteria. Now everybody was looking at us.
I sighed once again. Why couldn’t you just let me be a scheming bystander?
The whispers started like clockwork.
“Why is Felicia Hardy sitting there?”
“Who’s the other guy?”
“Is this a dare?”
“Are they related?”
“Did they win a contest?”
Yeah, yeah, I was with you on this one. Felicia was not supposed to sit with two nobodies, whom no one cared about.
“Who are you? Did you perhaps come to the wrong table?” I asked, half-hoping she just came by accident.
But it might be that she liked tormenting me; she smirked like a cat who just knocked over a vase, “Nope, I came to the correct table.”
Fucking hell.
I once again sighed. I just stopped sighing again and again, and she was making me fall back into my old habit.
“Why?” I asked through a clenched smile.
“What are you saying, Kevin?” Marko jumped in, clearly desperate to be part of the conversation. He punched me in the arm and turned to her with a grin like he was auditioning for The Bachelor.
“Please don’t mind him,” he said. “He’s an idiot. You’re very welcome to sit with us.”
His gentlemanly act might’ve worked better if he hadn’t had literal drool collecting at the corner of his mouth.
I rubbed my arm and glared at him.
Wipe your damn face, simp.
“I came to ask for your help, Kevin,” Felicia said, coyly twirling a lock of hair between her fingers. “I joined late, so I’m behind in some classes. We both have Electronics, and I was hoping you could help me catch up today after class.”
Bitch.
Was this her idea of payback for our first meeting? I thought she was over that long ago.
And help her study? Please. We both knew we had a heist tonight. What was I supposed to do—bring flashcards to the getaway van?
Or this could be her little test. To see if I’d pick her… or her. Black Cat vs. Felicia Hardy.
Cute.
But wrong move, kitten. I’d pick money over beauty every time—because money could buy me an endless supply of beauty.
Ha, if you thought you could make me simp for you, then you were in for a very rude awakening.
“Sorry, but I have something to do; it would not be possible,” I refused flatly.
“Aww, really?” she pouted, tilting her head and parting her lips ever so slightly. It was a practiced move—equal parts innocent and seductive. But I could see her interest in me increasing.
I was once again having some problems downstairs; fortunately, the table covered it.
You'd better be ready, bitch. Soon, I would bend you over and punish you thoroughly for messing with me.
“Nope, sorry. Too busy,” I refused her ruthlessly once more.
Meanwhile, Marko looked at me as if I had crushed a cute puppy under my taxi, twice.
“How could you say no to that face?” he gasped. “Kevin, when did you become a heartless bastard? She clearly needs help!” He looked offended as if I fucked his girlfriend and then ordered her to kick him in the balls.
Felicia turned up the poor-lost-kitten expression another notch—and somehow made it sexier.
“Thanks, Marko,” she purred, clutching his hand. “You’re such a good man.”
Marko looked ready to propose on the spot. Just a little push, and steam would come out of his ears.
“But I really am busy today, Marko,” I said, looking helpless.
Then, I looked as if I thought of a great plan, I said, “Why don’t you teach her, Marko? You also have the subject,” I said, and winked at him. “I am sure she will appreciate you helping him.”
Marko looked stunned at first, but then he realized my meaning. He looked at me as if I were his long-lost brother.
“I-I can help. But I am not as good in the subject as you, Kevin,” he stuttered and tried to deny, but the smile was practically leaking from his face.
“What are you talking about? You’re great,” I said with mock sincerity. “I’m sure Felicia would learn way more from you than me.”
And now it was her turn to be cornered.
Marko looked at her with hope burning in his eyes.
Felicia gave him a dazzling smile. “Of course, Marko. It’d be my pleasure to have you help me.”
She dragged out the word pleasure just enough to leave his brain spinning.
Then she flicked her eyes toward me, her smile turning sly, challenging.
I just smirked and winked back.
Poor Marko. He didn’t even know he was just a pawn in the game.
As we chatted, I saw someone storming toward us like a poorly written mini-boss.
Uhh. The manchild. I knew something was missing in the equation.
Because, of course, when the most popular girl on campus sat down with two nobodies, someone’s fragile ego had to implode.
“Hey, losers!” Flash barked, voice loud enough to wake the dead. “Who the hell gave you the right to sit with Felicia? You’re not worthy to breathe the same air as her!”
Then he turned toward Felicia with a cocky grin, probably thinking she’d throw herself at him and offer him triplets on the spot.
Flash had been spiraling lately. Publicly humiliated by Parker, dumped by his girlfriend—who promptly joined the Parker fan club—and now too gutless to rechallenge Peter.
So what did he do? Set his sights on easier prey.
Me and Marko.
A two-for-one special. Add a new girl to impress? Jackpot.
Felicia didn’t even acknowledge him. Just rolled her eyes and turned her amused grin toward me, as if she were watching her favorite show in real life.
Of course, she wanted to see how I’d handle this.
Which was not a big deal for me. With my [Martial Arts (Novice)] skill, wiping the floor with him was no big deal, but it would put me in the spotlight in front of the college, and even if the matter would get cold in some time, till then I would not be able to play my role of a background NPC, even then people would still know me.
I glanced at Marko, hoping for backup.
Nope. My guy looked like a deer being asked to defuse a bomb.
Sigh. It was my mistake believing Marko would be of any help. I was sorry, Marko. I would not expect any further assistance from you.
Just as I was ready to say goodbye to my peaceful life, which truthfully would no longer be so calm with Felicia sharing the table with us, someone came to save the day.
And who could it be other than our friendly neighborhood nerd and his growing harem of three girl friends. That gap between girl and friends, yeah, that was intentional.
“Stop it, Flash,” Peter said, but it felt more like an order.
Flash turned on him like a kicked dog. “Who the hell do you think you are, Parker? What I do isn’t your business!”
Flash felt Peter was challenging his authority in the college.
“It is when you’re harassing people,” Peter stated naturally.
Oh? Someone’s voice had gotten steadier. Looks like a few thug takedowns and a win over the winged grandpa had done wonders for his confidence.
Gwen, MJ, and Liz were looking at him with shiny eyes.
Flash was already simmering from his last public beatdown. Peter’s tone pushed him over the edge.
“Fuck you, Parker!” he snapped—and swung a punch straight at Peter’s face.

*********************

Hey guys, what do you think of the pacing so far? Pick the one that fits you best:

Slow – I’m so slow in bed my girlfriend falls asleep mid-action… but even I think this story moves slower.

Just Right – I’m as satisfied with the pacing as my girlfriend is with my bedroom skills.

Fast – I’m so fast they call me 0.2 Pump Chump, but even I think this story finishes quicker than I do.

Be honest. No matter what you pick, I’ll silently judge you… or laugh at you. Probably both.

Chapter 12: False Friends, Real Wounds

False Friends, Real Wounds

Peter easily blocked the punch by catching it with his hand. A straight hook and Flash saw stars in the cafeteria.
Flash refused to go down. He roared and punched again, but it looked sloppy, wild, and unbalanced.
Peter blocked it effortlessly and drove a gut-punch into his stomach.
Flash folded like a cheap table.
“Woohoo!”
“Fight, fight, fight!”
“Get his ass!”
“You useless pussy!”
The cafeteria exploded in shouts and jeers. The fight was over before it even started.
Flash's face was once again filled with humiliation; it looked like he was even holding back his tears as he listened to the jeers of the students, whom he felt were beneath him.
“I can’t believe I used to date you. You’re disgusting,” Liz said with a disgusted face. And that was the final nail in the coffin.
With one last hateful glare at Peter and, for some reason, me, Flash left with his head down, with new bruises and a broken ego.
Oi, oi, oi. What the fuck did I do?
What a fucking manchild!
Oh well, at least it took much of the spotlight off me as it shifted back to our hero.
Don’t worry, Spidey, in turn, I will properly take care of your aunt. After the tragic loss of her husband, she must be aching for someone to fill that emotional… void. And I will be there to fill any voids required.
Peter watched Flash leave, then turned back to us—more specifically, to me.
“Thanks, Kevin,” he said, sincerely. His voice even cracked slightly.
The people around us looked confused. Why was he thanking me?
But we both knew why.
“No problem, dude. Just doing my part,” I said with a modest shrug.
“Aunt May asked me to invite you for dinner,” he added. “She said you’re welcome anytime.”
“Tell her thanks,” I replied. “I’ll drop by someday.”
Peter nodded with a smile. “I will.”
That’s the Peter Parker I knew. Showing such good boy behavior in front of May was not just to get brownie points from her, but also to indirectly influence Peter through her.
He was a man who gave up his wife, the love of his life, and signed the deal with Mephisto to erase his and Mary Jane’s love and marriage from history in return so that his aunt May could live after being shot by an assassin after his identity became public.
So, of course, when it came to the guy who helped May, saved her life, and earned her affection, Peter would definitely feel obliged or even think in favor of that guy, i.e., me.
It would be fun to first corrupt May and then break Peter through her. It would be entertaining to watch him navigate a dilemma between his morals and his love for his aunt. And in the end, he would have no other choice but to become his corrupted aunt’s bitch.
It will be delicious.
“Tell me if Flash bullies you again,” Peter said.
“Sure, man, no problem,” I said.
Neither of us thought Flash amounted to much. He was just a schoolyard bully with a head filled with muscles who believed that the world revolved around him.
"Holy crap! You wrecked him! That was like straight out of a movie!" And Marko was back. He looked excitedly at Peter. Even Peter looked a little flustered at the attention. Confidence boost or not, he was still the shy nerd underneath it all. Seeing a fan without his mask made him feel embarrassed.
“It wasn’t that cool…” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I kinda just got lucky with the timing.”
“Lucky?” Marko laughed. “Dude, that was straight-up ninja reflexes.”
“Alright, Marko,” I interrupted his enthusiasm, or he would waste the entire lunch break fanboying on Peter. “Calm down before you pass out from excitement. Look at him—Peter’s already red as a tomato.”
Mary Jane leaned in with a playful grin, with her arm around Peter’s neck. “Aw, come on, Tiger. Don’t act all modest now. Next thing you know, you’ll be doing backflips off the lockers and claiming you ‘tripped.’”
Peter groaned softly, covering his face. “I just didn’t want to make a scene…”
“Oh, please,” she chuckled. “You knocked Flash out so clean I thought someone pressed a pause button on him. Even the lunch lady stopped scooping mashed potatoes.”
Marko cackled. “And that second block? Bro, Matrix-level shit.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. Marko’s dead-serious expression while saying it made it ten times funnier. The rest of the table followed.
Eventually, the laughter died down.
Peter looked at us. “Anyway, you guys wanna sit with us?”
Nope.
Never.
Felicia was already a headache; I was not going to increase it by adding the other three college beauties and the superhero nerd to the equation. Felicia added enough spotlight on me; there was no way I would increase it.
I gave him a polite half-smile. “Appreciate the invite, but I think we’ll stick to our spot this time.”
Peter looked a bit disappointed, but didn’t press it. He left with his harem in tow, and the cafeteria began to settle. Well, as much as it could after a lunchroom brawl and a public social rearrangement.
People still whispered, mostly about Flash’s ego getting body-slammed. A few looked toward our table—more specifically at Felicia—but the buzz was already fading.
Good.
One person caught my eye from our earlier conversation.
Gwen.
She glanced at MJ’s arm around Peter’s neck, and for a brief second—just a second—her face flashed with jealousy—that tight flicker of envy and insecurity, before she buried it under a polite smile.
Most people wouldn’t have noticed.
But I did.
And that?
A crack worth prying open.
“Dude, when the fuck did you become friends with Parker?” Marko asked, giving me a side-eye as Peter and his harem settled into their table.
“And when did you get so close with Aunt May?” Felicia added, narrowing her eyes—the moment Peter mentioned that dinner invite, she locked on like a hawk.
What? Was my dear kitten jealous?
“Relax, Marko,” I said casually. “I’m not friends with Peter. Today was literally the first time I spoke to him face-to-face.”
I leaned back and continued, mixing truth and lies like a smoothie.
“Yesterday, I picked up his aunt in my cab. We hit it off. Traffic got jammed because of the Spider-Man vs. Vulture fight, and, well… we got a little excited and stepped out to watch. Debris started falling, and I shielded her.”
“So today was just Peter coming over to say thanks.”
Marko nodded along, then his brain caught up.
“Wait—wait a minute. You watched the Spider-Man and Vulture fight live?! And you didn’t tell me?!”
Ah, shit. Why did I say that?
This would be my life for the next seven days: Marko reenacting every punch with sound effects and conspiracy theories.
Before I could fake a coma, Felicia chimed in again, her voice sweet—too sweet.
“Then May must be really grateful,” she said, smiling like a cat. But there was ice in that grin.
Marko stopped what he was going to say. He suddenly felt goosebumps.
I showed a playful smile at her words.
I matched her smile. “Of course, she was. After all, I was her knight in shining armor.”
Marko’s brain shifted gears instantly.
“Is she hot?” he asked, eyes wide with the promise of forbidden fantasies.
“Hot,” I answered seriously.
Marko looked ready to film the next episode of My Friend’s Hot Aunt in his head.
Felicia raised an eyebrow, eyes gleaming. “Hotter than me?”
“Maybe,” I said with a smirk.
Her expression didn’t change, but something tightened behind her eyes.
“Well then, why don’t you go accept that dinner invite tonight?” she said, voice honeyed but sharp. “I’m sure whatever you had planned can wait.”
Then she turned to Marko and held his hand. “Marko… let’s enjoy our study session together.”
“Of course!” he said, straightening up with pride. “I’ll help you catch up on everything.”
Oh, kitten, you really thought I’d get jealous over you dragging around a toy?
That’s adorable.
“Yeah, Marko,” I said with mock seriousness. “Make sure you teach her everything,” I emphasized the word everything.
Marko puffed out his chest. “Absolutely. I’ll make sure she’s ahead by the end of the day!”
And Felicia?
She just smiled without blinking.
I smiled back.
Two could play the game, kitten.
Soon, the break was over. Just as we were about to head out, Marko suddenly called, “Wait, Kevin.”
It was so abrupt that both Felicia and I turned to him with confused looks.
He opened his mouth like he wanted to speak, but nothing came out.
“C’mon, bro. Did you finally decide to come out of the closet?” I asked, dead serious.
“Fuck you, Kevin! I told you—I don’t swing that way!” Marko shot back instantly, then glanced nervously at Felicia to see if she believed my joke.
She just smiled, calm and unreadable. Marko breathed out, relieved.
“Cool. Then say what you wanted to say,” I said, grinning.
Then he turned serious and became hesitant once again. Finally, he said, “Can I please borrow some cash again?”
He looked guilty, yet he looked at me with hopeful eyes.
“Sure, how much?” I asked carelessly.
“Th-the same amount as yesterday,” he said hesitatingly.
“Sure, here it is,” I agreed and handed him 500$.
He was once again left wide-eyed as whatever script he had prepared to ask for money for the second time also went down the drain.
Was I suspicious about what he wanted so much money for? Abso-fucking-lutely.
But I still didn’t ask him. It was his privacy. As a friend, I didn’t want to break that boundary.
“Thanks, Kevin. I promise to return all the money to you soon. I swear,” Marko promised repeatedly while looking guilty.
He couldn’t even look me directly in the eyes.
“Don’t worry about it, bro,” I said easily.
Felicia looked at our exchange deeply, but didn’t interrupt in between. She couldn’t see the exact amount I passed to him, but she could tell there were multiple 100$ bills.
After that, we left for our respective classes.
—
Soon, the classes ended, and Marko and I were together again.
We didn’t go home together because I usually picked up some passengers for the taxi after college, so Marko was used to going by himself in his car. We just hung out for a few minutes before going our respective ways.
Soon, Marko left, and I went to my taxi.
As I sat inside, Felicia came and knocked on the window.
Oh, for fuck’s sake. What now?
I pulled down the glass.
“Open it, I am going with you,” Felicia practically demanded, arms crossed like she owned the vehicle.
This sassy bitch.
“Nope. Not today,” I said, already starting the engine. “Got something to do. Come tomorrow if you want a ride. Still gotta pay, though.”
I needed to leave quickly to avoid missing my target.
Whatever she was going to say, she stopped and became angry.
“You want money even for that?” Felicia asked in anger.
“What do you mean by ‘even for that’?” I asked playfully. I knew she meant by the time I charged her for being a getaway driver.
“Nothing,” she hurriedly denied. She didn’t want to blow her cover. Of course, she didn’t know that it never existed.
“I mean, you will ask for money from a friend,” she said, looking offended.
“Yep,” I agreed almost instantly. “Now, if you please leave, I have somewhere to be.”
“You!” she wanted to say something more, but stopped herself.
After taking a deep breath, she stated in an undeniable tone, “I know you are going to follow Marko; I am coming with you.”
I looked at her, and she looked back unblinking.
“Fine, get inside,” I relented. I didn’t have the time to argue with this curious cat.
Marko’s privacy? Never heard of it.
We soon caught up with Marko and followed him from a distance. After driving for some time, he stopped in front of an alley.
Seriously. Why did shady business always happen in alleys?
Was it because the shady people needed an alley’s shade to do shady business?
“…”
Yeah, I know, that was cringy as fuck.
While my mind was solving shady equations, Marko got out of his car and entered the alley.
Felicia and I exited the taxi and followed, keeping a low profile.
I had to step carefully to avoid making a sound. Felicia, on the other hand? She glided across the pavement with a catlike grace. In heels, no less.
Now that I think about it… She wore heels in her Black Cat costume as well. What kind of psychopath goes rooftop-hopping in stilettos?
We reached the alley’s edge. Marko had already taken a turn. We moved quickly and peeked around the corner.
There they were—four tattooed wannabe thugs. All of them were armed. Two held bats, one had a knife strapped to his belt, and the last was carving something into the stone wall like he was doing calligraphy with a shiv.
Beer bottles, cigarette smoke, and lowlife energy filled the air.
“Well, well, look who’s here. Our favorite little friend,” one of them sneered as he noticed Marko.
The others turned, flashing greedy, toothy grins.
“Welcome, buddy,” said the one with the knife on his waist. “We were just talking about you.”
“H-hi, Vince,” Marko stammered. He tried to play it cool, but the sweat on his forehead ruined the act.
“Hey, dumbass,” Vince barked at one of his boys. “Give our guest a beer.”
“Sure, boss.” One of them cracked open a bottle and handed it to Marko.
“Th-thank you, V-Vince. But I’m good,” Marko tried to deflect.
Vince’s smile vanished. “You refusing me, Marko?”
That quiet tone—soft, low, and just deadly enough to make your stomach clench.
The other gang members also showed threatening expressions as if they were angry with Marko’s disrespect for their boss.
“N-no, I-I’m not,” Marko said quickly. He grabbed the bottle and took a gulp like his life depended on it. Maybe it did.
“That’s more like it!” Vince laughed, his mood changing faster than a girl on her period. “See? You don’t turn down a friend’s generosity, Marko. That’s bad manners.”
“Y-yes. I-I understand. Won’t happen again,” Marko nodded, trembling slightly.
“Come on, no need to be so stressed,” Vince laughed and patted Marko’s shoulders. Though the force used was such that Marko winced in pain and coiled down.
“Y-yes, Vince,” Marko said in a low voice.
“Yes, of course. You are our friend. Right, boys?” Vince asked with a sinister grin.
“Right, boss.”
“Yeah, Marko. You are our best friend.”
“We are friends, Marko.”
“You know, Marko, I was just talking with my boys about how generous and loyal a friend you are,” Vince said with a wide grin, but his eyes didn’t smile. “Always helping us out. Never complaining. Just a solid guy, you know?”
“Yeah, not like those ungrateful kids who pretend to be your friend and then poof—gone the moment you need a little help,” a gang member chimed in between.
“Exactly,” Vince said, giving Marko a gentle shake. “But not you, man. You’re different. You get it.”
“Th-thanks, guys. Y-you are also my good friends,” Marko said in a low voice in fear, clearly intimidated by the behavior of the gang members.
The gangbangers smiled as if they were waiting for Marko to say that.
“Hehe, I knew, our dear Marko considered us his best friends,” Vince grinned. “That’s why he always helps us with our financial difficulties.”
All four laughed as they looked at Marko with knowing, greedy smiles.
“He-here, Vince. The money you asked for,” Marko said, handing the 500$ to Vince.
“Asked for?” The smile was erased from Vince’s face.
With a swift motion, he snatched the bills, and in the same breath, his other fist slammed into Marko’s shoulder—hard. Marko cried out, stumbling sideways before collapsing to the ground, curling up and clutching his arm.
“You fat fuck,” Vince growled, his voice sharp with rage. “You think I’m some kind of beggar?”
He didn’t wait for a response. His boot drove into Marko’s thigh. Marko grunted in pain.
“We consider you our friend, and this is what you think of us?” Vince shouted, towering over him.
The other three gang members snickered, their eyes fixed on Marko. They also decided to join in the fun and started hitting him.
“Yo, fatty, you think just because we consider you our friend, you can ride on our heads?”
“Or is it that just because you have some money, you consider yourself better than us?”
“You broke our hearts, fatso.”
The three said while hitting him. They hit his legs, back, and arms, but made sure not to hit any visible areas.
After some beating, Vince signalled them to stop. He knelt and pulled Marko’s face to him by his hair.
“Remember, fat turd. That was a loan between pals. Do you understand?” Vince said venomously.
Marko nodded his head while wincing in pain, shame in his eyes. “Yes. I understand.”
“I am sorry for my words, Vince,” Marko apologized.
I clenched my fists, looking at Marko like that, but I didn’t interfere.
Felicia gave me a questioning look, and I only shook my head.
For now, we continued watching.
Vince’s mood shifted once again, hearing Marko’s apology.
“Hey, we are friends. There is no need for sorry or thank you in friendship,” Vince said, laughing magnanimously as he stood up and pulled Marko to his feet.
The other three gang members laughed as they agreed with their boss and fixed Marko’s clothes.
Marko just stood in shame and pain. He was now eagerly waiting for them to let him go.
“But, you know, Marko, I was really hurt by your words,” Vince said with a fake hurt expression.
“So-sorry, Vince,” Marko apologized again.
“Marko,” Vince's tone reproachful, “What did I say about no sorry between friends?”
“Y-yeah, sorry, Vince,” Marko apologized once more.
“Forget it,” Vince said as if giving up.
“Instead, if you feel sorry, why don’t you give us another loan?” Vince suggested with a sinister smile.
Marko’s eyes widened, hearing that.
“B-but you said yesterday this was the last time,” Marko’s voice trembled as he said in desperation.
“I said that, but what can I do about this damn economy. I need another loan,” Vince said sadly.
“I promise this will be the last. I will not ask you for any more loans. And I will even return all the money soon,” Vince promised quickly.
“B-but, you said” Marko was still desperate.
“And now I’m repeating it,” Vince replied coldly. “What, you calling me a liar?”
“O-ok, I can bring 100$ tomorrow,” Marko said with a choking voice. He looked as though he might cry at any moment.
“100$? Do you really think of us as beggars?” Vince roared.
“No,” Marko said, feeling dread about what was to come.
“I only wanted you to loan us just another 500$, but now you will have to bring one grand,” Vince demanded.
“One grand?! No—please, Vince—I can’t… That’s impossible! Please reduce it,” Marko begged in desperation.
“Do you want to make me angry again, Pig?” Vince asked menacingly.
“N-no,” Marko stammered, flinching. “It’s just—I… I can’t get that much.”
“Sure, you can.” Vince smiled like a snake. “You’re our loyal friend, right? We believe in you.”
“And didn’t I promise this is the last time. Don’t you believe me?” Vince continued with a hurtful expression.
“Is it really the last time?” Marko asked with hope and desperation.
“Yes,” Vince promised with a smile.
“Ok,” Marko finally relented.
I turned around and left. I had seen enough.
Felicia, visibly taken aback, quickly caught up and slid into the passenger seat beside me. I drove off before Marko could exit the alley.
The silence lingered. Not even the city’s noise dared to intrude.
“Go on,” I said finally, keeping my eyes on the road. “Ask.”
“Why didn’t you help him?” she asked, her voice calm but edged with curiosity.
I exhaled. “Because this isn’t the time.”
She tilted her head slightly, a smirk playing on her lips. She already had a theory — but she wanted to hear mine.
I sighed again, “Yes, I could have saved him, but this wouldn’t have solved the core problem.”
She didn’t speak and waited for my explanation.
“Even if I had helped him today, there would always be a fluke mentality in his mind. If something like that happens again with him, he will stay hopeful that either the other party will keep their promise or someone will save him again.”
I paused as I stopped for the red light.
“He needs to suffer. He needs to see that his hopes are placed on the wrong person. He needs to understand that he was wrong from the start. That sometimes there is no hope in the situation.”
I started the taxi again as the light turned green.
“He needs to reach the bottom. Feel it. Understand that not everyone gets a savior. He needs to break… so that he can decide to stand up. Not because someone else helped him, but because he chose to fight back. That’s why he needs to rebel.”
“Only then will it be worthwhile to save him. Because what’s the use of saving someone who doesn’t want to save himself?”
I felt Felicia’s hand on my hand, but I didn’t speak. I just continued driving.

Chapter 13: In, Out, and Screwed in Between

Chapter 13: In, Out, and Screwed in Between

“Search the place. They must be around here somewhere,” a thug said, looking around the room to see if any of the intruders were hiding there. The gun in his hand was ready to shoot any uninvited face on sight.
The room looked like an old office — not well-maintained, but still used. It had a large desk with files, folders, and other stationery items. A chair for a boss on one side of it, with two slightly lower-quality chairs in front of it. Papers and stationery were scattered on the table. A single overhead fan turned sluggishly, its blades creaking with every rotation.
A half-empty bookshelf leaned crookedly against one wall, filled with worn ledgers, rusted trophies, and a few ceramic showpieces. Near the far corner stood a dented filing cabinet with drawers left open, and beside it, a utility locker hung slightly ajar. Lastly, an old couch draped in a grimy gray sheet sat under the window.
The safe built into the wall beside the desk stood open and empty.
Two other thugs hovered near the door. One gripped a gun, the other a machete. At the order, they nodded and slipped out to alert the others.
The remaining thug gave the room one last glance. His eyes swept over the mess of the desk, paused on the couch, then flicked toward the locker.
Under the desk, I finally let out a slow, quiet breath.
My knees were curled tightly to my chest, my spine pressed against the cold metal. The front panel shielded me from view, and a faded leather jacket dangling inside the desk helped mask my silhouette from the other side.
As I heard the soft thud of his boots receding, I wondered how I got myself into this mess.

—
Was I angry with what happened to Marko? Absolutely, I was. I wanted to tear those gangbangers apart.
But like I told Felicia, the idiot had to stand up for himself first. Until then? I’d wait.
It wouldn’t be long. If Marko didn’t learn soon, I’d teach him myself.
Speaking of Felicia, I felt that I was even closer to her. Things were progressing well.
As for whether she joined Marko for their ‘study session’, yep, they did.
The poor bastard couldn’t believe it. Said he thought she was joking, that she’d ghost him. He still showed up an hour early, showered like he was prepping for a date with his destiny mate, and wore his Sunday best—his words, not mine.
Felicia, naturally, arrived on time. Like she’d miss a chance to mess with me.
She even sent me little snapshots. Innocent on the surface, but with just enough implied closeness to poke the bear. Flirty little jabs. Teasing smirks.
That teasing minx thought she could make me jealous with her actions. Did she still think I would be jealous of her flirting and playing with a toy?
Amateur.
Marko, the sweet idiot filled with blissful ignorance, was filled with happiness, thinking that his crush had graced him with her presence. Fucker, couldn’t stop a second about it after he called me when their study session was over.
Yeah, their study session was merely two hours. None of them had the willpower to go beyond that. Even if some subtle flirting occurred during that time, most of it was still spent studying.
She also called me, saying how much fun she had with Marko while studying, trying hard to push my buttons.
I smirked. Told Felicia I was already looking forward to the sequel to her and Marko’s study date.
She hung up immediately. Frustrated.
And then, a few minutes later, she called again—this time with another number, with a slightly changed voice, as Black Cat.
She told me the time and location I had to come to for today’s heist. However, she didn’t tell me more details about the heist. She tried to sound normal, but I could still hear a slight edge in her voice.
Watching her juggle Felicia and Black Cat was entertaining. She really thought she was nailing the dual identity thing.
Amateur.
I wonder how she would react when she found out I knew both were the same person.
I sat in the back of the taxi, en route to the location Felicia—sorry, Black Cat—had given me.
Killing time, I pulled up my status screen.

Name: Kevin Kolt
Tier: F1

Attributes:
Strength: F1
Agility: F1
Constitution: F1
Endurance: F1
Vitality: F3
Intelligence: F2
Wisdom: F2
Perception: F2
Willpower: F3
Charisma: F2

Skills:
Gamer’s Mind (Max)
Gamer’s Body (Max)
Observe (Max)
Driving (Expert)
Martial Arts (Novice)
First Aid (Apprentice)

Missions:
Taxi Driver (100/100) (Complete)
Vigilante (5/100)
Paramedic (33/100)
Delivery (10/100)
Burglary (5/100)
Art of Persuasion (4/100)

Two of my attributes increased. First was the Vitality, which increased from F1 to F3.
In RPGs, an increase in vitality typically means an increase in HP or even HP Regen. Since I didn’t have an HP bar, I couldn’t confirm that. But I could still feel the changes. I had more energy for the day. Not only that, but my body became more resilient. I remember slipping on the wet pavement today. The fall was painful, but the pain faded faster than it should have.
Next was the Charisma. An increase from F1 to F2 was not much. I didn’t become extremely persuasive overnight, sweet-talking clothes off with a line and a smirk like a poorly written hentai protagonist.
But the change was still there. I received more tips today than I did yesterday. It could be a coincidence. Or it could be me.
Next were my skills. Not much changed. Only my [First Aid] skill leveled up to the Apprentice stage after running around and helping the victims of the spider vs vulture brawl.
Finally, my missions. The same brawl also helped me increase the [Paramedic] mission count to 33, which allowed me to complete the first objective.
Next was the new mission [Art of Persuasion], which I gained after my encounter with Jessica. Persuading my taxi customers with my charisma upgrade certainly helped with both the tips and this mission. Of course, my expert stage [Driving] skill did have a part in that.
Slow progress? Sure.
But I wasn’t here to speedrun. I was here to win.
I finally arrived at the designated location. It was a house on the outskirts. The single-story house with the small garage looked run-down. The time was nearing midnight, so the house looked even more gloomy in the faint moonlight.
It looked perfect for a gang's safe house… or the kind of place Ghostface might vacation in.
I dialed her number. “I’m here.”
“Wait a minute,” came Black Cat’s voice.
I waited as told, and a car pulled out of the garage. Black Cat was driving it. It was a cheap, black sedan — the kind you see everywhere.
“Put yours in the garage,” she said without missing a beat.
Well, hello to you, too, princess.
I smirked, parked the car, stepped out, and slid the garage door shut behind me. By the time I returned, she was already lounging in the passenger seat.
Of course, I was driving. Why did I even pretend to expect otherwise?
I slid into the driver’s seat. “So,” I said, grinning, “are you finally going to tell me which poor bastard we’re robbing tonight?”
She had kept the information secret till now and only said she would tell me the details when we met for the job.
Felicia didn’t answer; instead, she looked at me with an intense gaze without blinking.
I waited for a full minute. No answer.
“What happened? Did a black cat cross your path?” I joked.
Still no answer.
Ooook. Now that was getting creepy.
“Have you eaten?” The great cat goddess finally graced me with her divine words.
I blinked. What did Felicia ask? Eat?
But suddenly, it clicked.
Oh. Did Felicia want to pry from my mouth whether I went to dinner at May’s or not?
“Who are you? My mom?” I asked, laughing. Are we having foreplay before the heist?
Her face reddened as she heard that.
“I was being polite,” she muttered, looking away. “Clearly a waste of effort.”
“Don’t worry, kitty. I came with a belly full, so you don’t have to worry about me passing out mid-heist,” I teased while rubbing my stomach, showing a contented face as if I had a great dinner.
Felicia looked like she would claw my face any second. It was dangerous, but it was fun.
Wait a minute.
Was I becoming an adrenaline junkie like her?
Or maybe I was just a plain sadist.
“Was the food that good that you are making such a face?” she asked, her voice both envious and bitter.
“Good. It was heavenly,” I said with a contented face. I waited for a beat and said, ”The noodles at the noodle shop near me are the best in the city.”
She showed an increasingly envious expression as I said the first part. But her expression halted when I said the second.
For a moment, she stared blankly.
Kitty.exe Crashed!
Then, her brain finally comprehended what I said.
“Are you making fun of me?” she snapped.
“Why?” I said innocently. “Did you want noodles, too? You should’ve told me—I’d have brought you some.”
She took deep breaths. Girl was trying real hard not to snap. She couldn’t outright ask what she wanted without dropping the act, and my smart-ass answers weren’t helping.
Inwardly, I was cackling like a maniac. Shit, I was enjoying it too much.
“No need,” she bit out through gritted teeth.
“Anyway,” she huffed, “let’s talk about the heist.”
But I had a feeling this was not the end of the topic, which meant more fun.
“Finally,” I said dramatically, “back to business.”
She exhaled once more, slipping back into mission mode.
“The job this time is to pick up some files from a gang,” she said.
I suddenly had a bad feeling regarding this. Felicia looked at me and understood what I was thinking. She caught it and grinned like she’d just scored a point.
“How dangerous?” I asked, already bracing myself.
“Nothing big. Maybe a couple guards — probably asleep. We sneak in, grab the files, sneak out. Easy.”
That grin of hers told me she was lying through her teeth and loving every second of it.
Why did I feel she purposefully didn’t tell me the job details previously, just to see what face I would make hearing about it?
“Really?” I asked doubtfully with raised eyebrows.
“Absolutely,” she answered cheerfully.
Absolutely, my ass. It had trap written all over it. From her reaction, I was sure we were going on our most difficult heist to date.
I didn’t say anything and just started the car.
“Where to?” I asked with a resigned voice.
“Drive straight ahead,” she replied, smug as a cat in a canary shop.
This kitty was begging for a spanking.
—
After driving for some time, we reached our destination. We left the car in the woods and proceeded on foot. After hiking for a few hundred meters through the brush, we crouched in the shadows, eyes locked on the target.
The warehouse looked rundown, with various cars parked outside and inside. A few mechanics with a gangster appearance could be seen working on some of the vehicles.
It resembled a warehouse that had been converted into an auto shop.
If it was just that, there was not much of a problem, even if there was a possibility of fighting with angry mechanics if we got discovered.
No, the problem was a few other gangsters patrolling the perimeter with weapons. I already saw two, one with a wrench and the other with a mutherfucking gun.
I turned to Felicia immediately. The expression of blame and betrayal on my face was clear as day.
Felicia smiled wider, seeing that.
“Oh, come on. Don’t be a baby. It was high time we stepped up our game,” Felicia said, like she was offering me a protein shake instead of a trip to bullet town.
I gave her a look that said, 'You’re getting spanked later.'
She gave one back, ‘Try me.’
I sighed.
She was not wrong to step up our game. I guessed, for an adrenaline junkie like her, house invasions were already getting boring.
“What’s the job? Be detailed this time,” I asked.
“That’s the auto shop of Steel Vultures, some small-time gang, which is actually a front for a chop shop,” Felicia started the introductions.
Steel Vultures? Never heard of them. I kind of expected it. After all, the real world was different from comics or movies. Not every character would be mentioned in them.
“We are after some files kept in the safe in the office. It contains details regarding trade routes, business deals, client information, and other relevant information. Someone paid a good price for that info,” she added to the job details.
Then, with a smile, she continued, “And of course, anything else shiny we find is ours.”
After hearing about that, I looked at the warehouse deep in thought. Jobs like that, even if risky, had a much better payday than robbing some unlucky guy in the neighborhood.
I understood my job here. My main job was once again to serve as the getaway driver in case we were caught and to act as her bodyguard.
“How are we doing this?” I asked.
“I already found a way inside,” she said, puffing up proudly.
“Cool. Lead the way, then,” I said, looking towards her.
Then she hesitated and showed an embarrassed smile. I had a bad feeling again.
“It’s just that you need good agility and parkour skills to use that way. So, I don’t think you will be able to use that way,” she laughed as she stuck her tongue out playfully.
Calm down. Don't strangle the cat.
“Then what about me?” I asked, clinging to some scrap of hope.
“You’ll have to find your own way in,” she said, chipper as hell, like she’d just handed me a map to Mordor.
Deep breath, Kevin. Deep breath.
I opened my mouth to give her a piece of my mind, but she was already turning away.
“See you inside,” she called with a playful wave. “Try not to get caught, rookie.”
Then she vanished into the shadows like a smug ghost in a skintight suit.
I stared at the empty space where she’d been.
I cursed her past nine generations.
Then turned back to the warehouse with the patrolling gangsters.
Great. Now, how the hell was I getting inside?
Waltzing through the front door would be suicide.
I circled the building and found an entrance at the back. However, it was not easy to enter with the two patrolling gangsters. Guess which one I wasn’t planning to test my luck against?
I observed their patrolling pattern and concluded that their routes were independent, as they moved around the building while occasionally engaging in other activities. Sometimes, they'd stop and stare off into space, chilling while playing the NPC's idle animation.
I waited for the gangster with the gun to pass. I didn’t want to take any chances against someone packing heat. One misstep, and I would be Swiss cheese.
Eventually, he turned a corner and walked off.
I waited for a few more moments to make sure he wouldn’t turn back.
Seeing the coast clear, I decided to run to the door but halted mid-step.
The wrench guy appeared from the side like a damn ghost.
‘Why is the fucker so fast?’
I dove back into the woods, heart pounding. Held my breath like a damn deer in hunting season.
I once again waited with bated breath for the mutherfucker to leave.
But Murphy’s law decided to fuck me in the ass that day.
I wanted him to leave quickly, but instead, that gutterspawn decided to stop and stand close to the entrance.
Fuck my life. Fuck that rusty-tool-carrying shit nugget.
He yawned and casually scanned the tree line. Because of him, I had to hide deeper in the woods behind a proper cover. I was sure that if he saw me, he wouldn’t hesitate to crack my skull open with that wrench.
Come on. Come on. Leave. Shoo. Walk off motherfucker.
Then, as if Murphy’s law thought it didn’t fuck my ass deep enough, it came back to fuck my ass again.
The pig turd turned, walked a few steps…
…and unzipped his pants to pee.
Right. Next. To. The. Door.
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!
At this rate, Felicia would be in, out, and halfway through spending her loot before I even set foot inside.
No. Screw this.
If this clown wouldn’t move?
It was time to get a little personal.
I crept up behind him, slow and silent, while he stood whistling and watering the wall like it was his life’s calling.
I maintained some distance but waited for the guy to do his part. After all, who was I to interrupt Mother Nature’s call?
Who was I kidding? I just didn’t want the splashes of his deed on me.
When the waterworks stopped and the gangbanger was zipping his pants, I moved.
With quick steps, I shortened the distance between us and kicked the back of his knee.
He immediately lost his balance as his leg folded. The wrench clattered to the ground.
“Ah—” His scream was cut off as I slammed my hand over his mouth.
Didn’t matter that we were behind the building. One loud cry, and this heist would turn into a shootout.
My other arm looped around his neck in a tight sleeper hold.
He thrashed, arms flailing weakly. He tapped my arm, panicked. But between the knee pain and the blood flow cut off, he didn’t last long.
“Easy. Sleep. It’s okay. Just sleep,” I whispered to him in his ear like a lullaby.
Soon, his struggle diminished as he finally stopped struggling.
I hefted the unconscious body up with both arms. My spine screamed in protest.
Dragging would’ve been easier, sure. But drag marks? That’s how dumbasses get caught.
I carried him thirty, maybe forty meters into the woods and dumped him behind a tree thick enough to hide a body. He could not be seen unless someone came deep here to look for him.
Out of the woods, I peeked around — clear.
I ran, low and fast, and slipped in through the rear door.
Showtime.

*********************

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Chapter 14: I Came, I Saw, I Looted

Chapter 14: I Came, I Saw, I Looted

I entered the door quietly, eyeing my new surroundings from behind a large storage box covered in a tarp with “HANDLE WITH CARE” stamped on it.
I was in some kind of storage cum garage. Various cars were lined up in the massive room, with many boxes and tires stacked in many places. I saw two forklifts: one was parked near the room's entrance, and the other at the far side.
There were car parts piled up in one corner, some of which were stacked with care. A small, glass-walled side room housed a desk, a computer, and enough exposed engine parts to build a death trap. Bright-colored tool chests with tools scattered were near the parts. A bunch of license plates were hanging on hooks on the wall nearby. The walls had graffiti here and there.
I looked for any kind of digital surveillance in the garage.
No cameras... either they're cheap, cocky, or smart enough not to film their own crimes.
The warehouse likely had good sound insulation, as I didn’t hear any noise from the back. Of course, I did listen to it when I was in the front, but those were from the mechanics working there.
But inside, the whole building was filled with various noises. It was not loud since I was at the very back. The clanging noises of hammers hitting metal, the whirs and buzzes of drills and saws, which I would absolutely stay away from whoever was using them. Engine noises, music from the stereo, conversations, and so on.
However, these noises were a pleasant welcome, as they would cover any noise I might make while making my way to the office.
There were a few gangsters in the room. One was beneath a car held by the vehicle lift, with only his feet visible, working on it. Another was in the small side room, fiddling with the computer and the car parts. I couldn’t see what weapons they were carrying from here. One was noting something down on a clipboard, looking at the various cars in storage. He had a distinctive bulge of a pistol at his waist.
Another two were working on some cars while talking, but due to the distance, I couldn’t hear them. One man was using a buzz saw to cut open a vehicle, while the other was using a drill on another car. I had no intentions of going near either unless I wanted my eulogy to include “cut in half by a buzz saw.”
The last one I could see from my position was the nearest to me. He had a machete at his waist as he sat on a small box, facing away from me, playing with his phone, likely slacking off.
The only problem, he was sitting on the only way I could proceed without alerting everyone and being targeted by a bunch of angry psychos.
Should I just leave?
Sigh, fuck.
I took a breath, trying to calm my racing heart. My skill [Gamer’s Mind] played a significant role in helping me calm down. Without it, I was sure I would have turned tail the moment I saw six armed guys hanging around like this was just another Tuesday.
After a moment’s hesitation, I looked at my target, the gangster playing with his phone. With determined eyes, I moved slowly and quietly while crouching behind the cover of boxes.
I stopped at the edge of the last box and peered ahead. No one was looking. Using that opportunity, I hurriedly left my position, crossed the gap, reached the other box, and hid behind it.
Drip.
A drop of sweat fell. I wiped my chin and realized my whole face was wet with sweat. I waited a few seconds to cool down. Then, I resumed my journey, which was starting to feel never-ending.
I put each step with great care to ensure I wouldn’t make any noise. Each step felt like I was carrying hundreds of kilos on each leg.
I once again peeked at the edge and saw everyone busy with their work. Confident, I was about to rush to the next group of boxes, but halted and ducked behind the box. The guy in the side room suddenly turned his face towards me from the glass. My heartbeat was hammering in my ears.
I moved to the other edge and peeked carefully. The guy’s gaze was not fixed, and it looked like he was just casually looking outside while stretching his hands and yawning. His gaze swept the room a few times, and then he returned to his work.
I waited for a minute, and when he looked like he was focused back on his work, I moved and reached the other edge once again.
With a cautious glance from the edge, I didn’t find anyone looking and hopped to the boxes group for the cover.
The last cover-hop was uneventful, and I reached my target. The thug was still deeply absorbed in his phone.
“New high score, baby. Who’s the king?” The gangster muttered while playing some game on his phone.
I went behind him, covered his mouth with one hand, and chopped the side of his neck with a knife-hand strike. The thug didn’t fall unconscious. My hand muffled his painful screams.
His phone fell from his hand and clattered on the floor. The much louder noise in the warehouse drowned out the clattering sound.
He didn’t go down as intended.
Of course, he fucking didn’t.
I fucking knew that I shouldn’t believe those bullshit movies. I cursed every spy movie that had lied to me.
I felt a strange mix of anger and fear at the situation.
Fine, if one weren't enough, then two would be. If not two, then three.
I yanked him back and punched him hard in the kidneys. Another knife hand to the neck, and he was down.
Just as I took down the thug, I received a new notification.

Skill Unlocked
Stealth (Novice): Enables quieter movement and awareness of visible exposure.

I felt different somehow.
Nope, I didn’t become a better ninja than a Kage.
But compared to before, it felt slightly easier. Previously, I had to take every step carefully, making sure not to make any noise, but now it felt a bit natural. I suddenly knew how to conceal myself more effectively in the cover than I had previously and how to utilize my surroundings to my advantage.
I suddenly felt more confident in completing today’s job, but I didn’t let this feeling cloud my mind. Getting cocky in this situation would be a one-way ticket to hell.
I patted the thug’s body and found a wallet in his back pocket that I took without hesitation.
What? Looting after defeating an enemy is the birthright of a gamer.
I didn’t get this opportunity previously while fighting the gangsters in the alley, but there was no way I was letting go of my sweet loot.
There was a stack of large tires nearby, with a few more tires around it. I pulled the body and dumped it inside the hollow center. With two more tires on top, no one would now find him here.
I opened the wallet. It had a condom packet with some money in it. I took out the money and used the [Observe] skill on it.

Normal Bills: Unmarked cash. Easy to spend, no strings attached.

I pocketed the cash with relief and threw the wallet inside the tire stack hole.
Next, I took a wallet out of my pocket. The thug patrolling outside graciously gave it to me when I respectfully left his body behind a tree.
Inside, I found another condom, some cash, and a photo of a girl, either in her late teens or early twenties. His girlfriend?
I took out the cash and left everything else inside.
All the bills were fine, but one caught my attention.

Marked Bills: Traceable money. Spending it can draw unwanted attention.

Nope. No thanks.
I put that bill inside the wallet without hesitation and threw it in the tire stack.
I didn’t care where he got that from, but I wanted none of that.
A few hundred dollars richer and hopefully not flagged by the feds, I peeked at the room while hiding behind a box and planned my next move.
This next stretch? Felt easier. Or, it might be that the [Stealth (Novice)] skill was kicking in.
I slipped through the remaining rows of cars, hiding in the shadows cast by the overhead lights and ducking behind tool carts and crates while hiding from the sight of the hard-working gangsters.
As I exited the room, the sounds hit harder. Hammering metal, engine revs, loud music, clanging tools. The air reeked of oil, rust, and frustration.
I crouched behind a car and scoped out the area ahead. The front of the warehouse was already visible, with more mechanics and gangsters working on the vehicles.
On the left side of the front area, I could see stairs going up.
If my assumption was correct, the office, which should also be the boss's room, should be upstairs.
But, since I hadn’t signed up for Suicide Squad, I wasn't taking that route.
To my right, I saw the door to another room. No guards, no one near it.
Promising.
The door was closed. Now, how to enter without interrupting anyone’s good time inside.
I crept towards it and pressed my ear to the door. I could hear some muffled voices.
“—and that’s a beautiful cross into the box! Can he finish—YES! GOOOOAAAL!” It sounded like a game commentary.
"Hah! That’s what I’m talkin’ about! My boy never misses from the left wing!" One person said excitedly.
"—shut up. Defense was sleeping. Even my grandma could’ve scored that." Another voice, scoffing.
"Your grandma didn’t get 18 goals this season. Sit down," the first guy said, annoyed.
"—the stadium explodes as the visitors take the lead—" the game commentary came again amidst muffled cheers.
"—we lose this; I'm flipping that table," the second guy said irritably.
“You say one more word, and I’ll flip your face. Watch the damn game, clown," the first guy threatened.
“…you see that pass? That was clean as hell,” the second guy said excitedly.
“...nah, ref shoulda called offside. Guy was already—” the first guy said, but his sentence was drowned in the sound of a loud hammer strike.
“GOAL!” The game host's voice came through, which I now assumed was a television.
“BOOM! Told you! Left corner, baby. That’s skill, not luck,” the first guy’s excited voice came out.
“Whatever, man. You only cheer when your bets don’t suck,” the second guy said.
I removed my ear from the door; I had listened enough. There were probably only two thugs inside, focused on watching the soccer match. But probably wasn’t definite. And I hated those odds.
There might be more watching the game quietly, but that was a risk I had to take.
Time to gamble.
I opened the door slightly and looked inside while crouching. I saw two thugs sitting on a large, worn sofa and watching a soccer game on a television. They looked engrossed in the game.
No third guy in sight. I opened the door more, enough for me to pass inside. Hesitantly, I came inside and quietly closed the door.
I saw no one else except for the two gangsters, who had their full attention on the match. The room looked like a breakroom. Other than the sofa and television, there was a jukebox on the right wall, a snooker table to the left, a vending machine beside the television, and, lastly, a microwave with a few dishes on a counter.
There were two doors on the left: one beside the jukebox and the other directly in front of the one I had come in from.
The one beside the jukebox was slightly open, with a washbasin peeking from the gap. Probably a toilet.
Next was the second door, which was completely open, revealing a dimly lit corridor.
While looking at the room, I had already sneaked behind the sofa.
“I think I heard the door,” the second thug said with confusion as he looked at the closed door.
I stayed crouched behind the sofa and held my breath unknowingly.
“So what? Watch the game, fool,” the first thug said dismissively. “It might be Bobby who wanted to eat something. He came by twice already and bailed.”
“That’s possible. That guy is still scared of you after you nearly chopped off his finger,” the second thug laughed.
“Deserved it. Kid thought he could mouth off ‘cause he went from schoolyard punk to part-time thug.”
“Right? These newbies think one tattoo and a knife make ‘em untouchable.”
I stayed crouched, unmoving, until they both started yelling at the TV again—some kind of missed goal or bad ref call.
I didn’t wait for a second round of threats and slipped out the open hallway door.
The corridor was not too long. The corridor ended at a reception area with a few sofas and a reception desk. It might be used for their auto shop front.
It was midnight. Midnight meant no receptionist, no customers, and no Karen at the front desk.
I finally saw what I wanted. Another set of stairs went up near the front door. Now, I just had to take the stairs and go up.
But there was a problem. Why’s there always a damn but?
There were two thugs in the room, standing near the half-open front door, looking outside.
Why couldn’t things be easy?
I'm a gamer, but why doesn’t my system have a difficulty slider? I demand a refund.
One of the thugs had a gun, and the other had a metal bat.
"You feel that? Like someone’s watchin’," the thug with the bat said while looking around the room with a twitchy look.
I was already two steps back in the corridor, ready to sneak out from the other side at a moment’s notice.
"Yeah. It's called paranoia,” the thug with the gun joked.
"Still… somethin’ ain’t right," the thug with the bat said worriedly.
“Just go out and get some fresh air. Anyway, it's already time for a shift change for the patrol,” the thug with the gun said dismissively.
The bat-wielding thug grumbled and left the warehouse.
Of course, my shitty luck once again shat on my head.
Why did it have to be the thug with the gun to be the one to stay behind?
There was no way he couldn’t catch me going up when he was alert and standing so near the stairs. My only saving grace was that his gun was tucked at his waist, not in his hand.
The thug was standing at the front door, looking outside. This was my only chance to take him down. If he turned, it might become ugly. Moreover, I had to do it as quickly and quietly as possible. If those two in the breakroom heard a disturbance or if the two guards patrolling saw me attacking their fellow low-life, it would be game over.
I crept behind him while crouched. I got up, and then my foot connected with the back of his knee, and my hand covered his mouth at the same time.
I locked him in a sleeper hold with the other hand. His arms flailed as he tried to free himself, but the pain he felt was too much, and with the blood flow cut off, his thinking was slowing.
He tried to go for the gun at his waist, but I kicked him in the ankle of the same leg I had hit previously. He lost his balance and missed the opportunity to grab his gun.
“Shh. Sleep. As long as you sleep, you will no longer feel any pain,” I said in a low, soothing voice in his ear.
Soon, the struggle diminished, and he went limp.
I hauled his body and dumped it behind the reception desk. Next, I took his gun, a Glock, and tucked it at my waist.
No, I had no plan of going all Rambo. I just didn’t want it used against me later, in case I got caught.
Next was his wallet.
Cash, More condoms, a receipt, and something sticky that I didn’t want to investigate. I took the money, discarded the useless trash, and then threw the wallet behind the reception desk.
After looking outside on both the left and right sides, as if I were about to cross a road, I nodded to myself and crept back inside.
I climbed the stairs, each step slow and careful.
Stage 1 cleared. Let’s start stage 2.
“Hey, rookie, where are you? I have arrived in the office,” Felicia’s voice came through my earpiece, crisp and smug.
“On the stairs. Didn’t find the office on the ground floor,” I whispered back.
“Not bad. You’re on the right track. It’s the first room at the top of the stairs from the garage. Hurry up,” Felicia said and cut off the connection.
I reached the first floor, more of a mezzanine than a full second story. There were rooms on one side, lined up, and a roughly two-meter-wide overlook in front of the rooms. A few tool racks, tools, some parts, and occasional crates were lying on the overlook.
A thug sat in a chair by the railing, swaying slightly, watching the floor below. Probably. More likely, dreaming about pizza rolls.
I spotted my destination, which I had concluded from my conversation with Felicia. It was the last room on the line. Naturally.
Fuck.
I slowly made my way forward. A painful, screaming voice that was muffled by the door and outside noise came from the first door. An occasional whirring with sounds of something being cut, followed by more painful screams. My legs sped up without permission until I passed the room.
The door to the next room was ajar. Peeking inside, I found many beds with some snoring thugs on them. A few weapons were visible, kept near them, with a pistol resting on one of the side tables. I had no intention of disturbing the sweet dreams of such hard-working men, so once again, I sped up and passed the room.
The next room door was also open. It resembled a combination of a guard room and an armory. There was a table and a chair with a weapons rack. Most were melee weapons, such as machetes, knives, and bats, but there was also a gun on one of the racks.
The thug sitting in the chair in front of the room was likely the guard on duty. I peeked at him from behind a tool rack, and as I expected, he was already in dreamland.
I sneaked into the guard room and took my second gun. It was a Uzi this time. I took whatever bullets I could find and kept them in a small bag I had with me.
I looked around the room to find anything else valuable. In the table drawer, I found another Glock. Score. It was likely from the guy outside. He probably didn’t even bother keeping his gun on him, likely thinking he wouldn’t need it inside the warehouse.
Finder’s keepers.
What? Felicia did say to take anything shiny. I was just being a good thief.
I even wanted to take the one on the side table in the room with the sleeping gangsters, but then I remembered I was not stealing from a poor sob’s house but from a gang hideout where a misstep could be life-threatening.
So yeah, let’s not tempt fate.
I quietly passed behind the sleeping guard, crouching, and made my way past the room. Finally, my destination was in sight.
I opened the office door and slipped inside.
The room resembled a typical den of a gang boss. There was a stylish leather chair that screamed that it was the boss’s chair. In front of it was a desk with two more chairs, with quality worse than the boss’s chair, as if to remind the difference between them to whoever sat in those chairs.
There was classy wallpaper on the walls in contrast to the graffiti I found outside. A few paintings adorned the walls. A bookshelf was lined with books, ledgers, showpieces, and occasional ‘trophies’. The drawers in the file cabinet were open, with the utility locker door ajar. An old couch sat under the window.
The only occupant of the room was Felicia, who took a glance to check who had entered, and when she found it was me, she resumed whatever she was doing.
I walked curiously towards her and saw that she was trying to open the safe beside the boss’s desk.
Realizing it was outside my expertise, I let the expert do her job. I looked around the room to find anything valuable, which turned out to be useless, as my fellow thief had already thoroughly turned the room upside down to do the same. Not a shiny thing left in sight.
With nothing to do, I just watched Felicia work. Five minutes later, I heard a satisfying click as the safe opened.
Felicia turned to me, and we smiled at each other. Inside the safe, there were a few files, some cash, and a watch. Felicia bagged everything without looking.
“These files are the ones the client wants?” I asked, watching her put the files in her bag.
“Yep,” she answered in a smug voice.
“How much are they worth?” I asked curiously.
“15 grand,” she answered.
Damn. That’s what I call a payday.
“Let’s leave,” she said after bagging everything.
Just as I was about to reply, we heard some shouting outside. We moved towards the door to listen.
“Rico. Rico. What the fuck are you doing sleeping on the job? Get up quickly. I think someone snuck in!”
“Huh? What? What happened?” came a confused voice — Rico, sounding groggy and busted.
“Check every room. They might be in one of those,” the first voice ordered.
…Shit.
I realized that one of those thugs might have found one of the bodies.
I glanced at Felicia. No words — we both knew. We had to leave. Now.
“Where’d you come in from?” I asked Felicia.
“From there?” she answered, pointing towards the window.
I had no idea how she even managed to pull that off. I could only see a thin ledge going to the side.
She was right. Whatever method she used, currently, I was not capable of emulating it.
“You leave from here. I will find another way outside,” I told her.
“What? Are you insane?” she whispered, angry — but her eyes betrayed worry.
“Listen. There is no time to argue. You leave from here. I promise I will find another way outside,” I said with a tone of finality.
She hesitated. “You'd better meet me outside, rookie,” she hissed, but her eyes looked more worried. With a final glare, she slipped through the window and onto the ledge. She moved on the ledge while hugging the wall.
With one last look at her, I closed the window so that the thugs who came inside wouldn’t think someone jumped outside.
Voices echoed outside the room. Close now. Too close. Sounded like they were done checking the other rooms, and this was next.
I quickly hid under the boss’s desk. It was closed from the front. I wouldn’t be visible from there. On the other side, the chair covered half of the open area. A jacket was hanging from the table, and I shifted it to cover more of the open side.
Perfect? No.
But good enough to bet my life on.
Footsteps closed in. Finally, three thugs entered the room.
If they found me, I had three guns and zero good plans.
I took a breath to calm my heart.
Stage 2 cleared. Let’s start stage 3.

Chapter 15

Chapter 15: Work Hard, Play Hard

“Shit! The safe’s open!” one thug barked.
“It’s empty!” another choked out.
“No. No. No… Boss’ll kill us if he finds out,” a third muttered, voice shaky.
“Search the place. They must be around here somewhere,” the thug with the gun ordered the other two thugs with a gun and a machete. They nodded and left the room. The thug gave one last cursory glance to the room, his gaze passing the desk, couch, and file cabinet.
I heard the receding sound of his boots and slowly emerged from my hiding place. While still behind the desk, I peeked and saw the last thug standing by the door, looking out.
Couple guards. Probably asleep. My foot.
I knew things wouldn’t be as easy as she made them out to be.
But what’s done was done. Now, I had to leave this place alive.
I took out a sheathed knife from my bag. As I pulled it out from its sheath, its sharp edge glinted under the room light.
I remembered the night I received it.
The rooftop had been quiet, the city's glow casting long shadows. Uncle Niko stood in front of me, holding out the blade with steady hands.
“I won’t stand in your way,” he had said, voice low. “But you need to understand—once you step into that world, it doesn’t let go easily.”
He placed the knife in my hand. “Let it protect you. And no matter how far you go… don’t forget, you’ve still got a place to come back to.”
The memory passed like smoke.
I previously didn’t use it because I wanted to keep things clean. Moreover, if blood were spilled, there would be a higher chance of them discovering someone infiltrated due to the smell of the blood. Not that I was in a better position, even if I didn’t use it.
But that was not the actual reason.
I knew when I took this path, I had to kill. Hell, even one of my missions explicitly tells me to kill criminals. But it was not easy. I was procrastinating. Even when those thugs indirectly died due to me during the car chase, I still thought that since I didn’t kill them myself intentionally, it didn’t count.
A while ago, I was just a normal man in a normal world. However, I was then thrust into this ridiculous world of uneven power ratings.
Killing someone as part of the job was not something that had ever crossed my mind.
I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly with my eyes closed.
I opened my eyes and no longer hesitated. I had stalled enough. It was time for action.
The thug looked ready to leave the room. I could not allow that. I had to remove at least those with firearms from the picture, as they posed the most threat to us.
I crept behind the thug standing in the doorway. From the gap between the door frame and him, I saw no other thug nearby.
I covered his mouth and slit his throat. He thrashed in my arms, the strength leaving his body. Within seconds, his body went limp, and I dragged it inside.
I looked at the dead thug, his eyes wide in horror.
It might be the [Gamer’s Mind] skill messing with me, but I didn’t feel anything.
Or was I just... broken?
A psychopath finally off the leash?
Maybe this part of me was always there, just waiting for the world to let it out.
Whatever it might be, I had no time for regrets. I chose this path despite knowing the consequences.
I will walk this road with my head held high.
Oh well, enough of my sob story. It was time to loot, baby.
I put my fourth gun, this time a revolver, in my bag. I checked the dead thug’s pockets, and they had the general trinkets, a lighter, a few cheap cigarettes, and his wallet.
Like a ritual, I slipped the money from the wallet into my pocket and discarded the rest of the stuff.
Now that I thought of it, I only saw a marked bill on one of the gangsters; the rest all had normal bills. It might just be that one thug who got unlucky and chanced upon a marked bill. Not that it mattered to me.
I moved back to the doorway and stood beside it with my back to the wall. I peeked out of the cover. No one was in front of the door. I looked to the right, and two thugs scanned the area from the overlook for any signs of intruders. They were alert, so it would be difficult to pass through that area.
Another thug, Rico, came out flustered from the guard room.
“My gun is not there!” he exclaimed.
“You lost your heat? And I thought I was the rookie,” one of the thugs with the machete snorted.
“Maybe you kept it somewhere else,” the third thug with the bat offered.
“No, I didn’t. I remember putting it in the drawer,” Rico snapped. “Did the intruder steal it?”
Yes. Yes, he did.
I pulled back to my cover.
Yeah, not leaving from there.
My new resolve didn’t mean I would leave here guns blazing. I was just a squishy human, and I preferred staying alive.
In case I was captured alive…
I had no doubt the screams from the first room would haunt me in my dreams for the next few days. And I had zero interest in knowing how skilled these psychos were in using the various tools for torture.
“Both of you, go outside and find the intruders. We can not let them run away,” Rico barked.
The thugs grumbled but nodded.
“Go from different exits to cover more ground,” Rico added.
They grumbled more but left as ordered. One person went down the stairs I had come up from to leave through the reception, while the other approached the office room, taking the stairs in front, and then went through the auto shop shutter.
This idiot didn’t watch many horror movies, did he?
I listened to the sound of shoes as the thug approached the office and then descended the stairs.
Rico watched them both leave.
“Damn it,” he muttered. “Finally got promoted. Finally got a gun. If I lose it now, I’m screwed.”
Too bad for you, buddy.
Now, I had two ways: I could take either of the stairs to leave. However, in both cases, I had to deal with Rico, who was watching from the overlook like a hawk.
I was not skilled enough in sneaking that I could leave the room and go downstairs with him breathing on my neck.
So, he had to go.
I took out a coin from my pocket and tossed it out of the room. It landed near the railing, making a clanging noise.
“Who’s there?” Rico shouted as he moved cautiously towards the source of the noise.
I waited patiently for him to come near until he arrived and looked around, ready to slash anyone unknown with his machete.
No one had come up till now, which meant most of the thugs had left the warehouse to search for us, probably scouring the perimeter. There was no one to listen to his outburst.
I waited patiently for an opportunity, and I got it as he cautiously approached the stairs to see if someone had run down them.
With his back to me, I crept behind him. I kicked the back of his knee with enough force that it folded, and he knelt on one leg.
“Ahh—” his scream was cut off. My hand clamped over his mouth. The other shoved the blade deep into his throat.
Gurgled screams came out of his mouth, and soon, he took his last breath.
With enough practice now, I stripped him of his valuables, which were just a pathetic 20 dollars.
Now, which way to go down?
Going down the stairs in front was riskier as the shutter door was too big, and I could easily be spotted leaving it. My best bet was the reception door.
I crouched and moved while hiding behind the railing. No need to announce to my dear hosts that I was on the first floor, even if there was no one to see me. Someone could still come suddenly and spot me.
I retraced my steps as I passed the various rooms.
The torture room’s door was ajar. Curious, I peeked inside.
I blinked and, with a blank face, closed the door immediately. Let’s not disturb the poor fellow tied to a chair with his guts spilling on the floor.
I went downstairs. There were no gangsters in the reception.
The door was open. I peeked outside. I couldn’t see anyone nearby, but there were torch flashes in the forest, the thugs looking for us.
Just as I had before entering the warehouse, I looked left and right. Seeing the coast clear, I bee-lined for the trees.
I was halfway done. I just had to make it to our ride safely.
Moving stealthily through the forest proved much harder due to the various obstacles, including sticks, dry leaves, and uneven ground. I was still at the novice stage, so it was kind of expected.
I moved as quietly as possible while evading or circling the thugs searching the forest, their flashlights illuminating the area.
But it was too hard to evade some of them easily, like the one in front of me.
He was too close for me to evade or circle. I inadvertently arrived near him while dodging another one.
He was looking in another direction, but got spooked when a twig cracked beneath my feet and turned to me—the worst cliché.
I had to hide behind a tree with my back to it to avoid being illuminated by the light.
I stayed put as I saw the beam getting closer. The beam moved as the thug moved the flashlight to look around.
I couldn’t see him, but from the beam shape, I roughly judged his distance from me.
When the beam was thin enough, I knew he was near the tree to my right.
I circled the tree counterclockwise with my back still touching it. Now, we were standing on opposite sides of the tree.
He moved forward, using the flashlight to illuminate the area.
“Better come out now, punk,” he called. “I promise I won’t kill you.”
Pinky promise?
“But if I find you,” he added, “I’ll make sure you die screaming.”
Sweet guy.
My heart leaped to my throat as he turned the flashlight to his left, illuminating the area in front of me.
Finding no one, he kept on moving with slow, measured steps.
I finally let out the breath I was unknowingly holding when the light beam left to illuminate another area.
I circled the tree counterclockwise again until I was behind him.
I slowly crept behind him as he moved cautiously. When the distance between us was enough, I impaled the knife to the side of his neck.
It wasn’t until it was too late that he realized what had happened. He tried to turn, stumbled, and dropped.
I calmed down my wildly beating heart as I wiped the blade on his clothes.
Almost there.
Finally, with many twists and turns, I arrived near the car where we had parked it.
It was a long night. My [Stealth (Novice)] skill was unlocked at the right time, as it made both infiltration and exfiltration relatively easier.
Of course, it was the [Martial Arts (Novice)] that paired with it, which helped me in the takedowns.
Missing even one would have increased the difficulty of the mission.
One slip-up and this entire gig would’ve ended with me in a body bag.
Now, I just needed to leave with my partner in crime and call it a night.
The only problem. Another thug had beaten me to the car. He immediately ran to it when he saw it. He shone the torch inside but, of course, found no one.
He likely believed he had found our ride back, which he had. His brows furrowed as he reached for his phone, no doubt to alert the rest.
Yeah, not happening.
He wasn’t packing heat, and we were far enough that no one would hear the scuffle. I was just about to move—
—When a black blur dropped from the trees.
It was our dear Black Cat.
She choked him with a wire. He tried to claw at the wire tightening around the front of his neck, but Felicia only pulled the wire with more strength, mercilessly.
Soon, the struggle stopped, and she removed the wire.
She spotted me walking towards her. The worry on her face melted and gave way to a brilliant smile.
“Took you long enough, rookie,” she said with her usual smug voice.
“There was too much traffic,” I answered with a smirk.
We laughed and entered the car. I started the engine. The revving of the engine brought a strange comfort as if it were congratulating me, telling me that the job was almost over.
We left the area as I drove down the road.
We sat in silence.
“Can your fence digest guns?” I asked suddenly while driving.
Felicia looked momentarily taken aback by the sudden question.
“No problem,” she answered after a moment.
I wordlessly passed the bag with the guns and magazines in it. It had three guns. I kept one Glock with me, along with a spare magazine, in case of an emergency.
She looked inside curiously, then gave me a dumbfounded expression after examining the contents.
“What’s with that look?” I grinned. “Aren’t these things worth good money? Moreover, the more guns I took from them, the less chance they had of using them against us.”
She chuckled. “Then do you expect a thank you?”
“I wouldn’t mind,” I said, keeping my eyes on the road.
Felicia leaned in, voice low and velvet-smooth. “Then I’ll show you just how grateful I am once we’re back.”
I smirked.
A great man once said, “Work Hard, Play Hard.”
I had finished the work; now it was time to play.
—
I sat on the couch of the safehouse we’d departed from earlier, lazing while Felicia vanished into the back with our loot.
The ride back was uneventful. No high-speed car chase by angry gangsters.
I had mixed feelings about that, as I was both relieved and disappointed.
I didn't get many chances to properly put my [Driving (Expert)] skill to use. I was kind of looking forward to the skill finally getting proper screen time.
Guess the gangsters never found us. Of course, that was good news for me. I didn’t want another gang after my life.
Still, the night had been productive as I made small gains.

Skills:
Stealth (Novice) (New)

Missions:
Vigilante (8/100) (+3)
Burglary (6/100) (+1)

The stealth skill was obviously the MVP in today’s job.
It helped me accomplish what I had only thought of doing once I reached the Apprentice stage in martial arts skill. And as a result, my Vigilante mission count finally went up again.
With the combination of both these skills, I could start the Vigilante mission in earnest, much earlier than when I expected.
Of course, my life was still my priority. I was not going to raid the gangster hideouts and rid the city of crime like a vigilante with a sob story high on painkillers.
I now had the capital to take more risks, but it would still be within my limits.
The burglary mission count increased by one, which felt insignificant considering the challenges I had to overcome for the job. That just showed how difficult it would be to complete this mission.
Even if I went around stealing from houses, it would take a long time to steal from 100 homes. If I stole from random civilians without restraint to quickly complete the mission, it would not take long for the cops to start sniffing, and that kind of attention I couldn’t afford right now.
However, it wasn't as if there was nothing I could do. I could steal from gang members’ houses, which, while more dangerous, would not paint a target behind my back for the feds to see and follow. It was not as if they could go to the police and file a complaint about how a thief stole the money they had earned “legally.”
Now, that would be interesting.
But it would paint a target on me for much more dangerous people. However, targeting gangsters from different, perhaps even rival gangs, could solve this issue.
Hmm, that might actually be a good idea to complete this mission quickly.
Good job, me.
“...”
Hold on. Wait a second.
Why the fuck was I getting smug thinking of stealing from not one but many gangsters?
Why the hell was I even thinking about it?
Damn it, Felicia.
She was a bad influence.
Maybe I should keep some distance from—
I saw Felicia enter the living room, and that thought halted in the middle.
She usually left her zipper teasingly low, just enough to flaunt her cleavage.
But now, her suit was unzipped down to her navel, exposing more than half her full breasts — the faint shadow of nipples teasing through the tight latex.
She had a seductive smile as she came towards me. Every step she took dripped seduction. Her hips swayed with each step. Her gaze had a magnetic pull in it.
She stood in front of me. One of her hands was lightly resting above her breast. She was lightly biting the index finger of the other.
“Did you wait for long, rookie?” Felicia asked with a seductive, smug smile.
How could I even think about keeping my distance from this vixen?
But it was a fact that she was a bad influence on me.
That meant it was time to finally punish her for being a bad kitty.

[R-18 Start]
I grabbed her hand and yanked her roughly into my arms.
“Ahh,” she let out a startled gasp. But soon resumed her smug expression.
She straddled me, her hands on my shoulder. Our bodies pressed against each other, her bountiful breasts crushing against my chest. My hands were on her hips. She looked deep into my eyes while maintaining that same infuriating smug smile.
“You know, you are a bad influence on me,” I said seriously. My hands grabbed and mashed Felicia’s soft and supple booty.
“Mmm~ ahh…,” a sweet moan escaped her lips.
“Then why don’t you punish me for being a naughty kitty?” She purred. Her hot breath brushed my cheek.
“I plan to do so,” I declared and kissed her hard.
She matched my intensity as our tongues battled for domination.
This was different from the previous time. No teasing. No coy games. Just hunger.
She started grinding her pussy against my rock-hard cock. If not for the two layers of clothes, she would have already started riding me.
I felt her erect nipples stabbing into my chest as she rubbed her body against me.
“Mmm”
With the triple stimulation of her nipples, vagina, and butt, she started moaning with the kiss.
The battle continued for minutes. None of us was willing to back down from this battle of domination.
But soon, Felicia started struggling. The pleasure started overwhelming her. But that didn’t stop her from rubbing and grinding against me. Instead, she increased the intensity.
More. She wanted more.
Yes, my dear kitten. Give in to the pleasure. Let it break you down.
You crave a master — someone to tame the wild inside you.
And I am that master.
Soon, you’ll accept it.
You’ll become a perfect predator… but one bound by my leash, loyal only to me.
Her struggles continuously weakened until she had no choice but to be entirely dominated by me.
Her body shook furiously from the orgasm that hit her like a tide.
We broke the kiss, and she started panting. She was wet with sweat and looking absolutely wrecked, but that made her more seductive than ever.
I grabbed her by the hips and lifted her off me. She let out a soft gasp, her brows briefly furrowing in confusion—until understanding lit up her eyes.
I pushed her off my lap and onto her knees before me. She didn’t resist. Of course, she didn’t. She looked up with a wicked smile, her tongue brushing across her lips like a cat ready to play.
“So this is what you want?” she purred. “Me, on my knees. Obedient. Ready to serve my master’s every whim?”
She may have lost the battle earlier, but the fire was still burning brightly in her eyes. She was not one to accept defeat after just one loss.
But that was better. I had already planned to grind every ounce of defiance out of her. And I was certain she also liked the process.
“Exactly,” I smirked. “That’s where a disobedient kitten belongs.”
I leaned down and roughly opened her suit to free those pair of funbags. They jiggled in delight as they were set free from their confinement. They were big, at least DDD.
“Oh, then, how do you desire for me to serve you?” Her words sounded subservient, but her tone and the challenging look on her face were anything but that.
It will be fun to break her.
“There are many ways for you to serve me,” I answered. “First of all, let’s see if your tits are good for something more than teasing.”
She merely smirked, hearing that. She quickly opened my pants and pulled out my raging boner, my six-inch-long cock.
Her hand felt good as she stroked my cock. Her other hand went to fondle my balls. And now, it was my turn to feel the pleasure.
Her hands masturbated my cock for a minute, then she leaned in and dripped her saliva on the cock head. Then, with both hands, as if lubricating it, she spread it all over my cock, while occasionally dripping more.
After enough lubrication, she removed her hands from my cock. She then finally enveloped it within her breasts.
They felt soft like marshmallows.
She pressed her boobs from the outside and started rubbing them over my cock. It felt completely different before.
I enjoyed the softness as it rubbed my cock for a few minutes. Due to our earlier grinding, I was now already ready to cum.
Felicia read my face and thought it was time to go on the offensive. She licked the underside of the head sticking out of her breasts, and I felt a slight shiver.
She started it earnestly, and soon, she took it into her mouth. Now, her boobs were massaging the length, and her mouth was sucking the head.
I was about to come, and I didn’t bother informing her. Instead, I grabbed her head and held it in place so that she couldn’t take out my cock.
She smirked at my rough behaviour, but never stopped once.
I came hard. Half of the load I deposited in her mouth, and for the rest, I pulled my cock out of her mouth and painted her face and breasts.
She opened her mouth to show me my seed inside it—her expression was a strange mix of both defiance and asking for praise.
I suddenly thought of a fun idea and took out my phone from my pocket. Opening the camera, I moved it towards her.
Her face showed a faint smile as she, instead of even showing a bit of resistance, showed the V sign with her right hand.
There was no way I was going to let go of the chance, and I clicked the photo.
“Good girl,” I gave her the praise she secretly desired.
She tried to hide it, but I saw the slight happiness that crept on her face hearing my praise.
“Now, swallow it,” I ordered.
Without hesitation, she closed her mouth and heard a gulping sound. She opened her mouth again to show it devoid of my seed.
And I clicked another photo.
As if on cue, she closed her mouth after I clicked her second photo.
She gave me a seductive smile as she scooped up some of the cum on her breasts with her hand and brought it to her mouth. She started licking her hand sensually, but her eyes stayed on me.
And with the third photo, I was already recharged watching her actions. I threw the photo aside on the couch.
“Your tits were barely sufficient; now it is finally time to put your snarky mouth to good use,” I declared.
Without giving her a chance to respond, I roughly shoved my cock in her mouth.
She started slobbering on my cock. Her one hand held the rest of the length, and the other massaged my balls.
“And you better mind your teeth, kitten, if you don’t want to be punished,” I added.
She couldn’t speak with her mouth, but her eyes told that she smirked.
She kept on licking and sucking my cock as she slowly took more and more of it in her mouth. This time, I allowed her to go at her own pace.
I leaned back and enjoyed the first blowjob in both my lives.
Who knew that the first blowjob I would get would be from an iconic Marvel character?
Life has strange ways of playing with people.
The sloppy blowjob continued, and she finally choked because, like a greedy cat, she took in more than she could handle.
It might be her pride, but she didn’t take out my cock of her mouth.
Her face was already a mess with tears running down her cheeks. But she didn’t stop once.
I noticed one of her hands was missing, and the next moment I found it.
Her zip was down to the bottom, and she was fiercely fingering herself while sucking my cock like her favourite lollipop.
I was about to come again and decided to reward the kitty for her dedication.
I grabbed her head and shoved my entire cock inside her mouth. At the same time, she orgasmed again. I didn’t know whether it was because of her fingers or I was fucking her face.
I deposited the entire second load in her mouth and pulled my cock out of her mouth with a pop.
“Clean it,” I ordered.
Her eyes looked out of focus, and without a word, she started licking it. She cleaned it quickly by licking every nook and cranny.
With a satisfied face, I got up and pulled up my pants.
[R-18 End]

“That was great, kitty, let’s do it again sometime,” I said, and left the safehouse.
She was still on the floor, still not out of her delirium, aching for more.
I knew I could have taken her right there, and she would have happily bounced on my cock.
However, it was not yet the time.
But soon, it will be.

*********************
What do you think of Kevin's first proper heist?
What do you think of the first R-18 scene?

Chapter 16: No Deal with the Mask On

No Deal with the Mask On

A taxi rolled to a stop in a quiet Queens cul-de-sac—the kind of place where nothing ever happens except parcel deliveries and passive-aggressive HOA meetings.
The passenger, a mid-20s guy in a black hoodie and earbuds, tapped his phone and ended the ride.
“Cool, thanks, man,” he said, reaching for the door.
“Yup. No problem,” I said, glancing in the rear-view mirror. “That'll be five stars and a life-changing tip.”
“Already tipped in the app,” he chuckled, pushing the door open.
“Ohhh—pre-tipped?” I raised my brows. “Bold move. Real trusting. Most people wait to see if I drive them into the Hudson first.”
He gave a short laugh, already halfway out.
“By the way, how generous were we feelin’ tonight? I like to guess tips for sport. Gimme a hint — closer to ‘grateful’ or ‘bare minimum human decency’?” I grinned.
The passenger had one foot outside and the other was already in the air. He hesitated and pulled it back into the car.
“Two bucks?” he said—or maybe asked as he turned to me. Even he didn’t sound sure.
“Hey, no pressure,” I said casually. “But I dodged a delivery van, hit zero red lights, and didn’t ask once what you do for a living. That’s high-tier chauffeur energy.”
He smiled awkwardly. “I mean… yeah. It was smooth.”
“Smooth like jazz. Smooth like—minimum wage still being $15 and me living in a city where a cup of coffee costs six,” I smiled back.
The passenger sighed, chuckled, and dug out his wallet. He tossed a crumpled fiver up front.
“Alright, alright. You earned it,” he said with resignation.
“And just like that, faith in humanity is restored.” I snatched the bill as if it were a rare, shiny Pokémon card. “You’re now officially better than 82% of riders this week.”
He shut the door and briskly walked away, like I might change my mind and ask for more.
Another sucker down.
Only ninety-five more to go.
I reviewed the latest notification I received from the system.

Persuasion Successful
Art of Persuasion (5/100) (+1)

One would think with my charisma leveling up from F1 to F2, I’d be out here stripping panties with a smirk and collecting hundred-dollar tips like I’m allergic to poverty.
Nope. Not even close.
Turns out F2 charisma is just F1 with deodorant.
Before, I had the social grace of a drunk raccoon in a three-piece suit. Now? I still sound like I’m trying to sell you stolen Wi-Fi in a dark alley — just with a smile that makes you second-guess whether I might stab you after the transaction instead of before.
I’m not magnetic.
I’m... marginally less threatening, maybe.
But hey—small wins. That guy tipped me extra. And it only took a 60-second guilt trip instead of the usual five-minute TED Talk.
Progress.
Sigh

Empire State University, Cafeteria, Lunch Break:
The cafeteria was still abuzz with the spider vs vulture showdown. It would likely take some time for things to calm down.
But hey—this was New York. Superpowered slugfests were basically background noise. By the time this one died down, two more costumed soap operas would pop up for everyone to gossip about.
I poked at my food while glancing around. Despite whatever chaos was happening outside, the social order in here hadn’t shifted an inch.
Same cliques. Same food. Same hierarchy.
The nerds were still buried in laptops, the goths were still pretending not to care, and the popular kids were still pretending they mattered.
Of course, Liz Allen had officially changed her loyalty from the popular kids to the only nerd shunned by even the other nerds.
And as usual, Flash watched her talking and laughing with our friendly neighborhood Spider-Man with anger and possessiveness. But after having his ass kicked by the said hero not once but twice, he didn’t have the guts to confront the hero again.
He turned to the only guy in his group who was not wearing a letterman jacket and whispered something to him, which suspiciously looked more like an order.
The guy nodded with a tight smile and dragged himself toward the canteen like he was marching to his execution. A minute later, he returned with chips, soda, and enough processed sugar to kill a horse. He handed them out like a well-trained butler.
The jocks and cheerleaders offered their thanks between bites, all of it dipped in sarcasm. They were laughing at him, not with him.
Flash just sat back, smug. Like watching Harry Osborn play errand boy gave him a bigger dopamine hit than the snacks ever could.
Honestly, who knew Harry would fold this hard?
With a phone call, he could ruin the lives of all these so-called popular kids.
And yet, here he was—playing a sad snack delivery boy
What would Norman think? That his heir, the next in line for the Oscorp throne, was being used as a human vending machine?
Would he disown his son, considering him a disgrace to his name and legacy?
Maybe. But whatever. Not my circus, not my mutated billionaire monkey.
Besides the musical chairs of Gwen, Liz, and MJ orbiting Peter like he had a gravity field, nothing else had changed.
Same cafeteria. Same cast.
“...”
Or it should have been.
I looked at the uninvited third member at our table.
“Why are you back again here, Felicia?” I asked with a tired sigh.
“I like it here,” Felicia smirked. “What? You don’t like me sitting with you?”
“No, absolutely not, Felicia. Forget about him. I absolutely like you here,” Marko, the simp, interjected immediately.
They both exchanged smug glances before turning to me with matching “Do you dare oppose us?” stares.
I looked at Marko. He looked like he was ready to fight for one hundred and eight rounds with me if I dared to do so.
I looked at Felicia. She looked smug, as if enjoying her sweet revenge for leaving her cum covered on the floor yesterday.
Who needed enemies with friends like them?
There was no way I could continue my ‘background character in a superhero harem novel’ life anymore.
“Do whatever you want.” I sighed resignedly.
“Yay,” they said together as they high-fived.
Felicia looked satisfied with winning this round against me. Then she looked as if she remembered something important.
“Oh. My. Goooood,” she gasped, grabbing Marko’s arm like he’d just proposed. “I totally forgot to thank my prince charming for helping me with my studies!”
N-n-no, it’s no big deal,” Marko stammered, turning so red I was worried his face might combust.
“How can it be nothing?” Felicia said with the drama of a soap opera villainess. “Do you know that bitch, my electronics professor, made us all take a surprise test?”
“Yeah, that sucks,” Marko agreed, understanding her pain.
“And guess what?” she asked, bouncing with excitement.
“What?” he asked, wide-eyed and dangerously hopeful.
“I could solve many of them. Because of my genius hero, I am confident, I will not flunk the test,” Felicia said, her second hand now grabbing Marko’s hand too.
“C-congrats, Felicia. It was… it was your hard work,” he said, steam basically coming out of his ears.
“Aww, you’re so cute,” she cooed, leaning closer. “Kind, smart, funny—the whole package.”
Marko.exe has encountered a critical error.
Felicia shot me a sly look, clearly waiting to see if I’d flinch, frown, or burst into flames from jealousy.
I returned her gaze with the dead-eyed stare of a man watching a kid bang on a piano at 6 a.m.
Her smirk faltered.
She stomped her foot in frustration, yanked her hands away from Marko like she just touched garbage, and huffed.
Marko, still floating in orbit, crashed back to Earth hard.
Marko blinked like he’d just been yanked out of a dream where Felicia was feeding him grapes and whispering sweet nothings.
He glanced at her, utterly baffled. A second ago, she was clutching his arm like he was a Disney prince. Now she was pouting, arms crossed, radiating ‘don’t talk to me’ energy.
I watched him try to figure out what went wrong.
Spoiler: He failed. Spectacularly.
Eventually, he gave up and slipped right back into daydream mode, wearing a dopey smile like he was reliving the moment she touched his hand.
It pissed me off so much I smacked the back of his head.
“Hey! What was that for?” he snapped.
I answered by slurping my soup loud enough to insult generations.
He glared, grumbled, then went back to eating.
Just as I started enjoying the temporary silence, Marko—of course—decided it was time to talk again.
“Hey, Kevin, did you go to Peter’s place for dinner?” Marko asked curiously.
I noticed Felicia twitch slightly. Her posture didn’t change, but her ears perked up like a cat catching the sound of a tuna can opening.
I was about to deny it—until I caught her sneaking a glance at me. She immediately looked away when she realized I saw her.
I suddenly had an idea to get back to her for her previous tease.
“Of course,” I said casually, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Why would I miss an invite from such a beautiful lady?”
Felicia’s eyes widened. Now she was immediately confused about whether I had lied to Black Cat or her.
It was clear I lied to either of the two, but she couldn’t conclude to whom.
She was perplexed, wondering whether I had gone to May’s or not.
“Really?” Marko gasped.
“Why would I lie?” I shrugged with all the confidence of a man who knew exactly what he was doing.
Felicia looked like she was about to leap across the table and strangle me.
“And you know the best part?” I added, milking it..
“What?” Marko asked eagerly, leaning in.
I let the silence hang for a second—just enough time to let the suspense simmer like a slow-cooked revenge stew.
“Peter wasn’t even there,” I said finally. “Just the two of us.”
Marko looked at me as if I were his role model.
“Dude, awesome,” he said with stars in his eyes. “So did something happen?”
“Of course,” I answered proudly.
“What?!” Marko asked, his lecherous face already seeping out.
I leaned back, enjoying the attention. Both of them were staring at me like zombies looking at a fresh brain.
“That’s…” I let it drag out, savoring the moment. “...a secret.”
Marko punched me in the arm as I burst into laughter.
Felicia looked torn, flicking her gaze between the version of me she saw yesterday and the one sitting across from her now.
Looking at her, I suddenly thought that it was a good opportunity to tame the kitten further.
“Actually,” I said, cutting through the tension like a scalpel, “something happened on my second date too.”
Marko’s eyes bulged. “With another girl?”
“Yep.” I nodded. “Another girl.”
Now, he looked at me as if I were a divine champion telling him the holy truth.
Felicia scoffed. “Hmph. I knew it. Men really are all the same.” Her eyes narrowed. “Did this other girl know about your first one?”
“Nope,” I said, with zero shame.
“You—” Her voice rose, almost a yell. “How could you cheat on her?”
She didn’t specify whom she was talking about, but we both knew whom she meant that question for.
“Cheat? How can it be cheating when she is not even my girlfriend?” I laughed; my tone was like that of an asshole playboy.
Felicia looked ready to explode—but stopped. Because she knew, technically, I wasn’t wrong. Immoral? Sure. But not a lie.
Then she tried again. “Even if she’s not your girlfriend, shouldn’t you focus on just one? Instead of… riding two boats at once?”
I looked her in the eyes.
The smile faded from my face.
Looks like it was time to tear the mask off.
It was the moment of truth.
This was the moment she needed to understand—
There was no us.
Not in the way she thought.
Cheating? Morality? I scoffed.
The things I did and the things I would do in the future, two-timing would look like helping a grandma cross the street in front of that.
“Why should I?” I said quietly.
Felicia blinked. “What do you mean ‘Why should I’?” she asked, her voice cracking. “That’s not—It’s not right.”
“What is right?” I asked. “Everyone has a different definition for that.”
She opened her mouth—then closed it. Her fists clenched, but no words came out.
“For me, it’s simple,” I continued. “What I do is right. Others might see it as wrong. But if I believe it’s right? That’s all that matters.”
If I didn’t even have the spine to accept my actions and ambitions, then I might as well jump off the 20th floor and end it all swiftly.
I was going to rule. And rulers don’t apologize.
They take.
A ruler was not bound by the laws made by weak men and women. He was above all laws.
“I want them both,” I said, my voice low but firm. “Hell, I want more. If they understand that, good. If not? They can walk.”
“Call me selfish. Call me patriarchal. Misogynist. Manipulative. Throw every buzzword you want. But this is me. I won’t change. Not for anyone.”
Felicia stared at me like I’d just slapped her.
Her lip quivered. A single tear slipped down her cheek. She stood, grabbed her plate, and turned without a word.
The soft clink of her tray hitting the canteen bin was the only sound as she walked away, eyes down, shoulders stiff, heart probably splintering behind that armor.
I looked at her disappearing back. She looked like a wounded kitten.
I could’ve stopped her. But I didn’t.
Every woman was different. You couldn’t play the same hand with all of them. What tamed one might push another away.
Felicia? She was wild. Independent. That fire in her? I liked it.
But she needed to understand something fundamental: I was above her. She needed to accept it.
And that was also the main flaw of the plan.
If she didn’t, I would lose a future world-class thief... and I was fine with that.
An empire built on disobedience doesn’t last.
I wouldn’t be like that pathetic wallcrawler—betrayed over and over, still crawling back with puppy eyes and open arms. That wasn’t love. That was weakness in spandex.
Felicia’s quirks? Endearing, sure. But I’d only indulge them once she was mine. Fully. Completely.
That was the reason I didn’t fuck her yesterday.
She never took off her mask.
She kept it on the whole time.
And that told me everything.
Even in her most vulnerable moment, she kept a barrier between us. Her identity—her privacy—was more important to her than I was.
Unacceptable.
“Dude…” Marko finally spoke, quiet but firm. “Did you really have to be that harsh?”
He wasn’t joking. No smugness, no sarcasm—just that rare moment when a fool turned philosopher. He didn’t blame me, but he wasn’t condoning it either.
I appreciated him for not interrupting earlier.
I sighed but did not answer.
Marko didn’t press further, and we went back to eating.
The rest of lunch passed in silence. When the bell rang, we split for class.
Later, we met again like usual. Talked crap. Joked. Laughed.
No one mentioned Felicia.
Probably for the best.
But then, somewhere between our stupid jokes about cafeteria meat and superhero power tiers, Marko fell quiet.
His expression kept shifting—guilt, doubt, something close to shame. Like he was trying to choke down a request but couldn’t quite find the throat for it.
So he finally decided to bring it up.
“K-Kevin, I, uh… Can you, uh,” Marko tried to speak but just couldn’t form the words.
I stared at him quietly while he tried to piece together a coherent sentence, but miserably failing each time.
The more he tried to speak, the more guilt and shame covered his face.
“K-Kevin, c-can, yo—”
Yeah, no. I’d had enough.
“I refuse,” I stated.
Marko froze. He hung his head down and looked dejected, like a lost puppy.
“I refuse to go on a date with you,” I repeated, deadly serious.
I gave him a solemn nod. “I know coming out is hard. I’m proud of you for accepting your truth. But I just think… we should stay friends.”
He blinked. “Huh? What?”
His brain processed the sentence a few seconds too late.
His face became red with anger, and he punched my chest with all his might.
I had to tighten my chest muscles at the last moment to receive the punch, even then it was fucking painful.
“Who the fuck accepted anything!?” Marko snapped.
“Hey,” I said in pain. “You don’t have to be violent just because I refused to go on a date with you.”
“FUCK YOU,” Marko screamed.
“Nope, not happening,” I refused, yet again.
Marko looked as if his head would blast open any second due to anger.
“Say that again,” he growled, glaring at me.
I raised an eyebrow, clearly unbothered.
He looked like his skull was going to crack from rage. He glared, fuming, fists clenched, jaw grinding—
Then he broke.
First, a snort. Then a short laugh. Then a full-on, shoulder-shaking wheeze.
You’re ridiculous,” he said, shaking his head.
I only replied with a smirk.
Marko looked serious again.
“Kevin…” he said, voice lower now. “Can I borrow some money again?”
This time, no stammering. Just raw, quiet shame.
“Sure,” I replied without blinking. “How much?”
He paused. I waited.
He drew a deep breath, like he had to rip the number out of his lungs.
“…A thousand,” he muttered. “A thousand dollars.”
“Sure,” I agreed and handed him the money.
He looked stunned as he took the bills, his hands trembling.
“I’m sorry, Kevin,” he muttered. “I already owe you so much. And now… this too.”
“Don’t sweat it,” I said carelessly.
He looked down, ashamed, as he stuffed the money into his pocket.
We stood there in silence for a while.
“By the way, Marko,” I said, breaking the silence.
Marko looked up slowly.
“You know that you can always ask me for help, right?” I said, voice steady. “If you are in any kind of trouble, you can tell me. You’re like a brother to me. Whatever it is, I’ll help.”
Marko just stared at me. He looked like he wanted to say something, but then something else flickered in his eyes.
Panic. Hesitation. Fear.
He stopped whatever he was going to say.
“I’m not in trouble,” he said with a fake laugh. “I mean—what trouble? Everything’s good.”
“Really? That’s good to hear,” I said with a smile.
“Yeah. Totally.” He smiled too—but his didn’t reach his eyes.
Then, almost too quickly, he added, “Oh! I forgot—I need to be somewhere. I’m running late. Catch you later, Kevin!”
He turned and bolted.
I watched him go.
“Hey, Marko!” I called out after a few steps.
He paused and shook slightly. With hesitation, he turned back, looking at me with an inquisitive gaze.
“If negotiation fails…” I said, pausing just long enough to make him lean in—
“Flip the table.”
He looked at me in confusion. He couldn’t understand the context.
In the end, he nodded anyway and walked away.
Marko got in his car and drove off.
I walked over to my taxi and climbed in. For a second, I half-expected Felicia to pop into the passenger seat like a hurricane wrapped in leather and sarcasm.
But the seat stayed empty.
Whatever. She needed some time to digest what had happened today.
I started the engine. The taxi growled to life, and with a roar, it ran out of the university.
My eyes lingered on the road Marko had taken.
My friend, Marko...
Let’s see what you do next.

Chapter 17: I Refuse

Chapter 17: I Refuse

Inside some shady alley:
“You bitch. Didn’t I tell you to sell all the dope by tonight?” A thug barked as he slapped a girl in front of him.
The slap echoed through the alley as the girl staggered back, clutching her cheek.
Around her, five other thugs stood like it was a live-action sitcom—grinning, sneering, waiting for the next blow. None of them moved to help. Of course they didn’t.
“S-sorry, Vince,” the girl sobbed. “Please… just a little more time. I’ll sell the rest—I swear—I’ll get your money.”
She looked barely alive under that oversized hoodie. Gaunt face, twitching hands, sunken eyes with dark rings etched like bruises. Her lips were cracked. Her skin was pale, almost grey.
Vince didn’t care. He never did.
“Oh, you’ll give me my money,” he muttered, voice low with venom. “Now. Whatever you’ve made.”
The girl nodded frantically, pulling a crumpled stack of bills from her pocket with trembling fingers. Vince snatched it without a word.
He counted—a few hundred.
“That’s it?” he growled, his jaw twitching. “You sold just this much?”
Vince looked menacingly at the girl, who only cowered under his gaze.
She shrank under his stare like a kicked dog. “S-sorry, Vince…”
“How much is left? Show me,” he ordered.
Panic flared in her eyes. She froze.
“Vince, please, I’ll get it all. You’ll get every cent,” she said frantically.
“Why even ask her?” one of the thugs snorted. “She probably snorted half the stash herself.”
The others cackled.
Vince didn’t. He looked at the girl like he was ready to strangle her.
“Is that true?” Vince asked in an eerily calm tone.
The girl flinched, repeating herself like a broken record. “You’ll get your money. I promise. You’ll get—”
“You damned crackhead bitch, you dare steal from me,” Vince roared as he struck her again.
The second slap sent her to the ground, hair falling over her face as she whimpered. She lay there, curled up, praying for the moment to end.
But Vince wasn’t done.
He took a step forward—
But stopped as he heard footsteps.
Someone was coming.
Vince turned toward the alley’s entrance, and when he saw who it was, his scowl curled into a sneering grin.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t our dear friend Marko,” he said, mock-welcoming.
His crew turned with the same gleam in their eyes, like hyenas spotting fresh meat.
“H-hey, Vince,” Marko stuttered. His eyes were filled with fear as he looked at Vince, his last beating still vivid in his mind.
As he walked towards them, Marko looked at the girl sprawled on the ground. He remembered seeing her once before with Vince and his gang, desperately begging Vince to sell her her next fix, like many of his other customers.
He could see the slap marks on her face, but ignored her. He felt pity for her, but he didn’t have the luxury to care for a junkie when he was already in deep shit himself.
“My dear Marko,” Vince said theatrically. “I’d offer you a seat, but as you can see, I’m entertaining a guest.”
“N-no problem, Vince. Sorry for… interrupting,” Marko stammered.
Vince’s smile widened. “Interrupt? Never. I always make time for friends. Especially generous and loyal ones like you. We are friends, right, Marko?”
“Yes, absolutely, you are right, Vince,” Marko nodded in fear.
“Good. I’d hate to be disappointed,” Vince laughed as he patted Marko on the shoulder.
Marko winced in pain due to the force, but stayed silent.
Marko wanted to leave the place as quickly as possible, so he pulled out the cash from his pocket and offered it to Vince.
“H-here, Vince… I brought this for you. I know things are tough right now, so… maybe this helps a bit…” Marko said with hesitation. He still remembered his last painful lesson and didn’t use any words that might trigger his ‘friends’.
Vince took the money and counted it slowly, savoring the moment. And showed a satisfied smile when he found it was complete, one grand that he had asked as a ‘loan’ from his ‘friend’.
“See, boys, this is what a good friend looks like,” Vince said with a smile.
His fellow thugs all showed mocking smirks, hearing that. They chimed in with fake praises.
“Well said.”
“Absolutely.”
“You are the man, Marko.”
“Marko the Magnificent!”
Marko heard the sarcasm, but just couldn’t do anything about it.
“Alright, Vince. Now, I should leave, I don’t want to intrude anymore in your business,” Marko said hurriedly and turned around. He didn’t want to stay any longer.
But then—
“Where do you think you’re going, Marko?”
Marko froze. The color drained from his face.
And the smile vanished from Vince’s.
Marko turned around hesitantly. The fear and dread were prominent on his face.
“I-is… something the matter?” he asked, his voice barely holding together.
“Of course, it is,” Vince said, showing a predatory smile.
Marko’s instincts screamed at him to run—but he didn’t. He knew better. Running now would just mean a beating later.
So, he forced himself back—each step heavier than the last—until he stood in front of Vince again.
Marko’s hands trembled as he forced himself to meet Vince’s gaze. He swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. “I… d-did you need something else, Vince?”
He knew saying that was the same as placing his head in an alligator’s mouth. But what else could he say? If he said something that might trigger Vince, he would be beaten again.
“That’s why I consider you my best friend, Marko,” Vince stated with a wide smile. “You just know when I need something. Without me even saying it.”
Marko just stood there, dread sinking into every part of him. His stomach churned. He was having a bad feeling about it.
“And hey—if you ever get a girlfriend?” Vince added, voice slick with sarcasm, “I bet she’ll love how attentive you are.”
The thugs burst out laughing.
“And if she’s not satisfied, just send her to us,” one leered. “We’ll show her what real men are like.”
“Yeah, Marko. We are your friends. It is our responsibility as your friends to keep your girl satisfied so that she won’t leave your sorry ass,” another thug said with a mocking smirk.
“Hell, you should be grateful to us, as we will teach her how to satisfy a man properly,” another thug said with a tone as if he were doing a massive favour to Marko. Then he continued with a loud laugh, “Of course, whether you will be able to satisfy her after that will be a different matter.”
All the thugs laughed, listening to that. Marko knew they were laughing at him, not with him. But he still pretended they were laughing with him and showed a smile. However, the smile looked worse than crying.
“Alright, enough,” Vince said, still chuckling. The thugs shut up instantly. It demonstrated his considerable control over his group.
“We can talk about Marko’s girlfriend after he introduces her to us. But first, we have more pressing matters to discuss,” Vince continued with a smile.
Marko didn’t speak and only waited for Vince to continue. He desperately prayed in his heart that it would not be another unreasonable demand.
“As you guessed, Marko. I do need another favour from my friend,” Vince said, emphasizing the word friend.
Marko wet his lips nervously, his voice thin with forced calm, but it couldn’t hide the stutter in it. “W-what is it, Vince?”
“You see this skank lying there,” Vince said as he kicked the girl at his feet.
The girl was just lying there, curled up, waiting for the thugs to leave so she could escape, hoping Vince would forget their earlier discussion until then. The kick made her jolt and cry out, curling tighter into herself.
Marko instinctively turned to face the girl, and for a moment their eyes met. But he quickly turned his gaze away. His eyes showed guilt. He wanted to stand up for her, but felt weak and helpless.
“This bitch was supposed to bring me at least a grand for selling my merchandise,” Vince said in a slow voice.
Vince paused for a moment. That pause felt like an eternity for both Marko and the girl.
“Wanna guess how much she brought?” Vince asked, locking eyes with him.
“I-I don’t know,” Marko muttered.
“Two. Fucking. Hundred.” Another kick. Another pained yelp.
Marko flinched and shook in fear as he saw the angry scowl on Vince’s face.
“Oh, don’t be afraid, Marko. I am not angry at you. I am angry at this thieving bitch,” Vince said with a disarming smile.
But instead of calming Marko, that made him panic more about what was about to come.
Looking at Marko’s scared face, he showed a cruel smirk, which immediately turned into a mock sad smile.
“You know, I had all these plans. Things I was gonna buy. Shit I needed to take care of. But all of that went down the drain. Isn’t it pitiful?” Vince said, sadly.
Vince looked at Marko meaningfully, and Marko understood what Vince wanted to hear.
“C-can I help… somehow?” Marko’s jaw clenched as the words forced themselves out. He unconsciously clutched his pockets hard.
Vince lit up like he’d just been handed a winning lottery ticket.
“See? That’s why you’re my real friend, Marko.” He gave the girl another kick—this one lazy, like an afterthought. “She failed me. But you? I know you won’t let me down.”
“So, I was hoping you could loan me another grand,” Vince said, so casually, as if he asked for a ten-dollar loan.
Marko’s eyes widened, and his heart nearly stopped. The thing he dreaded the most happened.
“B-but, V-Vince, you said that today was the last time,” Marko said with hesitation.
Vince didn’t answer; instead, he punched Marko in the solar plexus. Marko’s knees buckled as he knelt in pain.
Vince grabbed Marko’s hair in a fist and asked in a low but intimidating voice, “Are you refusing me, Marko?”
“But, you promised. I don’t have any more money,” Marko tried to explain in a weak voice.
But all he got was another punch in the stomach from Vince.
“Marko, why do you want to suffer? Did you forget your previous lesson so soon?” Vince asked, and once again, punched him in the stomach.
Marko sniffled as tears fell due to the pain. Vince loosened his grip on Marko’s hair. As Marko was feeling weak due to the pain and beating, his head fell on Vince’s legs. But Marko still didn’t stop requesting that Vince let him go.
“I-I-I… ah, I, c-can’t, Vince. P-please. I—please—don’t ask me that,” Marko begged desperately.
Vince felt a sadistic pleasure rise inside him as he looked at the groveling fool in front of him.
There was something deliciously satisfying about watching a rich boy from a prestigious university—son of a well-known businessman—reduced to this.
Begging.
Crying.
Covered in tears and snot, kneeling in an alley like a dog.
He glanced at his boys. They watched with sneers and mockery in their eyes, loyal and entertained. His crew wasn’t large yet, but they feared him, and that was enough.
For now.
‘Not for long,’ Vince thought.
He was not satisfied with being a small fish fighting for crumbs at the border. He wanted to fight against the bigger fishes in the centre. He wanted to dominate them just like he dominated Marko. He wanted to sit on the bones of every gang.
‘It is merely the beginning. I am the man who is going to become the king of New York’s underworld. Even Kingpin will have no other way but to either die or kneel in front of me,’ Vince daydreamed.
‘How could I let you go, huh? You’re practically funding my rise to the throne,’ Vince thought, sneering internally, as he looked at Marko.
“Vince, please. Please, let me go, please,” Marko continued begging without stopping when he saw that Vince didn’t respond to him.
“Marko, Marko, Marko,” Vince said, finally stopping his thoughts. “You wound my heart, my friend.”
Marko’s face was already covered in tears and snot, but he didn’t stop begging.
“I-I swear, I gave everything I had. Please…” Marko said in a choked voice.
“Marko, don’t you know me?” Vince said as if lightly chiding a child.
“I am your understanding friend. I believe you. I believe you don’t have any money, so you can’t loan me anymore.” His words dripped with fake empathy.
For a moment, Marko blanked.
He suddenly felt a surge of hope in his heart. He believed that if he requested Vince, he would understand.
Marko felt maybe he’d misjudged Vince all along.
‘Maybe, he is a good friend,’ Marko thought with a slight hope.
Vince saw the hope on Marko’s face and sneered inside.
“I understand you don’t have that much money,” Vince agreed. The hope increased on Marko’s face as he wiped his snot and tears with his sleeve. But Vince’s following words crushed that seed of hope inside him.
“But your dad should have, right?” Vince asked curiously, and his smile turned into a ruthless smirk. “As the owner of a well-known taxi service company, I am sure he wouldn’t mind increasing his son’s allowance.”
Marko felt he was so close to the door of hope. He thought freedom waited behind that door. But it only led to deeper despair.
“W-what…?” Marko stammered.
“No. No, no—it’s impossible. My dad wouldn’t give me that kind of money,” Marko blurted.
Vince’s expression turned cold.
He grabbed Marko by the collar and yanked him up, then drove his fist straight into Marko’s gut.
Marko gasped, his knees folding as the air was knocked from his lungs. He looked up, lips trembling. “Please, Vince…”
“Don’t you know me, Marko? I don’t like to be denied,” Vince said, looking in Marko’s eyes as he lightly slapped his face.
Then his fingers clamped onto Marko’s face, digging into his cheeks.
“You’re a smart kid, right? Empire State University and all that,” he sneered. “Put that big brain to work. Figure out a solution.”
He shoved Marko back.
Marko hit the ground, coughing. “Please… please, Vince… I can’t…”
He wished futilely that it was all just a bad dream.
But his wish remained unfulfilled as a kick on his shoulder made him cry in pain.
Vince clicked his tongue and crouched down to be on Marko’s eye level.
“Hey, pig—did your daddy bribe the admissions board? Because you sure aren’t acting like a genius,” Vince mocked.
Marko didn’t reply. He couldn’t. His face was pale, sweat clinging to his skin.
Vince sighed dramatically. “Guess I’ll have to spell it out.”
“I am sure your father wouldn’t notice if he is missing a few grands…” Vince paused as he looked Marko meaningfully, and then continued, finally tearing open all pretenses, “...every once in a while.”
Marko immediately understood what Vince meant. He started shaking in fear.
“No… please, Vince, don’t—don’t make me do this. Please, Vince, let me go,” Marko begged, voice cracking.
Vince shook his head as he stood up. “Boys, teach him why he should be obedient to me.”
The thugs smiled ruthlessly as they approached Marko and started beating him. However, they ensured that none of them struck him in any visible areas.
No visible bruises. No broken bones.
Just pain.
Calculated pain.
‘This tub of lard doesn’t have the balls to report us,’ Vince thought as he watched Marko being beaten with a satisfied grin.
As long as the thugs didn’t leave any easily visible marks, they beat him up without hesitation.
But not too much to actually cripple him; they still needed their ‘investor’ to remain functional, …and afraid.
Punches and kicks rained down on Marko as he curled into himself, shivering on the ground.
The beating stopped only when Vince raised a hand. The thugs stepped back, stretching like they’d just finished a light workout.
Vince walked over casually and crouched beside him.
“Marko,” he said with mock sadness, “it hurts me to see you like this. You’re my best friend—but sometimes, you just make me so angry.”
Marko said nothing. His head hung low, body trembling.
Vince leaned closer. “Sometimes, I feel like I should go directly to your father. Ask him for help.”
Marko’s eyes flicked up, panic breaking through the numbness. He felt a chill in his spine.
“But that would make you sad. And if you’re sad, I’m sad. We’re close, aren’t we? In this whole damn world, you’re the only one who understands me.”
He reached forward, gripping Marko’s chin, forcing his face upward.
Marko’s eyes were glassy. Empty.
Ruthlessness flashed in Vince’s eyes, but he controlled himself.
“I know you want to help me, Marko,” Vince whispered. He continued in a soft voice, “Come on, repeat after me, ‘I will steal from my father for my friend’”.
But Marko still didn’t respond. He had completely tuned out what was happening outside.
‘What have I done? Because of me, my family is now in danger.’
‘They will hurt my father, my mother, my uncle.’
‘Will this nightmare ever end?’
Marko was now having suicidal thoughts. He was close to breaking point. He just wanted to end it all. Of just letting go.
He didn’t want to be the reason for the suffering of his family.
His uncle could help him, but had come clean from the world of crime. He would help him in a heartbeat without hesitation. But he didn’t want to shove him back there because of his foolishness.
‘I am sorry, Mom. I am sorry, Dad. I am a bad son.’
‘I am sorry, Kevin. I will not be able to return your money. I don’t deserve a friend like you.’
As Marko apologised to his best friend in his mind, suddenly something clicked.
‘Wait, Kevin–’
He suddenly remembered the out-of-context sentence Kevin said earlier.
“If negotiation fails, flip the table.”
It echoed in his mind repeatedly.
On the outside, Vince was reaching the limit of his patience as he wasn’t getting any response from Marko.
Vince was growing impatient now. His smile had faded. He grabbed Marko by the neck and yanked him to his feet.
“Repeat after me, Marko,” Vince ordered in a cruel voice. “I will steal from my father for my friend.”
He finally got a response as Marko's blank eyes finally moved and looked at him.
“I refuse,” Marko whispered. It was hoarse but firm.
“What did you say?” Vince couldn’t believe his ears.
That denial was unlike Marko’s previous ones. If he had begged previously, then this time he spoke with conviction. That was defiance.
It hit Vince like a slap. He felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time—loss of control.
For him, who was drunk on the feeling of controlling Marko like that, it was an extremely unpleasant feeling.
It felt like betrayal.
He couldn’t tolerate the fact that the guy who once flinched at eye contact was now glaring into his soul… and saying no.
“I said…” Marko panted, locking eyes with him. Then, with every ounce of strength he had left, he roared—
“I REFUSE!”
Then, without giving Vince any time to react, Marko head-butted him on his nose.
Everyone heard the sweet, sickening crack of cartilage.
Vince howled in pain as his grip loosened on Marko. His nose broke as blood flowed out.
“You damn pig!” Vince snarled, his voice filled with fury. “You dare rebel against me?!”
He kicked Marko square in the chest, sending him flying.
Marko hit the ground hard. Another bruise was added to his body, but this time, he didn’t scream. He didn’t cry.
“Hahaha,” Marko laughed.
It started low. Then louder. Wild. Unhinged.
It hurt to breathe. His ribs burned.
But in that moment?
He was free.
Vince felt creeped out by Marko’s laughter. It felt jarring in his ears.
He thought that suddenly things were not going according to plan.
He felt so angry that he wanted to kill Marko.
“Boys—!” he began to bark—
But was cut off by another voice.
Casual. Playful. Like someone arriving late to a party.
“Man, you look like shit.”

Chapter 18: From Groveling to Glory

Chapter 18: From Groveling to Glory

I watched Marko get beaten like a stray dog. The thugs swarmed him, grinning with sadistic pleasure as they took turns.
One glance, and I knew exactly what kind of bottom-feeders they were—classic predators.
Parasites that fed off the weak. Too gutless to challenge anyone stronger, so they picked the easiest prey and tore them apart.
I had to use every ounce of my willpower to stop myself from tearing those bastards apart limb from limb.
I clenched my fists so hard that my nails pierced my skin. Blood welled in my palms. Every punch Marko took chipped away at my patience.
But I didn’t move. Not yet.
I heard that sorry excuse of a thug state his intentions to include Uncle Roman in this farce, and I wanted to tear open his mouth.
But I still endured.
“Come on, Marko,” I muttered under my breath. “Say something. Say anything. He’s going after your family now.”
But Marko stayed silent, looking like a statue.
Did he break so soon?
Just as I was about to step in—
Marko whispered something. I didn’t catch it, but Vince sure did. His face twisted with rage.
Then I heard it—
“I REFUSE!”
I didn’t even notice the smile creeping onto my face.
Was I proud? Understatement.
And that headbutt? Chef’s kiss.
As Marko’s unrestrained laughter echoed in the alley, I finally exhaled.
Well done, brother.
Vince couldn’t take it that the dog, who could only grovel at his feet, now barked at him.
Time to join the party.
“Man, you look like shit,” I said, striding into the alley with a smile.
Marko looked at me—shock, guilt, and something like shame flashing in his eyes.
But maybe he noticed my smile, and he finally smiled too.
“I know,” he laughed hoarsely. “You’re late.”
“Really?” I said, still grinning. “Feels like perfect timing to me.”
We both chuckled. Just for a moment, the alley didn’t exist.
Then Marko turned serious. “Thanks, Kevin,” he said quietly.
We both knew what he thanked me for.
“Anytime, brother,” I said with a smirk.
I reached out, and he locked in with a quick dap. I hoisted him up.
“Who the fuck are you?”
Ah, finally, the thug-in-chief came online. We looked at the source of the voice.
Vince’s eyes blazed as he turned to Marko. “Is he the reason you grew a spine?!”
Vince’s buddies were looking at us with unkind eyes. The atmosphere was explosive, and a single spark could ignite a massive explosion.
I just gave an amused smirk to Vince.
Marko looked at Vince. There was still some fear in his eyes. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. I placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
Marko opened his eyes and looked towards me. I nodded. He smiled and nodded, too.
“Sorry, man, for dragging you into this mess,” Marko said apologetically. He ignored Vince’s outburst.
“No worries. But the next pizza is on you,” I smirked.
“Is this comedy? Are you performing a skit in front of me?” Vince growled. He was losing it, as things were no longer under his control.
Two of them had bats—one rested his on his shoulder, calm and cocky, while the other thumped his in his palm, eager for action. A third gripped an iron rod like he couldn’t wait to smash it into something. The fourth had a metal chain coiled around his arm, spinning the loose end as if he were warming up. And the last one? He twirled a knife, trying to show off moves he probably picked up from some gangster flick the night before.
I noticed the knife on Vince’s waist, but I guess he thought his crew could do the dirty work while he played the boss. Empty hands, full ego. And that ego was going to cost him.
Marko looked shaken, but he kept it off his face. Maybe my presence gave him a bit of steel—he was standing taller now.
Guess Vince was right. He did grow a spine.
“Vince,” Marko said, voice steady. “I’m done. You’re not getting another cent out of me. And if you so much as breathe in my family’s direction…”
He took a step forward, eyes hard. “I’ll make sure the cops tear your whole operation apart.”
Bluff, obviously. Involving cops meant they might sniff out his family’s not-so-glorious history. It was a double-edged sword, and he won’t use it unless absolutely necessary. Instead, asking Uncle Niko for help would be a far better option in comparison. But with me here, that card didn’t need to be played.
Vince blinked—then burst into loud, exaggerated laughter. “You guys hear that? Puppy grew fangs!”
The others joined in, their harsh laughter echoing through the air.
But their eyes stayed sharp. Cold.
Like hyenas circling their prey.
Vince wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling. “Marko, I didn’t know you were such a joker. Forget the degree—join a circus. You might actually go far.”
Marko stared at Vince, stone-faced and silent.
Me? I looked bored.
But behind the mask, my mind was working—watching, waiting, hunting for an opening to exploit.
I finally found my opening.
The knife-wielder, who was ironically swinging his knife like it was a circus act, looked relaxed as he laughed at Marko with a mocking look.
Not just him, but all of them looked relaxed. Ready to kill? Yes. However, overall, they believed the situation was still under control. After all, how could two empty-handed teens fight against gangsters with weapons?
Vince’s face abruptly switched from laughing to serious. “Since you grew a spine because of him, then let me shatter it forever,” he said while looking at me as if looking at a soon-to-be-dead person.
He sneered, “Let me show you what happens to those who oppose me. You will come to realize soon that it is your fate to be my personal bank.”
“Boys, gut this kid—”
I was already moving.
The knife guy didn’t even see me coming, as his attention was entirely on Vince, and I took advantage of the opportunity.
I ran to him and slammed my palm on his chest. The air wheezed out of his lungs. I didn’t allow him to retaliate, as I kicked him in the shin. He lost his balance and fell to his knees. A final hook to the temple, and he was down.
“—alive.”
All that happened in mere seconds, and they were already down by one.
Marko didn’t let go of this opportunity. When everyone’s focus was on me, he came to one of the bat-wielders who was thumping it on his palm and kicked him right in the family jewels.
Nice, I mentally praised him. That was a good shot.
The painful scream woke them all up, but Marko had already snatched the bat and created some distance between them. I also came beside him quickly.
The moment of the sneak attack was gone, but it was enough that we took out two of them. One vs two was much better than one vs three.
We stared each other down. Weapons clutched. Our breaths were uneven. No one moved.
It was true that we were still fewer in number than they were, but our ruthlessness scared them.
They were used to bullying the weak and beating up those who tried to protest against them. Even if someone did try to fight back, they wouldn’t have a good ending.
But today, they met someone more ruthless than them. After all, their skins weren’t made of stone. They would still feel pain. Most of the time, it was them who gave the pain. But today, there was a possibility that they might end up on the receiving end. And that scared them.
They were not hardened criminals who could trade injury for injury. No, they were mere bullies, wannabe gangsters who thought ganging up and beating a lone weak person made them tough.
And don’t get me wrong—I’ve got no moral objection to kicking someone when they’re down or stacking the odds.
I just don’t appreciate it when I’m the one getting kicked.
I looked at the four armed thugs in front of me. Yes, Vince no longer had his cool, and he had also pulled his knife. He looked at us, ready to feast on our remains.
I looked at them fearlessly, but in truth, inside, I was scared.
No, running away from a gang hideout and assassinating a few in the process didn’t magically make me fearless. Yes, it was a confidence boost, but not to the level that I would go and piss on Kingpin’s face.
But I had no other choice but to keep it inside. Marko was showing a backbone because he thought I had his back. If I showed fear in front of him, he might really break down.
“You useless idiots!” Vince barked at his crew. “You let two fucking kids take out your brothers? You want the other gangs to laugh at us?”
The stalemate broke; a chain was aimed at my neck.
Let’s pause and talk about something irrelevant. When discussing stealth, most people think it is all about hiding and reducing one's presence.
But it is more than that. You can only hide from something you know is looking at you, i.e., it involves both diminishing your presence and discovering others' presence.
That’s where the perception attribute comes into play. The stealth skill enables better utilization of that attribute. A perfect analogy would be using martial arts to leverage the strength attribute better.
Even with great strength, with no way to use it, you only hit others with brute force. But if you know how to utilize that strength effectively, the impact would become many times greater.
My [Stealth (Novice)] skill allowed me to utilize my F2 Perception better. That’s why I dodged in time, and the chain that was supposed to be wrapped around my neck was wrapped around my arm.
I frowned as I looked at my arm. I looked up at the guy holding the chain. He looked like he used to eat steroids for all three meals. I tried to pull the chain and, as expected, failed spectacularly.
He gave me a mocking grin as he pulled the chain this time.
“Fuuuck!” I yelped pathetically as I was dragged forward like a rag doll.
Before I could find my footing, a fist met my gut. Air left my stomach as I clutched it in pain.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Vince coming towards me menacingly, knife in hand, murder in his eyes. The other two thugs, armed with a bat and a rod, came in front of Marko to stop him from helping me.
I tried to scramble away, but the chain thug grabbed my throat and hoisted me into the air. My legs flailed helplessly.
I clawed at the chain guy’s hand, punched his wrist, anything — but the bastard's grip was like a steel vice.
He grinned and squeezed harder. My vision blurred, breath cut off, and Vince strolled up with that smug knife-wielding psycho grin.
“Don’t kill him yet. It would be an easy death for him,” Vince said with a cruel smile. There was madness in his eyes. “It would be much better to slice him up slowly and let Marko watch helplessly as the life slowly leaves his dear friend’s body.”
I looked at Marko, who seemed more desperate to come and help me. But the two thugs didn’t let him. They still haven’t attacked Marko yet, afraid of being injured by his bat in return.
Marko couldn’t wait any longer; without worrying about being hit, he swung his bat fiercely at the rod guy near him. The bat connected with his hand, and a loud crack echoed in the alley. Of course, Marko also paid for the reckless attack. The bat thug struck the bat on Marko’s back as the anguished screams of the rod guy filled the alleys.
The moment was all I needed, as Vince and the chain guy’s attention was on their fallen comrade.
I took a page from my friend Marko’s book.
I grabbed the chain thug’s hand with both my hands for support and swung my body back and forth. With some force generated from the motion, I kicked him square in the nuts.
The force behind the kick was not strong enough for it to be a decisive attack, but strong enough that the thug let me go and screamed in pain while clutching it.
“Aah, ha, aaah, ha, cough, aaah,” I coughed and desperately gasped for breath, trying to take in that sweet, sweet oxygen as I hurriedly unwrapped the chain from my arm. My lungs were on fire, but I wasn’t dying yet.
Vince lunged at me to stab me, but suddenly fell face-first on the ground.
I looked at him, confused, as my breathing calmed.
Did the genre suddenly change from action thriller to action comedy?
But then I looked at the other pair of feet near Vince’s. I followed the feet to the face, and it was the girl who was still lying on the ground.
Then I realized it was she who tripped Vince. Guess it wasn't just Marko who grew a backbone today.
I nodded at her as thanks, and she returned a slight nod in return.
I looked at the chain guy, who was now looking at me, ready to murder me. The pain should now be tolerable, as the kick's strength was not much.
As he was about to stand up, I gave him a roundhouse kick to the head, and he was down like a sack of potatoes. This time for good.
Vince used the chance to get up. He looked at the girl fiercely, who also got up. He wanted to hit her, but couldn’t show his back to me, so he only gave her a wordless threat. The girl backed off and went somewhere, likely ran away. Smart move.
Marko also came back to my side. His face twisted in pain, but he endured and faced our enemies again.
Four down, two to go.
Once again, we were in a stalemate. But this time, it was them who showed fear.
Even Vince looked slightly rattled. His earlier cocky smirk had vanished — replaced by a tight jaw and darting eyes. The reality finally hit him. He might end up on the ground, groaning and crying in pain like his pals.
“M-Marko… come on, we’re friends, right? Why team up with outsiders to hurt your own people?” Vince argued with a righteous face.
“Friends?” Marko scoffed and spat to the side — might as well have aimed for Vince’s face.
For a moment, Vince’s face looked hideous as if he wanted to strangle Marko alive. But his eyes drifted to his downed crew, and the twitchy one who clearly wanted to bolt. He reined it in.
“I-I apologize, Marko. I will not bother you again, so how about you leave?” Vince asked as if negotiating, but anyone could hear the begging in his voice. The bravado had crumbled entirely. Now he was just another punk trying to weasel his way out.
The face of his last standing goon changed slightly when he heard that pathetic voice. In the end, however this event would turn out, Vince was not regaining his lost reputation.
Marko tilted his head. “Yeah? What if I don’t want to?” His voice dripped with mockery.
Oh, how the tables had turned. This sudden reversal was a massive boost to Marko’s lost confidence.
Vince seethed in fury, but when he looked at his downed thugs, he bit it back again.
“P-please, Marko, let me go just this once,” Vince begged.
Marko hesitated this time. He looked at me for advice.
I gave a slight shrug, then added coolly, “Only show mercy to people who’d do the same. Otherwise, you’re just volunteering to get stabbed later.”
Marko took a deep breath, his eyes firm, as he replied to Vince, “I refuse.”
Vince’s eyes widened as he looked stunned.
I smirked in approval as I moved towards Vince—time to end the game.
Vince panicked and slashed at me, but I caught his wrist mid-swing.
One quick punch to the kidney. I gripped his knife hand, pivoted, and smashed my elbow into his nose. The broken nose was broken again.
He shrieked, but it was cut short as I wrenched his arm, yanked it straight, and hit clean at the elbow with an upward strike from the back of my forearm. The bone snapped like dry wood. His screams went primal.
The last thug got the message and decided to make a run for it. But Marko’s eyes were on him from the start. Marko caught up quickly and returned the favor from before, and attacked his back.
Due to the forward momentum, the thug fell when he was hit. Three more hits on the back, and the thug could no longer get up.
Finally, it was over.
I looked at the six thugs groaning on the ground. The fight was over—but we weren’t done yet.
Not until they got the message burned into their skulls: never mess with Marko or his family again.
Just as I was about to speak, I heard footsteps. I became alert immediately, thinking that it might be Vince’s reinforcements.
But it turned out to be the girl from before. She was coming here, and she actually had a stool in her hands with a cushion on it.
What is she doing coming back here?
She stopped in front of me, carefully set the stool down, and adjusted the cushion like she was prepping a throne.
Then she bowed slightly and said, “Please sit, boss.”
Boss? Ok, what the fuck?
Since I didn’t sit on it right away, she misunderstood and gave me a guilty look.
“Sorry, boss. I know it’s not much. I couldn’t find anything better,” she apologized in a low voice with her head down.
Not even close.
Marko looked just as stunned. “Where did she even—?”
Fuck, whatever. Who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth?
I sat on the stool naturally. The girl smiled, came behind me, and began massaging my shoulders.
I still didn’t understand what was happening, but that didn’t stop me from enjoying it. The massage was actually decent.
I turned my attention back to the thugs writhing in pain on the ground.
“Listen up, sewer rats,” I said, voice low and cold. “This is your final warning.”
“If I ever find you near my friend or his family again, it will not end with simple broken bones,” I threatened. “I am sure the fishes in Hudson wouldn’t mind a few more poker buddies.”
None of them reacted to what I said, still screaming or groaning in pain, but I could see Vince flinch slightly at the warning.
“Do you understand?” I asked in a cold voice. Silence.
“You know, I don’t like to be denied,” I said in a low voice. “So, tell me, Vince, do you understand?”
But Vince still behaved as if he didn’t listen.
Sigh. Yare yare.
“Hey, Marko, maybe the impact on his head was larger than we think. Look, he can’t even respond to us. He might need a little ‘reboot.’ Give his head another tap to bring it back online,” I said casually.
Did the massage improve when I said that? Must be my imagination.
Marko smiled, and he sauntered deliberately towards Vince, dragging the bat behind him. Sparks flickered where it scraped the concrete.
Oi. Dude, you are seriously giving serial killer vibes here.
Vince looked at Marko in fear but didn’t say anything. Maybe he assumed that Marko didn’t have the guts to hurt him.
However, Marko proved Vince wrong. Marko arrived near him and swung his bat towards Vince’s head without hesitation.
Vince’s eyes widened in shock as he shouted in desperation without caring about his injuries, “Stop, stop, please, stop. I understand, please stop.”
Marko didn’t have much control over his strength, but still the bat stopped in mid-air, albeit a few centimeters away from Vince’s face.
Vince looked at the bat in fear as he took rapid breaths to calm his heart. His face grimaced at each breath due to his busted nose.
“Good answer,” I said and got up.
Turning back, I said, “Thanks.”
The girl looked more reluctant to stop the massage than I did.
Nope. Still don’t understand a thing here.
I turned back and looked at Vince and his buddies with a demonic smile.
It was time to collect the sweet loot.
“Marko, those three are yours. Take everything of value,” I said and moved towards the three near me.
Marko looked stunned but smiled as he caught up to what I said. He nodded and went to the walking steroids advertisement.
“What do you want?” Vince asked, fear and panic in his eyes, as he watched me walk towards him with a smile. “No, no, stay away from me. Didn’t I already promise not to target your friend?”
I didn’t bother answering him and started checking his pockets. First, I took out the one grand Marko gave me before.
“Marko, I am keeping them,” I told Marko and pocketed the money. Marko nodded in response.
Then it was the stack of bills that resembled the ones the girl had passed to Vince. They were kept together so they were easier to recognize.
“Hey, are these yours?” I turned back and showed the girl the bills.
The girl looked stunned, then nodded slowly.
“No, that’s my money. Give it back,” Vince screamed.
I punched his face to make him shut up.
I got up and handed her the money. She was once again stunned and looked hesitant to take it. But took it after I gave her an impatient look.
Now, the rest of the money was fair game.
First, I took whatever else I could find from Vince, which amounted to just a few hundred dollars more.
“No, that’s mine. You can’t take it,” Vince screamed and begged while tightly hugging my leg.
I clutched the hair on his head as he screamed in pain and yanked him off my leg. I added another kick to keep him down.
I took the money from the remaining two, and Marko was also done. He passed me the money he collected. The total was more than seven hundred dollars. I gave Marko half.
“How can I?” Marko asked, reluctant to take the money. “Not to mention I borrowed so much money from you.”
“Take it. You helped too,” I said and forcefully stuffed it into Marko’s hands. “This and that are two different things.”
“You can do whatever you want with them,” I said casually to the girl.
I was grateful to the girl for her help in the fight and the subsequent service. I saw how they, especially Vince, treated her. I was sure she wouldn’t mind getting even with them.
“Let’s go, bro. It’s over,” I said to Marko.
Marko nodded, and we started walking towards the alley exit.
But we stopped as a hesitant voice called out to me.
“Umm, boss, please wait,” the girl requested.
I still don’t understand how I became this girl’s boss.
With a sigh, I turned around and looked at her with an inquisitive gaze.
She looked hesitant to speak, but under my impatient gaze, she finally decided to talk.
“Umm, can I follow you, boss?” She asked hesitatingly.
Yes, I want to make my gang, but that will not happen soon. Did she read a hiring pamphlet from the future?
But even without a gang, I didn’t feel like accepting the girl.
“Nope, I don’t like junkies in my group,” I refused bluntly.
I wasn’t trying to be cruel. It was just the truth. I don’t care if someone has vices—as long as they’re not slaves to them. But from what I heard earlier, she wasn’t in control of her drug addiction.
The girl’s head fell in shame. I could even see faint tears.
Marko gave me a look as if saying, “Seriously? Two girls in one day?”
I shrugged. Not my fault that they couldn’t handle honesty.
I shook my head and turned back to leave. Marko hurriedly followed behind.
“Thanks, Kevin,” Marko thanked me once again after we left the alley and came to our cars.
“That’s what friends are for,” I smiled and said casually.
Marko nodded, then promised, “I will return your money as soon as possible.”
“Whatever. I am not in a hurry,” I said carelessly, then turned serious, “But you better not forget the pizza.”
Marko laughed, thinking I cared more about the pizza than the money I had lent to him. He wasn’t entirely wrong.
“You'd better tell me next time if they or someone else tries to corner you again,” I told him with a serious face.
Given Vince’s gang’s current state, there was little chance that they would return to Marko again. But you never know.
“I will,” Marko agreed.
Then he left in his car. I wanted to take a few fares, so I didn’t go with him.
But just as I was about to get into my taxi, I heard faint screams.
I thought my ears were ringing, but then I heard the screams again.
Curious, I went back inside to see what was happening.
The noises grew louder as I heard a mix of screaming and metal hitting something.
When I looked at the scene in the alley, I had only one thought: “Damn, should’ve brought popcorn.”
The thugs were still on the ground—but now even more broken. Blood pooled beneath them. Some screamed. Others whimpered. One was utterly silent, probably unconscious. Or worse.
There, the girl was continuously bashing the leg of the chain guy, who was screaming from pain, with the iron rod.
It looked like she wanted to break his leg bone, but due to her lack of strength and the chain guy’s muscle mass, she couldn’t do it in one hit, so she kept hitting the same spot again and again.
The spot was already mangled as blood and flesh pieces flew everywhere.
Sorry, Marko, but your serial killer vibes are nowhere near as strong as hers.
“It is all because of you,” she yelled while hitting him. “It was because of you that he didn’t let me follow him.”
Technically, that’s incorrect. They merely took advantage of your addiction.
But hey, who was I to ruin her righteous villain arc? I was too busy enjoying the performance.
She continued hitting, and cracking sounds could be heard from his bone as he screamed in agony. Finally, with a sickening crunch, it snapped.
She went towards the thug whom Marko defeated last, the rod dragging behind her, like it was the executioner’s blade. Yep, Marko was no match for her in the serial-killer vibes department.
She turned him over with her foot and aimed her rod between his legs.
The thug's eyes widened. “No, please-”
It was interrupted by her, “All because of you. It is because of you that he despised me. If not because of you, he would have let me follow him.”
Then, with full force, she swung the rod and shattered the nuts. His pants became red as blood came out. He directly lost consciousness in shock.
“Finally, you,” she said coldly as she turned to look at Vince.
Vince trembled. He didn’t even show that reaction when I threatened to kill him. But now, his face was pale as if he had seen a ghost.
As she came near him, he couldn’t take it anymore and, with shaking legs, tried to run away.
Was that a wet spot on his pants? Even the ground where he was lying was wet.
The girl wasn’t going to let him run. She threw the rod, and it hit squarely on his back.
Vince fell, but still desperately crawled forward with one hand. The girl came and picked up the rod, finally catching up to him.
“I am sorry, please let me go,” he begged, his face covered with snot and tears. But the girl just looked at him coldly.
“Please let him go, I will give you all my drugs and even all the money I took from you,” Vince begged more desperately.
He is an idiot, isn’t he?
And as expected, when he said the word drugs, the girl was triggered and swung the rod like a bat and hit his face. One shot, and he was out cold. The faint movement of his chest showed that he was still alive. Barely.
The rod dropped from the girl’s hands as she just stood still in the alley with a sad face, looking like her puppy had just died.
I, on the other hand, was now seriously considering her request. She was a junkie, but she showed potential.
Yes, she gave yandere vibes.
There was no way I would keep an out-of-control yandere by my side; that was just signing my death certificate with my own hands.
But a yandere in control could become one of my most loyal and efficient enforcers.
Efficient. Obsessive. Terrifying.
The way she acted, I felt like I could control her. And she might even become one of the core members of the gang.
“Hey,” I said, calling out to her.
She looked and froze, looking at me.
“I-I,” she stuttered, her eyes darting to her handiwork.
“I-I—this isn’t—this isn’t me,” she stammered. “I mean, I did it, b-but I—”
“I can let you follow me,” I declared.
“P-please don’t h-hate me, please, huh–” she stopped mid-babble as she heard what I said.
“R-really?” she whispered, eyes gleaming.
“Yes,” I agreed. “But you have to pass a test.”
“Anything. I will do anything. Please give me a chance to prove myself. I will do anything,” she begged, repeatedly saying ‘anything’. She looked desperate enough to prove to me that she wouldn’t mind any request.
But that could come later if she passed. For now, I had a better test for her.
“Good. Pass the test, and you can join as an intern,” I said in a low voice.
“I will. Thank you. Thank you very much. I will not let you down,” she said gratefully.
“Hmm, then, let’s start with your name,” I said. I couldn’t just keep on calling her a junkie or that girl.
“Frances. Frances Barrison.”

Chapter 19: One Day in Hell Part 1

One Day in Hell Part 1

The ground was cracked and brittle, pale like sun-bleached bone. Jagged ridges of dark stone jutted from the earth at sharp angles, casting long, twisted shadows across a landscape drowned in perpetual red twilight. Overhead, the sky churned slowly, layered with thick, unmoving clouds streaked by veins of black and deep crimson. No sun pierced the haze—only a dim, pulsing glow that bled through in waves, casting a sickly hue over everything below.
The air hung motionless, hot and dry, with a density that clung to the land like a shroud. It carried a faint stench—acidic, metallic, and old—settling deep into the ground and never lifting. There was no breeze. No birds. No hum of insects. Only silence, heavy and watchful.
To the west, a forest spread across the ridge. Towering trees stood bare and motionless, their bark dark and slick, glistening like raw muscle beneath a film of moisture. Thick red sap seeped from deep knots in their trunks, dripping in slow, rhythmic trails that pooled around exposed roots. The roots sprawled openly across the earth, twisted and swollen like veins, pulsing faintly with life. At irregular intervals, the forest groaned—low and deep, like something ancient shifting in its sleep.
Beyond the trees, a vast, featureless plain of ash lay before them. Fine gray dust blanketed the surface, soft and unstable, shifting with the faintest touch. Twisted bones and rusted metal spires protruded from the ground, scattered like remnants of some forgotten conflict. The land was quiet, but far from still.
In the distance, a river of black liquid cut through the terrain. Its surface was smooth and glasslike, reflecting the red-tinged sky without distortion. Nothing rippled. Nothing flowed. Yet beneath the surface, slow, deliberate movements betrayed the presence of something just out of sight.
The entire landscape sat in silence, untouched by wind or time. It did not sleep. It did not rest. It waited.

— Frances —
I crouched behind a jagged slab of obsidian, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat.
A harsh skittering scraped across the silence. I peeked around the edge.
It was huge. A thick-shelled insect-like creature, over five feet long, with its armored plates rigid and spiked like natural armor. Mandibles clicked hungrily. Antennae twitched. It turned its head—if that grotesque thing could be called a head—searching for prey.
I held my breath, fearing even exhaling might signal my location to the creature.
Tears welled up in my eyes, but I fought them back. I couldn't afford to show weakness. The boss had given me a test, and I was determined to pass it to prove he was right in placing his trust in me. I would not let him down.
As I waited for that abomination to pass, I wondered how I arrived here.

—
“You bitch. Didn’t I tell you to sell all the dope by tonight?”
The slap came right after the words.
Typical Vince. Yell, hit, swear. Then I cry, beg, and stroke his ego. That usually worked. He’d let me go after a few more kicks and curses.
This time it might not be so simple. Well, I did take many of the drugs myself, instead of selling them. Moreover, I still have a day job with two shifts as a cashier in a supermarket, which also consumes a significant portion of my time.
Another slap. I hit the floor.
Sob. When would this shit end?
The beating hurt, yeah, but right now, Vince was my only plug. Most dealers blacklisted me after I burned through their product. I’d narrowly dodged a few death threats. Vince was new to the game—still green, trying to look tough—so he took a chance on me.
But I’d probably need a new supplier soon. Again.
That’s when he came. The punching bag, the walking atm, the personal bank, the investor, the piggy bank, among other names, he was famous among Vince’s gang.
More than once, I had heard them talking about the fat fool, too pussy to say no.
I had seen him once, and that was more than enough to prove that they were right.
Because of this fat fuck, Vince kicked me again.
Sob. Couldn’t you fucking just let me go?
So what if I took some of your drugs? After your piggy bank, I was the one who funded your gang the most. It was I who did the dangerous job of selling the drugs, dealing with cops, junkies, psychos, whereas you only counted the money.
Despite the kicks, I played dead and didn’t make any noises. Otherwise, if I annoyed Vince, it would lead to more beating.
What did I hear? One grand? Did the fat fool agree to give one grand to Vince? And here I thought that the two hundred dollars he previously gave to Vince in front of me was already too much.
Honestly, even I felt the fatty deserved the beating.
Another grand? Serves him right for even believing such parasites.
Finally, Vince revealed his true face, declaring that fatty would be the gang’s ‘investor’. He might have thought that at this time, there was no reason to play games anymore. He would now openly extort from him.
Did he break? I wondered when I saw that the fatty was silent and looking with blank eyes.
But after staying like that for some time, something stirred inside him, as if he had some kind of revelation.
Suddenly, he found the strength within himself, and he refused Vince. He actually refused Vince in the face.
Not only that, fatty even headbutted Vince and broke his nose.
I refused to believe that, having been oppressed by Vince and his gang for so long, he had suddenly grown his spine, or that his self-esteem had miraculously become important to him, so that he decided to refuse Vince.
Someone else had a hand in that. Someone who somehow influenced this fatty to raise his voice against his oppressors.
As I wondered who that could be, I heard someone’s voice, casual and playful.
“Man, you look like shit.”
My intuition told me that’s the person I was looking for. And junkie or not, a woman’s intuition is very sharp.
Was he called Kevin?
Listening to their conversation, I was sure he was the one.
Despite being outnumbered, he didn’t lose his cool. He looked at them with the same amused or bored look, as Vince’s gang was not worth his time.
When Vince was monologuing like a fool, he moved. The clown playing with his knife was the first to go.
Looking at him, even that fatty, Marko also got the strength as he downed another one.
By now, Vince realized he was not dealing with weak-willed cowards but a real man. Someone who could be ruthless if need arose.
He was the real boss—not a clown like Vince, high on his own bullshit.
My heart drummed against my chest as the boss was held by the throat by that brute. But even with the odds against him, he defeated that brainless brute.
Vince moved to stab him, while he was still recovering from the brute’s chokehold. I couldn’t have that. How dare he try to hurt my boss?
I tripped Vince, who fell face-first on the ground. The boss looked confused, but then understood it was me. He looked at me and nodded.
He acknowledged me. Hehe. Will he let me follow him?
No, you idiot, what are you doing daydreaming? Nod back.
I quickly gave a slight nod.
I quickly left that area, not to run away, but to find something for my boss to sit on. After the fight, it was right to sit on something comfortable. I knew Vince’s safehouse was just behind, so I quickly ran there and brought a stool with a cushion. I was looking for something better, but this was the only option I could find in a hurry. I hid as I watched the fight.
Now, just Vince and another one of his buddies remained. This was the first time I heard Vince begging.
That’s when I heard, “Only show mercy to people who’d do the same. Otherwise, you’re just volunteering to get stabbed later.”
Now, I was one hundred percent sure that it was my boss who gave Marko the confidence to stand up for himself.
He looked so handsome when he said that.
Finally, Vince tasted defeat with a series of attacks executed in a fluid combo. The last thug also ended up on the ground.
I knew it was my turn to enter the scene. I quickly brought the stool over to the boss and asked him to sit on it.
But he didn’t. Why didn’t he sit? Did he not like it? Did I disappoint him?
“Sorry, boss. I know it’s not much. I couldn’t find anything better,” I apologized, but it felt hollow. He must think that I disrespected him by bringing only a stool. Of course, how could a great man like him sit on a mere stool?
But against all odds, he sat on it. He was such a great man that he overlooked my mistake.
I quickly went behind him and started massaging him. A great man like him deserved it.
My heart skipped a beat when he threatened to kill Vince and his goons. He was so manly. I felt my cheeks flush.
Finally, he decided to leave. The warmth beneath my hands vanished as he got up, and I couldn’t massage him.
I was stunned when he handed me the money that I had given to Vince earlier.
He is giving it to me. Why?
He defeated Vince; it was his right to take all of Vince’s money. But he was returning it to me.
I felt hesitant about taking it. But when he showed impatience, I hurriedly took it. I didn’t want to upset him.
He started leaving. No, I didn’t want him to leave me. I wanted him to become my boss. He was infinitely better than Vince. I wouldn’t mind doing anything for him.
But he was leaving. Should I ask him? Could I ask him? Was I worthy to ask him? Was I worthy to become his follower?
“Umm, boss, please wait,” I requested, gathering my courage.
He turned around.
“Umm, can I follow you, boss?” I asked hesitatingly.
“Nope, I don’t like junkies in my group.” He refused and left.
I felt something inside me break. I looked at Vince and his buddies, groaning and crying on the ground.
“It is because of all of you.”
“You gave me the drugs. You ruined me.”
“Because of you, he despises me.”
“Because of you, I can never be with him.”
“All of you are responsible.”
The next few minutes passed as a blur, as the world in my eyes turned red, and I took out my anger on them.
The rod in my hands. The screams. The blood. The pleading.
I lost myself.
But after I was done, I noticed him standing and watching me.
No, no, no. He already despised me; what if he became disgusted with me after watching my actions?
What if he hated me?
Someone, please kill me.
I started babbling crazily in front of him. I was trying to explain it to him, but failing.
“I didn’t mean—I wasn’t—I just…”
I couldn’t even form a sentence. I was shaking. My hands, my voice—everything was falling apart.
“I can let you follow me,” I heard his voice.
For a moment, I thought I had imagined it. My breath caught in my throat.
“R-really?” I whispered.
“Yes,” he agreed. “But you have to pass a test.”
Yes, yes, yes. He didn’t abandon me. He even gave me a chance to prove myself to him.
“Yes. Yes! Anything. I’ll do anything. Just let me prove myself. I won’t let you down,” I begged. I probably looked pathetic, but I didn’t care. I would do anything if it meant he would let me follow him.
“Good. Pass the test, and you can join as an intern,” he said in a low voice.
I will. I swear, I won’t fail you. Thank you. Thank you for giving me this chance,” I agreed without any hesitation.
“Hmm, then, let’s start with your name,” he said, asking my name.
I stood straighter.“Frances. Frances Barrison.”
Then he suddenly went silent. What happened. Did he not like my name?
Should I change it? I could. I would. He could call me anything he wanted.
Just as I was panicking, he started speaking again.
“The test is going to be very hard.” He paused, letting the words settle like the weight they carried. “You can only begin if you truly believe in me.”
“I do!” I blurted out. “I believe in you completely. No matter what the test is, I’ll pass it. I swear.”
“You will go to a dangerous place. You must survive there for 24 hours to pass the test. Don’t worry, even if you die there, you can come back here unscathed,” he explained.
If anyone else had said that, I’d have thought they were insane.
But this was him.
And if he said it, then it was true.
“I accept,” I said, my voice firm. “Please… give me this chance.”
“Good. But remember, if you die before 24 hours are up, it will be considered a failure,” he warned.
I nodded to show I understood.
“Then your test starts now,” he said, and suddenly the sky changed colour.

—
I crouched behind the jagged rock, barely daring to breathe. The chittering finally stopped.
Did it leave?
Still, I didn’t move. I counted out the seconds in my head. One… two… thirty. Still nothing.
Then something warm and wet splashed on my shoulder.
I froze.
Reaching up with trembling fingers, I touched the spot—and immediately gagged. It was thick, slimy, and stank like rotting eggs and rusted iron. Greyish-yellow goo clung to my fingertips.
Another drop splattered onto my other shoulder.
My gut twisted.
I looked up.
It was there.
The insect monster loomed above, perched atop the rock, its grotesque face inches from mine. Its jagged mandibles clicked open, saliva drooling in fat, twitching strands. One fell onto my hand.
I screamed.
It shrieked back with a chittering screech and lunged.
I ran away with all my might.
The monster also began following me, making strange sounds.
I never regretted not exercising so much in my life before today. My legs ached. My chest burned. My vision blurred from tears.
In a few minutes, I was short of breath, and the monster was gaining on me.
But I kept going—because if I stopped, I’d die. And worse, I’d fail him.
But fate played a cruel hand, and I tripped over a small rock jutting out.
Pain lanced through my side. I tried to scramble up, but my body locked up. My limbs trembled, refusing to listen. I flipped onto my back, breath coming in broken gasps.
The monster wasn’t running anymore.
It stalked forward slowly. Deliberately. Like it was savoring the moment. Like a cat playing with a mouse.
Its eyes gleamed as it drew closer.
“N-no… no, please,” I whimpered, trying to crawl backward, uselessly clawing at the dust. “I don’t want to die… please…”
As it finally reached my legs, it suddenly jumped on me, its mandibles near my head.
I hurriedly held the jagged pincers before they decapitated my head.
As I wrestled with it, I realized that its strength was around someone who trained regularly, but it was still too much for me, a junkie with a sedentary lifestyle.
“Get off me,” I struggled as the force on the mandibles increased.
Its mandibles pulled back for a second—then slammed down with brutal force.
I ducked my head just in time.
The impact cracked the ground next to my skull.
That would’ve been my face.
I wrestled again, but my limbs felt heavy. Weak. My breath came out in short, broken bursts.
“No… not like this… I don’t want to die…” I whimpered, desperation creeping into my voice.
It didn’t care. Its cold, alien eyes stared down with mindless hunger.
“I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die,” I repeated it like a mantra as if it would give me strength, but it didn’t. The insect’s assault only increased.
A voice in the corner of my mind reminded me that the boss said that I could return alive even if I died, but then I would fail the test.
A part of me felt tempted just to give up and end it all. When I would return, I could still snort the remaining drugs I had to forget this hellish place, to forget about him. Moreover, with what happened before, I didn’t have to worry about Vince asking me to pay him.
The strength in my arms was reduced. The mandibles were now dangerously close to my throat. I closed my eyes.
But, just as they were about to snap my neck, I remembered my boss, who trusted me. And I was about to betray his trust.
NO!
I opened my eyes and increased the strength in my arms again. The mandibles barely moved up.
No, I refuse to give up.
I will no longer be the pathetic girl I was before. It is my divine calling to serve my boss. I will never betray him.
I refuse.
I refuse.
“I REFUSE!!!” I screamed with all my might.
Then, something strange happened. The insect looked as if it were in pain when I screamed. It screeched and suddenly dropped lifelessly.
I hurriedly pushed it aside. I looked at its carcass in shock and confusion.
I got up and created some distance from it. I watched it for a minute, but it didn’t move. With hesitation, I moved towards it. I prodded it with my foot, but it didn’t respond. It was dead.
“What… just happened?” I whispered in confusion.
But no one could answer my questions.
With a confused expression, I wondered where to continue my aimless journey in these mysterious lands. The area I was in was some kind of canyon or badland with obsidian rocks protruding out here and there.
In the far distance, I could see a giant tree, but it was too far to infer any more information.
I didn’t dwell too much on it and decided to walk towards the tree.
It was too hard to walk on the uneven ground; moreover, the small stones stung my feet.
An hour passed—maybe more. I found no signs of life—just rock, canyon, and silence.
I wonder if these rocks contained some precious ore, but I wasn't an expert in that field, so I didn’t know. I had kept a few small pieces of rock for self-defence, and if I could take them back, I could give them to the boss. They might really be worth something.
I looked at the phone, and it had only been one hour and ten minutes. The phone indicated it was not connected to the network, which was expected, given that I had already guessed I was not on Earth, with the strange sky and the monster I had encountered.
I could only use the phone's offline features. Since I had to stay here for at least 24 hours, I had put the phone on power-saving mode and was only using it to track the time, and possibly as a flashlight if required. Fortunately, I had fully charged the phone before meeting Vince.
I decided to take a break. My legs felt heavy as if lead had been poured inside them.
I found a big rock and sat down against it.
I sighed in relief. My legs needed the rest.
As I sat there, I started thinking back to the previous monster. I still didn’t realize how I killed it. Did I kill it?
I did remember feeling something when I shouted, but it was gone then.
Strange.
Forget it.
I calmed my mind as I looked at the horizon. It was a deep red colour with stationary light red clouds. The clouds had strange red veins, and it looked as if they pulsed ever so slightly.
The sky has no sun, moon, or stars. They might be hidden behind the clouds, or they might not be present at all.
I felt a strange unease as I looked at the sky for a long time. I turned away my gaze.
Exhaustion came to me after the long trek. The eyelids fought to close, but I didn’t allow them. I was in a hostile environment. There was no guarantee that another one of those monsters or even another type of monster wouldn’t come out to eat me. Sleeping in such an area was equivalent to serving myself on a platter to all the monsters here to feast upon.
I got up after resting for fifteen minutes, ready to resume my journey.
I could have stayed, but two things held me back.
It was unfamiliar, and thus uncertain.
And what feels safe for a moment may turn dangerous the longer you remain.
Second, and the major one. The boss sent me here on a test. Hiding like a rat wasn’t a proper answer. I had to earn his approval.
I walked for a few minutes and heard the familiar chittering again. I immediately became alert.
As I followed the sound's source, I found a monster emerging from behind a large rock a few meters away. It was the same as the one I saw before, but smaller in size.
My heart rate increased as I tried to back off slowly and find an alternative way forward.
Unfortunately, it turned in my direction and caught sight of me. For a moment, we just looked at each other.
I tried to back off slowly, but that was a bad move. Maybe it considered my backing off as a sign of fear or hesitation; it suddenly became feral and started running towards me.
It was already too close to me. There was no possibility of running.
As I felt desperate, I felt that strange feeling again. I decided to trust my gut and scream loudly.
“GET AWAY FROM ME!”
The words exploded out of me—no, through me. A wave of sound pulsed forward, visible like a slight shimmer in the air.
The creature shrieked. A horrible, warbling screech—as if my scream had reached inside it and torn it loose. It dropped mid-charge, twitching once before going still.
My eyes widened as I realized what it was. But I still wanted to confirm it one last time.
I placed one of the rocks I had collected down and then backed away a few meters from it.
Then I screamed at the rock. No words, just pure scream. The shockwave hit the rock, and it shot off like a kicked can.
“Hehehehe,” I giggled uncontrollably. “Boss gave me a superpower.”
“And you wanted to quit, you dumb bitch,” I muttered to myself. “You were ready to throw away everything.”
I dreaded the thought of how disappointed he would be if I had quit.
I must perform my best and clear the test as well as possible. The better I perform, the better my boss will think of me.
I looked toward the strange sky. “Don’t worry, boss. I’ll make you proud. I’ll become someone worthy of your belief.”
As for this superpower, should I call it Boss’s Voice? No, no, no. He might sever all contact with me if I were to do that.
Let’s call it Sonic Scream.

Chapter 20: One Day in Hell Part 2

One Day in Hell Part 2

Four hours had passed since I had arrived here. I came across those monsters three more times. Every time, I defeated them with a scream.
Two times, I fought against only one of them. The third time, there were two at the same time. I thought they were lone wolves, but they might also hunt in groups.
Once, I also met another type of monster. It resembled a wasp, but was about a meter in size, with a reddish-black color. It had eight eyes on its hideous face with disgusting sarcomas growing on its body. Its jagged mouthparts could separate to tear apart a prey. It had a sharp stinger at the end of its abdomen.
Fortunately, its wings made a lot of noise, so I had already spotted it from afar.
I had taken off my hoodie and tied it around my waist as the temperature was too high. I was just wearing a tank top, but I still sweated profusely.
I had tied the shells of those insect monsters to both my arms. Those shells were very tough, and even when I banged them against the obsidian rocks, they merely had a few scratches. So, I used these shells as makeshift shields, tying them with the torn pieces of my hoodie.
I even wanted to use the pincers as weapons, but I wasn't strong enough to pull them out cleanly. For such strong shells and sharp pincers, they had surprisingly weak joints. I tried hitting them with rocks, and with only a few hits, they came off. Moreover, the insect’s underside was also unprotected.
As I walked, I heard some buzzing in the distance. I turned towards it, and as expected, the noise was from the wasp monster. Moreover, there were two at the same time.
This time, I was the one moving towards them. I knew I could defeat them with my power.
The wasp monster made the noise as it flew towards its body, which was happily munching on the remains of an insect monster. It landed and started eating as well.
When I got close to them, they finally noticed me.
“KHEEE,” they made a strange sound as they screamed.
I smiled. Did they want to have a screaming competition with me?
“Aaah,” I screamed, and the two wasp monsters screeched in pain and then burst open.
Just as I felt happy for another victory, I heard a scittering sound. I felt a presence just behind me. Without hesitation, I jumped to the side.
Had I been even a second slower, the pincers of the insect monster would have cut off my leg.
Shit, I became complacent.
I didn’t get time to scream at the monster as another insect monster lunged at me. I hurriedly blocked its attack with the shield on my arm. But I was still knocked to the ground due to the force behind the attack.
The monster that attacked me shook its head as it banged on the shell on my arm. I turned my attention to the first one, who took that opportunity to lunge at me while I was down.
Oh, no. You don’t.
“Aaah,” I screamed, and it fell from mid-air.
I was already gasping for air, but I still turned to the second insect monster and screamed at it, and it went down.
I slumped down, collecting my breath and thoughts.
My biggest blunder was getting complacent after my latest victories. They went to my head and I forgot where I was.
Next, I realized another of my fatal flaws, aside from my weak physical condition. It was my insufficient lung capacity. I didn’t notice it previously, but now, during a high-pressure fight, I understood it.
I was out of breath after screaming a few times. I couldn’t scream for long. Of course, it was a pipe dream to improve them in a day to fight against the monsters.
No, the only thing I could do now was to be careful and use my powers at the critical time without wasting any opportunity.
Twelve hours had passed since I came to this place. I had met and defeated many monsters till now. I stopped counting after twenty.
I looked at the Shellcrawler, which I named the insect monster, in front of me.
My clothes were torn in various places. A nasty wound was on my thigh, courtesy of a Buzzfly’s stinger, which I named the wasp monster. Another piece of cloth torn from my hoodie was tied to it.
The shellcrawler took a step forward, and I took a step forward too. Both of us were alert, analyzing our opponent’s movements. Finally, we charged at each other.
I ran towards it, and it lunged at me. I dodged at the final moment, and it fell on the ground. Without giving it any time to attack me a second time, I pounced on it and started hitting the joint with a rock between the head and the thorax.
It tried to throw me off as it ran haphazardly while screaming in pain, but I held onto it like dear life. Finally, with a cracking sound, the head came off, and it stopped, falling to the ground.
I got up and patted my clothes. My thigh burned due to the intense movement.
With practiced movement, I rolled the carcass to its back. Then I found the longest two legs and broke each off from the last joint by hitting it with the rock.
I had used these as makeshift stick weapons. They weren’t much use against the shellcrawlers, but they worked surprisingly well against a buzzfly, which was easy to kill as long as I steered clear of its stingers. Those bitches, hurt like hell.
The stick was too brittle and broke after a few uses. So, I made a habit of taking apart the longest and strongest two legs of every shellcrawler I defeated.
I found a nearby rock and leaned against it. After setting multiple alarms with a one-minute gap, I closed my eyes for thirty minutes.
Fourteen hours, and now I was fighting two buzzflies at the same time. I had a stick in both hands.
One of them fired its stinger, which I barely dodged by rolling to the left. I now had five minutes before it could create another one and fire it.
I didn’t give it time to fly higher, and I lunged at it. My stick slammed squarely on its head. One shot and it was dead.
I heard a whooshing sound, and I hurriedly dodged to the left, but the stinger from the other buzzfly still grazed my arm.
My face scrunched in pain as a hiss left my lips, but I didn’t have time to care about it. I couldn’t let the buzzfly fly higher. I ran towards it, but unfortunately, it was a considerable distance away and had already flown up.
I threw stones at it to harass it. My aim was shit, so none actually hit. But one unexpectedly hit its abdomen. It cried in pain and anger, and it pounced down, its mouth open, ready to tear a piece of meat from me.
I was just waiting for this opportunity. The moment it was within enough distance from me, I hit it with the stick, which hit its abdomen, and it fell to the ground. But it was not dead yet. It tried to fly again, but I couldn’t let that happen. I lunged at it and hit it again in the head. Now it was finally dead.
With the last hit, the stick broke, and I discarded it on the ground. I took out another one tied to my waist.
Once again, I tore another part from my hoodie and bandaged my arm. It was confirmed that my hoodie was not making it out of this alive.
I resumed walking. The terrain grew worse—shattered stone ridges forced me to climb more than walk.
As I climbed the final rock and continued walking, I realized I had reached a dead end. There was a canyon in front of me with black and red smoke rising from the abyss to the sky.
I tied my handkerchief around my mouth and covered my nose. Most of the smoke was rising, but it crept near the ground.
I looked left and right to find a way to cross it. Luckily, in the distance towards the right, I saw that the canyons on both sides met, and there was a clear path to reach the other side.
With my destination decided, I started walking towards it.
Although it didn’t feel far away, the walk took more than two hours.
But as I neared the area, I quickly ducked behind a jagged rock and peeked out from the corner.
Tens of shellcrawlers and buzzflies were duking it out against each other.
The shellcrawlers ripped apart the buzzflies with their mandibles.
The buzzflies either attacked the shellcrawlers with their stinger, hitting the eyes or the joints, or just dived down to tear apart the joints with their mouths.
I reduced my breathing as I watched the spectacle in front of me. My heart was drumming against my chest.
If they found me, they would rip me apart. My sonic scream was nowhere near enough to take out so many of them.
The fight continued for more than half an hour, and the winner was decided. It was the shellcrawlers. However, it was a pyrrhic victory, as out of the tens of shellcrawlers, only three survived and were injured to varying degrees.
I waited for some time to make sure no reinforcements were coming. But no one went to either share the spoils of war or take revenge for their fallen brethren.
I decided to finish the three of them myself and then continue the journey.
Just as I was about to come out of hiding, I saw something and hid back again with a trembling heart.
A lizard monster, at least six to seven feet long, climbed the canyon.
Without pause, it lunged. The first Shellcrawler disappeared into its mouth in a single gulp. The others tried to flee. It caught one with a swipe of its tail, cracked it against a rock, then devoured it whole.
The last tried to crawl away, dragging a broken leg. The lizard clamped its jaws down and chewed this one. Loudly. Wetly.
It ate the remains of the other monsters until nothing remained but the stains.
Then, without a sound, it slinked back down the canyon.
I hid there for another half hour. I was not taking any chances. That lizard would gulp me whole.
Once again, making sure no one was there, I ran with all my might and then ran to the other side. I kept on running for a few more minutes.
After I stopped, I made sure no one was following me, and only then did I sigh in relief as I gasped for breath.
Finally, after regaining control of my breathing, I took a moment to look around at the new environment—no more barren lands. The ground was the same as before, but was less uneven. I could also see a bunch of trees starting to appear now that they had only increased further in the distance.
The trees were all black with no leaves, only twisting branches. Those black branches gave an illusion of charred fingers.
Twenty-three hours.
One more to go.
My legs felt like they were carved from stone—sore, cracked, and ready to break.
Every step through this forest of charred skeleton-trees made my bones scream louder than my mouth ever could. Still, I trudged on, slaying whatever monster came near.
Then I smelled it.
Sweet. Heavenly. Completely alien to this land of rot and death.
I decided to follow the fragrance, curious to see what could have such a fragrance in such a hellish place.
After walking for a few minutes, I saw a tree in front of me. It was different from the others, as it was dark red and smaller.
Monster carcasses were lying around. It should’ve bothered me, but my entire focus was on the tree, which was emanating the fragrance.
My stomach growled at the same time. I hadn’t eaten or even drunk a drop of water for the day.
“Is the smell coming from a fruit? If the smell is so good, the fruit must taste heavenly,” I said, looking at the tree while licking my dried lips.
I walked towards the tree, remaining alert for any potential monster attacks.
And it proved helpful as I was just a few meters away from the tree; two roots attacked me from the right.
The attack was so sudden that I had no time to dodge. I could only scream at them.
The roots flailed in the air and then burst open. A screeching sound came from the tree.
Is it alive?
I looked at it.
Another root attacked, but I hurriedly blocked it with my shield. As the attack pushed me back, I used the momentum and continued backing off.
The root wanted me to attack, but I was outside its attack range, and it couldn’t reach me.
I looked at the root in the air and then at the tree. I could back off now and take another route; there was not much time remaining for me to complete the test.
But I felt unwilling; I wanted whatever was emanating that sweet smell. I wanted to eat it. No, I needed to eat it. I deserved it after what I had endured.
I finally decided to kill the tree monster and remove whatever was causing the smell.
I had only used Sonic Scream once. From what I've observed in my fights so far, I've been able to use it four times per fight, with a maximum of five if I push it. But that was the limit. I had three to four tries left.
I entered its range to resume the fight.
The root once again attacked me, but I blocked it again with the shield. I was pushed to the right, but that didn’t stop me from running towards the tree.
My target was the trunk; as long as I destroyed the trunk, it would be enough.
Perhaps it realised what I wanted to do, and two more roots came to attack me. Now there were two at my left and one at my right.
As the two on my left attacked me together, I screamed again, and they burst open.
But the root on my right seized the opportunity and coiled around my leg, pulling me off the ground. It hung me upside down.
Another root came and aimed for my head, and I hit it with the stick. The stick broke on impact, but it completed its job, and the root was damaged and pulled back with a cry.
Next, I turned my head up and screamed towards the root coiled around my leg. It burst open, and I fell on my side. The height was not much, but I felt I had broken a few ribs.
But it didn’t stop me from running towards the tree. My injuries were not significant compared to the smell.
I reached the trunk and screamed at it. The shockwave hit it at point-blank range.
Massive cracks appeared on it as a shrill scream came out of it. Another root hit me from the back, but I rolled to the right.
I was not stopping. I had only one scream left. I wasn't wasting it by destroying the roots.
I looked at the trunk and prepared to scream. Behind me, the root attack targeted my head. I didn’t care. My head was nothing compared to whatever caused the sweet smell.
The root was just a few inches from my head, and I screamed. The root froze mid-air as a mournful cry came from the tree.
The cracks on the trunk increased. I hurriedly created some distance. The cracks increased, and finally, the tree broke.
“Hahaha, it’s mine, mine, mine,” I cackled madly, but the sweet fragrance actually reduced and suddenly vanished.
Just as the sweet smell finished, I stopped laughing. My eyes widened as I looked at the dead tree monster with horror.
Then, once again, I looked at the various monster carcasses lying near the tree. Now that I looked at them carefully, they looked like dried husks.
Cold sweat covered my face as I thought this could’ve been my end.
I realized that the tree actually emitted a sweet fragrance to lure in prey, which it would then suck dry. The smell had hypnotizing properties to lure in the prey. Now that it died, it no longer emanated the fragrance.
Should I feel proud that I survived? Or horrified that I walked willingly into the slaughterhouse?
I sighed. Whatever. It was nearly time for me to leave. There was no need to think about what-ifs.
Just as I was about to turn, I noticed a faint red light inside a crack on the tree trunk.
Curious, I walked towards it. The trunk was too brittle, so that with some force the crack widened.
Inside, there was a pulsating, red organ, resembling a heart, the size of a ping-pong ball. Even if the tree monster died, it didn’t seem to affect the organ. It looked like a rare drop from a powerful monster.
My intuition told me it was something good. I had a feeling that I should eat it. I looked at the remaining time. Three minutes.
“Fuck it,” I said and swallowed the heart.
For a minute, I didn’t feel anything, but after that, I felt my insides were burning.
I leaned against the broken stump and sat down. Somehow, I managed to endure it for two minutes.
Then, just as my 24 hours were up, a strange screen appeared in front of me.

Congratulations! You survived for 24 hours!
Would you like to leave?
Yes
No

The pain was starting to become too much to bear.
“Y-yes,” I barely made a sound as I agreed to leave.
Then the world darkened in front of me.

Chapter 21: La Madrina

Chapter 21: La Madrina

A month had passed since the alley fight. We never saw Vince again. Even Marko assured that Vince didn’t bother him again. For now, this chapter was considered closed.
Nothing major happened since, but I wasn’t sitting idle either. Missions were moving along. Some were faster than others.

Vigilante (13/100)
Paramedic (56/100)
Delivery (22/100)
Burglary (19/100)
Art of Persuasion (60/100)

The [Vigilante] mission had made the least progress, with only five. I didn’t go out of my way to find criminals to kill. But when I came across any opportunity to increase the count for this mission, I was all in.
One night, I was cruising a quiet street, and I spotted a man forcibly pulling a girl into an alley. I parked some distance away and followed inside.
By the time I got there, he’d already yanked half her clothes off. She was crying, resisting, the usual horror show. So yeah, I figured it was time to play Batman.
Since it was fashionable to wear masks as a vigilante, I also decided to wear one. Unfortunately, I didn’t have one, so I had to tie my handkerchief around my face, covering my nose and mouth.
I looked less like a fucking vigilante and more like a wannabe thug.
Anyways.
Since it was considerably dark in the alley, I took advantage of that. I first attacked the rapist from behind because I was not a righteous fool who would yell, “Leave that girl alone, you scum.”
But I didn’t kill him in that strike, as I didn’t want the girl to see that—no need to kill an unrelated person for no reason.
“Leave,” I growled, trying my best Batman voice.
She couldn’t see my face because of the cover on my face and the relative darkness in the alley. With a teary-eyed face, she mouthed, “Thank you,” and ran away after quickly fixing her clothes.
After that, the expected happened, and I killed that rapist in cold blood. Earning a +1 for my mission.
I usually didn’t drive too late at night, but after that, I sometimes went out at late hours to find more targets. I killed two more rapists and five muggers. Unfortunately, only two of the muggers earned me a point; it might be that the other three were mere junkies or small-time crooks, not considered criminal enough to grant a point for the mission.
The [Paramedic] mission became significantly easier after my [First Aid] skill reached the Apprentice stage. I gained more fame among Uncle Niko's old pals. Even if not comparable to an actual doctor, I could still tape up a bleeding man without making it worse.
Not only that, I completed the second objective of the mission, so I earned the [Health Regen Increase (100%)] reward. Although it didn’t give me Wolverine’s healing factor, it still made my recovery much faster.
The [Delivery] mission was utterly dependent on Robert, so the number of deliveries I could complete would depend on how many he would give me.
At least, I completed the first objective of the mission and upgraded my Endurance from F1 to F3. My stamina had increased drastically compared to before.
The [Burglary] mission also made steady progress—14 burglaries in the past month, which was almost one burglary every two days. But even if I targeted completely different areas and switched neighborhoods, the cops were starting to sniff around—time to lay low before I got flagged.
Lastly, the [Art of Persuasion] mission. I had made the most progress in this mission, completing both first and second objectives, which increased my Charisma to F3 and granted me the [Solver Tongue] skill, respectively—smooth talker upgrade acquired.
All in all? A productive month. I was still far from strong, but I wasn’t the same rookie I was at the start.

Attributes:
Strength: F1
Agility: F1
Constitution: F1
Endurance: F3
Vitality: F3
Intelligence: F2
Wisdom: F2
Perception: F2
Willpower: F3
Charisma: F3

The grind was slow, but the numbers were moving. That’s what mattered.
I’d finally leveled up enough to start putting a few plans into motion—specifically, following my old man’s footsteps into the wonderful world of organized crime.
But I couldn’t just slap together a gang and start carving up the territories. I had no reputation or skills for that.
Even with a fluke, if I somehow gathered a small gang and made a little noise, I might end up like Vince or worse, the Black Dog gang: splattered across the walls.
Hell, Jessica might be the one sent to put me down. Just the thought of her folding me like a lawn chair made me shudder. I became strong, but I was nowhere near her.
With our previous meeting, she might hold back herself with all her might to not kill me, but in the end, it would be futile against Zebediah’s orders.
Bottom line: starting a gang now would be suicide with extra steps.
I had a better alternative for that.
Starting a gang and starting a company are similar. Before establishing a company, consider gaining relevant experience by working in a related field. Only after that would it be best to start your own company.
I decided something similar. Before starting my own gang, I think it would be a good idea to work with other gangs to gain experience and build a reputation.
The problem was picking the right gang. I didn’t want to work with anyone in NYC. Too close to home. Too risky. I needed to keep my student life and my criminal internship from overlapping.
Nearby cities were a better bet. But this wasn’t the comics. There were way more gangs out there than the ones Marvel cared to name. And I didn’t exactly have Yelp reviews for criminal organizations.
Fortunately, I didn’t have to do much research into that. One of Uncle Niko’s old pals, who also worked with my father, proved helpful. He knew someone in Newark and put in a good word for me. Of course, whether they would hire me or not would depend totally on my performance.
I told him not to mention that I was Desmond’s son, just some kid in need of work. There was only far enough I could go with my father’s name, and any reputation earned in his name would never be truly mine.
Which brings me to now—standing outside the El Grito de Cortez bar. My first interview. For my first real job.
Let’s see if I make it past orientation.
From the outside, the bar didn’t look like much—just a sharp, square building pressed between a shuttered pawn shop and a Dominican bakery. No neon sign. Just a small brass plaque above a heavy wooden door: El Grito de Cortez.
But the moment I stepped inside, the temperature shifted.
The lighting dipped low, glowing a warm, ember-red. Soft jazz and bolero played at a low volume. Glass chandeliers hung overhead. The air smelled of tobacco, aged wood, and expensive wine.
There was a guard just inside the entrance. He was dressed in a form-fitting black suit. I could faintly see the outline of a gun at his waist.
He gave me a once-over as his eyes scanned for any visible weapons. His face stayed blank, but I could feel the silent “you don’t belong here” radiating off him.
“You lost, kid?” the guard asked. His voice was neither hostile nor welcoming, just plain dismissive.
“Depends. Is the music any good, or should I ask for directions?” I asked with a smirk.
He gave me a look for a few seconds, maybe contemplating whether he should throw me out or not. Finally, he welcomed me with a nod. “Don’t go near the stairs,” he warned, and then ignored me.
I shrugged and went inside.
The floor was polished black stone tiles with a marble finish, with subtle gold and crimson inlays. Multiple round tables dotted the floor, each with four chairs. There were a few sofas with smaller tables near the walls. 4-5 waiters moved busily on the floor.
In the front, a polished mahogany bar front ran across the wall. Two bartenders, a male and a female, handled the crowd with practiced ease. Ten high-backed stools stood in front of the bar. The shelf behind the bar housed many bottles, some labeled, and some unlabeled; home brews, cartel imports, and things you couldn’t buy legally.
The patrons were a mixed bag—scarred-up thugs, tired corporate slaves, drunkards, maybe even a few feds playing dumb.
There was a set of stairs leading up, with a guard standing in front of them. I looked up and found VIP lounges with some rich or powerful-looking men and women enjoying the atmosphere.
Another guard stood near the end of the bar front, a door leading to the kitchen beside him, where waiters moved to and from. A fourth guard occasionally walked on the floor or leaned against the wall at one side.
All of the guards had a few things in common; they all wore black suits, and each carried a piece.
The guard leaning against the wall stared at me sharply. His gaze conveyed, “You better not try anything funny.”
I smiled and waved at him. Rude fucker didn’t even return it. Whatever. I shrugged and went to the bar.
I claimed the only stool available in front of the bar.
“One orange juice,” I said to the male bartender who was standing nearby me. The female one, on the other side, looked overoccupied.
The bartender and the guests nearby looked at me, stunned for a second.
“Hey, kid,” said the tattooed musclehead next to me, voice booming with laughter. “This place ain’t for babies. Go back to your momma.”
The other patrons also laughed with him, but the bartender maintained a professional smile.
I immediately increased the bar’s rating by one star for good staff behaviour.
“So… is there a policy against punching guests?” I casually asked the bartender as he handed me my juice.
The buff man’s brows furrowed, and he growled, “You got a death wish, kid?”
“Unfortunately, sir,” the bartender said calmly, “violence is prohibited inside the premises.”
Translation: back off, or get bounced.
“Really? Damn. That’s a shame,” I sighed, sipping my juice.
“You little shit—”
The guy was mid-threat when he suddenly looked over my shoulder and clammed up.
Curious, I glanced back. The guard leaning against the wall was glaring at us. I once again smiled and waved at him. Rude fucker, once again ignored me.
“You new here?” the bartender asked, polishing a glass like some noir movie extra.
“Yep,” I answered. “Any cool places to visit?”
The guest sitting on the other side of me laughed, “Try NYC. You might spot a hero in tights if you’re lucky.”
He had white-streaked hair, a cigar, and the kind of drink that smelled like gasoline.
“Nah, that sounds dangerous,” I laughed.
“You don’t think this place is dangerous?” the musclehead from before scoffed.
“How can it be dangerous?” I asked, looking incredulous like an innocent idiot. “The nice gentleman here just said that violence is against the rules.”
“Hahaha.”
That got the biggest laugh yet. Even the bartender cracked a smile.
Careful, buddy. I can still take that star away.
“You know what the name of this place means?” the old guy asked, voice a touch more serious.
“El Grito de Cortez? Something about revolution, right? My Spanish sucks.”
He nodded. “That’s what everyone thinks at first.”
He took a long drag of his cigar. The smoke curled around his words.
“But here, the ‘scream’ means something else.”
I leaned in curiously. “Oh? Do tell.”
His eyes flicked around the room. Paused a beat on the wall-guard, who now strolled casually across the floor.
He even took a longer look, this time, at our smiling bartender, who pretended not to listen while mixing a drink for another customer.
Interesting. Looks like mixology wasn’t the only skill in the bartender’s resume.
“Well… It’s kind of an open secret around here,” the old man said, voice dropping low like he was about to share a ghost story.
“They say that the owner named the bar after her father’s last scream that he made while she killed him in cold blood and took over his empire,” he said, like telling a conspiracy theory.
“The name signifies the last scream of Ignacio Cortez, her father,” he continued.
“Was her father someone big?” I asked, just as quietly, already hooked.
“Ignacio Cortez was the previous head of the cartel and ruled a big area of the Newark underworld,” he chuckled.
Huh. Philip really hooked me up with someone interesting.
Oh well, I'd better take this opportunity to gather as much intel as possible about my temporary employer.
“So… is she as powerful as he was?” I asked.
“Powerful?” He asked. His eyes showed fear, eyes darting like he was expecting her to materialize around him suddenly. “She is one of the three rulers of Newark's underworld. Do you think that is powerful?”
I gave a slight nod. Yeah. That was powerful.
He continued, fear still strong in his eyes, “Fifteen years ago, she was merely a teenage girl. At that age, she ruthlessly killed her father and took over the cartel. She eliminated any opposition against her within the cartel. The cartel didn’t get weak with her father’s death; instead, it got stronger and stronger under her lead.”
His face showed both fear and admiration. “Her father ruled the cartel for so long, but he never earned the title of El Padrino. But with her decisive and ruthless actions, she earned the title of–”
He took a short dramatic pause, then continued in a low, heavy voice. His face filled with both awe and fear.
“La Madrina.”
Damn. Looks like my employer is a local legend.
I downed the last of my orange juice. “Thanks for the story, old man. Time for me to handle business.”
The musclehead once again laughed, hearing that. This man was starting to get on my nerves.
“You? Handle business? Here?” he scoffed.
“Yep,” I answered with a smile. If I hadn’t been afraid of breaking the place’s rules on my first day, I’d have left him sipping soup through a straw.
“Oh, really? Mind sharing with us what business you have?” He asked in a challenging tone.
Asking someone’s private business in a place like this can be considered taboo. It may even lead to a fight or worse.
But I didn’t really care.
“Sure,” I said casually. “I’m here to meet Reina Cortez.”
There was suddenly perfect silence in the area around me.
The musclehead’s eyes shrank.
The old man's glass slipped from his hand and shattered on the floor, liquor and shards scattering in every direction.
The bartender’s smile vanished. One hand slid under the bar.
Ok, now, that reaction was too excessive.
I stood up, dusted off my pants, and turned toward the stairs.
Time for the interview.
No pressure.
As I walked toward the stairs, I felt every guard’s eyes tracking me.
Their hands hovered near their guns. One wrong move and I’d be turned into Swiss cheese.
“VIPs only. Turn around,” the stair guard barked. He shifted his jacket just enough to flash the piece on his hip.
Unfortunately for him, given the events of the past few months, he needed to do more than that if he wanted to intimidate me.
Honestly, his F2 tier was more threatening to me than the gun, which wasn’t even in his hand. Not just him, every single guard was at F2 tier. If it had stopped at them, it would still be ok, but those damn bartenders were F2 tier too.
So yeah, these beings who could squish me like a mosquito were more intimidating to me than these guns. Unless they aimed those guns at me, I didn’t really care about some metal sticks.
“I’ve got a meeting with Ms. Reina Cortez,” I said, polite and calm. “Mind pointing me to her office?”
Best foot forward. No reason to look sloppy in front of future colleagues.
“Not just any nobody can meet with La Madriana. Leave or I will use force,” the guard threatened.
“Fair enough,” I said with a nod. “I am a nobody. But she’s expecting this particular nobody. Ask her about a call from Philip.”
“Nice try. But I was not informed of any guests that would be visiting her. So, leave,” the guard said, giving special emphasis to the word ‘guest’.
No dice. Guy wasn’t budging.
“Look, buddy. I know you are just doing your job. Hell, I appreciate such high work ethics,” I said.
I continued, “But don’t you think you are being too stubborn here. What if your boss got disappointed with you for delaying her business due to your overzealousness?”
Ok, that apparently worked in the opposite direction, as he was already pulling the gun.
“Whoa, easy there. ‘No violence’ is still the house rule, right?” I said, backing off just enough.
He didn’t draw—but his eyes stayed locked on me.
“If you know the rules,” he growled, “then shut the fuck up and walk away.”
“Okay, okay—compromise. How about you send one of your guys to check with Reina? I’ll stay right here.”
He stared. Hard.
Then gave a slight nod to the wall guard, who returned it and disappeared upstairs.
“If you’re lying,” the stair guard said, voice low and lethal, “you’ll be leaving with zero intact bones.”
I smiled.
“That’s a shame. I was really starting to like my kneecaps.”
The wall guard returned a moment later and gave a slight nod.
Stair-guard—who still looked like he wanted to rip my spine out—stepped aside, but not before glaring a final warning.
“Be extremely respectful in front of La Madrina,” he growled. “Or I’ll personally zip you up in a body bag.”
“Thanks for the advice,” I said and stepped past him.
“Stay close. Don’t wander,” the wall guard said, leading the way up the stairs. “If you do, you’ll deal with the consequences.”
The moment we reached the first floor, it was like stepping into a different world.
Half the level was a mezzanine overlooking the bar below—VIP booths lined with rich leather and low lighting. The kind of setup that let the powerful look down on everyone else.
Literal and symbolic.
Female waitresses moved gracefully across the floor—no male servers here. A second bar gleamed to the side, manned by a bartender whose hands were a blur of motion. He poured a dark red cocktail like he was casting a spell.
A waitress scooped up the drink and delivered it to a booth where an old sleazebag lounged like a rat in silk. Across from him sat two sharply dressed men. Between them sat an open suitcase overflowing with cash.
There were four guards in this area, all at the F2 tier, too. But they didn’t wander on the floor; instead, they stood at their assigned positions, like statues with loaded guns.
A fifth guard stood in front of a corridor—rugged, eyepatch over his right eye, and more muscle than most of the floor combined.
He scanned me like a hawk looking at its prey as we came near him.
“This is the guy Madrina is expecting?” he asked, unimpressed. “Doesn’t look like much.”
I smiled at him as I tried to keep my cool in front of the F3 tier guy who could defeat me like an adult beating a child.
The wall guard snapped to attention as he replied with respect, “Sí, Jefe.”
The eyepatch guy gave me one last cold look, then waved us on like I was barely worth the effort.
We moved down the corridor. A few doors lined the hall, one slightly ajar. I glimpsed inside—a meeting in progress. The conversation paused only long enough for someone to accept a drink from a waitress.
A thought came to my mind. Private Booths. High-level deals. Higher-level people.
“Keep moving,” the guard barked. And I resumed walking behind him.
Finally, we stopped at a heavy wooden door. The guard stood straighter, posture stiff with respect. He knocked twice.
“Entra.”
The voice from inside was sharp. Cold. Commanding.
The moment I stepped in, the air changed again.
If the first floor whispered “power,” this room screamed it.
Big. Luxurious. Dangerous.
Paintings hung on every wall, framed in gold. The wallpaper was a rich, blood-red with intricate patterns I didn’t recognize. A massive chandelier loomed overhead like a crown.
Two bookshelves stood near a wall filled with unknown books. A small table with two sofas sat beside it.
A woman sat on a sofa, reading a book. She wore a red check shirt with the top two buttons undone, suit pants, and shoes. Her long black hair was tied in a ponytail. She had a shoulder holster with a gun on each side.
She had a beautiful, angled face, long eyelashes, and bright eyes. Her figure was harder to make out because of the shirt she was wearing. But it should not be bad, with the faint curves visible from the shirt.
There was a minibar near another wall. A man leaned against it as he drank vodka directly from the bottle.
He was heavily built and easily more than two meters tall. His body was filled with explosive muscles easily visible under the white tank top he was wearing, which was at least two sizes too small.
He had short black hair and wore cargo pants. He looked like he could easily become friends with Tanktop Master.
On the other side of the room, there were black leather couches with a table in between. There was a bag filled with cash, some scattered papers, and a shotgun placed on the table.
On the couches sat two people facing each other.
First was another woman. She wore skinny jeans, a tank top, a leather jacket, and ankle boots. Her black hair was scattered loose behind her back. A machete was sheathed on her leg.
Her face was small and looked cute, but her clothes and makeup made her look mature. She was looking at a file in front of her in concentration.
The other man was dressed in a suit like the guards outside, but his was black with red highlights and looked more expensive.
His black hair was in a crew cut. His face was half covered in tattoos. He calmly smoked a cigar while lost in thought.
All of them looked different but had one thing in common: they were all at the fucking F3 tier.
“Vete.”
The same cold voice came. The guard who entered with me nodded and left respectfully after giving me a final warning glare. He closed the door behind him.
Such a lovely guy, making sure that his boss’s guest doesn’t run away.
This time, I followed the voice.
A massive boss table stood with a big leather chair behind it. Behind the chair, a one-way glass on the wall allowed people to look outside. Two slightly lower-quality chairs stood on the other side of the table.
The table had a stack of files, a table lamp, and a revolver. A big safe sat beside the table.
The voice came from the woman sitting in the boss's chair. A woman sat on it. Her face was cold as she read a file on her table.
She wore a fitted, deep charcoal blouse. It had a low neckline, but with her demeanour, it gave her a bold look instead. It had crimson and gold embroidery. She wore a black blazer over it and black slacks. The outfit was completed with blood-red stiletto heels.
Her black hair was tied in a flawless bun, and not a single strand of it flowed down. Her beautiful green eyes were covered with gold-rimmed glasses.
Her presence was cold, commanding, and powerful. Even her tier was F2.
She looked up calmly and said with a tone that demanded obedience, “Sit.”
Hearing her, every other occupant in the room also looked at me.
I suddenly felt I was in a wolf’s den.
I took a deep breath, held her gaze, and walked calmly to the chair in front of her, sitting down.
A voice in my head continuously told me to lower my head, but I couldn’t. This was not a case like lowering the head out of respect for the elderly or gratitude.
No, this was a power move. Reina was asserting her dominance over me. If I lowered my gaze, it would mean I considered her my superior.
It was about dominance, not respect.
I decided to work for her, but it was never the plan to join her cartel. I would be more like a freelance member—contractual villainy.
I might lower my head as a sign of respect to her, but never to show that I was below her.
If I accepted her dominance, it would mean I accepted her to be my superior. If that happened, I would be better off to kiss goodbye to all my grand plans and work for her, which would never happen.
“This chair is nice,” I said as I sat on the chair and leaned back. It felt great as I rubbed my butt on it.
The air dropped ten degrees.
Between the casual tone, the casual clothes, and my general lack of fear, I probably looked like I walked in just to piss her off.
My heart pounded in my chest, but I flashed the same practiced smile I used during interviews in my previous life.
“Philip mentioned great things about you,” she said, looking as if sizing me up. “But you don’t look like anything special.”
“Yep, heard that one before,” I said casually.
This time, even she raised an eyebrow. Her gaze contained a kind of psychological pressure.
She didn’t speak, just looked at me deeply. The silence felt suffocating. The pressure increased, but I maintained my gaze and a slight smile.
I didn’t know how long our staring match continued, but to me it felt like years.
“People have died for less disrespect.” She said, breaking the silence. She paused for a beat, then continued, “Do you think you can leave this room alive?”
I could feel the killing intent in the room. The four behind me were just waiting for a nod from her, and they would tear me apart.
“No, I don’t,” I said honestly. “But I do believe I’ll take at least one of you down with me.”
The tension was unbearable. I could barely breathe.
Then—
“You are interesting,” she said.

Silver Tongue Critical Hit
Deception Successful

I felt as if a massive weight was removed from my chest. My back was wet with sweat.
“Thanks for the compliment,” I said, still maintaining the same attitude.
“You will not get any special treatment just because Philip recommended you,” she said.
“I don’t need it,” I declared with confidence.
She studied me for another second. But this time the pressure was not intense.
“Good confidence,” she said, nodding slightly. “I have a job for you.”
“Let’s hear it.” I leaned forward slightly.
“Two months ago, a ramen shop opened on the next block. The owner refused to pay protection money. Your job is to convince him.” She introduced me to my first cartel work.
...Seriously? Extorting a ramen shop owner?
“Sure,” I agreed with a nod, masking my disappointment.
“No heavy force. I have a reputation. Don’t tarnish it,” she ordered coldly.
“Understood,” I nodded and got up from the chair.
I turned around and walked to the door, but stopped midway, hearing her frosty voice.
“If you fail... don’t come back.”
I paused, hand on the doorknob.
“Noted.”
I stepped out and shut the door behind me.
Time to intimidate a ramen shop owner.
Living the dream.

Chapter 22: Sloppy Footwork

Chapter 22: Sloppy Footwork

The ramen shop wasn’t far, so I decided to walk.

I hadn’t brought my taxi for the same reason I chose to work in Newark in the first place—to keep my civilian life clean, at least, for as long as possible.

While walking, I checked a few notifications I got after talking to Reina.

 

Due to your actions, you acquired a new skill: Acting (Novice).

 

Nice. Completely underrated but extremely helpful. 

I checked the second notification.

 

Congratulations! New mission source unlocked.

Complete your first task for Reina to receive more missions.

 

It didn’t provide any helpful information.

No, wait.

If the jobs from Reina were considered missions, then…

I quickly checked the third and last notification.

 

Mission: Extort Ramen Shop Owner

Description: Convince the Ramen Shop owner to start giving protection money every month to Reina’s cartel.

Reward: 50$, More missions from Reina

Failure Conditions: Ramen Shop owner’s death, Use of excessive force.

Failure Consequences: You can no longer accept missions from Reina’s mission line

 

I laughed. Loudly. Uncontrollably.

"Mom, that weird guy’s laughing like a psycho," a kid pointed out.

“Don’t look, honey. He might be contagious,” the mom muttered, yanking her spawn away like I was patient zero. She quickly turned around with her kid and left in the opposite direction.

“...”

Whatever, I was too happy to care about some random people.

Instead, I opened my map, and as expected, it showed an icon for the ramen shop since the job was considered a mission for the system, so the objective was marked on the map.

As I willed it, markers appeared, visible only to me, that showed me the direction to the ramen shop.

I was thinking of asking around to find the shop, but the navigation system made the job slightly easier.

On the way, I started thinking about my new “colleagues.” About the place, which looked like a den of wolves.

Up until now, I’d barely seen anyone stronger than F1—average human tier. A few F2s popped up here and there: the thug who pulled a gun on me, Felicia, maybe one or two more.

The only F3 I’d met before today was Uncle Niko, which—let’s be real—probably had something to do with him being a former GTA protagonist.

The F3 tier meant the peak of human capabilities. In a way, it was harder to reach it than E1, which anyone can reach if they had a superpower.

The discipline and dedication required to reach that level on their own with only training were not something just anybody could achieve.

Moreover, you couldn’t grind your way to F3 on effort alone. If you didn’t have the DNA lottery in your favor, you’d plateau long before it.

Sure, there were serums, black market enhancers, shady programs—but most people would never even see those, let alone survive them.

But what did I see today?

Eight guards, three bartenders, and Reina, a total of 12 F2s.

The guard on the first-floor corridor and the four in Reina’s office, a total of 5 F3s.

And those were just the ones I saw.

If not talking about the F2s, whether those F3s attained their level through training or external help, it showed the deep background of a gang that was called one of the three owners of Newark’s underworld.

This was just Newark. What about New York City? How many monsters does Kingpin keep on payroll? What’s The Hand hiding in the shadows? Hellfire Club? S.H.I.E.L.D.? Hydra? Roxxon?

The list could go on and on. The deeper I thought, the darker it got.

I stopped and took a deep breath. [Gamer’s Mind] kicked in before I started panicking—no use spiraling.

The path is very long. Haste will do me no good.

I took another deep breath.

Let’s take one step at a time.

Whatever, let’s forget about things outside my control for now. Let’s focus on the objective.

I was already near the ramen shop. The mission was too easy. Compared to my other missions, how difficult could it be to convince a shop owner, even if I couldn’t use much force?

Compared to the beasts back in Reina’s den, this guy was probably a pushover.

“...”

I just raised a flag, didn’t I?

With such thoughts, I arrived in front of the shop.

The shop was a small, quiet place. Only one customer sat inside, slurping noodles.

“Welcome.” An old, gruff voice came from behind the counter.

I looked up.

The owner was an old Asian man. White hair, mustache, light beard. He wore a simple shirt, pants, and an apron. He looked like a frail old man.

I didn’t like the idea of bullying him for others’ profit. But I had a job to do, and I hoped he wasn’t as stubborn as old people his age.

At least my guess was correct. Compared to those monsters in the bar, this old man was not worth mentioning.

But I still used [Observe] on the old man as a habit.

 

Name: Kobayashi Araki 

Tier: F3

 

“...”

Fuck my life.

I felt as if I had left the wolf’s den only to enter a snake’s den.

I calmly walked in and sat on one of the empty chairs.

“One bowl of your best ramen,” I said to the old man, once again pasting my interview smile on my face.

The old man nodded and went inside the kitchen to cook. It looked like he had no other staff.

Soon, he brought a bowl of ramen and placed it in front of me. He got a pair of disposable chopsticks together, but I didn’t know how to use them.

“Fork, please,” I requested.

He nodded without judging and went inside. Soon, he brought a spoon and fork and handed them to me.

“Thank you,” I said. He nodded and returned to the counter.

The other was almost done with his food. I also felt hungry seeing him eat, and I dug into my food.

The ramen was very delicious. The old man must be very proud of his craft.

I slowly slurped the noodles, enjoying the taste. The other customer left after eating, and it was only me and the old man in the shop now.

I finished my bowl soon and burped in delight.

“It was great, old man,” I said, turning my head towards him.

He nodded again, this time showing a slight smile.

Yep, he was proud of his craft.

I took a deep breath. It was time for the talk.

The old man felt nice, and I felt even more dislike for threatening him for someone else’s profit. Of course, if it were for my profit, then it would be a different matter.

At the same time, I felt fear. What if the old man got offended and thought it would be better to turn me into fertilizer?

But since dealing with the old man would decide whether I would get more missions from Reina or not, it kind of became my business, too.

With conflicted emotions, I asked, “Hey, old man, do you know about Reina Cortez?”

His eyes suddenly turned sharp. I felt the same pressure I felt when I was in Reina’s office. His presence felt greater than Reina’s. The pressure he exuded was only slightly less than the combined pressure of the five individuals in Reina’s office.

“I do,” he said in a gruff voice. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, you see,” I thought hard about how to say this. “She is kind of unhappy that you refused to give the protection money.”

The old man smiled. His demeanour changed. From a frail old man, he now looked like a predator ready to pounce on his prey. The smile looked feral.

Overall, he still looked like he did before, but the aura around him was completely different.

“And what,” he asked softly, “are you going to do about it?”

I felt a greater fear than when everyone in Reina’s office locked in on me. 

But at the same time, I felt rage.

Rage at my weakness. Rage at how the old man looked down on me.

Yes, I was afraid of him; my instincts screamed at me to apologize and run away, but my pride screamed louder.

If I bowed to this man, I’d bow to anyone stronger. That wasn’t going to happen.

Doom attained the title of “God Emperor Doom”, regardless of its short-lived nature or the circumstances of its acquisition. He didn’t achieve it by bowing to someone stronger but by facing them and looking them in the eye.

So why should I? What’s the maximum that could happen? If I couldn't get jobs from Reina anymore, I could just look for someone else.

“Nothing,” I said calmly. The chaos in my mind settled, and peace returned to my face.

“I can do nothing,” I continued, my voice steady.

The old man’s eyes flickered slightly upon seeing that. The pressure eased a little.

I’d accepted the consequences.

But that didn’t mean I was done.

“If you can’t do anything, then pay up and leave,” the old man said dismissively.

I didn’t move from the chair; instead, I looked him directly in the eyes and smiled. Not the fake smile from before, but a genuine one. 

For a second, I’d forgotten my philosophy.

Some things are outside my control. No point whining about it. Better to enjoy the game… and flip the table when the time’s right.

Thanks for the reminder, old man. This will be fun.

“Why did you open your shop here?” I asked, completely ignoring what he said earlier.

The old man’s eyes snapped back to me. The pressure was back. But I ignored it and let it wash over me as I leaned back and looked at him lazily.

“What does that have anything to do with you, brat?” he said with a frown.

“Nothing,” I said easily. “Just curious.”

He stayed silent, his frown fixed. I didn’t mind—it just made the game more interesting.

“From where I’m sitting,” I went on, “there are a few possibilities. Money problems. Family nearby. Maybe hiding from someone. Could be anything.”

He didn’t reply, but his face became expressionless, as if he didn’t want me to read the answer from his face.

“Whatever the reason,” I said, “you had to know what kind of neighborhood this is. Market research is rule one for running a business.”

The old man still maintained his poker face, but the pressure I felt was mostly gone. He was now more interested in listening to my tale.

“But you still opened your business here, despite the consequences.” I held up two fingers. “That can mean one of the two things.”

“One,” I folded the middle finger, only showing my index finger, “you are a delusional idiot who thinks as long as you keep your head in the ground, the danger will pass on its own.”

“Two,” I said, raising my middle finger again, “you’re confident enough in your skills to handle anything that comes your way.”

For the first time, interest flickered in his eyes. “And what do you think it is?”

I smirked. “Me? I think both.”

His frown deepened—not with anger, but curiosity.

“You may be strong enough to handle multiple goons, even those armed with weapons. But you are a fool if you think that you can even dodge all the bullets flying your way,” I said.

I picked up the glass filled with water that the old man brought with the ramen and drank two mouthfuls to wet my dry throat.

“Or more like, you let your pride and stubbornness blind you,” I continued. “Your pride can’t allow you to lower your head to someone lower than you or even equal to you, even if they could very well kill you.”

When I’d asked why he opened shop here, and his pressure flared again, one word had popped into my head.

Bushido.

I didn’t know why, but I felt that was the answer to my question.

The old man didn’t say a word, but his eyes flickered.

Time for the kill.

“Old man, do you think that is pride that stopped you from accepting Reina’s terms?” I asked.

The old man looked at me for a long time, but in the end, he nodded and finally spoke, “My honor won’t allow me to surrender to such dishonest people.”

“Honor?” I asked, and then I laughed loudly.

The old man frowned again. For the first time, killing intent flickered in his eyes. He might have felt that I was disrespecting his honor, but I didn’t care. 

Suddenly, my laugh stopped, and my face turned serious.

“Pride? Honor? No, old man,” I said in a low voice. “It is neither.”

He looked ready to kill, but he still didn’t move. If I didn’t give him a proper explanation, I wasn’t leaving the shop alive.

“Pride without substance is arrogance. What you consider as pride is arrogance all along. You let your skills make you delusional. You might be capable in your past, able to back your arrogance, but are you now?” I asked sharply.

“I am capable enough to kill you,” the old man said with steel in his voice.

“You are,” I accepted. “You can even kill the other goons Reina may send to you; hell, even her top lieutenants aren’t your match. But how long do you think it will last? There will come a time when Reina will think you are not worth the trouble, and it is better to just dispose of you. By then, you will be just another corpse at the bottom of the Hudson.”

His killing intent eased—but his eyes still held defiance.

“It is your pride that you think you can handle multiple thugs with weapons, maybe even with a few light firearms.”

“It is your arrogance that you think you can still deal with multiple thugs with heavy firearms who will target your shop in a horde.”

“And, you aren’t delusional enough to think that the cops will help you, right?”

A crack appeared in his expression.

“If you truly had the strength to defend your pride,” I said lightly, “we wouldn’t be having this conversation at all.”

The old man showed a somber expression as if thinking deeply about my words.

“I don’t know why you opened here, and I don’t need to,” I said with a smirk. “But if this is all about honor… why not think outside the box?”

The old man became confused at my words, but again looked at me curiously.

“Since you opened your shop here, you must have a reason. Then why don’t you think of paying the cartels as a way of buying your peace?” I suggested.

The old man looked even more confused.

“Let me tell you a few reasons why it is a good choice to accept her demand,” I said, and started listing the reasons.

“Reina should have enough sway in Newark’s underworld that you don’t have to be afraid of anyone bothering you. Unless, of course, it is entirely out of her control.”

“Your shop is near her base of operations, so street punks won’t risk making trouble this close to her throne.”

“The cartels usually have a code they follow, just like you have yours.”

“And the last, but most important reason. Why think of it as protection money? Think of it as the rent you give to the local lord for peacefully doing business in her territory.”

That was it. That was the most I could squeeze from my brain. Now it was up to the old man whether he would accept or not.

The old man looked at me silently. We just stared at each other.

His expression cracked, and a snort escaped. Finally, it evolved into full-blown laughter.

“I can’t remember the last time I laughed like that,” he said, still chuckling. “Fine. I’ll pay your ‘rent’.”

 

Art of Persuasion (61/100) (+1)

 

The notification only proved that the old man was not lying.

“Appreciate it, old man. I’ll let Reina know,” I said, standing up. “How much for the ramen?”

“Fifteen,” he answered.

I took the money out of my pocket and handed it to him.

He accepted it and kept it, but then he took out a few bills and handed them to me.

I looked at him, confused. He explained, “This is my ‘rent’ for the previous two months.”

Nodding in understanding, I kept the money and turned to leave.

“Hey, brat,” he called me suddenly. I was about to turn back to ask what the matter was, but I heard a whoosh sound.

My eyes widened as I hurriedly jumped to the side. A knife passed by and embedded in the chair in front.

“You tryna kill me, old man?” I screamed in fear.

Even though I could tell that even if I didn’t move, the knife would have at most grazed my arm, that still couldn’t stop the fear in my heart.

But I was not worried he would kill me. With his honor, he would disdain to kill me by attacking from the back. 

So, it was most likely a prank. It could be because I had disrespected the old man too much, so he was essentially putting me in my place.

The old man looked at me and judged, “Sloppy footwork.” He completely ignored my outburst.

I sighed in resignation. “Yep, you are not the first one to say that.”

I turned to leave again, but the old man’s voice stopped me.

“Wait.”

I cautiously turned around, fearing another prank, but nothing happened. Instead, the old man looked very serious. He didn’t even show such expression when I disrespected his honor.

He walked past me to the door and switched the “OPEN” sign to “CLOSED”. Then he stepped back and sat on a chair.

“Sit,” he said, pointing to the chair in front of him.

I sat, curious.

“Why do you work for her?” He asked.

Ok, why did it suddenly feel like I was in an actual interview?

“I don’t work for her. More like working as a freelancer to gain experience,” I answered honestly.

He frowned. “Shouldn’t you be studying? It’s your age to do so.”

“Oh? I do study. I am in college. Just not in this city to separate my student life from this mess for as long as possible,” I said casually.

His frown deepened. “Then why do it?”

Why do I do it? 

Why follow the difficult path?

Why be the villain?

Isn’t it better to be a hero?

Isn’t it better to be a champion of justice?

Isn’t it better to become a beloved idol whom people aspire to follow?

Why indeed?

“For my dream,” I answered without hesitation.

My answer took him aback.

“What is your dream?” He asked, his expression matching my seriousness.

“My dream?” I said with conviction, “It is to rule the world.”

He looked at me intensely. He didn’t laugh. He didn’t judge.

Finally, he said, “It will be extremely difficult, even next to impossible.”

“I know,” I answered with a smile.

“You may lose your life halfway.”

“I am prepared.”

“The world may turn against you.”

“Then I’ll fight the world.”

“Allies may turn on you.”

“True allies won’t.”

“You may be betrayed before you even touch the throne.”

“I expect it.”

The old man turned silent.

I smiled, “I have chosen this road. I know the consequences. And I am prepared to face them.”

The old man closed his eyes as if in meditation. I didn’t disturb him.

“You can leave,” he said with his eyes closed.

I nodded and stood up. 

With confident steps, I walked to the door.

“You are too weak, forget the world, you will die if a small gang comes after you.”

My steps faltered as I nearly fell.

Way to boost the confidence, old man.

“I know,” I replied without turning back and kept walking.

“Come here every weekend. You have too much to learn.”

I chuckled, and without stopping this time, I left the shop.

 

*********************

What do you think of the story so far—are you enjoying the direction it’s taking?

How are the dialogues landing for you? Do they feel natural and balanced, or do you think there should be more (or less) of them?

When you’re reading, are there any parts you find yourself skimming over? If so, I’d really appreciate hearing which chapters or scenes, since that helps me improve.

And finally—about Kevin’s powers. I know many of you are eager for him to get his first superpower. Don’t worry, it’s coming. It’ll take some time, but his first one isn’t too far away. Thanks for being patient with the buildup!

Chapter 23: Tab Closed

Chapter 23: Tab Closed

“Here’s the money he owed for the last two months,” I said smugly as I passed the bills that old man Kobayashi gave me to Reina.
I leaned back into the chair in front of her desk—damn, this thing was comfy. When I get my own office, I’m getting one even better—top-tier lumbar support for my back for my criminal career.
There was a brief flicker of surprise in her eyes as I handed her the money, but her usual icy expression swiftly covered it.
Interesting. She didn’t expect me to come back.
Did she know how dangerous that old man was?
So, it wasn’t a job—it was a death sentence wrapped in small talk—a neat way to get rid of someone without blood on her own hands.
So that was her way to take revenge for my earlier disrespect: send the loudmouth rookie on a suicide run.
She definitely didn’t get her fearful reputation for nothing.
But would it stop me from being an ass in front of her? Hell no.
“And when you send your goons to collect money from the old man, tell them to use the word ‘rent’ in front of him,” I continued with a smug smile.
What did I see? A flicker of grudging appreciation, unfortunately, it was quickly replaced by her cold expression again.
"You handled it,” she said flatly, begrudgingly accepting that I had completed her suicide mission. “Let’s hope you can keep up the streak.”
Aww, I didn’t know that after Felicia, I would meet a second tsundere.
“Here’s your reward,” she said, passing me a $50 bill from the money I had given her.
My lips twitched as I accepted the money. Even if I knew that I would receive that amount for completing the mission, it still felt weird that a cartel queen gave me a $50 reward.
It felt more like a tip for a barely acceptable service at a high-end restaurant than a payday.
“Since you finished your first job so quickly, you can take on another one,” Reina said, her voice like frost.
“Sure, no problem,” I replied casually, leaning back.
Reina again paused at my casual, disrespectful tone, but said nothing.
Yeah, I knew what I was doing.
She’d tried to feed me to a shark disguised as a ramen chef, and here I was still talking like I owned the room. Most people would call that suicidal. I call it refusing to bow.
She could play her games. And I would play mine.
Since she didn’t kill me directly before, I was stretching to know how far I could go with my attitude.
The brief flicker of appreciation she showed proved she was not wholly unreasonable. As long as I demonstrated my usefulness, I could easily get away with a lot more.
It was similar to how an overachieving student might receive a simple slap on the wrist for something that would result in detention for an underachieving or delinquent student.
But the moment my value dropped? She’d make my death slow enough to be a tourist attraction.
“There’s a drunk who’s run up a massive tab at the bar. Hasn’t paid in months. Collect it. I don’t care how,” she said.
Huh. Another low-level job, but at least it’s a step up from the bully a ‘frail old man’ assignment.
Wait a second. The drunk accumulated a massive tab in her bar?
“What?” she asked, irritation creeping in as I stared at her.
“How does anyone even have a tab in La Madrina’s bar?” I asked, with a special emphasis on the words ‘La Madrina’.
I once again felt the killing intent of her four guard dogs. I felt a prickle at the back of my neck, but I didn’t look away from Reina.
Her face was unreadable, but it looked like she was contemplating whether to answer me… or order her goons to cut me into pieces and feed the dogs.
Finally, she broke the silence.
Annoyance flickered in her eyes as she explained coldly, “He was useful once, but now he’s past his usefulness. He just doesn’t realize it.”
And she just proved my previous point.
I continued staring at her. That bit sounded like gang drama. I was hooked and leaned in, wanting to know more.
Her eyes narrowed. Did her hand just rest a little closer to the revolver on her desk?
…Probably my imagination. Probably.
“He was a janitor at a local police precinct. It wasn’t hard to keep him loyal: some drinks, a little cash, and the illusion of importance,” she explained with an irritated expression. “He helped by sometimes passing useful information he overheard while working. But a few months back, he was fired for repeated misconduct.”
I nodded in understanding. Such an insider could provide her cartel with valuable information, including shift schedules, the proximity of law enforcement to uncovering definitive evidence against her cartel, and possible raids on her safe houses, among other uses.
“He was arrogant before, but was tolerable since he was useful,” Reina said. She gave me a meaningful look as she continued, “Now his access is gone, but his arrogance stayed, still believing he is the cartel’s ‘man on the inside’.”
She just compared me to that guy, didn’t she?
“Oh, that’s it? And here I thought he was some bigshot,” I said, grinning.
She didn’t bother replying to that.
I could handle that much arrogance.
“Where can I find him?” I asked.
“No need. It’s the weekend—he’ll be in the bar soon enough.”
“Cool,” I said and got up to leave.
But I suddenly stopped as I thought of something.
“What if he doesn’t have enough money to collect?” I asked, turning back.
She looked at me, her gaze turned ruthless, “Then collect his life.”
A shiver ran down my spine when I heard that. But I still looked nonchalant.
“Sure,” I said lightly, and walked out without looking back.
I passed by the corridor guard, the only F3 guard outside.
I gave him a nod, the polite “we’re coworkers now” kind. He stared at me with an expressionless face and then turned away after a moment as if I wasn’t worth his time.
Well, fuck you, too, asshole.
You are lucky I am scared of you, or I’d be picking your teeth out of my knuckles.
I went downstairs to the ground floor and met the stair guard again.
I remembered how he behaved earlier when we first met, so I decided to reintroduce myself.
“Hey, buddy. Missed me?” I came up beside him, and my arm went around his neck.
“Remove your hand, or I’ll break it,” he barked, shoving my arm away. “And I am not your buddy.”
“Aww, come on. We’re colleagues now. That practically makes us buddies,” I said, unfazed.
"Colleagues? You’re just a runner, chico," the guard sneered. “An errand boy. Know your place.”
"Runner? Maybe. But I still went to your boss’s office twice today… and you’re still here babysitting stairs," I shot back with a grin.
His jaw tightened. He looked ready to explode.
“Relax, Mr. Stair Guard. Violence is prohibited inside, remember?” I said, smirking.
“Enjoy that mouth while you can,” he replied, voice low and venomous. “When you’re no longer useful, I’ll be the one zipping you in the bag.”
"You sound jealous. Need me to put in a good word with your boss?" I laughed and walked away smiling.
The guard could only watch me leave with impotent rage burning inside him.
Just because I can’t deal with your F3 boss, do you think I can’t deal with a little F2 like you?
I slid onto a stool in front of Philip, the bartender.
“Hey, Philip, buddy. Another one of your best orange juices, please,” I requested cheerfully.
He looked uncomfortable with our earlier interaction, but still nodded and started pouring me one.
As he slid the glass across the counter, I asked, “Now that we’re… associates, do I get a friends-and-family discount?”
He gave me the kind of look you reserve for dog shit on your shoe. “No.”
“Cheapskate.” I paid, sipped, and leaned back to watch the room.
Now, how to pass the time until the target appears?
I waited for an hour in the bar. I passed the time by having small talks with Philip and whoever else looked bored enough to humor me.
Why do I feel that Philip doesn’t like me?
Nah, must be my imagination.
I flicked open the missions tab on my system to check the new mission.

Mission: Tab Closed
Description: Gary Holden still struts around like he’s Reina’s golden boy. In reality, he’s just a washed-up ex-janitor with a bar tab big enough to drown in. The Cartel doesn’t run a charity. Get the money, or make sure Gary never drinks again.
Reward: $200, More missions from Reina
Failure Conditions: Gary escapes
Failure Consequences: No more missions from Reina

Finally, the wait was over as I saw a familiar man entering the bar with a swagger as if he owned the whole establishment. I confirmed by matching his face with the photo on my phone that Reina sent me.
Yep. Target acquired.
He looked to be in his mid-40s to early 50s, with a beer belly. He had small, sharp eyes that darted, as if he was constantly watching to see if people were paying attention to him. His receding hairline, styled slick back with obviously coloured hair, screamed desperate instead of professional.
He wore a wrinkled button-up shirt with the top button undone, paired with trousers that had seen better days. His shirt was tucked in poorly, and the belt was worn and cracked. A washed-out jacket. And a possibly fake, oversized watch on his left wrist.
The alcohol and cheap cologne smell hit me like a wave before he even arrived. He came and coincidentally sat beside me, as that was the only stool left unoccupied. The entire way to the bar counter, he had a smug, knowing smirk as if he were in on some big secret.
“Philip, bring me my regular,” he ordered in a tone as if Philip worked for him and not for Reina.
Philip gave him a far dirtier look than he gave me when I asked for a discount.
“What the fuck are you looking at me like that for?” Gary roared, louder than the moment called for. “I can have La Madrina throw you out of this job.”
Dude, are you fucking serious?
Can’t you see all these guards watching you like a pack of wolves debating which limb to start with?
“Nothing, sir,” Philip said — the sir edged with a bite. “I’m just worried you still haven’t paid your tab.”
Gary stiffened like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.
“Pay? You want me to pay for these cheap drinks?” He half-sneered, half-yelled. “Do you have any idea how much your boss made because of me? I could drink here every day until I burst, and it still wouldn’t come close.”
The customers had mixed reactions to Gary’s outburst. Some looked bored as if they were used to hearing it. Some looked at him with mock or pity, thinking that with his attitude, his end wasn’t far. Others outright ignored him; their own affairs were much more important than a loudmouth’s blabber.
Philip took a long, slow breath before turning to mix Gary’s drink.
Gary looked satisfied seeing that. Then he turned to look at me.
“What the hell are you watching, kid?” Gary barked, looking defensive about his earlier spectacle.
My mind was in overdrive as I thought of something interesting.
“Sir, I was admiring your greatness,” I said, looking like a teen who had just met his idol for the first time. “You must be La Madrina’s close confidant, even part of her core circle.”
My enthusiasm took Gary aback. He felt a little embarrassed being praised by a fan with stars in his eyes. The bark in his voice faltered, replaced by a faint flush of pride.
“You have good eyes, kid. You understood my greatness by only watching me once,” Gary guffawed as he slapped my shoulder.
“I’m not worthy of such praise, sir. I’m just lucky to be in the same room as a man like you,” I said humbly, stroking his ego.
Gary was practically starved for his past recognition and was filled with soul-crushing insecurity. For him, my praise was like finding an oasis in the desert.
“Heh… kid, you’ve got a good head on your shoulders,” he said, swelling with pride. “Not many these days remember the old days — or the men who made ‘em happen.”
As he said that, he looked to Philip with a smug smile, as if saying, “See? This is how you people should treat me.”
“Sir, since this is our first meeting, let me honor you by buying your drink. It’s the least I can do for a man of your standing,” I said with deference. Admiration was practically overflowing from my eyes.
Without waiting for his reply, I passed a crisp 100$ note to Philip.
The bartender froze for a moment, giving me a “Have you lost your mind?” look.
I only smirked at his expression, which immediately switched to pure admiration once I turned back to Gary.
A flicker of greed crossed Gary’s face before he smothered it under a prideful grin.
Hook, line, and sinker.
Philip passed Gary his drink. Gary took it with an arrogant smirk and sipped like free booze was his birthright.
Seriously, dude? Not even a thanks to the one who bought the drink?
Why is this bar filled with rude mutherfuckers?
“Sir,” I said, letting a touch of hesitation creep in. “If I may be presumptuous, can I make a request?”
His mood soured instantly—guess he liked collecting favors, not handing them out.
“What?” Gary snapped, his tone bordering on irritation.
I immediately shrank back a little, my shoulders curling, head ducking just enough to sell the act.
“S-sir, I’ve always admired La Madrina. Since I first heard her name, I’ve wanted nothing more than to be one of her loyal soldiers,” I said, my tone bordering on fanaticism.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Philips, who gave me a disgusted look, hearing that.
Well, fuck you, too, Philip.
I continued to flatter him, “Sir, as La Madrina’s trusted lieutenant, I am sure your counsel is something she takes seriously.”
His face immediately softened with the praise; he looked like he was remembering the good old days.
And to be fair, it wasn’t a lie—back when he was an insider in the precinct, she did take his words seriously. Of course, the only respect she had for him was the kind a cartel boss had for an informant… which was to say, none that mattered.
“Sir,” I said, pulling him from his reverie, “would you consider putting in a good word for me with La Madrina? Coming from you, it would mean a lot.”
“Naturally,” Gary said with a smirk, leaning back like a king on his throne. “One word from me, and you’ll be set for life.”
“Then… will you?” I asked him with big, hopeful eyes.
“I can,” Gary said, drawing it out, his smirk making it clear that he was enjoying it. “But what’s in it for me?”
“Please, sir. I’ll owe you more than I can repay,” I begged, eyes wide like he was my last hope.
“Oh? Then how do you plan to repay me?” Greed flashed in his eyes.
“I–” I started, then stopped, letting the pause hang. My gaze darted around the room. Gary followed my eyes, noticing the stares.
I leaned in and lowered my voice. “Sir… this isn’t the place. Too many ears. We should talk somewhere you trust.”
He thought for a moment and then gave a curt nod.
He stood up and started walking towards the exit. I waited for a beat and started following behind him, maintaining a respectful distance.
I looked back at Philip. He gave me a hateful glare. His hand hovered under the counter, fingers twitching like he was deciding whether I was worth a bullet.
I smirked and gave him a two-finger salute, and then turned around and followed behind Gary.
I could feel that the guards were all glancing at us, or precisely me, with killing intent.
The stair guard met my eyes, dragged a thumb across his throat, and grinned. I smiled and just waved him goodbye.
Another guard, the one who had taken me to Reina’s office earlier, gave me a long, cold look before heading upstairs, probably to tattle to Reina.
However, none of them attempted to stop us, and we left the establishment peacefully.
We arrived at the parking lot.
“Kid, you know how to drive?” Gary asked, not wanting to drive when he had a free chauffeur at his disposal.
Drive? I am at a level that is unattainable in your life.
“Of course, sir. I will not give you a chance to complain,” I said.
Gary nodded and threw the car keys towards me. I caught them easily, even if the aim was way off.
We both slipped in, and I started the engine. The car was at least a decade old, coughing as if it already resented the idea of moving, with black smoke emanating from the exhaust.
I wondered if this heap of junk would keel over halfway down the road.
Miraculously, we reached our destination without having to call a tow truck—or a priest.
Gary’s apartment block was stained with decades of grime and faded graffiti, with too many gang signs overlapping each other. It squatted between an old, rundown laundromat and a building with a storefront sign that read, “Easy Credit Services – Cash When You Need It Most”.
Easy Credit? Yeah, sure, but at interest rates that’d make the Devil blush.
We climbed to the second floor of the apartment building, and Gary entered the second flat.
The one-bedroom reeked of stale beer and cheap noodles. A sagging couch faced warped blinds, and the carpet was a patchwork of old stains. A small fridge sat beside a single bed with sheets that hadn’t seen a wash in at least a year. A small cupboard stood beside it. In one corner stood a study table and a chair with a computer—the old kind with a bulky CRT monitor.
Who the hell still used those ancient relics?
I stood out like a good, obedient follower waiting for the big boss to call me in.
While he was not looking, I pulled out a pair of white gloves from my pocket and put them on.
Gary turned around and looked at me, a superior gazing at a junior.
“Not many have the opportunity to come to my home,” Gary said arrogantly. His skin must be too thick if he could call this dump his home with a straight face.
“Yes, sir. Absolutely. It is my pleasure,” I said humbly. My feet were still outside his doorway, respectfully.
“Come inside,” he said. Then his attention turned to my hands.
“When did you wear the gloves?” Gary asked suspiciously.
I came inside and answered without stuttering, “It was because I didn’t want to dirty Sir’s abode with my hands, so I wore gloves.”
He still looked suspicious, but didn’t want to break his character of La Madrina’s close confidant, so he just nodded.
Gary sat in the chair, looking at me like a CEO would look at a low-level employee.
“So, tell me… what exactly can you offer that makes you worth recommending to La Madrina?” Gary asked arrogantly with his chin tilted up.
“Sir, I have saved up some money. Please accept it.” I pulled out a wad of mixed bills—about $1,500—and placed it in his hand.
Cash like this couldn’t sit in a bank; wrong kind of money for that. Only the payment from my taxi job was deposited into the account. The rest stayed stashed at home or on me. Usually, I carried far less, but for the Newark trip, I’d brought over two grand, just in case.
Gary's eyes popped out of his sockets as he saw the wad of mixed bills. He took it and counted in disbelief.
I pretended to ignore his disbelief and said, “Of course, I know this is little money for a man of your stature. But it’s all I have for now. I promise, the rest of my savings will find their way to you soon.”
He gulped, greed flashing in his eyes at the promise of more.
“O-of course, such little money is of no importance to me,” he said, trying to force arrogance back into his voice. “At my position in the cartel, this is less than pocket change.”
I nodded along as if I believed him.
Gary suddenly thought of something as his focus snapped to me, suspicion creeping back into his tone.
“If you can save that kind of money at your age… why bother with the cartel?” He asked, his eyes sharpened.
I smiled like he’d caught me. “You’re right,” I said, then leaned in and continued with a greedy expression, “But sir, you, of all people, must know how much a good position in a cartel pays. And really—who doesn’t want more?”
His eyes softened. He nodded subconsciously. His suspicion faded.
Greed understood greed.
“Of course,” I added smoothly, “once I’m in a good position, I won’t forget who opened the door for me. With your permission, I’d pay you a regular tribute.”
The suspicion mostly left from his eyes; what was left was only greed.
“You are a good kid,” he said, voice tinged with sentiment. “If only everyone were as grateful as you.”
“Sir, some people are nothing but ingrates and parasites — always taking, never giving. They’re not worth your concern,” I said, my tone sharp and unwavering.
“Thanks, kid,” Gary said, genuine warmth in his voice. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you get a good position in the cartel.”
“Thank you, sir. I’ll forever be in your debt,” I declared with emotion.
Gary looked pleased with the attention.
But he frowned as my expression shifted from gratitude to hesitant unease.
“What happened?” He asked.
“A-actually, sir… I heard something.” I faltered, then shook my head quickly. “No, it’s nothing.”
Gary’s frown deepened. He said in a deep voice, “Tell me what happened.”
“It’s just… a few haters talking nonsense. Nothing worth your concern,” I said, trying to dismiss it.
“Tell me,” Gary pressed, irritation creeping into his tone.
“They’re just lesser people, jealous of your achievements,” I tried again. “You shouldn’t waste your time on them.”
“You are no one to tell me what to do. Now speak. What did they say?” Gary snapped.
“Sir, please… don’t make me repeat it. It’s disrespectful, and saying it aloud would feel like I’m insulting you myself.” I lowered my gaze, voice heavy with reluctance. “How could I do that to my benefactor?”
Gary’s jaw clenched, but he drew in a deep breath. My reasoning gave him pause.
“You don’t have to feel guilty,” he said, calmer now. “It wasn’t you who said it. I won’t take offense. I permit you — tell me.”
“Ok, sir, if you say so,” I said reluctantly. Gary nodded to show his agreement.
My expression shifted, disdain curling my lips.
“You’re nothing but the precinct’s mop boy who got paid in piss-water to sweep floors and wag your tail for scraps, and now you’re just a bloated drunk leeching off Reina’s bar — a bottom-feeding nobody who’s never been worth more than the dirt on his mop.”
Every word dripped with venom.
Gary’s face darkened instantly, anger flaring in his eyes.
In the next instant, my expression shifted to one of meekness and guilt. “That’s what they said,” I murmured innocently, head lowered like a scolded child before a teacher.
His expression softened as he said, “No, don’t feel guilty. It wasn’t you who said it.”
“Thank you, sir, for your understanding,” I said, relieved.
His expression darkened again. “Hmph. They think they’re better than me? Once I give Reina the secret I’ve found, I’ll be above all those haters — and I’ll send them six feet under.”
He jabbed a finger at me. “And when that happens, I won’t forget my promise to you.”
“I’m honored, sir,” I said with admiration and gratitude. “And I’m sure those nay-sayers won’t be around much longer.”
Gary nodded, pleased with my flattery.
Then I showed a curious expression. “Sir, if you’re keeping this secret under wraps, I’m sure it’s something worth the effort,” I said, keeping my tone casual but curious.
“Of course, it is,” Gary replied with a smug grin.
He leaned back. “At first, I thought I’d feel her out, see what La Madrina’s stance was. But now? I’ll sell it to her directly—let those bastards know there are some people you don’t mess with.”
I gave an approving nod. “Excellent plan, sir.”
Gary showed a pleased smile.
“Only thing…” I hesitated, as if reluctant to voice it.
“What?” he asked, eyebrow raised.
“A secret so big—will she take your word for it?” I asked, looking genuinely concerned for him.
Gary chuckled with a hint of pride. “No one in this business takes things at face value. I’ve got evidence—enough to prove every word.”
“As expected,” I said with a small smile, like I was relieved. Then, feigning sudden realisation, I added, “Wait… did I mess up your plan by showing up today?”
“I was going to talk to her today, yes,” Gary admitted.
My expression dropped. “Shit—”
He waved it off. “It’s fine. I’ll do it tomorrow.”
I looked relieved.
The next breath, my expression changed again.
“At least now your swagger earlier makes sense,” I said as if simply stating a fact.
“What?” Gary frowned, the meaning taking a moment to sink in. Then his face darkened. “What did you—”
His rant ended abruptly when my right hook smashed into his temple, dropping him cold.
“Shit, that was tiring,” I muttered, rolling my shoulder.
My plan had been simple: wait for Gary to leave the bar, follow him home, and demand payment. If he had enough, I’d take it; if not, I’d take his life. Reina probably preferred the latter as well.
But his behaviour in the bar didn’t fit. No matter how stuck in the past he was, that level of arrogance was off. Earlier, I’d spoken with regulars—people who knew him. Sure, he’d always been arrogant, but not that arrogant.
Then there was that smug expression that practically screamed, “I know something you don’t.”
So, I had no choice but to change my plans to satisfy my curiosity.
I started searching for the evidence. Since he wanted to talk to her today, he should have had it. But it must be hidden somewhere and not easily accessible.
I took off his jacket and started searching. Nothing was in the pockets. I searched for any inner seams. Nothing. I patted it everywhere, but still didn’t find anything.
I took off his watch and checked it for any hidden mechanisms. None.
Next, I took off his belt. I checked the belt buckle. And bingo. There was a concealed buckle compartment. I opened it and found a pen drive inside.
I didn’t rush to check the contents of the pen drive.
I tore a few pieces of cloth from the bedsheet, tied Gary’s limbs to the chair, and gagged his mouth.
I went to the computer, first yanking out the network cable, and then turned it on.
And it asked me for a password. Of course, Gary would keep it password-protected.
Now, how to get it from him? Should I wake him up and torture the password out of him?
I put that idea on hold and first looked around the room for any kind of note that hinted at the password.
There was nothing on the desk or in the drawers. I pulled out the entire drawer to check if Gary had stuck something on the other side. Nothing. Inside each drawer space, I reached in and touched the walls and the underside, but still found nothing.
The fridge? Nothing other than stale food. The bed? Just stains that I didn’t want to investigate. The wall? Nope.
Next was the cupboard. I checked it thoroughly, but other than smelly cloths, nothing else was inside.
As I touched its inner walls, I found a hidden compartment.
Unfortunately, there was no password inside either, only his hidden stash of a few thousand dollars, which I pocketed directly after verifying that it was safe to take.
In the end, I decided to ask Gary for his password politely. But before I could bitch-slap him awake, I thought of something.
I went back to the computer desk and turned the keyboard upside down. And there it was, a sticky note, with “ReinasMyBitch” written on it.
I looked back at Gary’s unconscious form.
A man’s allowed to dream, I guess. No matter how absurd it may be.
I entered the text on the password screen, and bingo, I was in.
Now… let’s see what’s so special about this pen drive.
For the next hour, I combed through every file on the pen drive. Calling it a “secret” didn’t do it justice.
The big one? The new captain of Gary’s old precinct — the one appointed just a few months back — was the Iron Serpent MC’s bitch.
The Iron Serpent Motorcycle Club was a biker gang, and like Reina’s Cartel, one of the three rulers of the Newark underworld.
The pen drive held enough dirt to put the captain away for life — and bury the key where sunlight never reached.
Not only was there evidence against him, but also against many other corrupt cops, not only from the same precinct, but also from other nearby precincts. The evidence against them was not conclusive, but it was still enough to warrant separate investigations against each.
It could be a significant blow to Reina as the cops in her backyard were under her rival’s payroll.
Not only that, there was evidence that the captain was setting up a task force to simultaneously raid many of the cartel’s safe houses, warehouses, and other operations. If it were successful, it would be a big blow to her.
Pull that off, and the captain would become a hero on paper, paving the way for future promotion, while the biker gang would waltz in to claim the turf. Win-win for both.
“Mmmh—”
The noise snapped me back. It looked like Gary was finally coming out of dreamland.
I double-checked the computer but didn’t find anything other than a copy of the pen drive’s contents. I pulled out the pendrive and formatted the computer.
By then, Gary was already conscious, glaring at me with pure hatred.
“Thanks, man. You were a great host,” I said, picking up the pen resting on the desk.
“Allow me to give you some advice, as a token of gratitude,” I added calmly, removing the pen cap.
Gary screamed, but the gag muffled it. He struggled against his bindings, but I had tied them tightly.
“In your next life, remember this,” I said.
His eyes widened as he realized what was coming. The fierceness drained from his gaze, replaced by fear and betrayal.
As I approached, he shook his head frantically, pleading with his eyes. He thrashed in desperation, but the bindings held firm.
I gave him one last look—then drove the pen into his temple.
His body convulsed, then went still.
“Never let a stranger into your house.”

Chapter 24: Present, Ramen, and Cigars

Chapter 24: Present, Ramen, and Cigars

I clicked a picture of Gary’s cold corpse as proof.
“Job’s done.” I messaged.
Within a minute, I received a reply.
“Collect your payment on your next visit.”
At the same time, I also received a system notification.

Mission: Tab Closed (Completed)
Reward: $200, More missions from Reina
Hidden Objective: Find the secret Gary was hiding (Completed)
Hidden Reward: Fake ID

Damn. That was closer than I liked. If I’d stuck to my original plan, I would’ve killed him and walked out. No reason to search past his pockets… and that belt buckle would’ve kept its little secret. The system probably wouldn’t have even told me what I’d missed — maybe a smug “Hidden objective failed”.
Then I looked at what reward I got—a Fake ID.
I felt something in my pocket and I pulled it out. It was a blank ID without any photo or details.

Fake ID
Allows the creation of a single civilian-level identity. The user must set all details at creation, including the photo. Once confirmed, cannot be altered. Untraceable by conventional means. Cannot exceed civilian status.

I turned it over in my fingers, ideas already clicking into place. Two legal identities, anywhere in the world. Perfect for when I need to do something I don’t want tied to my student name.
Sure, I could slap some random stranger’s photo on it and keep my real face clean… but that’d be wasting it. If I ever got Chameleon-level shapeshifting? This thing would be gold.
I slid it back into my pocket. No rush. I’d save this little gem for when the stakes were high enough to justify burning it.

—
“I said you could collect your payment on your next visit,” Reina said, her voice cold but edged with disbelief. “Tomorrow would have sufficed.”
I leaned back comfortably in the chair and smiled. “Figured you’d appreciate hearing it straight from the source.”
Reina rolled her eyes, pulled two hundred-dollar bills from the drawer, and slid them across the table with a dismissive flick of her hand.
I pocketed the money without breaking eye contact.
“Is that all? Then leave,” she said flatly.
“I can,” I said, flashing a wide grin, “but first, I brought you a present.”
Reina’s face was immediately covered in frost.
“Kevin, are you under some kind of illusion about our relationship?” Her voice was so cold it could have frozen the air between us.
“Of course not. You are my boss, and I am your freelance subordinate,” I said playfully.
“Then explain what you mean by ‘present,’” she said, each word clipped, her tone suppressing her restrained fury. “If you don’t… You won’t be leaving this room alive.”
“By present, of course, I mean a literal present. What’s there to explain?” I said casually.
Before she could reply, I pulled out a pendrive and slid it across the table.
“Consider it my token of appreciation for being such a… good boss.”
Her eyes narrowed, but she picked it up. “Isabella.”
The woman with twin holsters stepped forward. I gave her a friendly wave; bitch ignored me.
Without a word, she plugged the pen drive into her laptop. Minutes later, she closed the lid. “It’s clean.”
She handed it to Reina, her face unreadable — either she hadn’t checked the contents or she was one hell of an actress.
Reina inserted the pen drive into her laptop. Her face stayed impassive at first, but the longer she read, the more serious her expression became.
I kept silent, watching every subtle shift in her face.
The room grew heavy — everyone sensed something was off. Isabella, the only one in my line of sight, was already shooting me death glares.
I smirked as I saw her reaction, but that only made her angrier. It was a fun pastime until Reina finished reading.
At last, Reina leaned back. Her face switched to a blank mask.
“Is something wrong, Madrina?” Isabella asked, worry creeping in as she threw me another glare.
Reina ignored Isabella’s worry.
She demanded with a serious tone, “What do you want for it?”
My face also turned serious at her question. She raised her eyebrow at the sudden change but didn’t react further.
“I’m sure you understand how valuable this information is to the La Corona Roja,” I said, wearing a subtle, knowing smirk.
“I do,” Reina replied without hesitation.
Isabella stiffened, eyeing Reina as if silently asking for permission to put a hole in my head — but was denied… for now.
“Then you also know how precious it is,” I said, tilting my head playfully. “Can you guess how much your competitors would pay for it?”
A cold blade touched my neck. One word from Reina, and I’d be headless — yet I kept my confident, condescending smirk.
“Valeria,” Reina said calmly. The blade lingered for a heartbeat… then withdrew.
I will not lie, I mentally exhaled in relief as the cold edge left my skin.
“Stop beating around the bush,” Reina said coldly. “Tell me what you want.”
“What do I want?” I echoed, sounding thoughtful.
“Of course, it’s,” I paused. Then, on the next breath, my face switched back to my casual face.
I continued with a cheeky smile, “...Nothing.”
Reina blinked, as if she couldn’t understand what I said. Isabella stared at me with a mix of wariness and disbelief.
“What do you mean?” Reina asked, her voice ice-cold.
“Oh, come on, Ms. Reina,” I clicked my tongue as if she had asked something dumb. “Did you already forget? I told you — it’s a present.”
“Do not joke around,” she snapped.
“But, I am not joking,” I said, looking hurt. “It really is a gift.”
Before she could respond, I stood up.
“Anyway, that’s all I came for,” I said lightly, turning toward the door. “Hope you enjoy your present.”
I quickly walked to the door. On the way, I saw Valeria ready to lop off my head with her machete.
My pace quickened. I slipped out and shut the door behind me.
Many might think I was an idiot for giving away such valuable information for free.
Sure, I could have bargained and squeezed a hefty deal out of her — but that would’ve only given me short-term gains.
By handing it over as a gift, I didn’t earn money… I earned her goodwill — and sometimes, that’s worth far more.
Now, in the future, she’d never forget that I was the one who quietly placed something so dangerous into her hands — something that, in the wrong hands, could have crippled her entire cartel.
After all… the things that cost nothing are often the most expensive.

Reina’s Office:
Reina stared quietly at the closed door, weighing whether Kevin was a threat or not.
Eventually, she looked to her right-hand woman. “Isabella — what do you think of him?”
Isabella was still silently processing Kevin’s behavior; she snapped out of it when Reina addressed her.
“Honestly… I’m at a loss. Sometimes he displays the seriousness of an adult, and at other times, he seems like a child treating life as a game. He feels… strange,” Isabella said with confusion.
Reina nodded, then shifted her gaze toward the hulking man by the minibar. “Ramon?”
“The kid’s interesting. He’s got guts,” Ramon said with a boisterous laugh.
Isabella rolled her eyes at his answer.
Reina turned to Valeria, the one who placed the machete on Kevin’s neck. “Valeria?”
“Nothing,” Valeria replied, already sitting on the couch and polishing her machete.
Reina took no offense. She knew Valeria wasn’t being rude — that was simply her way. The woman spoke rarely, and only when necessary.
Finally, she looked at the last person in the room. This time, her tone held a note of expectation. “Javier?”
Javier was silent for a long moment as he took a deep puff of his cigar. Finally, he said quietly,
“His seriousness reminded me of his father — and that alone unsettled me.”
He paused, eyes narrowing slightly.
“That easygoing attitude he shows might dull the edge at first glance… but I couldn’t shake the feeling it was just a mask hiding something sharper underneath.”
Another beat.
“What frightened me more wasn’t that resemblance — it was the possibility that under that mask, there’s someone calculated enough to smile while plotting your downfall — patient, ambitious, and willing to strike only when it serves him.”
A thoughtful silence settled over the room.

Next Day, Kobayashi’s Ramen Shop, Midday:
“One tonkotsu ramen,” the man said.
“And one miso ramen for me, please,” his female partner added.
“Sure thing. Anything else?” I asked, jotting down their order.
“No, that’s all. Thank you,” the man replied with a smile.
I nodded and was about to head back to the kitchen when he spoke up again.
“Are you new here? I haven’t seen you before.”
“Yep — just started part-time,” I replied.
Without pay, I added silently as I turned and disappeared into the kitchen.
Old man Kobayashi was inside, already working over the stove. I placed the order ticket beside the others.
He poured two bowls full of ramen, filling them to the brim.
“Take these out,” he said, already starting to cook the following order.
“Oi, oi, oi, old man, what are you doing? Will you even earn enough with how much you are pouring?” I muttered in disbelief.
“That’s none of your concern,” he said dismissively without even sparing me a glance.
“Aren’t restaurant owners supposed to be black-hearted and stingy, squeezing every bit of profit from their customers?” I pressed.
“Stop dawdling,” he said, voice edging toward irritation. “Take both bowls out — and if even a drop gets spilled, you know your punishment.”
“You didn’t give this much yesterday…” I grumbled under my breath as I carefully picked up a tray with a bowl in both hands.
Just as I turned, the old oni added, “Take both together.”
I stared at him. “Are you serious, old man?”
“It’s time to increase your training intensity,” he said flatly. “Now move.”
“What do you mean by increasing intensity? I only started training today,” I complained quietly, but picked up the second tray anyway.
I moved like I was carrying live explosives — inch by inch.
Relief washed over me as I crossed the kitchen door.
Checkpoint one: cleared.
A few customers looked at me with curious, mocking eyes. I ignored them.
Finally, I reached the table. Two men looked up at me with pure schadenfreude.
I set the first bowl down. Good. One left.
Just as I lowered the second, the closer man suddenly leaned forward and fake-sneezed. I jerked the tray back in panic, somehow keeping everything steady.
He straightened up at once. “Ah… false alarm,” he said with a fake apologetic smile.
I cursed his ancestors back eighteen generations — but managed to set the bowl down anyway.
I was just about to breathe a sigh of relief…
—when I spotted a single bead of soup sliding down the rim.
…And just like that, my world came crashing down.
With dejected steps, I trudged back into the kitchen.
Kobayashi glanced over — one look at my face told him everything.
“Finish up and get back here,” he said mercilessly. “We still have customers.”
Dragging my feet, I headed upstairs to the first-floor training room.
Reluctantly, I began my punishment:
100 push-ups, 100 sit-ups, 100 squats, and a one-leg stand — ten minutes per leg.
While doing my push-ups, I continually cursed yesterday's me.
After leaving the bar last night, I was hungry, so I stopped by the ramen shop to eat.
After dinner, I planned to head back home and return to the city the next day.
But then the old oni offered me to sleep in his house. I thought, what a kind man.
I was just a naive fool.
The next morning, he woke me up at five and said, “It’s time to start my training.”
I never woke up at five, never. But he ruthlessly dumped a bucket full of cold water on me.
Then it was the start of the demonic training.
It started with 100 push-ups, 100 sit-ups, 100 squats, and a 10 km run.
He made me run 10 km in this fucking criminal neighborhood.
I somehow managed to complete it while panting like a diseased mutt.
I just hoped I wouldn’t go bald with this training regimen.
The training should have stopped at that point for the day.
But. But. BUT.
I never thought I would ever curse the increase in my Vitality and Endurance stats.
I was a noob who thought I had slightly better regeneration, but I didn’t dig deep.
But he was a master; just by looking at how much time it took for me to recover, he understood the extent of my abilities. Not to mention the stamina granted to me by my latest F3 Endurance stat.
Translation: excellent stamina + excellent recovery = extraordinary torture.
After that, we had another two hours of grueling training.
Then it was time to open the shop. I thought my nightmare was finally over, but it wasn't.
He made me help in the shop as a waiter as his fee, which, to be honest, I didn’t mind.
But what I minded was the punishment. The fucking punishment.
The oh so great master said that I have shitty balance and coordination. If someone tried to knock me over in a fight, I’d fold like wet paper.
So, he devised a trial by fire. I had to bring the bowls from the kitchen to the table without spilling even a drop; otherwise, the punishment would be my fate.
This was the third time I’d been sentenced.
Fuck.
The system showed me his tier was F3. Why didn’t it warn me that he was an S-grade sadist, too?
I eventually completed my sentence and wiped the sweat off with a nearby towel.
After resting for ten minutes, I felt good enough to move again, so I trudged downstairs to resume my glorious role as an unpaid waiter.
Kobayashi glanced at me and then turned back to cook as if I wasn’t worth wasting more time.
He simply pointed at another tray… with yet another bowl filled right to the brim.
I swallowed back the tears and returned to work.
…
By evening, I had only been punished once more. Progress, probably.
For now, the shop had quieted — I’d already served the few customers inside, and no new orders had come in yet.
That blissful silence was broken when my phone suddenly started ringing.
I pulled out the one in my right pocket — not that one. I still wasn’t used to carrying two phones.
Since I decided to come to this city for work, I asked one of Uncle Niko’s criminal acquaintances to obtain a SIM card for me on a fake ID. That fake ID wasn't as good as the one I got as a reward from the system, but it worked for now.
I had inserted the SIM card into a new phone, which I used for my criminal activities, keeping my two lives completely separate.
I pulled out the one in my left pant pocket, and it was this one that was ringing.
The name showed, Reina.
I quickly excused myself from the counter and went upstairs to talk without any disturbances.
“Hey, Ms. Reina. Did you call to tell me how much you loved my present?” I answered cheerfully.
There was a long pause on the other side. Maybe she was contemplating that it would be better to get me killed.
Finally, she spoke.
“I have a job for you. Are you interested?” she asked, completely ignoring my question.
“Obviously. That’s why I’m here. Hit me,” I said casually.
“It’s a simple job. Pick up a shipment of imported cigars from a location and deliver it to another location quietly,” Reina said, introducing the job.
Finally — a real crime. After fetching tabs and bullying ramen gods, a smuggling run actually sounded fun.
I briefly wondered if this would count toward my Delivery mission. If it did, that opened up another avenue for its completion.
Snapping out of my thoughts, I replied, “Absolutely. Delivering things is my specialty.”
She didn’t bother humoring that.
“Isabella will send you the pickup and drop-off locations. Be there by 11 p.m.”
“It’ll be done, Ms. Reina,” I said, patting my chest.
“I’ve had a van delivered near the ramen shop,” she added. “Keys are inside. It also contains a gun — in case of emergency — though I doubt you’ll need it. You are to deliver the van, the gun, and the shipment together. Am I clear?”
“Crystal, ma’am,” I replied promptly.
Click. She hung up without another word.
I headed outside and spotted the van parked nearby. The plate number matched the one she’d messaged.
It opened easily, and I went inside. The keys were resting on the dashboard. I opened the dashboard, and the gun was also inside there, already loaded, with an extra magazine.
I locked the weapon in the compartment, pocketed the keys, secured the van, and headed back into the shop.
Tonight... finally something other than ramen and death threats.
There was still time, so I went back to balancing ramen bowls.
I got so excited about my upcoming job that I spilled again… and earned another round of punishment.
After that, I calmed myself. I couldn’t afford to miss pickup just because I was standing on one leg again.
By 10:30 PM, Isabella had sent me the locations, and the system had already flashed a mission:

Mission: Cigar Smuggling
Description: Pick up Reina’s shipment of ultra-rare imported cigars and deliver it safely.
Reward: $1000, More missions from Reina
Failure Conditions: Shipment lost, damaged, or destroyed
Failure Consequences: No more missions from Reina

The pickup spot wasn’t far from the shop. I left at 10:35.
“Gotta go, old man. Duty calls,” I told Kobayashi on my way out. He just gave a nod.
I shrugged and left the shop.
After driving for twenty minutes, I arrived near my destination. It was a fenced storage compound.
I slowed down because a couple of bikers and a van came from the other direction. I felt suspicious, so I immediately turned off my headlights to avoid being noticed by them.
There were no streetlights — only a few dim bulbs on nearby buildings barely lit the road.
They entered a compound. I was a bit far, but my intuition told me they had entered the place I was supposed to go.
I pulled out the gun from the dashboard and tucked it at my waist. Then, I pulled out my sheathed knife on my leg below the knee, underneath the pants.
It had been there even back at Reina’s bar — I figured if they found it, I’d just let them hold it while we “discussed business.”
Turns out, they were either too confident… or just lazy.
I tiptoed and reached the compound, where a few bikers were loading the boxes into their van.
The bikes and van had the same silver-gray snake decal.
I quickly called Reina once I was further away from the compound so that the bikers wouldn’t hear me.
“Hey, Ms. Reina, quick question,” I whispered. “I’m the only one supposed to pick up this shipment, right?”
“Of course you are,” she answered. Then immediately: “Why? Is someone else there?”
“A few bikers,” I said. “All running a silver-gray snake decal.”
Her silence told me this wasn’t part of her plan either.
“Cool. Thanks for confirming. Don’t worry, I will complete the job,” I said and cut the call.
I moved back toward the compound, watching as they loaded my shipment into their van.
Simple job, my ass.

Chapter 25: Smoke Run

Chapter 25: Smoke Run

I pulled out a plain, expressionless white mask I’d tucked into my waist — bought earlier from a shop near the ramen place, right after Reina called.
Mask on. Hood up.
Yep… I looked even more suspicious than those bikers.
I crept toward the compound’s entrance. There was now some light coming out of the entrance. Not too much, but enough for someone to walk without tripping. But the rest of the street was still pretty much dark.
Suddenly, one of the bikers stepped out. I ducked sideways behind a nearby utility pole. It was far from a perfect cover, but with the dark streets, it was still better than nothing.
He wore a black sleeveless jacket over a faded grey T-shirt, heavy denim jeans, thick-soled boots, and fingerless gloves. A snake tattoo coiled down the length of his left arm.
He was likely on lookout duty, standing near the compound's entrance, leaning against the wall, and casually scanning the street.
He lit a cigarette and smoked lazily, only occasionally glancing left and right. Yeah — low-level grunt stuck with the boring jobs.
There were three utility poles between us. I stood there, looking for an opportunity to move.
Finally, as he looked to the other side, I started moving quickly but quietly. I probably looked like a serial killer as I walked towards him with a knife in my hand.
I once again took cover, hiding sideways behind the next utility pole. He still hadn’t looked here, but there was no need to take any risk.
A few moments later, he looked in my direction. I held my breath while peeking at him from the corner of my eye. There was no weapon in his hands, so as long as I caught him off-guard, the rest would be a piece of cake.
He turned his gaze and started looking in front, looking deep in thought. I could try dashing to the next pole, but I stayed put.
Haste makes waste.
After a few minutes, his gaze drifted to the opposite side again. I immediately seized the opportunity and moved forward.
As I was moving, his body suddenly tensed. I immediately increased my speed and hid behind the last utility pole.
The biker immediately turned in my direction. This time, he noticed something. After all, the pole wasn’t thick enough to hide my body despite standing sideways, but due to the very dim lighting, he couldn’t make out what he was seeing clearly.
He cautiously looked towards the pole. At the same time, I moved very slowly in the opposite direction while still staying behind the pole to cover my body.
In low-light conditions like these, rod cells in the eyes are more sensitive to motion than to stationary shapes. If I barely moved… I could disappear.
I just had to take advantage of that and move as little as possible.
I sneakily pulled out a small pebble from my pocket, which I had picked earlier, and flicked it towards the biker. The stone traveled a distance and hit the wall on the other side near him.
“Who’s there?” The biker panicked as he looked in the direction the pebble had hit.
I immediately backed off more and hid behind a dumpster between the first and second poles.
“Any problems?” came a faint voice from inside the compound.
“Meow”
Perfect timing, cat. My pebble probably woke it up.
“Nothing… probably a cat,” the biker muttered.
I peeked from behind the dumpster. He was still staring toward where the pebble struck, confused — but after a moment, his wary eyes drifted back toward the pole I’d initially used for cover.
He pulled out a switchblade and began walking toward the pole in slow, measured steps.
His pace grew uncertain, and his breathing rough as he neared it. Stopping just a few feet away, he stared at it in confusion — since I wasn’t behind it anymore, he couldn’t see my shadow anymore.
He made a firm expression and, with quick steps, came behind the pole. He found no one.
His head swivelled back and forth, panic beginning to rise. I quickly ducked behind the dumpster again so he wouldn’t spot me.
Even without seeing him, I could track him by the sound of his boots on the pavement.
He paced anxiously in small circles.
“I swear I saw someone…” he muttered — then the footsteps grew quieter. I peeked out: he was heading back toward his lookout position.
I came out of hiding behind the dumpster. I walked behind him with a quicker pace, but still slow enough not to make a sound.
The moment I was directly behind him, he must’ve sensed something… but I was faster.
One hand clamped over his mouth, and the other slit his throat in a quick, clean motion.
Wet gurgles escaped as he thrashed, so I squeezed tighter to silence him.
Not wanting his boots to scrape noisily against the asphalt, I wrapped my free arm around his waist and hoisted him up. My muscles protested, but I held him until the twitching stopped.
We were still some distance from the entrance, so his buddies didn’t notice. I hauled his body and dumped it inside the dumpster I was hiding behind.
I gave him one last look. He definitely hadn’t watched any horror movies.
Then, I tiptoed back to the compound entrance once again. I looked inside, and another biker was carrying a heavy box towards a van with its back doors open.
Inside the van, another guy was sitting in the driver’s seat, completely absorbed in his phone.
“Man, why the hell am I the only one haulin’ these?” the biker moving the box grunted. “Uh… Mike, you think you could maybe give me a hand with these?”
“Don’t disturb me, Caleb. I am busy,” Mike, the biker sitting in the van, said, while continuously swiping on his phone.
“Yeah, busy swiping on reels on social media,” Caleb said in a low voice.
“You said something, punk?” Mike asked in a low, threatening voice, but his attention was still on his phone.
“Nothing,” Caleb said hurriedly.
Caleb finally put the box in the van. His face was already covered in sweat.
“Shouldn’t Danny be helpin’ out too? He must be just smoking while daydreaming outside,” Caleb said.
“Then who will be the lookout? Your mother?” Mike scoffed.
“What’s there to watch? We know that bitch Reina just sent a newbie to collect the goods. If he shows, we smoke him. Easy,” Caleb said.
“Yeah, let’s not have a lookout. Then, that newbie puts a bullet in your dumb ass ‘cause nobody’s on lookout,” Mike snorted.
Caleb cursed Mike under his breath and looked back inside the compound. I followed his line of sight. There were still many boxes left to load.
Both he and I sighed at the same time. I suddenly felt his pain because I would also have to haul all these boxes by myself inside my van.
“Where’s Steve? Wasn’t he supposed to be part of this job?” Caleb asked.
“Took a detour to see his girl,” Mike said. “He’ll show up.”
Caleb swore under his breath. “Why’s he allowed to fool around on the job? There’s too damn many boxes.”
Mike finally removed his gaze from his phone, eyes narrowing. “Listen, punk. You whine one more time, and I’ll show you how the Iron Serpents handle dead weight. Got it?”
“Y-yeah, I got it,” Caleb muttered, defeated.
Mike smirked and went right back to his phone. Caleb shot him a bitter glare, then trudged back toward the pile with dejected steps.
I almost pitied him. Almost.
Just as I was about to take them out, a thought struck me. Instead of rushing in, I stayed hidden a bit longer and observed.
Caleb slowly but steadily moved the boxes inside the van. Soon, he loaded all but one box and was on his way to it.
Time to move.
I slipped silently behind him. Since we were behind the van and Mike was busy on his phone in the driver’s seat, I wasn’t much worried about being spotted.
I arrived behind Caleb and repeated the same action. One hand clamped his mouth, and the other cut his throat. After a struggle for a few seconds, he was gone.
I didn’t bother hiding his body and let it slump gently to the ground.
I returned to the van and climbed in from the back. I moved towards the driver’s seat, crouched. It was my luck that there was no partition between the cargo area and the driver’s seat.
He was the easiest. His head was down, looking at his phone screen. I stabbed my knife into the side of his neck and didn’t even bother covering his mouth — nobody was left to hear him anyway.
I stretched my arms lazily—time for clean-up.
First, I looted the bodies: a few hundred dollars and a handgun from Mike. Then I fetched my van and parked it right beside theirs inside the compound.
I moved the last box and put it in my van. For the remaining boxes, I unloaded them from the other van and loaded them into mine.
I moved them as quickly as possible because there was still a chance their buddy Steve might show up at any time.
Finally, I loaded all twenty boxes and closed the van doors.
Thanks, Caleb — you did most of the work for me.
I hopped behind the wheel and drove out of the compound.
Markers appeared on the road as the destination was marked on my map. I drove following them.
The distance was quite considerable, so it would take around two hours to reach the drop-off point.
I thought the rest of the journey would be smooth, but I thought too soon.
Barely five minutes after hitting the road, I saw two bikers coming in front of me with the matching decal as the earlier ones.
What the fuck? Steve wasn’t supposed to have friends.
I hadn’t removed the mask and had deliberately switched off the lights inside the van.
I kept on driving without panicking. In the rear-view mirror, I saw them stopping and looking back at the van. They exchanged glances and then left.
I took that as a cue and hit the accelerator. I had to make as much distance between them as possible. It wouldn’t take them long to discover their dead buddies and missing cargo. After that, they would embark on a deadly pursuit.
For ten minutes, no one followed, but then I saw faint bike silhouettes in my rear-view mirror.
Now, there was no other choice but to deal with them. But how?
I had to take the possibility that they might have guns and could shoot at the van. The bullets could damage the cargo, blow the tires, and worst of all, hit me.
I had a gun too, but to me, it was just an iron stick.
Note to self: If I survive, I should add firearms training to my ever-growing schedule.
I couldn’t just drive, hoping to lose them. That would only increase my chances of dying from a stray bullet.
Moreover, the longer I continued this farce, the higher the chances they might call for backup, assuming they hadn’t until now.
Realistically speaking, they shouldn’t have called the backup for now, and they must be trying to recover the cargo on their own. Because if they did, then it would be their asses on the line for botching the job.
So, this was my best shot to eliminate them right now. Before the entire gang came crashing down on me.
I suddenly smirked under my mask.
I eased off the accelerator, letting the speed bleed down without jamming the brakes. To anyone watching from behind, it looked like hesitation, maybe even weakness. But my eyes were locked on the road, measuring grip, weight, and the narrow window of control.
At the precise moment, I wrenched the wheel and yanked the handbrake. The rear wheels shrieked and locked, the van’s bulk swinging wide, its body leaning so far it seemed ready to topple. Suspension screamed under the strain. A normal driver would have lost it right there.
But I wasn’t a normal driver, no, I was an Expert with a capital E. My hands worked the wheel in sharp, practiced flicks, my foot feathering the throttle to balance the slide. For a breathless second, the van spun, tires screaming, the whole machine pivoting cleanly on its front end.
Time seemed to slow down as the world took a one-hundred-eighty-degree turn. The rear wheels fiercely rubbed against the asphalt, leaving burn marks.
The bikers were now closer. Their eyes widened at what they saw, disbelief coloring their faces.
I had a wild smile on my face. Too bad for the bikers; they couldn’t see it, or they might have turned tail already. But they didn’t, and that sealed their fates.
Then the turn stopped. The rear tires bit into the tarmac, the handbrake snapped back down, and the wheel straightened in a blur. The van was already facing the other way, already surging forward.
The bikers never had time to react. One heartbeat, they were chasing prey; the next, a wall of steel was charging straight at them. Engines roared, curses flew, and then the van plowed into the line, the weight and speed turning it into a battering ram.
The crash was catastrophic… for them. The van struck them almost simultaneously. The bikes ricocheted. The bikers were sent flying over the van like ragdolls.
Of course, I didn’t come out of this exchange scot-free. The grill was smashed, the hood crumpled, and one of the headlights was crushed. I pushed the brake as the airbag was deployed inside.
I was wearing a seatbelt, so the collision didn’t throw me forward.
I started the van again and turned back toward my original destination.
The scene in front looked like a tragedy. Both bikes were obliterated. The bikers were lying motionless in pools of their blood.
No way they survived that.
I started my journey back to the drop-off, which was uneventful.
Two hours later, I was in front of the garage where I had to park the van.
I put the gun back in the dashboard compartment and locked it, and then I stepped down from the van.
Coming behind, I opened the back doors and took a few photos of the cargo in the van in front of the drop-off location.
“Job’s done.” I messaged along with the pictures.
I didn’t receive a reply, which is not surprising, given that I wasn't expecting one this late.
I opened the garage and drove the car parked inside it out. Then I went back into the van and drove it into the garage. I left the keys inside and left the garage, closing its door behind me.
I then boarded the car that would be my ride back and started driving to the ramen shop.
Half an hour later, I actually received a reply from Reina.
“Shipment verified. Collect your payment on your next visit.”
And with that, I also got the notification.

Mission: Cigar Smuggling (Completed)
Reward: $1000, More missions from Reina

There were no hidden objectives this time.
Were there no hidden objectives in this mission? Or did I not complete it, so it was not showing?
Oh well, no use thinking about something outside my control.
I arrived at the ramen shop around 5 AM. The sun was already peeking from the horizon.
I parked the car in the same spot as the van and left the keys inside, just like before.
After messaging Reina about the car, I went inside without waiting for a reply. Reina wouldn’t probably give one either and would just send someone to drive it back.
The old man was already up. I nodded to him in greeting and went to sleep. I had only two hours to sleep before I had to go back.
My sweet sleep was interrupted, this time not by the old man but by the alarm I set.
With reluctance, I woke up, took a quick shower, and ate another serving of ramen for breakfast. At least, even as an unpaid labourer, I could still get food at all three times.
I respectfully said my goodbyes to the old man. He just nodded and went back to cooking.
“Bye, old man. I will come back next weekend,” I smiled and left.
“Do not forget the training regimen I gave you to do every morning. Today was an exception, don’t make it a habit.” That was old man Kobayashi’s goodbye.
I laughed a little and left.
…
Finally, I was back at my home. With my vitality, I wasn’t feeling sleepy, but was still somewhat tired. Despite that, I picked up my bag, entered my taxi, and left for the university.
Just five minutes on the road, I got a call. I pulled out my civilian phone, but it wasn't the one ringing.
Strange.
I pulled the crime phone. It was the one ringing. The number was unknown.
Who could it be?
After hesitating for a moment, I picked up the call.
“Hello?”

Chapter 26: Seeds of Envy

Chapter 26: Seeds of Envy

“You’re pretty ruthless, aren’t you?”
A smug laugh echoed through the phone.
I paused for a moment.
“Did you perhaps dial incorrectly?” I replied flatly.
“Nope,” he chuckled. “Even I got a little scared watching those bikers’ mangled corpses on my drone feed.”
“I think you have dialed the wrong number. If there is nothing else, goodbye,” I said with a tone of finality.
I didn’t bother waiting for his reply and hung up.
How did he get my number? I don’t think Reina shared my number. However, she might have shared it with other members of her cartel, and this person might have obtained it from one of them.
I was suddenly pulled out of my thoughts as I heard new notifications from my phone. That guy sent me some images.
The first few were from the compound, likely from the cameras installed in it. It showed me killing the Iron Serpents’ members in HD. Of course, I was wearing a hood and mask, so my face wasn’t visible in it.
The other showed the aftermath of the collision between my van and the bikes, which I had already seen the day before. They should be taken from a drone, as he said.
Alone, none of this could bury me in court. But seeing myself through those compound cameras made me want to strangle past-me.
Taxi driver, martial arts, first aid, heists, cartel jobs, world domination schemes—I’d been dabbling in everything like a drunk gambler spreading chips across the table. But the one edge I should’ve sharpened from the start, I ignored.
I was a programmer in my past life. I could’ve leveled that skill fast — but I never even tried. Even if I had the same major in college, course books don’t make anyone a hacker.
What if my mask slipped one day? What if another camera caught me? Sure, I’d taken precautions, but luck is a terrible shield.
So thank you, mysterious idiot. You’ve pointed out my biggest blunder.
I don’t know whether I will kill you or not in the future, but if it ever comes to that, I promise it will be painless.
My phone rang again—the same unknown number.
“So, how do you like those images?” The guy’s obnoxious voice oozed through the phone.
“The cops will be thrilled,” he went on, laughing at his own brilliance. “Once I hand these over, your criminal career will be over before it even begins.”
He’s not very bright, is he?
“Dude, what do you want?” I asked, flat with annoyance. “If you actually planned to hand them over, you wouldn’t be calling me first.”
“Oh?” He sounded surprised. “A smart one, ain’t you?”
“And here I thought this line of work was full of barbarians,” he added smugly. “But every now and then, I suppose, you find a smart one who almost manages to scrape up to my level.”
I rolled my eyes. Either he’s ignorant or just drunk on his own ego.
“And?” I prompted, deadpan. He thought such low-level insults would rattle me.
“And here I thought you were a smart one,” he said, almost disappointed. “Guess I’ll have to explain it to you like a toddler.”
“And?” I repeated, cutting him off again.
“Ugh, you’re as idiotic and annoying as the other muscle-brains,” he snapped. “Now shut up and listen. I’ll only explain this once.”
I didn’t respond. He took my silence as a sign of submission and launched into his grand plan.
“I’m sure you don’t want these images reaching the cops, right? Then you’ll do as I say, or they’re gone.”
I stifled a yawn. This clown should’ve taken lessons in blackmailing from Captain Robert before trying this routine. Right now, he sounded pathetic.
“And how long exactly am I supposed to dance to your tune?” I asked, curious what nonsense he’d spew.
“You only need to do fifty jobs for me,” he said, like a king granting mercy.
I almost laughed. Fifty jobs? Really?
“Will you delete the images after that?” I asked, layering on fake hope.
“Delete?” His smirk was audible. “Maybe. If I feel like it.”
That’s his leverage?
“Now, your job—”
“No,” I cut in.
“Wh-what?” He stammered.
“I’m not interested. Send the images to the cops if you want.” My tone was final.
“You what?” He sounded genuinely shocked.
“Why should I agree?” I asked calmly. “Even if I do everything you say, you can still screw me in the end. Worst case, I’m screwed either way. So no—I’m not interested.”
He became quiet, unable to process the shock of my denial. Then, suddenly, he thought of something and started talking gibberish.
“No, wait… wait a minute… Ahaha, so that’s your plan!”
“Hahaha—are you fucking serious?”
“You think you can just walk away like that?”
“Hahaha, no, I was wrong. You are not smart. You are a fucking dolt just like these barbarians.”
More laughter. More raving.
I leaned back, half-irritated, half-entertained.
He really should try for stand-up comedy. He can make a killing.
“Oh, man. I never had such a great laugh,” he finally wheezed. “You are a halfwit if you believe Reina can protect you from the cops.”
Seriously? That was his theory for my refusal? Despite my explaining it to him?
“Of course,” I said arrogantly. “La Madrina won’t let one of her own fall into police hands.”
This was a good way to pass the time on the way to college.
He took the bait instantly. “Ha! I knew it. But what if I show these to her rivals? The Iron Serpents would love to see who butchered their men.”
“Do you think they’ll believe you?” I asked, letting just a hair of doubt creep into my tone. “You’re a nobody. They won’t take the word of some random clown against their rival.”
Technically, gangs don’t need proof. They work off suspicion and revenge. They don’t sit around cross-examining photo evidence like a jury.
If he walked in waving pictures, they’d put a bullet in his head first just for the fact that he knew.
“You think I’m a nobody?” he barked, offended.
“Yes.”
He sputtered curses, then stopped, trying to pull himself back together.
“I’ll let that slide,” he said stiffly. “You’re ignorant of my greatness. Once you know, you’ll be in awe of me.”
“Please,” I drawled, “educate me.”
He didn’t even catch the sarcasm. He took it as flattery.
“Fine, since you are begging so desperately,” he said. “Do you know about the fight between Spider-Man and the Vulture?”
“Of course, I know. I don’t live under a rock,” I said as if he asked the dumbest question in the world.
“Then do you know who created those mechanical wings?” He asked, ignoring my earlier reply.
I played dumb. “I don’t know, maybe the old bird himself?”
“Close, but you are only half correct,” he said in a tone as if holding in a big secret.
“Mind enlightening me about the other half?” I asked.
“I like your attitude. Since you asked so nicely, I will tell you,” he said. “Yes, that guy built it, but he had the help of someone.”
Then he paused. We both stayed silent for a few moments.
Sigh. This wasn’t going anywhere. In the end, I asked, “Who?”
“Phineas Mason, or better known as in relevant circles as Tinkerer,” he said proudly. “He helped Adrian Toomes in improving the wings.”
“And?” I said, feeling deja vu. Did we do this before?
“What do you mean and?” He asked incredulously.
“What does that have to do with you?” I asked, once again feeling annoyed.
“Everything,” he barked. “I am one of his apprentices.”
Oh? Now that was news to me.
“I am Daryl Stone. But you can call me Fix,” he announced dramatically. “Now you understand the greatness before you.”
Nope. Never heard of him.
“Can you make similar mechanical wings?” I asked curiously.
A pause. “…No. But I can make gadgets. I just need parts—Stark, Oscorp, Hammer, you name it. I can turn scraps into miracles.”
That’s it? He sounded this arrogant about being a recycling center.
“Awesome,” I said. I cringed at how fake I sounded.
But Fix ate it up. “That’s the proper reaction to me,” he said, pleased.
Wait—parts? So that’s what this gig was about.
I slipped into my act. “Oh no… I’m doomed. The Serpents will believe you without question. They’ll hunt me down.”
“Heh. Now you get it?” Fix sneered. “But I’m merciful. I’ll give you another chance.”
“Please,” I said, mock-desperate.
“Fine. But since you angered me, it’s a hundred jobs now.”
“Anything,” I said gratefully. “What kind of jobs?”
I already had a faint idea.
He puffed up. “Nothing major. Just… relieving certain companies of their tech and parts. Deliver them to me, I’ll handle the rest.”
Knew it. That was the only reason I humored this idiot.
I was seriously behind in both my burglary and delivery missions.
Doing the smuggling job for Reina actually increased my delivery mission count. That meant smuggling missions could count towards delivery mission progress. The more sources I had for such missions, the faster I could complete them.
Likewise, “relieving” items could count toward my burglary mission progress. There were only so many houses I could rob without being caught by the cops.
“And if you did an exceptional job, I don’t mind equipping you with some of my gadgets,” he added, as if he were blessing me.
“Thanks, Fix. You’re a great man.”
“I am,” he agreed, satisfied. “I’ll contact you soon.” Then he hung up.
I stared at the screen.
I am still confused. Should I kill him after completing my missions or not?

Empire State University:
— 3rd Person POV —
Peter tugged his locker open, juggling a stack of books that looked as though they were ready to collapse.
MJ leaned against the locker beside him, one eyebrow arched, looking at Peter take out books after books.
“Seriously, Tiger, are you planning to carry the entire library with you?” MJ asked with a playful grin on her face. “I swear you’re one bad step away from becoming a walking disaster.”
“Yeah, well… midterms. Someone’s got to study,” Peter said with a nervous chuckle.
Liz flicked her hair back. It was the kind of effortless move that drew attention without her even trying.
“Most guys would bluff their way through. Not Peter. He actually does the work. That’s what makes him stand out,” Liz praised him.
Peter shifted uncomfortably, not used to such blatant praise, no matter how many he was listening to from her nowadays.
“Stand out, or just boring,” he muttered, though he couldn’t help but smile.
“Boring? No way. You’re nerdy in a heroic sort of way. Give it time, you’ll probably be running the place,” MJ smirked, leaning in.
“Or building it,” Liz added, laughing. “Peter Parker, the next Tony Stark or Reed Richards.”
Peter’s face flushed red. “Let’s just focus on surviving physics first, okay?”
Their laughter overlapped, easy and bright, drawing the attention of those in the hallway. Some guys looked at Peter like they’d trade places in a heartbeat, while a few girls eyed the girls around him, wishing they could slide into that girl group. They sighed. If Felicia also joined the group, it could really become a girl group that ruled the university food chain.
From just behind the two laughing girls, Gwen tightened her grip on the notebook she carried. She opened her mouth softly, the laughter almost swallowed her voice, barely above a whisper.
“You’re already really good at physics, Peter,” she said softly. “You don’t have to stress too much.”
But Peter listened to it with his enhanced senses. He glanced at her and offered a small smile, “Thanks, Gwen.”
Her chest warmed at the smile, but before the moment could grow, MJ tapped Peter’s shoulder.
“Don’t forget—you promised to help me with chemistry. No backing out,” MJ said with mock sternness.
Liz leaned in, teasing. “Careful, MJ, don’t hog him all to yourself. Some of us are still waiting in line.”
The two girls laughed again, Peter caught between them, awkward but grinning.
Gwen was part of the circle, but looked like a stranger to the circle. Her lips pressed together as she stood awkwardly, her notebook tightly hugged to her chest. Present, but unseen.
Liz smiled faintly as she subtly looked back and watched Gwen drift further from Peter.
For years, a quiet truth had gnawed at her: Gwen wasn’t just pretty. She had poise. Grace. Potential. Liz knew her own fate—at best, some rich man’s trophy wife. But Gwen Stacy? She could be important.
That’s why watching her stumble felt so sweet. Every inch Gwen lost with Peter was an inch Liz gained. For once, the flawless Gwen Stacy faltered—and Liz savored every second.
MJ and Liz linked arms with Peter, tugging him toward the cafeteria. Their laughter rang out, effortless and bright.
Gwen stood awkwardly behind; no one even asked her. She gave a self-deprecating smile. She almost followed, but a voice stopped her.
“Hey,” a boy’s voice said from the side.
She turned and found it was Kevin whom Peter had protected from Flash a while back. She felt that his presence was too low, so much so that she didn’t even notice him before the incident.
“Hi,” Gwen returned with a polite smile.
Kevin studied her face and frowned, “Is something the matter? You don’t look so good.”
Gwen blinked, caught off guard. “No, nothing like that. I’m fine,” she answered quickly, forcing a smile. Inside, though, she noted how sharp his observation was.
“Really?” He sounded unconvinced but let it drop. Then his tone shifted, becoming steadier and more serious. “But if there ever is a problem, you can come to me. Peter’s a great guy—he stood up for me against Flash. I owe him. If he ever needs me, I’ll be there. And since you’re his friend, that goes for you too.”
Gwen’s smile softened. “Thanks, Kevin. But you don’t need to feel obligated like that.”
“Obligation? What are you talking about, woman?” Kevin snorted and said with a serious voice. “We are now friends. Friends help each other. No strings attached.”
The bluntness stunned her. But it didn’t feel bad. In fact, it warmed her.
She laughed, and as she continued, Kevin joined in as well. Their laughter was natural, not forced.
She felt how different it was from what it had been before. She felt like a stranger with her friends, but with this unexpected stranger who became her friend, she felt seen.
“By the way, Gwen?” Kevin asked, looking oddly shy.
“What is it?” she tilted her head.
“I was wondering if you could… maybe help me with maths,” he said, hesitating. Then he grinned. “I am a little behind in it, so I figured I should learn from the best.”
Gwen laughed. “Sure. After class?”
“Perfect,” he said quickly, relief in his voice.
They stood in silence for a moment, the pause oddly comfortable. Then Kevin added, dead serious:
“In return, I’ll protect you from bullies. Male bullies, at least.”
Gwen blinked. “Only male bullies?” She laughed. “And how would you manage that, when you needed Peter’s help with Flash?”
Kevin flushed. “Nobody knows this, but I had it handled. I’ve got… a secret move.”
Her curiosity piqued, Gwen leaned in. “Secret move?”
“Yeah, it is an ancestral secret technique,” Kevin said proudly. Then, he showed dejection, “Unfortunately, it works on men only. That’s why I said male bullies.”
“Ancestral technique?” Gwen echoed, her voice dropping even more. She wanted to hear it more.
“You wanna know?” Kevin whispered.
She nodded before she realized it.
Kevin thought for a few moments.
“Since you are my friend, I can tell you,” Kevin agreed. Then his voice turned serious, “But you must never tell it to anyone.”
Gwen hurriedly shook her head to promise him.
“The secret is simple,” Kevin paused. Gwen couldn’t control her curiosity; each moment felt like a century to her.
Finally, Kevin continued before she erupted.
“Always aim between the legs,” Kevin said seriously, as if telling a cosmic truth.
Gwen looked stunned as she looked at him in silence. She couldn’t process what happened.
Kevin cracked first, breaking into uncontrollable laughter.
Her shock melted into outrage. “You jerk!” She punched his chest.
Kevin doubled over coughing, but still managed a weak thumbs-up. “Nice punch.”
That broke her rage. Gwen laughed too, harder than she expected. Together, still chuckling, they headed toward the cafeteria.
A few meters behind, Marko and Felicia watched Kevin and Gwen laughing their way toward the cafeteria.
Felicia’s lips pressed into a thin line. Marko caught the sour look on her face and gave a helpless smile.
“Why don’t you go talk to him?” Marko suggested lightly.
“Why should I? We don’t have anything to do with each other,” Felicia snapped.
Marko chuckled under his breath. “Right. Totally unrelated. That’s why you look ready to claw Gwen’s eyes out.”
Her glare shot daggers at him.
“Relax,” Marko raised his hands. “Just saying—aren’t you worried he might… replace you?”
“Replace me? Please.” Felicia tossed her hair, her tone sharp. “I already have a boyfriend. And I love him very much.”
Felicia tried to act as if she didn’t care, but her clenched fist behind her back suggested otherwise.
Marko smirked. “Sure. But does Kevin care about that?”
Felicia’s jaw tightened. “Why would I care what he thinks? He can do whatever he wants.”
“Funny,” Marko said casually. “Because you ask me about him almost every day.”
Felicia’s expression darkened. “You got a problem with that?” she asked, voice like a blade.
“No, ma’am,” Marko answered meekly.
Felicia huffed, lowering her voice. “It’s not like Gwen has a chance anyway. She’s into Peter.”
Marko snorted. “Into Peter, sure. But between MJ throwing herself at him, Liz hovering, and him being too shy for his own good? Gwen’s odds are trash. MJ’s got the upper hand. Liz, maybe, but less. Gwen? Forget it.”
Felicia’s eyes narrowed. “What if that nerd surprises you? Maybe Peter wants all three. Isn’t that every guy’s dream?”
Marko laughed. “Maybe. But Peter? He doesn’t have the guts. If he ever got one girlfriend, he’d push the others away. That’s just how he is.”
Felicia nodded, agreeing to Marko’s comment.
“Even if Peter actually likes them all and wants them to become his,” Marko laughed. “He doesn’t have the guts to say that to their faces.”
Felicia nodded despite herself. She hated that kind of toxic, greedy behavior—collecting women like trophies. And yet… she couldn’t help comparing it to Kevin. At least he said what he wanted, plain and unashamed.
Marko was right. Few men had the guts for that.
“So you see,” Marko continued, “your position’s shaky with Gwen in the picture. You’re both gorgeous, sure. But she’s got brains on top of it. That makes her the full package.”
Felicia clenched her fists even harder, hearing that. She suddenly started comparing herself to Gwen.
She wanted to scream that she and Kevin had chemistry Gwen could never touch. Night jobs together. The thrill, the rhythm they shared. Even if Kevin didn’t know Black Cat was her, they had a bond.
Or… they had previously.
But, since that incident, she had never gone on a heist with him.
Yes, she didn’t invite him on one herself, but couldn’t he call her himself?
She thought even if there was some temporary sourness between them, she could still spend time as Black Cat with him.
She thought she might play hard to get for a while, to make him realize her importance. Maybe even withhold sex. Even though they never did it, they still did everything else. She thought she would let him beg for her forgiveness to let him touch her.
He would have to ask for he forgiveness, and beg and coax her. That way, she could at least let out some of the bad breath of her Felicia persona.
But he never called. Not once.
‘Am I really replaceable for him?’
‘Would he trade me for Gwen… or someone else?’
Felicia shuddered while having such thoughts.
Felicia shook her head to remove such thoughts from her brain.
Felicia shook her head hard, as if she could throw the doubts out of her skull. “Whatever,” she muttered, striding toward the cafeteria.
Marko looked at her and, with a wry smile, followed behind her.
They reached the cafeteria. Gwen had already rejoined her group, sitting in her usual spot.
Marko looked at Kevin and nodded; he nodded back from their usual table. Then suddenly, Kevin’s eyes turned blank. Marko followed his line of sight, and as expected, that expression was for Felicia.
Felicia’s jaw clenched. She gave a sharp little harrumph and turned away, pretending to be engrossed in something else.
Marko quickly came and joined Kevin at their usual table with his food.
“Dude, why don’t you just already talk to her?” Marko said the first thing after sitting down. “That girl is making me mad with her almost constant daily enquiries.”
“Not my problem,” Kevin replied, calm as stone.
Marko groaned. “She cycled through four boyfriends in four weeks just to get a rise out of you. If you won’t make up with her, fine—but at least stop looking like a corpse when she parades them around. Show some damn emotion.”
“Nope.” Kevin didn’t even blink.
Marko slumped back, defeated. They’d been over this conversation too many times to count.
“Didn’t you also have a crush on her? Why don’t you try? Maybe she will make you her fifth boyfriend,” Kevin suggested.
Marko gave him a flat look. “Don’t be stupid. We both know she only cares about you. And as your friend, I’m not touching that minefield.”
He lowered his voice, dead serious. “Besides, I’d rather not find out what you’d do to me if I did.”
Kevin laughed, shaking his head.
“Speaking of her four boyfriends,” he said casually, “isn’t it about time she dumps the current one?”
“I hope so,” Marko muttered. “That guy’s been strutting around all week like a peacock in mating season. Irritating as hell.”
Kevin chuckled. “Kind of expected. With his reputation in ruins, landing Felicia was the only ego boost he had left.”
“Hey, Felicia, why didn’t you wait for me?” a loud voice came from the cafeteria entrance.
There stood Flash, looking like he owned the entire university. With an arrogant expression, he walked towards Felicia.
Before Felicia could answer, he grabbed her and kissed her in front of everyone, his hands gripping her hips possessively.
The students looked at them with envy, whispers and murmurs filling the cafeteria.
Felicia kissed back, her hands wrapped around his neck. But her eyes weren’t on him.
She was looking at only one guy, Kevin. She thought maybe he would finally show some emotion. Jealousy, hate, longing, guilt, regret, anything. But his face was blank.
He gave her a bored look and then went back to eating as if the scene in the middle of the cafeteria had nothing to do with him.
Felicia’s chest tightened. Rage flared. She shoved Flash away.
“Babe, what—?”
“Let’s break up,” Felicia cut him off flatly.
The entire atmosphere in the cafeteria suddenly shifted. The students had expressions as if they were watching a good show. The boys had a gloating expression as they looked at Flash.
“But why?” Flash demanded. He finally felt he was back on top. But the breakup might push him back down. He didn’t want that.
“No reason,” Felicia said.
“We are the perfect couple. The most popular boy and the most popular girl, we are meant to be together,” Flash shouted.
“Not interested,” Felicia said. “It’s over, Flash. Learn to accept no.”
Flash looked around and saw the mocking, gloating expression on the other students. Especially, his ex-girlfriend Liz had a particularly cruel smirk on her face.
“No… no, no. This isn’t happening,” Flash muttered, voice shaking. “I’m the best. I deserve the best.”
His face twisted into fury. “No one says no to Flash Thompson!”
Then his glare landed on Kevin.
“It’s you. This is your fault! You turned her against me!”
He stormed toward Kevin’s table, steps heavy, fists clenched.
Marko looked tense, but this time he didn’t freeze. Maybe the incident with Vince and his buddies gave him a confidence boost.
Kevin looked at Flash walking towards him with a bored look. He was debating in his mind whether he should use his ancestral secret technique on Flash or not.
“Stop right there, Flash.”
Felicia’s sharp voice cut through the tension.
Flash spun toward her, face contorted. “You want to protect him? You think that nameless nobody is better than me?”
Felicia’s voice was calm. “What I do has nothing to do with you. Sit down before you embarrass yourself further.”
“Bitch,” Flash spat. “You think you can—”
Felicia answered with her fist, with a right uppercut; she clocked him. With a single move, Flash fell and lost consciousness.
The students looked at her with wide eyes, stunned. No one could have thought that she was strong enough to defeat Flash in one move.
This time, Flash’s reputation really went down the drain.
Felicia looked up to Kevin, hoping that he might finally give her some emotions, but he still showed her a blank look.
Her lips pressed into a thin line. Without a word, she walked back to her table and sat down, eating alone while the cafeteria buzzed with whispers.

*********************
My apologies for the delay.

Chapter 27: Dojo Yaburi

Chapter 27: Dojo Yaburi

Empire State University, Library, After Classes:
“Thanks, Gwen. I don’t know what I’d do for the math midterm without you,” I said gratefully after completing our maths study session.
Right after the classes were completed, Gwen and I went to the university library for the promised maths teaching session.
Gwen’s intellect was rarely showcased, except for stating the fact that she was considered a genius. She was killed before she could show her full potential. The Gwens from alternate timelines also did not show much intellectual capability.
But this Gwen was definitely a prodigy. I didn’t know how she could compare with top geniuses like Tony Stark, Reed Richards, Peter Parker, or the others, but it didn’t feel like she was far behind.
And it showed directly in the majors she had chosen. Yes, that was not a mistake, I meant, majors, plural.
She was pursuing double majors in Biology and Biomedical Engineering, in addition to taking elective courses in Biotechnology.
Yes, it wasn't as challenging as pursuing two unrelated majors together, such as Biology and History, since her selected majors shared common subjects that counted for both. However, with the extra elective courses, she wasn’t far behind.
That's why I had put her under my radar.
In Marvel, you are not successful if you don’t have at least a few genius scientists under your payroll.
Gwen smiled, brushing it off. “It’s no problem, Kevin. You’re actually good at math—you just need practice with the tougher problems.”
Of course, brains weren’t her only selling point. Her beauty didn’t hurt, and recently I’d discovered a third reason to keep her close.
I gave her a sheepish grin. “Yeah, I’ll go through all the ones you pointed out at home.”
“That’s the spirit,” she said brightly. “It’ll make tomorrow’s session easier if you practice.”
Yes, tomorrow. We had already decided to study together for one hour after class each day for the remainder of the week.
These study sessions target three targets with one stone. Getting closer to Gewn, irritating Felicia, and of course, improving my maths.
“So, what’s the plan for today?” I asked casually.
“Well… I’ll probably study until tonight,” Gwen said, matter-of-factly.
“Study? Till the night?” I raised an eyebrow. She nodded, looking confused.
“Girl, please. With your brains, you must have finished studying all the courses for this semester. What’s there to study now?” I asked.
Gwen blushed at my indirect compliment.
“...for next semester,” she mumbled something.
“What was that?” I asked. I thought I heard something ridiculous.
She sat up straighter, voice louder, face red. “I was studying next semester’s books.”
I looked at her face, too stunned to say anything. Gwen squirmed under my constant gaze.
“What?” Gwen asked, embarrassed.
“Nothing,” I sighed. “You are awesome.”
Gwen’s blush deepened, but she smiled shyly.
“So tell me,” I leaned in, curious, “do you ever do anything besides study? Or are you secretly a robot?”
I felt like I was talking to another Jessica, just with a higher IQ.
“Of course I have fun,” she said quickly—then lowered her voice. “Just… not much.”
She rushed to defend herself. “I’ve gone to a few parties. Mostly, MJ and Liz drag me. Sometimes shopping, beaches, movies, clubs with them…”
I smirked. She sounded like she was listing evidence to prove she wasn’t a bookworm.
“Good. At least you’ve touched grass,” I teased.
I shifted gears. “So, you on social media?”
She gave me a look. “Who isn’t?”
“Fair. Stupid question,” I laughed.
“So, have you seen clips of the fight between Spider-Man and a new supervillain?” I asked. “I think he called himself Shocker.”
Yep, another Spider-Man villain was introduced, and they fought one week ago, which, as expected, ended with his defeat and his subsequent imprisonment.
“Yeah, Liz showed us the video,” Gwen said.
“It was awesome,” I said excitedly. “Sometimes, I wonder how good it would be to have superpowers, like Spidey.”
“Yeah, that’d be good,” Gwen said softly, her eyes distant. She looked like she was thinking about something.
“Hey, Gwen,” I said, pulling her out of her thoughts. “Do you think Spider-Man uses his powers for fun other than, you know, crimefighting?”
“I don’t know, I don’t think so,” she frowned. “Moreover, isn’t it wrong to use such powers for playing around?”
“What’s the harm in that?” I asked.
“It’s selfish to use such powers for personal gain,” Gwen said. Her frown even tighter.
“How is it selfish? If I have an edge against others, what’s wrong with using it?” I asked. “If I can fly, then why should I crawl in the traffic?”
“No. It’s selfish. You can’t treat something that dangerous like a toy. If you only think about yourself, someone else could get hurt. Such powers aren’t a game. They should be used for the good of everyone,” Gwen said firmly.
“See, that’s where I disagree. Why does it have to be one or the other? If you can do something extraordinary—run faster, jump higher, see things no one else can—why pretend it’s a curse? Why can’t you enjoy it along with helping people if you want? If you love what you do, you’ll do it better,” Kevin said with a grin.
“That’s the rationalization people use to convince themselves. But once you cross one line, what’s stopping you from crossing more lines? If you focus on fun, you undermine others. Maybe you push yourself to do something reckless because you want the thrill, but it may end up hurting someone,” Gwen shook her head.
“Hurting? No. If I use what I have for myself, it won’t hurt anyone. If I take advantage of the edge that I have but others lack, then it’s not evil, it’s smart. The world rewards those who take advantage of what they’ve got,” I said, leaning forward, my eyes looking directly into her eyes.
“And what about when that ‘edge’ means someone else loses out? Powers mean responsibility. If you take shortcuts because of your powers, you’re undermining all the people who worked hard without them. That’s not smart—it’s unfair,” Gwen snapped, her voice getting a little higher. She was trying too hard to prove that she was right.
“Unfair? Life isn’t fair. Some are born into wealth, while others are born into poverty. Some with strength, others with sickness. Some with brilliance, others with nothing at all. For some, the finish line of another’s lifelong struggle is nothing more than their starting point. So why pretend the game was ever equal? If you’re lucky enough to get dealt a winning hand, you play it,” I said, my tone edging with disdain.
“No, but, this, this is wrong,” Gwen shook her head. My last reply clearly shook her.
“No. What’s wrong is shackling yourself with invisible chains—ethics, morals, rules, regulations. All those are man-made cages to keep people obedient. You think they’re noble? They’re just leashes. And leashes are for the weak.”
Her lips parted, but no words came.
I softened my tone, almost to a gentle one. “Look, Gwen, I’m not saying your way of thinking is wrong. But tell me—if you only use your edge for everyone else, then where are you in it? Why pretend you don’t exist? Yes, it’s selfish. But what’s wrong with being a little selfish? Powers are yours. Not theirs. If you use them for yourself first, no one has the right to say otherwise.”
Her gaze lowered, deep in thought, chewing on every word.
“What’s wrong with using powers for yourself? Having fun with them? Helping others is a choice, not an obligation,” I said in a deep voice, finishing the discussion.
I smiled suddenly, tone flipping back to casual. “That was a nice debate. It is good to have such debates, now and then, keep the brain sharp, right?”
“Y-yeah,” she said, uncertain, still caught in the weight of what I’d said.
“It was nice talking, Gwen. See you tomorrow for math. Thanks again.” I waved and walked off.
“Goodbye, Kevin…” Her voice was soft, almost distracted, still tangled in the conversation I’d planted in her mind.
…
After completing a few fares, I came to Chinatown. I stood in front of the building with the plaque that read “Chikara Dojo.”
I pushed the door open, my expression dripping arrogance, the kind that said all of you are beneath me.
Inside, rows of white-belt students moved through their katas under the watchful eye of a woman in her late twenties or early thirties, wearing a black belt and a white gi, her hair neatly braided. Even without makeup, she was striking. Colleen Wing.
She noticed me immediately. “Hi, do you want to join the dojo, or maybe try a free class first?” she asked politely.
“Join? This dump?” I smirked. “No. I’m here to challenge it.”
The students froze mid-form. Colleen’s polite smile faded into a frown.
“If you don’t want to join, then please leave. We don’t have time for games,” Colleen said sternly.
“Games? Woman, if you run a dojo, then you should be aware of Dojo Yaburi, right?” I smirked.
Her brows creased at hearing that.
“Or are you too chicken to accept a direct challenge?” I said, laughing arrogantly. “If that’s the case, then take off your plaque as surrender, and I will directly take it as a sign of my victory.”
“What did you say, you bastard?” a hot-headed student A, who was also secretly a member of the Hand, said.
“Sensei, please let me beat some sense into him,” a student B requested to Colleen.
All the students were glaring at me as if ready to eat me alive.
Even Colleen’s face showed faint anger, but she quickly controlled it. She didn’t want to appear to lose control of her emotions in front of her students.
“So you want to challenge the dojo?” Colleen asked seriously.
“Woman, are you perhaps dumb? Why are you asking the obvious?” I rolled my eyes.
Colleen took a deep breath to calm herself down.
“Fine, but you must first defeat my students before you can fight me,” Colleen said.
I smirked arrogantly. “Bring it on.”
“Darryl, you go first,” Colleen ordered to one of her students. He was the one who requested her to let him beat some sense into me.
"You want to fight me?” I sneered. “Brat, go back and suck on your momma’s titties.”
“What did you say?” Darryl growled in rage.
I ignored him and looked towards Colleen to get her started on the competition.
“Hajime,” Colleen said after giving me a deep look.
I launched like a bullet. One punch to the gut, another forearm across his skull—he dropped before he knew the match had started.
Gasps rippled through the dojo. Even Colleen’s eyes narrowed now. She now knew that I wasn’t just some hooligan who came to insult her.
“Becca, you go,” Colleen ordered a female student.
“Yes, sensei,” Becca bowed and came in front of me. She looked serious as she took a stance.
“Don’t expect me to go easy on you, missy,” I smiled arrogantly.
“I won’t,” Becca shot back, but maintained her form.
“Hajime.”
I moved as I had last time, but she was prepared, unlike Darryl earlier.
A round house kick was aimed at my head. I smiled and caught her foot mere centimeters away from my face. Her eyes widened as she tried to yank free. Futile.
I smirked at her, then I pivoted my body while still holding her foot. Using the movement, I pulled her with her foot and slammed her body heavily onto the mat.
She screamed as she fell. Colleen immediately went to check on her. She sighed in relief when she found that Becca was bruised but didn't have any significant injury.
She gave me a fierce look. She was extremely protective of her students, but her pride as a samurai and dojo instructor also prevented her from reprimanding me for being heavy-handed with her students.
“Brian, you go,” Colleen ordered another of her students.
A black man came into view in front of me and calmly took a stance. I still maintained a smirk, but this time, I was serious inside. He was one of the few F2s among Colleen’s students. That meant he was trained by the Hand.
This was going to be my first fight with an F2, but I was ready. With my skills, I was confident to fight as an equal, at least in a one-on-one fight.
“Hajime.”
We circled, slow, calculating. Then struck at the same time—our fists colliding mid-air. Pain shot up my knuckles, numbing my hand. I flexed it, shaking the sting away.
Brian winced too, but not as much as I did.
I resumed the fight with a kick to his shin. He tried to side-step, but was late. He grunted at the impact.
I closed in, my palm aiming for his solar plexus. He blocked my palm with his right hand. I immediately followed with an uppercut with my left fist to his chin.
He staggered, but I didn’t let him breathe. My hand clamped the back of his neck, yanking him down into a brutal knee that drove into his solar plexus. The impact folded him. His body hit the mat limp.
Silence filled the dojo, broken only by Brian’s wheezing breath.
“Woman, your students are trash,” I said flatly. “Why waste time with them? Fight me yourself.”
Colleed thought for a moment and then nodded. She passed her bokken to another student and came in front of me empty-handed.
My heart trembled once she was finally in front of me, but I didn’t show it on my face.
Defeat was a foregone conclusion, but I wasn’t going down without a fight, no matter how ridiculous her status looked.

Name: Colleen Wing
Rank: E3

Skills:
Chi Manipulation (Master)
Martial Arts (Master)
Swordsmanship (Master)
Unarmed Combat (Master)

She was different from Jessica, even though they both held the same rank. While Jessica reached that rank with superpowers, Colleen clawed her way through relentless training day and night, fueled by blood, sweat, and tears.
With her skills, she could’ve gotten even a higher rank, but her human limits limited her. Physically, she was only peak human, but she’d sharpened herself into a weapon that could rival someone like Jessica.
As we looked at each other, the smirk on my face was gone, replaced by a serious expression.
“Woman, you are strong,” I complimented.
Her lips twitched into a faint smile before she smothered it. “Thank you.”
The referee for this fight was Mary, another one of Colleen’s students.
“Hajime.”
For the first time after coming inside the dojo, I formed a stance.
Colleen’s eyes showed a hint of recognition at my stance. Both Uncle Niko and Old Man Kobayashi stressed the importance of maintaining a proper stance. So, I had practiced it extensively.
But on the other hand, Colleen stood calmly with her hands behind her back. She didn’t take the fight seriously.
A part of me was offended by her casual stance; my pride was hurt because she seemed to look down on me.
But I didn’t let it overwhelm my mind. I controlled my pride; my pride didn’t control me.
Let’s dance.
I started the fight with a kick to her knee. She easily stepped aside and dodged it. I didn’t falter and followed with a punch to the side of her head.
She easily guarded against it, and her fist drilled into my stomach at the same time.
I wheezed and dropped to my knees. I felt as if all the strength had left my body.
My body protested, but I stood up, my legs shaking.
I again formed the stance and punched her.
She easily caught my fist in her palm. Then she clutched it and twisted my hand.
I grunted, but she didn’t give me a chance to breathe, and a palm struck squarely in my chest.
I coughed loudly as I dropped to my knees. My hand hurt too much.
I looked up to her and, with steel in my resolve, I stood up again.
I aimed the round house kick at her head, but as I caught Becca’s foot, she grabbed my foot effortlessly. I felt pain as she squeezed it. I tried to pull it back, but it was useless.
She hurled me across the mat. The force was so strong that I rolled for a few meters before coming to a stop.
My whole body was in pain, but I got up again.
I punched again. Colleen tilted her head, and the fist passed by. She clamped my neck and yanked me down—a knee strike on my solar plexus, and I couldn’t breathe again.
“Victory to–”
“Shut up,” I screamed while collecting my breath. “I can still fight.”
Mary froze, looking to Colleen. Colleen gave a single nod.
I got up and ran to her and punched again.
Again, she downed me effortlessly.
I charged again. She dropped me.
I rose. She dropped me again.
Again.
Again.
Again.
My body was slick with my blood and sweat. My fists split open, my ribs ached with every ragged breath. I stopped counting after thirty falls.
“Again!” I roared, dragging myself up on shaking arms. My body refused, arms buckling.
“Why don’t you admit defeat?” Colleen’s calm voice cut through the ringing in my ears.
“Woman, you dare question my resolve?” I barked with fire spitting from my eyes.
For a moment, she flinched back.
Then, unexpectedly, she bowed. “I am sorry, it wasn’t my intention to insult your resolve.”
For the first time, she took a stance.
I laughed weakly, staggering upright. Blood dripped from my mouth. My next punch was pitiful, drained of power.
Colleen caught it. With no hesitation, her fist hammered my stomach, folding me in half.
She didn’t go easy on me because of our earlier exchange. No, instead, she used more strength, not out of cruelty but out of acknowledgement of my resolve.
I could no longer get up. But I didn’t want to give up. I tried pulling my body up, but it refused to listen to me.
“I can still… fight.” A whisper was forced out of my lips.
I tried again and finally got up, my legs trembling. I punched again. This punch was even more pathetic than before.
But suddenly, I felt darkness before my eyes. My feet wobbled as I moved towards her. Finally, all strength left my body, and everything became dark.
…
I woke to the smell of antiseptic. Bandages wrapped half my body. My shirt was folded neatly on the table.
“Don’t move too much.”
The calm voice belonged to Colleen. She was no longer in her gi, just a tank top and workout pants, hair loose around her shoulders.
“How long?” I rasped.
“An hour and a half,” she replied. “You’re weak, but your recovery is impressive.”
“So I lost,” I sighed.
She didn’t use even one percent of her full strength. Not to mention, amplifying her strength with chi.
“Yes, you did,” she agreed. There was no gloating, she calmly stated the fact.
“I am joining your dojo,” I announced suddenly.
“What?” She looked stunned, then she said with a slightly angry expression, “Didn’t you say it was a dump and my students are trash?”
“Both are still true,” I said arrogantly.
Before she could say anything, I interrupted.
“But that doesn’t change the fact that you are strong,” I said. “And that’s more than enough.”
She looked at me as if unsure whether to be angry or amused, so instead she asked, “Why do you want to join the dojo?”
“Why? Of course it is to defeat you,” I declared proudly.
Now, she looked even more stunned.
She blinked. “…So you want me to train you… So you can one day beat me?”
“Exactly.”
Her frown deepened. “Why?”
I slid into my shirt, ignoring the pain as I stood. “Because I need strong subordinates. And you qualify. I’ll defeat you, then make you mine.”
Colleen laughed, “So, is this some kind of proposal. First time in my life I have heard one like that.”
I looked her dead in the eyes. “Don’t misunderstand, woman. It is not a proposal. I want you, not as a lover but as a subordinate. And as my subordinate, you will be mine. There is a big difference.”
I didn’t wait for her answer. I stepped out of the room.
“Don’t forget to bring the fees tomorrow with you. My dojo is not a charity, and I charge a premium for special cases.” Colleen’s shout came from inside the room.

Art of Persuasion (62/100) (+1)

I smirked and left the dojo.
I wasn’t in the mood for taking any fares and had wasted too much time, so I decided to go back home and study programming, both for my mid-terms and for my criminal career.
However, before that, I still had the maths problems that Gwen had given me.
I sighed. Too much work. Too little time.
On the way home, I saw someone swinging around the buildings. At first, I dismissed that person as Spider-Man, but I noticed that person was wearing a hoodie, pants, gloves, and shoes, and had a mask and black goggles covering the eyes. Not a single piece of skin was visible. Only through the noticeable bulge on her chest did I conclude that that person was a woman.
Not Spider-Man. Spider-Woman?
I thought of something and smiled.
I tailed her as best I could, stuck in traffic while she soared above. Still, the streets were light tonight, and I managed to keep her in sight.
She finally landed on a rooftop in one of the city’s seedier districts. She stood there for a few moments, then dropped down into the alley.
I reached the building and parked my car outside the alley. Then on foot, I continued inside.
There she was fighting some junky with a knife, if it could even be called that. A guy was on the ground, too shaken up, likely previously held at knifepoint by the junkie for his valuables.
Though by the time I reached her, the fight was already over, and the junkie ran away in fright.
The guy on the ground also ran away in the opposite direction from the junkie. He passed by me as I walked to her.
She looked at me and jerked her head back slightly as if she couldn’t believe I was here.
I smiled inwardly as I saw her reaction. Then I changed my expression in a heartbeat, showing surprise.
“GWEN?!”

*********************

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Chapter 28: A Taste of Freedom

Chapter 28: A Taste of Freedom

— Gwen Stacy —
I tossed my bag onto the chair and sat down at my desk, pulling my notes closer.
When I looked at the notes, I felt a bit embarrassed and guilty. The notes were from the third-semester courses, not the second one, as I told Kevin. It was already too embarrassing just to say that I was studying the following semester's books; I didn’t know how he would react if he knew it was for the third semester instead.
I smiled lightly and shook my head to clear my mind of distracting thoughts, and then started studying seriously. I began by revising the chemistry equations I had learned the previous day.
But I hadn’t even studied for an hour, and the discussion I had with Kevin kept playing in my mind on loop. I tried to concentrate on studying, but the more I pushed such thoughts out of my mind, the more they occupied it.
The words on the notebook blurred, not because I couldn’t understand them but because my mind kept circling back to him.
Kevin’s voice still lingered like an echo: “What’s wrong with using powers for yourself? Having fun with them? Helping others is a choice, not an obligation.”
I clenched my jaw, forcing my eyes back to the page. “That’s reckless,” I whispered under my breath.
“Power is responsibility. If you don’t treat it that way, people get hurt.” That’s what Dad said.
That was what I believed. Wasn’t it?
But another part of me, the part I usually ignored, whispered back: ‘Is it really reckless? Or is that just fear talking? What if responsibility isn’t a rule but an excuse, a leash you’re putting around your own neck?’
I dropped the pen and leaned back in my chair. I could no longer concentrate on studying, so I decided to take a break as I stared at the ceiling.
“Without rules, powers corrupt. That’s why we need restraint,” I said, maybe to prove to myself that I was right.
‘But restraint isn’t the same as denial. You didn’t get these powers just to play nursemaid to the city. Don’t you want to feel it, the rush of swinging among the buildings? The freedom? Are you sure you won’t like it?’
I shut my eyes—and saw it.
Saw myself leaping from the roof, the wind roaring past me, the city sprawling beneath. My stomach dropped, but not with fear. With exhilaration. Swing, release, swing again, the rhythm pulsed in my blood like a song I already knew by heart. My body ached to feel it for real.
My lips almost curved into a smile. Almost. But just as the smile appeared, I smothered it immediately.
Gosh, what was wrong with me? Even imagining it felt like betrayal. I could almost hear Dad’s voice: “They think they’re above the law. That kind of power always corrupts.”
I pressed my palms into my eyes. “Liking it doesn’t make it right.”
‘Doesn’t it? Since when did joy become a crime? Who decided that selflessness is holy and self-interest is sin? Your father? The badge? His morals? Are you living your life, or his?’
That one cut deep. I had no answer.
The image wouldn’t leave me. The speed. The freedom. My heart raced as though I were already in the air, and for a fleeting, terrifying moment, I enjoyed it.
Dad had drilled into me that right and wrong were simple: protect and serve. Anything else was selfish. And selfishness led to ruin. I wanted to believe him. I needed to believe him. But Kevin’s words made the ground under those beliefs feel like sand, slipping the more I tried to stand firm.
Dad disliked vigilantes—even the ones who saved lives. To him, they were still criminals—reckless lawbreakers swinging above the law, doing as they pleased. He’d spent his whole life building his authority on order, on rules. And yet here I was, having rebellious thoughts that could break every one of his rules at once.
“Power is responsibility,” I whispered, like a mantra, like something I could tattoo on my brain to drown Kevin out.
But that voice whispered back: ‘Or maybe responsibility is just another word for fear. Fear of what happens if you let yourself be free.’
I buried my face in my hands. I felt terrified.
What terrified me wasn’t Kevin’s argument or my own rebellious thoughts; no, it was that I agreed with them.
Deep down, when I stripped away Dad’s badge and my own drilled-in morals, I wanted to use my powers. Not to save the city. Not to be anyone’s hero. Just for me. To feel alive. To taste the air above the skyline.
The guilt came again, sharp and heavy. Was I betraying Dad and his ideals for even thinking that? Would he look at me the same way he looked at Spider-Man—like a criminal waiting to be caged?
‘Will you let his ideals chain your life?’
“Shut up.”
My voice cracked. But in the back of my mind, the phantom swing continued, taunting me, daring me.
“No, this is wrong. Kevin is wrong. You are wrong.”
I rubbed my temple and turned back to my notes on the desk. I forced myself to study to drown out these thoughts.
I tried to solve a problem, but no matter how hard I tried to recall, I couldn’t remember the formula.
Whenever I tried to remember it, it would blur until I couldn’t recognise it. I scribbled aimlessly.
The only images sharp in my mind were the ones I didn’t want—me leaping, soaring, untouchable.
“Stop,” I hissed. But the thought slipped back, softer this time. Seductive.
‘What’s the harm in doing it once?’
My stomach knotted. Once. Just once. To see what it feels like. It was not for fun. Yes, it was only to clear my mind so that I could refocus on my studies.
I gripped the edge of the desk until my knuckles turned white. “If I do it,” I whispered, “it doesn’t mean I’ll keep doing it.”
‘Exactly,’ the whisper in me answered. ‘It doesn’t have to mean anything. One taste doesn’t make you an addict. You’ll still be in control. You’ll still be his daughter.’
His daughter. Dad’s face flickered in my mind—stern, certain, unbending. For a second, the guilt nearly drowned me again. But then Kevin’s words returned, smooth as poison: “Helping others is a choice, not an obligation.”
Choice. Wasn’t that the point? Didn’t I deserve to choose for myself—just once?
The thought curled in my chest like smoke. Dangerous, intoxicating. I told myself it would be a secret. I told myself no one would know. And if no one knew, then what crime was there? What betrayal?
‘It’s only illegal if you get caught.’
I once again leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling, heart pounding.
“Maybe Kevin is wrong. Maybe Dad is right. But shouldn’t I try once, just once, to know for myself?”
‘That’s right. Don’t listen to anyone, just yourself. Only you are right.’
I couldn’t sit anymore. My body moved before my brain caught up.
I got up from my chair and walked to the cupboard. I took out a box from inside that I had tucked in a back corner below the clothes.
I opened it. It contained the two web shooters I had made after watching Spider-Man for the first time on the news.
When I saw him, I suspected he was also someone who had been bitten by the spider at Oscorp, but there was no evidence to prove it. Not that it mattered.
What mattered was that I was immediately captivated by looking at him freely swinging in the skyline. I wondered if I could do the same.
I didn’t know how Spider-Man created his webs; did they emerge naturally from his wrists, or did he use some kind of device?
No matter what, the only option for me was to make a similar device, as spider webs didn’t come out of my wrists as part of my spider powers.
It wasn’t hard to make my own web shooters. But just as I made them, I immediately locked them up inside a box and hid it in my cupboard.
In the excitement of creating a new device, I had forgotten my father’s words. But after I made them, the thought of using them immediately made me remember his words, so I locked them away from my eyes.
I wore the devices on my wrists. After a few small tests to see they were working correctly, I walked back to the cupboard to select the clothes to wear.
I dug through my closet, layering myself head to toe—hoodie, mask, gloves, black goggles. Not a scrap of skin showing. No one could know.
I stood by the window, chest rising and falling, adrenaline spiking so hard my fingers shook.
“Am I really doing this?” I whispered.
‘Yes. You are.’
And I smiled—the way you do when jumping into the unknown headfirst—before I leapt into the night.

—
The city felt quieter. There was a distant low hum of traffic and sirens.
I stood on the rooftop of my apartment building, hands shoved deep into the pockets of my hoodie, heart hammering so loud I swore the whole block could hear it.
This was insane. Stupid. If Dad knew…
But he didn’t. And if I were careful, he never would.
I glanced down at the street below. Streetlamps cast long pools of light, with occasional cars sliding past.
My palms were slick. For the tenth time, I thought about backing away, going inside, pretending this whole thing never crossed my mind. Pretending it was just a stupid fantasy.
Just once.
I reminded myself, swallowing hard.
No one will know. No harm. No crime.
My fingers twitched. I aimed my wrist clumsily at the ledge across the alley and fired. The web shot out, sticking with a sharp sound. My breath was caught in my throat.
This was it. No turning back.
My legs felt weak, but I ran anyway. I let my instincts guide me and took a leap of faith. For a fraction of a second, terror seized my stomach as the ground neared, then the line became taut, pulled, swung me wide. The wind hit my face through the mask.
I laughed loudly, wildly. It startled me. I never even knew I could laugh like that.
I swung across the alley, body arcing through the night, momentum carrying me farther than I thought possible. My heart soared as my body leapt before firing another line—this time, smoother, more confident. I was already getting familiar with the rhythm.
Swing. Release. Catch. Swing again.
It was wild. Reckless. Beautiful. The city blurred past like background noise.
For the first time, I wasn’t Gwen Stacy, the dutiful daughter. I wasn’t Gwen Stacy, the quiet genius.
I was something else. Someone else.
Was swinging freely in the skyline so exhilarating?
I swung from one building to another. The freedom felt intoxicating.
Those who saw me looked confused as I didn’t wear the familiar red and blue.
After swinging for half an hour, I stopped at a building.
The adrenaline stopped, and the guilt hit like a train. I felt that for a momentary pleasure, I betrayed my Dad, his ideals, his morals.
But before I could wallow in guilt, I noticed a thug pointing a knife at some guy in an alley.
Should I help him?
‘You can ignore him, if you don’t want to,’ the voice whispered again.
But what would Dad think?
‘What does it matter if he will never know?’
Just as I was about to ignore him, I suddenly shook my head harshly.
No. No. No. It is wrong not to help someone in need. If I have the powers, it is my responsibility to help those in need.
I jumped down to help him. But, truthfully, I wasn’t even sure whether I wanted to help him out of a sense of responsibility or just to lessen my guilt. To prove that I didn’t use my powers just for fun, but to help someone.
I slowed my descent by firing the weblines a few times.
They looked surprised as I landed in front of them.
“Shit, it's Spider-Man,” the thug slurred, who, now I looked at, was just a junkie high on whatever he snorted.
The other guy looked relieved seeing me, but even he was confused.
“Did you have a wardrobe change, Spidey?” the junkie asked.
I didn’t bother responding and just punched him in the guts. I had already learned to control my strength; otherwise, living an everyday life would be a nightmare.
Even then, the punch was strong enough to crack his ribs. The junkie screamed in pain.
The man I “saved” flinched. “You didn’t have to hit him that hard!”
I froze. What?
‘And you wanted to save him.’ The voice mocked in my head.
The man’s glare sharpened. “Are you even Spider-Man? He doesn’t do that.”
He was right. Spider-Man controlled his strength, and he mostly webbed them to walls or poles.
But I didn’t care. I was not Spider-Man. I was different.
I slammed my fist into the wall beside me, and a few centimeters of the wall's surface depressed, with cracks forming outward.
“Get lost,” I growled in a low pitch, to make it sound different from my voice.
Both of them looked shocked, and their faces paled. Then they bolted in separate directions.
I casually looked in the direction the guy had run, and, unexpectedly, Kevin was standing there.
My stomach dropped.
What do I do? Run? Climb?
Before I could decide, he was already in front of me.
“GWEN?!”
Oh, shit!

— Kevin —
I looked at Gwen. She froze, stiff as a statue. Even through the hoodie and mask, she looked like she’d just seen a ghost.
“I-I’m not this Gwen person. You must’ve mistaken me,” she said in a heavy voice.
Seriously?
“Really?” I asked in a teasing voice. “At least use a voice modulator before making such claims. Or do you think just speaking in a low pitch is enough to mask your real voice?”
Once again, I couldn’t see her face, but she looked like she was embarrassed.
A beat passed. Then she sighed, tugged off the goggles, and lowered the mask.
“I knew it, it was you,” I said with an excited expression. I continued with stars in my eyes, “Awesome, my friend has superpowers.”
Her blush deepened. “It’s… not that awesome,” she mumbled.
“Not that awesome?” I barked a laugh. “You casually dented a wall with your fist. That’s ‘not awesome’?”
That last line was actually from my heart. Even if I acted in our conversation, I was genuinely shocked by Gwen’s punch, despite it being a minuscule part of her power, as with her strength, destroying the entire wall with a single punch was no big deal for her.
That was a strength that was miles away from me. So, that was a D2 rank for you.
She fidgeted. “I—I just lost my temper. I’m sorry you saw that.”
“Oh, come on,” I said, waving my hand dismissively. “That was not losing your temper. I am sure it must be their fault. Maybe one or both of them must have said or done something idiotic.”
I paused, and from her reaction I judged that I was right.
I continued, “Instead, you controlled your strength very well. You could’ve broken their bones, but instead let them go with a warning. That’s peak control for me.”
Gwen looked unsure whether to feel happy about being praised or offended that I had even suggested hitting them for their actions.
“So,” I said casually, “did you have fun?”
Her head snapped up. “Huh?”
“Our little debate from last time,” I smirked. “So… did you have fun?”
Color rose in her cheeks. “N-No, I didn’t do it for fun. I was—yes, I was patrolling.”
“Patrolling,” I repeated, dragging the word out.
“Yes.” Her eyes darted away, betraying her.
“So…” I leaned in just enough, “did you have fun patrolling?”
Gwen's eyes darted right and left. She wanted to say something, but her morals were prohibiting her from accepting it.
“Hey, Gwen,” I said, getting her attention. I continued in a soothing voice, “No need to think so much. There are just you and me in this alley, and no one else. You can be truthful to yourself here. No one will judge you for your personal opinions. Whatever you will say, I promise it will be our secret.”
Gwen hesitated. Her hands fidgeted. Guilt and shame warred across her face.
I didn’t disturb her and let her take her time. Being forceful at this time would only backfire and flush all my hard work till now down the drain.
Finally, after a minute, she looked like she was ready to say what was in her heart.
Finally, her shoulders slumped. Her voice came out low. “Yes. I… I had fun. More fun than I’ve ever had before.”
I grinned widely. “Good for you.”
A flicker of a smile tugged at her lips, but it faltered as quickly as it came. “You must think I’m a hypocrite, after what I said last time.”
“How can you be a hypocrite?” I asked. “Tell me, is this your first time using your powers outside?”
She nodded slowly.
“Then, how can you be a hypocrite?” I asked incredulously. “Your previous opinion was based on your inherent thought processes, ideals, and morals. They were not wrong. Your current opinion is based on the practical use of your powers. Both are different circumstances. So, it is obvious you will have differing opinions based on them.”
Gwen’s face looked a bit better hearing that.
“It would be hypocrisy if you had fun but still vehemently denied it. But you didn’t. That’s not hypocrisy, that’s learning,” I said.
“Thanks, Kevin,” Gwen said with a grateful smile.
“That's what friends are for,” I said with a wide smile.
“Yes,” Gwen also smiled.

Art of Persuasion (63/100) (+1)

“Do you want me to drop you off at your home?” I asked.
“Thanks, but it's alright. I can go by myself,” Gwen said with a smile.
“Oh,” I said and then looked at her with a knowing smile.
She blushed because I understood she wanted to swing her way back to her house.
She hurriedly covered her face back, fired her web up to the roof. “Bye, Kevin. See you tomorrow!” She called before vanishing into the night, swinging free.
I turned around to leave the alley.
An initial success. Now I just had to build on it.
At first, I wanted Gwen for her brains. After all, beauty and brains were a lethal pair.
However, I then found a third reason for having her. The reason was the playful punch she hit me with on my chest while we were talking in front of the lockers.
That ‘playful’ punch had enough strength to leave a bruise on a normal student. It was only because of my martial arts training that I sensed the punch looked strange, and braced myself for impact. Even then, it still felt painful.
I hadn’t used my [Observe] skill on her before. Since I had already checked that it was Peter Parker who was Spider-Man, I thought that meant Gwen didn’t have spider powers.
But I was wrong. In fact, both of them had these powers.

Name: Gwen Stacy
Tier: D2

Power:
Superhuman Strength
Superhuman Durability
Superhuman Speed
Superhuman Stamina
Superhuman Reflexes
Spider Sense

That was Gwen’s status that I saw after she punched me. And my interest in her increased again.
If the combination of beauty and brain was lethal, then the combination of beauty, brain, and brawn was irresistible.
That changed my plans, and I decided to try to persuade her to the dark side more actively.
As I sat in my taxi, my phone started ringing.
I pulled it out. My face curled into a smirk as I looked at the caller's name, which showed the face of a black cat. I picked up the call.
“Hey, kitty. Finally remembered your partner in crime?” I teased.
She didn’t say anything for a moment. The more she stayed quiet, the more amusing it felt.
“I was busy,” Black Cat finally answered in a flat voice.
“Oh, come on,” I chuckled. “Be honest. Still mad I left you hanging when we were having fun?”
There was again a long pause. I was having too much fun with her.
“I need you for a heist. Now. I’ll send the coordinates,” Black Cat said in a tone that bordered on an order, while completely ignoring my previous question.
Look at her.
Does she think that since I was ignoring Felicia, she can satisfy her vanity by ordering me like a servant, as Black Cat?
Expecting me to answer her summons and go to her on such short notice, with my tail swinging in delight?
“Today?” I let a note of reluctance slip in. Then: “My bad, kitty. I’ve got plans.”
I cut the call before she could reply.

Elsewhere:
Felicia stared at her phone in shock. Kevin refused Black Cat?
How could he?
HOW COULD HE?!
Her jaw tightened, disbelief boiling into rage. She hurled the phone against the wall. The phone was shattered upon impact, with its pieces flying everywhere.
No one refused Black Cat.
NO ONE.

Chapter 29: Less Shitty Aim

Chapter 29: Less Shitty Aim

“Ninety-eight.”
“Ninety-nine.”
“Hundred.”
I collapsed onto the mat, panting like a dog. My arms trembled, sweat dripping onto the floor.

Your Constitution has improved through continuous efforts.
Constitution Level Up (F1->F2)

Fucking finally.
I felt as if my muscles were contracting and expanding. It continued for a few seconds, and then everything went back to normal. It might be a placebo effect, but I felt as if my muscles were less sore than before.
I checked my new updated status.

Name: Kevin Kolt
Rank: F2

Attributes:
Strength: F1
Agility: F1
Constitution: F2
Endurance: F3
Vitality: F3
Intelligence: F2
Wisdom: F2
Perception: F2
Willpower: F3
Charisma: F3

Skills:
Gamer’s Mind
Gamer’s Body
Observe
Driving (Expert)
Martial Arts (Novice)
First Aid (Apprentice)
Stealth (Novice)
Acting (Novice)

Missions:
Taxi Driver (100/100) (Complete)
Vigilante (19/100)
Paramedic (56/100)
Delivery (22/100)
Burglary (19/100)
Art of Persuasion (63/100)

Party Members:
Frances Barrison

With the increase in the Constitution stat, my rank finally increased to F2. It was a slight increase, but it showed that I was slowly but steadily climbing in the right direction.
Nothing much changed other than that. My skills remained the same. There were small progresses in the various missions.
The only thing new was the Party Members section. I wasn't even aware I could create a party. But one day, it suddenly occurred to me that since it was a Gamer System, it might have a party function. And I was right.
The number of party members was dependent on my rank. At F1, I had only one slot; now that I had reached F2, another opened.
Though its function was somewhat different, as long as I put anyone in my party, that person could use a limited version of my system. That included being able to view their full status, just like me, and to improve various skills and stats by grinding; however, the effect was less pronounced than mine.
Speaking of improving skills.
“Frances, how is your training for Rokushiki going on?” I asked the woman sitting beside me, who was also drenched in sweat.
She wore a blue sports bra and black sports shorts. Her taut stomach had visible abs lines. Her legs looked built for motion; they had a dancer’s grace and an athlete’s power.
Her face no longer looked pale, as it had before, with heavy dark circles; instead, it had a rosy glow. Her long black hair also had a healthy sheen.
She no longer looked like a strung-out addict but someone burning with power.
“It’s going great, boss. Tekkei has finally reached the Novice level, so I have started Kami-e,” Frances replied with enthusiasm.
Then she looked at me with an expectant gaze.
I chuckled mentally, seeing that. “Good job, Frances,” I praised her with a smile.
“Thanks, boss,” Frances said excitedly.
I looked at her status.

Name: Frances Barrison
Rank: E2

Attributes:
Strength: F2
Agility: F2
Constitution: F3
Endurance: F3
Vitality: F3
Intelligence: F2
Wisdom: F2
Perception: F3
Willpower: F2
Charisma: F2

Powers:
Sonic Scream (Novice)

Skills:
Sound Manipulation (Novice)
Martial Arts (Novice)
Rokushiki: Tekkei (Novice)

Relationship:
Affection: 100 (Locked)
Loyalty: 100 (Locked)

If my status increased slowly and steadily, hers shot up like a rocket.
Her attributes were all at F1 earlier. But they increased massively to their current level after her first dungeon dive.
Through her, I had found out a new system achievement.

Feat Achieved!
Dungeon Survivor (F)
Survived 24 hours solo in a dungeon (F).
Either kill 100 Normal (F) enemies or one Elite (F) enemy.
Rank doesn’t exceed F3.
Reward: All stats increased by one minor grade. Limit F3.

This achievement can be attained by anyone who meets the requirements.
However, it was limited to once at an F-rank dungeon. If achieved once, even if the requirements were satisfied in another F-rank dungeon, it couldn’t be achieved again.
There were similar achievements for higher-ranked dungeons, but I was not clear about their specific requirements.
I had also tried the dungeon a few times in hopes of getting the achievement, but I was unsuccessful every time.
Killing 100 enemies was still too hard for me. Not to mention an elite enemy.
I still shudder to this day at how that lizard effortlessly swallowed me.
Of course, I didn’t start using the dungeon immediately after Frances’ first run. The main objective of sending her inside was to verify that death in the dungeon had no consequences. Since she didn’t die, it was a failed experiment.
What? I am not taking chances with my life.
If a willing guinea pig is available, I will, of course, use it to scout the way ahead.
Only in the third run, she died because she was overrun by a swarm, but appeared back unharmed, other than being somewhat shaken for literally dying. But after finding out she couldn’t die inside, she calmed down.
It was only after that that I decided to try to earn that achievement. Of course, I failed.
Frances had achieved it only because she used her powers to kill the tree monster.
It could even be considered a close call for her, because if she hadn’t, she would have forever missed the chance to gain that achievement again in an F-rank dungeon. The next time she entered it, she would be considered an E-rank due to her powers.
Since she had awakened her powers inside the dungeon, she was still eligible for the achievement in the first run.
With this achievement, all her stats reached F2. But that was not all. The tree heart she obtained from defeating the tree monster provided her with another stat upgrade, increasing Constitution, Endurance, Vitality, and Perception to F3.
The stat upgrades gave her a complete makeover and not only repaired whatever damage she had done to her body with her drug addiction, but also improved it.
She still took drugs sometimes. But she was learning restraint. And her higher Willpower stat made the cravings less of a chain around her neck.
Her power was similar to her canon counterpart. It was gained after she activated her X-gene under extreme stress. There was still the Emotion Inducement power that she hadn’t awakened; it might take some more time.
But the Sound Manipulation skill was new. Here, the party system came into play.
To improve her power and use it properly, she continuously trained. That grinding awarded her the Sound Manipulation skill—something the original never had.
This skill was currently at an extremely low level, but at higher levels, it could elevate her sound control to the pinnacle. She might even reach Black Bolt’s level with enough training, but that’s something for the future.
The other skill was Rokushiki.
That was a reward for another achievement.

Feat Achieved!
Gain 100% loyalty of a Superhuman.
Reward: Rokushiki Training Manual (One Piece)

I had achieved this a few hours after sending her to the dungeon. I still wonder what led me to earn this achievement.
My inner fanboy practically screamed at the thought of using Geppo. Walking on air, yes please.
But the reality was cruel. There were strict requirements even to start training each technique. For example, Tekkei needed at least F3 Constitution, whereas Kami-e needed F3 Perception and F2 Constitution.
It wasn’t as if I couldn’t practice without satisfying those. However, without meeting those minimum requirements, the body was simply not strong enough to withstand the training. Forceful training would only result in injury.
Moreover, it was not as if reaching the Novice level for a technique would automatically grant the user the corresponding superhuman abilities. The Novice level was merely starting.
Tekkei just meant “tougher punching bag.” Kami-e? Better dodge instincts. Moonwalking in the sky was still miles away.
Even with these limitations, I was still very excited to start training these techniques once I reached the minimum requirement.
But there was another important reason for training them. These techniques doubled as body training exercises. The six techniques, when combined, worked on the entire body, with each targeting distinct aspects.
As long as I continued training them, I could effectively use them to train my body to E rank peak, and might even do so in D rank.
I also earned another achievement due to Frances, this time after she had completed the first dungeon dive. It was when she checked the changes to her body after the stats increased.
At that time, I felt as if she looked at me with obsession bordering on fanaticism. Nah, must be my imagination.

Feat Achieved!
Gain 100% affection of a Superhuman.
Reward: Relationship Module Unlocked

That was a system upgrade. It was not a full-on dating sim module. It just showed the affection and loyalty someone had for me.
The numbers were from 0 to 100. And as expected, the closer it was to 100, the harder it was to increase. However, once it reached 100, it would be locked in place forever.
Frances was maxed. That’s why she held the only party slot; for now, I only trusted her with this knowledge. A second slot sat empty, and it would stay that way for a long time.
Because affection was leverage, loyalty was a leash.
And no one else was trustworthy enough to wear that leash yet.
With Frances, I had my first loyal enforcer.
In canon, she gave herself to Carnage, but he never appreciated her. It was similar to the relation between Joker and Harley Quinn. Both idiots only knew how to treat their women like tools, but forgot that even tools needed maintenance from time to time. That led to those women betraying or abandoning those fools.
However, I am aware of the basic principle of occasionally offering a carrot to maintain subordinates' loyalty.
It’s true that with her current relationship with me, I never had to worry about her betrayal. However, there was something called morale. To maintain it, an occasional carrot was still necessary.
That’s why I gave her the Rokushiki training manual once she learned the Sound Manipulation skill.
As a leader, both rewards and punishments are necessary.
I had given her an order to stay and train in the dungeon whenever she could.
I also ordered her to defeat that tree monster again and give its heart to me, which she happily complied with.
Unfortunately, that was impossible. Although it was called a dungeon, it wasn't.
What the system had done was turn one of the infinite hell dimensions in the multiverse into a pseudo-dungeon. Using the system, I or anyone I wanted could go there anytime, and even in death, I would return without any injuries. The only penalty was that I couldn’t use the dungeon again for 24 hours.
But the monsters in it were not dungeon monsters; instead, they were the inhabitants of that hell dimension. So, there was no monster respawn.
The tree monster that Frances killed couldn’t respawn. The only option was to search for another similar monster. And the search had been fruitless so far.
“Be ready, we will be leaving in 15 minutes,” I said.
“No problem, boss,” she answered, quick and eager.
Today I didn’t have any classes in the morning, so I decided to go to the dungeon to practice shooting.
I was only going to use guns on the monsters, so I had called Frances to protect me in case another monster attacked me.
I had called her earlier, so she was following the Old Man Kobayashi’s exercise regimen with me.
After a quick shower, I changed my clothes. I took out the pistol from the drawer. I had already prepared many spare magazines and bullets.
Finally, I willed it. Space twisted, and the stench of brimstone filled my lungs.
We were back in hell.
We landed in the wasteland, grit crunching under my boots. I pulled the pistol, checked the safety, chamber, and magazine. All good.
“Pick a direction,” I muttered. Frances fell in step beside me, alert but silent.
It didn’t take long. Two buzzflies buzzed into view, wings whining like saws.
Perfect. Targets.
I aimed, squeezed—
BANG. BANG. BANG.
Nothing. The bullets whizzed past like I was firing blindfolded. My jaw tightened.
“Fuck.”
The damn things dipped and swerved midair, mockery with wings. I kept firing, chasing their movement, each miss gnawing at me. Magazine clicked empty. One. Just one bullet connected, tearing through the abdomen. It shrieked and dropped.
My accuracy is shit. My magazine emptied faster than my patience. At least the fucker screamed before it died.
I quickly replaced another magazine. This time, I didn't even hit once. Before I could replace the magazine, I saw the remaining one fire its stinger. I hurriedly dodged to the side, cursing it.
I quickly changed the magazine and started shooting madly again. Once again, empty magazine. But this time, I hit it again, and the critter was down.
My chest heaved. My aim was trash, but at least the increase in Constitution dulled the recoil ache. Without it, I’d be nursing bruises already.
“Great job, boss,” Frances said brightly, like I’d just put down a kaiju instead of wasting three magazines on two bugs.
We pressed on. A lone shellcrawler crawled from a dune, carapace glinting. It charged upon seeing us.
Bigger target. Better odds.
I steadied and fired. Out of five, one bullet hit its carapace and punctured it. The monster writhed for a few moments before becoming motionless.
It was fortunate that the bullet was able to puncture the carapace, as I didn’t have the skill to aim and shoot at its joints. Guess, the carapace was strong, but not strong enough to withstand bullets.
The journey continued as we came across many of those monsters. Luckily, there were only one or two of them every time.
But it seemed luck was no longer on our side as we came across four buzzflies at the same time.
Frances screamed at them. Two of them were directly in front of the sound wave and died directly. The other two wobbled in the air.
I took that opportunity to shoot at them. This time, I shot them both down using just one magazine.
Seeing that there were no more enemies nearby, we sat down against a rock. I took that opportunity to reflect on our earlier fights.
After that, I refilled the magazines with bullets. Through live practice, I observed a noticeable improvement in my skills. Previously, I used one magazine to shoot down a buzzfly; now I could do it with two bullets less.
Sigh. My aim was shitty before, it was just less shitty now.
More than two hours passed as we continued our journey. Then, suddenly, we heard strange, laughing noises.
We looked at each other, and our expressions became serious.
The source of the laughter was finally visible. There were five canine-like monsters—the Black-spotted Flesh Hyenas.
Their bodies looked flayed, raw muscle and veins exposed, black patches like rotting fungus. Their mouths split in four, packed with rows of serrated teeth. When their eyes locked onto us, they laughed again — a wet, guttural cackle that made the skin crawl.
I had only come across them once and had to face a group of four of them on my own. I barely killed one and injured two others, but I was barely standing by then. Skin shredded, limbs half-useless, one leg practically dangling. And that was with just four.
With no other choice, I had to quit in between as I was not a masochist.
Frances had also come across a few times, as she told me. Every time she met those hyena monsters, they were in a group. Other than the tree monster, she suffered the most injuries with them, but at least she managed to destroy the group each time.
Frances and I looked at each other and nodded. Then we turned to face our enemies again.
I waited for them to come within a suitable range. They ran and stopped a short distance away from us, then started growling at us. They were watching us, looking for the perfect opportunity to pounce on us.
Fortunately, they were within a suitable range for me to shoot.
I aimed and started shooting. They panicked, howling and laughing, but I didn’t stop until the magazine was empty.
Bingo. Headshot.
I emptied the clip, and one hyena monster was already down, hit by the lucky shot to its head, and two more got hit by stray bullets. Shooting them was much easier than shooting those buzzflies.
Frances used that opportunity to shout at them. But they were already on edge with the previous barrage, so they immediately leapt out of the way of the shockwave. Only one of them, who was hit in the leg with the bullet, was a beat late, and died with its brain turning into mush.
The rest growled threateningly as they divided into two groups of two and one as they circled on either side of us—two towards Frances and one towards me.
I quickly reloaded my pistol, but the hyena monster had already run towards me in the meantime and was already in front of me.
I quickly sidestepped at the last moment, its attack landing on empty air. It turned around quickly, but I had already aimed the gun nozzle at its head, the distance between them less than a foot.
I shot before it could move out or attack me.
“Smile for me.”
BANG.
Brain matter sprayed. It dropped.
My shitty aim didn’t screw me over, and the bullet accurately hit the hyena in the head.
On the other hand, Frances had already taken down one of the hyenas with another sonic scream. With her relentless practice and increased endurance, she could use her powers repeatedly.
The other hyena was out of the shout range and had already come up to her. Frances didn’t panic and pulled out two sticks, holding one in each arm.
She hit the stick at his head mid-pounce. It dropped in between whining. She didn’t let it stand and kicked its leg, and it fell again.
She stabbed her stick into its throat with such force that it punctured the throat. The monster gurgled and then went still.
Previously, I had to run away. Now, even if I took help, I was standing, and these hyenas were on the ground. Progress.
After the deathmatch against the hyenas, we didn’t come across any other group of them, which was very welcome to me.
No more eerie laughter.
With the two of us together, hunting these monsters wasn’t that hard.
We did come across a colony of those shellcrawlers. There were at least a hundred of those in it.
We noped the hell out of that place as soon as we saw them. None of us was strong enough to fight a swarm of those crawlers.
Finally, after three hours of hunting, I got what I came for.

Due to your actions, you acquired a new skill: Firearms (Novice).

Fucking finally. I officially have less shitty aim now.
It hit me like someone dumping a manual into my brain at high speed. How to grip properly, how to brace for recoil, how to breathe before squeezing the trigger. My stance shifted on its own, my posture locking into place as if it had always been that way.
I raised the pistol and aimed. Five bullets and the buzzfly was down.
Now that was progress.
I practiced with my upgraded skills for two more rounds. After that, I left the dungeon, and Frances continued her journey in hell.
It was time for classes.

Chapter 30: Life is a Game

Chapter 30: Life is a Game

Empire State University, Library, After Classes:
“Thanks, Gwen. I don’t know what I would have done without you,” I said to Gwen gratefully. “I am now sure to pass the Maths exam at least.”
“Oh, come on, Kevin, you would have done fine even without me,” Gwen reassured. “Your grip on the subject is already solid; you just need to continue practicing more problems like you did yesterday, and I am sure you will do much better than just passing the exam.”
We had our next study session after classes. Compared to yesterday, Gwen looked visibly more accustomed to being with me.
A welcome change.
“Whatever, you say, Gwen,” I looked directly in her eyes, “But I know that it is all because of your help. So, thanks, Gwen. You are a great friend.”
Gwen looked a little bashful as I praised her without shame.
“So have you thought about it?” I asked, changing the subject.
Gwen tilted her head in confusion. “Thought about what?”
“Of course,” I said with a smirk, “Your codename.”
“Codename?” Gwen looked even more confused. “For what?”
“Of course, if you want to start your career as a potential superhero or supervillain, you will need a codename,” I explained. “You know, like Spider-Man, or what did that old baldy call himself, yeah, Vulture.”
Gwen’s smile dropped.
“Kevin, that was a one-time thing. I have no interest in becoming a superhero,” Gwen said, shaking her head. Then she showed a slight look of anger and said, “And what do you mean by supervillain?”
I immediately raised my hands in front to try to placate her. “Relax. I wasn’t labeling you. Just… leaving the door open.”
Gwen sighed and said, “I have no interest in becoming a superhero, and especially not a supervillain.”
“Hmm, ok. I respect that. But why do you say that that was a one-time thing?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
Gwen heard the question and averted her gaze from me. Her face suddenly showed some guilt and shame. It looked conflicted.
“It was a one-time thing because it was. There is no other reason,” Gwen muttered, but she still didn’t look at me.
“That’s not an answer, that’s just repeating yourself,” I said sternly, leaning in. “You are not explaining, just deflecting.”
“What else do you want me to say, Kevin?” Gwen snapped. Her voice was much louder than before.
The nearby students all looked at her, some with annoyance, some with blame. Gwen quickly realized her mistake. Her face turned red in embarrassment, and she hurriedly apologized to the students and the librarian, who was also looking at her with a stern gaze.
The librarian gave Gwen a last warning stare and went back to reading her book.
“What else do you want me to say, Kevin?” Gwen repeated. Her voice was much subdued now.
“The truth,” I said softly, leaning in.
Gwen looked stunned, and then once again averted her eyes. Her face again showed conflicting emotions.
“You just said yesterday that you had fun,” I said, looking disappointed. “Then why are you lying again?”
I waited for a beat, then continued, “Why are you lying to yourself, Gwen?”
“Did you forget the freedom you felt yesterday?”
“Did you forget the rush of swinging among the skyscrapers?”
“Did you forget the first time in your life you felt truly alive?”
Each question increased the conflict on her face. Each question was an arrow piercing her heart.
“I am afraid, Kevin,” Gwen finally spoke. Her voice was lower than a murmur.
“Afraid of failing my dad’s expectations.”
“Afraid of becoming what he hates.”
“Afraid of losing myself if I start having too much fun with my powers.”
“Afraid that if I started, I won’t know where to stop.”
I took her hand gently between mine. Her cheeks flared red, but she didn’t pull away.
“Gwen,” I said, voice low and steady, “I’m glad you trust me enough to say that.”
Her eyes finally lifted to mine.
“Gwen, you feel afraid because you carry too many expectations on your shoulders,” I said in a low voice.
Gwen wanted to argue, but found no words to counter me.
“Not just that, you are afraid because you think you are alone,” I said, looking deeply in her eyes.
“You don’t have to go through this on your own, Gwen. I’m your friend, and if you ever feel torn, please don't hesitate to come to me. I’ll be there to help, no matter what,” I said sincerely.
“Will you?” Gwen asked, looking expectant, her voice slightly choking. Faint tears appeared in her eyes.
“Yes,” I nodded with a gentle smile.
A small smile appeared on her face. But it went as soon as it came.
“Why?” Gwen asked, suspicious. As expected from a police captain’s daughter.
“Why, of course, because I am your friend,” I answered easily. “As a friend, it is my duty to help my friend in need.”
“Really?” Gwen asked skeptically.
“Really.” I nodded with a smile.
“But, there is one more reason,” I said mysteriously and paused.
Gwen showed an expression as if to say, "As expected."
“What is it?”
I smiled. “Won’t it be fun to be a sidekick to a superpowered person? Even if I don’t have powers, won’t it be equally fun to help you from the shadows?”
Gwen looked stunned by my answer, then started laughing.
“Thanks, Kevin,” Gwen said sincerely.
I smiled, but then my face turned serious. Gwen stopped laughing and looked at me in confusion.
“Now, be honest with me, Gwen,” I asked seriously. “Do you still want it to be a one-time thing? If so, I promise to never bother you about it again. But whatever you answer, please be honest.”
Gwen didn’t answer. It seemed as though she was engaged in an internal battle between opposing ideologies.
After what felt like centuries, Gwen spoke.
“No,” Gwen said, looking hesitant. But soon the hesitation dissolved, giving rise to a resolve of steel. “No, I don’t want it to be a one-time thing.”
I grinned. “Cool.”
“But I don’t know what to do with my powers,” she admitted. “I’m not ready to be a superhero, but—”
“Or a supervillain,” I teased.
She shoved me with a laugh. “Absolutely not, you jerk.”
“So how about this?” I asked. Gwen looked at me with curiosity.
“You can use your powers for fun or whatever you want to do. And at the same time, you can also work as a masked vigilante if you want to help others,” I suggested. “Just like that new red-costumed guy who is sometimes mentioned in the news nowadays.”
Gwen didn’t refuse me outright this time and started thinking it over deeply.
I waited for her patiently.
Finally, she nodded with a smile. “I like that idea.”
Then a mischievous smile tugged at her lips. “And I don’t mind having a sidekick.”
We both laughed, but I was the only one who knew how much of a victory it really was.
We talked for a while, discussing potential names and suits. We didn’t conclude, as Gwen said she was unsure what to choose, since she had never given those things much thought.
In the end, we decided to let Gwen think about what she wanted first, and then we could discuss it again.
I left the library and headed to my first class at the Chikara Dojo.
On the way, I was bored, so I checked the radio for something interesting to listen to.
And unexpectedly landed on her, once again, as she read another news report in her characteristic deadpan voice.
“In today’s news that somehow qualifies as news, Johnny Storm—yes, that Johnny Storm, the one who can spontaneously combust without a criminal record—is back in the headlines. Not for saving lives. Not for stopping a crime. No, for doing what he does best: setting the gossip columns on fire.”
“The Human Torch was spotted last night leaving a rooftop party with a B-list actress, two A-list egos, and at least three restraining orders waiting to happen. Sources say this is his fourth ‘relationship’ this month. Fifth, if you count the one he allegedly had with a mirror.”
“Meanwhile, he’s reignited—pun absolutely intended—a feud with alt-rock frontman Zeke Venom after calling his latest single ‘music for people who think showering is a personality.’ Zeke responded by threatening to throw a flaming guitar off a balcony. Honestly, that sounds like foreplay in Johnny’s world.”
“PR reps for both sides have declined to comment, possibly because they’ve passed out from secondhand embarrassment.”
“As for Mr. Storm, no official statements yet—though he did post a shirtless selfie this morning with the caption: ‘Too hot to handle. Literally.’ And yes, he included a fire emoji. Twice.”
“This is Jenna Volt, Channel 7 and a Half—reminding you: being on fire doesn’t automatically make you interesting. But in Johnny’s case… somehow, it helps.”
I couldn’t help chuckling at the brutal roast.

Chikara Dojo:
I stood in front of the Chikara Dojo. I took a deep breath as I prepared myself for another act.
Lights. Camera. Action.
As I stepped into the dojo, everyone’s eyes were on me. The students viewed me with open hostility, especially those who were thrashed by me yesterday. Meanwhile, Colleen merely gave me an impassive glance.
I maintained an arrogant expression as I flipped Brian the middle finger. His jaw clenched, body tensing like he’d pounce, but a glance from Colleen stopped him. But the rage and humiliation still burned in his eyes.
I gave him a mocking smile and walked toward Colleen as if I owned the place.
“Sensei, what’s he doing here?” Brian asked.
“Yes, Sensei. Didn’t you kick his ass yesterday? Why is he back?” Another student asked, confused.
Darryl smirked. “Maybe he’s a masochist. Got beat so hard he unlocked a new fetish.”
Listening to him, all the students started laughing.
I turned to him and smirked. “It seems you are in a good mood today. Wanna have a rematch? Maybe you can last longer than two seconds this time.”
That shut him up.
“Quiet,” Colleen said, soft but sharp. The students obeyed instantly.
“He is a new student of the dojo, starting today,” Colleen announced.
I raised a hand in mock greeting. “Howdy, y’all. Name’s Kevin Kolt. Looking forward to learning with all of you.”
The students looked visibly tense as they heard it.
“But why, Sensei? He was so disrespectful yesterday,” Brian objected. Of course, it was Brian.
“He showed the will to learn,” Colleen replied.
Before Brian could argue, Colleen interjected, “No more arguments. Everyone, get back to practice.”
I wondered what Colleen would teach me on the first day. But after warming up, she just told me to assume the horse stance.
I didn’t know when she got a wooden stick and came near me as I stood in the horse stance.
She hit the stick on my thigh and ordered me to lower my thighs more. I did it, but she hit me again and ordered me to lower myself even further. It continued until my thighs were parallel to the ground.
Then she left me like that and started teaching the other students.
From time to time, she would come near me and hit me on my arms or legs whenever my posture slipped.
My legs burned like fire, sweat dripping into my eyes, spine aching. Just when I thought my body would collapse, she gave me two minutes to rest.
At precisely the two-minute mark, Colleen ordered me to stand back in the horse stance. Just because I dawdled, another stick hit my arm.
Fuck.
Finally, after half an hour of practicing the horse stance, we were ready to move on. I looked like I had bathed, as my clothes were wet with sweat. My legs were burning and shaking, and it was difficult even to stand.
When Colleen gave me a five-minute break before starting the next exercise, I sat down immediately with the same intensity as a thirsty man running towards an oasis in the desert.
Unfortunately, the five minutes passed too soon. And Colleen hit me on the shoulder because I was too slow to get up.
Colleen put the stick aside and stood in a fighting stance. Looking at her, I understood it was time for sparring, or in other words, time for my thrashing.
I took a stance of my own. This time, she didn’t wait for me to come to her. She attacked me directly.
She reached in front of me before I could comprehend and struck a palm on my chest.
I knelt immediately and started coughing.
“Fifty pushups. Now,” she said flatly.
“What?” I asked, confused. Where did pushups appear between a sparring session?
“Every time you fail to dodge or block my attack, you will have to do fifty pushups,” Colleen said coolly.
My eyes widened. Is she fucking kidding me?
“Will you do the same if you fail to dodge or block my attack?” I asked in defiance.
“Of course, I will,” Colleen said, smiling for the first time in front of me.
I felt a shiver run down my spine. That smile looked like a devil’s smile.
I started doing the pushups. By the time I had completed fifty, my arms were feeling somewhat sore.
I got up and attacked her before she could attack me. She easily blocked my punch and drove her other fist into my guts. I folded like a shrimp.
I reeled in pain as I took a few deep breaths. Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my arm. Colleen had hit me again with the stick. When did she pick it up again?
“Stop dawdling, start the pushups.”
Fuck you too, bitch.
I once again served my sentence and then was ready to get my ass kicked again.
This time, she attacked first—a straight punch towards my left shoulder. I hurriedly took a step back, enough to be outside of her punch’s range. I dodged it.
Take that, you bitch.
But before I could start my victory dance, she kicked my ankle and I fell face down.
Fuck.
Just like that, she continuously pummeled me for half an hour straight. I dodged only one more attack and blocked another; both times, I was down on the second turn.
She allowed me a five-minute break, and I sprawled on the mat like a dead dog.
“What are you doing?” Colleen barked. “Meditate and reflect on our earlier spar. Analyze what you did wrong and how you can improve it.”
I groaned but got up, sat cross-legged, and closed my eyes. I took deep breaths to calm myself and started recalling our earlier spar.
My breathing calmed down after a minute as I took long, deep breaths. I recalled how comically I failed to block or dodge her attacks. It couldn’t even be called a fight; it was a one-sided beatdown.
Too many wasted movements. I had wasted too much time deciding on my next move. I was too slow to react to her attacks.
Of course, such things couldn’t improve just because I thought of improving them. It required continuous sparring and fighting to develop battle instincts, enabling me to react to my opponents' moves much more quickly.
Five minutes were up, and we were back to sparring. Once again, I was thrashed for another half an hour before being given a five-minute mercy.
I was feeling lightheaded, and my whole body was in pain.
I noticed that Brian was looking at me and laughing mockingly at my condition.
Laugh all you want. The day you reveal you are a Hand assassin will be the day I will tear you apart. And I will do my best to make it as painful as possible.
I ignored him and went back to meditating. This time, I had dodged one more attack than before. Small, but it was progress.
The students had already left, and we had completed the last sparring session.
After meditating for five minutes, I opened my eyes.
“Come inside,” Colleen said and started walking towards the inner part of the dojo.
“Take off your shirt and lie down,” Colleen said in a no-nonsense tone when we were inside.
I hesitated, thinking, what if Colleen decided to force herself on me? I would be powerless to resist.
So, I just obediently followed her orders and lay on the bed after taking off my shirt.
She brought a jar and opened it. It contained some kind of salve. She looked at my chest and raised her brow.
“Previously, I was suspicious. But now it is confirmed. Your injuries from yesterday are completely healed,” Colleen said, giving me a deep look. “Even with your recovery speed, it should not be possible. It should’ve taken at least a week.”
“Maybe I am just built differently,” I said, smirking. It was not like I could tell her it was the magic of my [Gamer’s Body] skill.
Her forehead wrinkled at my reply, but she didn’t press further. She came to me and started applying the salve on my bruises. I recognized it as the same one she had used the day before. I only noticed it once I reached my home and went to take a bath.
I groaned as the salve gave a burning sensation on my bruise.
“Stay still,” Colleen rebuked, but continued applying the salve.
I clenched my jaw, forcing myself not to twitch.
“I don’t like you,” Colleen said suddenly while applying the salve.
“Yeah, I can tell by the way you absolutely thrashed me in the spar earlier,” I smirked.
“I hate your guts,” Colleen continued.
“The feeling is mutual,” I said, wincing in pain as she applied the salve to another, even bigger bruise.
“You are just a delusional fool thinking you can get me just because you said so,” Colleen said while pressing a tad bit harder on the bruise while applying the salve.
“But I still want you as my subordinate,” I said arrogantly without flinching as the pressure increased slightly again. I refused to give her the satisfaction of that.
She paused and gave me a look. Her face was unreadable.
“But I like your resolve,” Colleen said after a few moments as she resumed the movement, this time with only necessary pressure. “That’s the only praiseworthy aspect about you.”
“Careful, lady. You'd better not fall in love with me, otherwise you may offer yourself to me before I can even defeat you,” I teased with a cocky smirk.
Her lips twitched, but she didn’t reply. We fell back to silence as she continued.
“It’s done. You can wear your shirt and leave,” Colleen said curtly.
I got up and put on my shirt.
I took out some bills from my pocket and handed them to Colleen, ”Here, my fees for the month with the premium.”
She took them with a frown and started counting. Her frown deepened as she finished counting the notes.
“This is too much,” Colleen said and tried to return the money. But I didn’t take it back.
“I am not like your other students, learning martial arts for fitness or self-defence,” I said with disdain. “I am learning it to learn how to kill and not get killed. For that, I think the money is appropriate.”
Colleen didn’t show any outward reaction to my reason to learn martial arts.
“Leave. Be on time tomorrow.” Then she turned and walked off.
I smirked as I left the dojo and headed home.

Kevin’s Home:
After coming back, I had a comfortable hot water bath. After changing my clothes, I started studying.
First, I completed the new maths problems Gwen assigned me earlier, and then revised the syllabus for the midterms.
Then, I took out one of the advanced programming books I borrowed from the library and started reading it.
As I read the book, I felt myself developing the related skill. I knew all this in my previous life, but I still needed to refresh my memory and do some practical training to retain it.
While I was working on a coding exercise, my phone rang. It was Gwen calling me. Curious, I picked up the call.
“Hey, Kevin,” Gwen said in a hesitant voice. “Sorry for calling so late. I hope I didn’t disturb you.”
“Hey, Gwen. No, it’s no problem,” I said easily. “I just finished the maths problems you gave me and was taking a break. So, you didn’t disturb me.”
I could hear her sigh of relief from the other side.
“Actually, I was out, patrolling,” Gwen said.
“Really, that’s great,” I praised. “I am proud of you, Gwen.”
Even without seeing her, I could imagine her face heating at the praise.
“Thanks,” she said. “I was on a break and thought of calling you.”
“Anytime, Gwen. You can call me whenever you want.”
I leaned back in my chair. “So, tell me — how was it? Fun?”
“Yes, it was,” Gwen admitted, excitement bubbling in her tone. “Freely swinging in the air, looking down on the crawling vehicles on the road. It was too much fun.”
“Finally,” I said, grinning. “You’re being honest with yourself.”
“Did you get any vigilante action?” I asked.
“Yeah. Two thugs were beating a man. I scared them off, webbed them to a lamppost, and made sure the guy got away safe.”
“Nice. So how much did you earn?”
“…Earn?” She sounded confused.
“I mean, how much money did you get from the thugs?” I explained.
“Nothing?” Gwen said, confused.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t loot them after defeating them,” I sighed, as if she had done something foolish.
“Of course I didn’t!” she said, scandalized. “That would be stealing.”
I groaned loud enough to voice my frustration.
“Girl, if you don’t loot the body, then who will fund your vigilante career?” I said with frustration. “It’s not like the man whom you saved gave you money as gratitude for saving him. And don’t even say there is anything wrong with that. Even cops get paid for their job. They don’t do it for free.”
“No, the man didn’t,” Gwen said in a low voice. Then said, as if defending herself, “But I didn’t save him, expecting he would pay me in return.”
“I know, and that’s why I asked if you looted the thugs,” I said, matter-of-fact. She didn’t answer.
“That’s the rule no. 1 of gaming,” I continued. “ Always loot the defeated enemy.”
That finally cracked her; she laughed. “I’m not playing a game, Kevin.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Gwen.”
I leaned back in my chair, a smirk tugging at my lips.
“Life is a game.”

*********************
Thoughts on Jenna Volt’s snarky news segments?
She’s my way of giving background world-building without derailing the plot. Let me know if it’s working.

Chapter 31: Games We Play

Chapter 31: Games We Play

Today was my first mid-term. I did well enough to pass.
The rest of the day was normal, well, as normal as it could be.
One of the funny things that happened was that Felicia was extremely pissed today because I had once again refused Black Cat's request to go on a heist, even though she had called again yesterday. My silent treatment only further increased her blood pressure.
Next, I had another study session with Gwen later today in the library.
While studying, I noticed Felicia looking at us sneakily, her face covered by a book. I was pretty sure I had heard the sound of her gnashing her teeth as she glared daggers while watching me and Gwen laugh together.
It was too much fun seeing Felicia behave like that. Her jealousy festered whenever I ignored her or spent quality time with other women. It wouldn't take long for her to reach her breaking point.
Anyway, enough about my jealous feline stalker.
After we completed our study session, Gwen and I discussed her codenames. Gwen had given it much thought the previous day, so we were ready to discuss it today.
A few potential names, such as Spider-Woman, Ghost-Spider, and Silk, were considered but rejected. Too simple. Too spooky. Too… silky.
In the end, we agreed on Arachne as her code name. Did I say it was me who suggested the name?
Sorry, Julia, in this reality, this name doesn’t belong to you.
The design for her costume was still a work in progress, but I’d already corrupted Gwen enough to convince her of the importance of looting thugs. Give it a week, she’d have enough cash to fund her vigilante wardrobe.
After that, I headed to the dojo. Training was about the same as yesterday — horse stance, sparring, humiliation. But this time, instead of going another round with Colleen, she threw me at a punching bag.
So, here I was punching and kicking the bag, taking out all my frustrations from the last two days with Colleen on the bag.
“Hit faster. Don’t just use a few types of attacks. Use variety and mix them up,” Colleen said, standing beside me.
I grunted and tried to mix various palm and fist attacks on the bag.
“Use your legs, too,” Colleen said. Then she hit my leg with the stick and said, “Do not stay in one place while attacking, keep on moving. Good footwork is as important as strength and striking techniques.”
I grunted loudly and began mixing kicks into my attacks while trying to incorporate footwork into my movements.
Colleen shook her head after watching my amateur footwork. “Your footwork is too sloppy. Your stance is unstable. You take too much time switching legs.”
Why does everyone have a fucking problem with my footwork?
Then she hit the stick at various parts of my legs to tell me what to fix. The stick rapped against my calves, thighs, and even my ankle, correcting every mistake. It continued until my stance was correct in her eyes.
I continued attacking the bag without stopping. Meanwhile, whenever my stance slipped, she would hit the part of the leg with incorrect posture with the stick.
After watching me for a while, she returned to her students to review their training, “Don’t stop until you’ve done one thousand arm strikes and one thousand leg strikes.”
I almost sighed in relief when she left, but my hands didn’t stop moving. If I did, she’d appear out of nowhere like a ghost with that damn stick.
By the time I hit the final count, my arms and legs felt like jelly. I also received a system notification at that time.

Your Strength has improved through continuous efforts.
Strength Level Up (F1->F2)

I felt a burning pain in my muscles, which lasted for a few seconds.
After resting for a few minutes, I returned to the punching bag to test my newfound strength. I threw a straight punch at it. The punching bag was too heavy, so even if I hit it with all my strength, it would barely move. But this time, it swung back farther than ever before. I practiced on it for another ten minutes to get used to my improved strength.
By the time I finished, the rest of the students had already left. Colleen slid into a stance and beckoned me for another sparring session.
Let’s see if my improved strength will be of any use in sparing against her.
I attacked first by kicking her knee with my right foot. She sidestepped easily, and my foot kicked empty air. Then she didn't give me time even to pull my foot back; she kicked my left shin, and I immediately lost my balance.
“Focus. Be quick. Your enemy won’t wait for you to reset your stance,” Colleen said flatly.
I nodded, quickly getting up to take a fighting stance again.
I threw a jab at her, and as expected, she blocked it easily. But it was a feint all along. I twisted my body and threw a heavy cross at her. She countered by hitting the underside of my arm with the blade of her palm. Then drove the same palm into my chest. It was too late to dodge or block, but this time I reacted fast enough to tighten my chest muscles. Even then, the air was immediately forced out of my lungs from the impact.
I calmed down after taking a few breaths. I once again took a stance.
This time, Colleen attacked me first.
In a blur of movement, she quickly reduced the distance between us, only stopping when the distance was around one palm length. She attacked with her right outer forearm, aiming at the side of my head. I hurriedly stepped back to create distance between us and somehow dodged the attack. But she immediately followed with a right cross, driving it into my solar plexus.
“Focus, Kevin. Do not relax after one dodge. A fight doesn’t end in a single move.”
The sparring continued. Even with my increased strength, I performed just as I did yesterday. I dodged a few attacks. Every time, they were the first ones, and then each time, I was defeated in the second move.
Just as we finished the last sparring session of the day, I got another system notification. This time, it was something I had been waiting for a long time.

You have improved your skills through continuous efforts.
[Martial Arts] upgraded to Apprentice.

I immediately sat in meditation to digest the influx of information—breathing rhythm, proper fighting stance, correct way to strike, among others.
I opened my eyes and stood up.
“Hey,” I said with fire burning in my eyes. “Let's have one more round.”
I stood before her and assumed the fighting stance. The slight fluctuation on Colleen’s face showed that she noticed the improvement in my skill from my stance alone.
Then her gaze turned impassive again as she took a fighting stance.
She punched me, aiming for my shoulder. I blocked her arm with my right outer forearm by hitting her inner forearm, attacking her.
She didn't even flinch, whereas I felt a stinging pain in my arm at the impact location. At least, I had successfully blocked her punch.
As Colleen instructed, I maintained my focus and kept it sharp on the spar. I punched her with my other arm, but as expected, she dodged it easily.
Then came the kick to my ankle. I took a step back immediately to dodge it, but that's when my lucky streak ended. A punch hit me in the gut, and I lost the round.
Despite once again losing pathetically, I was excited this time. I dodged two of her attacks in the same round and even managed to counterattack once.
That was progress.
“Don't get complacent. The path of martial arts is long and arduous. Don't let a small victory get to your head,” Colleen said and turned around and went inside.
She didn't invite me inside to apply the salve on my bruises. Maybe she thought that since I would be alright by the next day, there was no reason to waste the salve.
I smiled and left the dojo, utterly unconcerned about her earlier cold attitude. I didn't progress just in my martial arts. I also progressed further with Colleen.

Name: Colleen Wing
Relationship:
Affection: 10
Loyalty: 5

After I challenged her dojo and further thrashed her students, her affection for me had already turned negative.
It only started increasing once I showed her my resolve in our first fight. But even then, it never went past 5.
But the moment she realised my martial arts had improved and further verified it in our last spar round, her impression of me finally became more favourable.
It proved that my strategy to conquer Colleen was on the right track.

—
I went home directly from the dojo. After bathing, I started studying. First, I revised my syllabus for the next midterm, then I started learning programming.
I wrapped up studying around nine-thirty, swapped into something decent, and headed out. It was time for my “date” with Kara.
She only really talked to me — maybe because I didn’t flinch at the “mutant” label. We had grown quite close since our first meeting.
Once we were close enough, I had proposed the idea of our “date” to her. She liked it, and then we started going on dates once a week. This was our third time.
It was still the early times, so the mutant hatred was in its infancy. However, people often disliked those who differed from them.
Xenophobia isn’t a defect of one race. It’s the default setting for all of them.
A week ago, Magneto tried to turn Cape Citadel into his personal toy box, and some new kids on the block, calling themselves the “X-Men”, swooped in to spoil the party.
Since then, every drunk at every bar thinks he’s an expert on the “mutant problem.” Are they the next step in evolution? Are they a threat to humanity? Blah, blah, blah.
Kara’s skin flashing purple every time she used her powers was enough to brand her as a freak to the “normal” crowd. Throw in mind control, then forget distrust — they’d be lining up with pitchforks.
I drove to Kara’s apartment, which she was renting, and messaged her to let her know I had arrived. She came out in a few minutes, covered head to toe with clothes, without even a peek of skin showing. She sat in the passenger seat beside me.
“Are you ready for today?” I asked with a smile.
Kara’s face first showed nervousness, but then the nervous expression melted off to show a firm expression.
“Yes, I am,” Kara said with conviction. “I am ready to do what I had hesitated to do the last time.”
I smiled hearing that, and drove us to a shady part of the city. And lo and behold, true to its nature, we could already see some shady things happening in a shady alley.
“I beg you, please let me go,” a woman sobbed as she pleaded with the two thugs in front of her, with their guns pointed at her.
“Bitch, don’t you understand what we said? Strip if you don’t want to die,” one of the thugs said menacingly as he slapped the woman.
“Why are we even wasting our time? Let’s cap the bitch then we can have our way with her body,” the second thug said with a lecherous expression. “Personally, I don’t mind.”
The first thug spat in disgust. “Keep that necro-shit to yourself. I like mine breathing.”
The woman’s terror only deepened as she listened to the conversation of the thugs.
“And you, why are you so slow?” the first thug barked as he turned back to the woman. He fired a shot beside the woman’s leg. The woman screamed in fear but understood the warning.
Tears poured down her face like a river as she started unbuttoning her top, while sobbing in between.
Kara stiffened beside me as she watched what happened in the alley.
Since I had parked the taxi a distance from the alley on the other side of the street with my headlights off, the thugs, too occupied with forcing the woman to strip, didn’t notice when the taxi appeared nearby.
“It’s okay if you are still not ready,” I said reassuringly.
“No, I am ready,” Kara said and then left the car. I also got out and followed behind her with my gun in my hands on the off chance things got awry.
The thugs only noticed her when she reached the alley entrance.
“Looks like today is our lucky day. We can enjoy a separate woman each,” the first thug said with a malevolent grin.
He pointed the gun towards Kara, “Bitch, join her and start stripping too.”
But Kara didn’t move and just looked at them quietly.
“Are you deaf bitch?” the thug growled, seeing Kara ignore his order. “Come here right n—”
He stopped suddenly mid-sentence and turned around to face his fellow thug. The second thug was initially confused by the first, stopping mid-way, but his eyes widened in horror as he saw the first thug looking entirely purple. Not just him, but the woman had terror in her eyes as well.
“Shoot him,” Kara ordered.
The first thug pointed his gun at the second thug.
“F-Frank, wh-what are you doing?” the second thug said in fear.
The thug’s hand jerked, gun flashing. His partner dropped, skull bursting red across the alley wall. The woman shrieked.
“Shoot yourself,” Kara gave another order.
The thug obediently put the gun to the side of his head and pulled the trigger. The woman didn’t scream this time, but her eyes were filled with dread.
“Leave,” Kara said.
The woman took a moment to realize that Kara was talking to her. She hurriedly buttoned the top and ran away like a pardoned criminal.
Kara and I returned to the taxi.
I had proposed the idea that she practice her powers to improve herself. It was too easy to convince her once she was close enough to me. I had to tell her that, given her current abilities, there was no way she could match Zebediah if he were as dangerous as she thought.
I suggested that she practice her powers on harmless people to gradually improve them. At the same time, once a week, I would take her out at night to let her practice her powers on thugs, while I provided her protection.
For our last two dates, she only injured the thugs by letting them fight each other while allowing the victim to run away. On the second date, I told her that just beating these thugs wouldn’t solve anything. They would return to their evil ways once they healed.
I told her how the prison was useless against them, as someone would bail them out, then these thugs would be back on the street and would continue committing more crimes.
Nothing more needed to be said. I then took her to various locations to address the scattered crimes in the city. She still made them fight each other, but I noticed the thugs sustained more injuries after our little talk, though nothing life-threatening.
I didn’t force her, as that would only backfire. I was ready to wait a few more weeks to decrease her inhibitions slowly, but the last thug we met fortunately reduced that time massively.
We heard him brag to his buddy as they stood beside a dead body, with bloodied knives in their hands.
He told how he was previously arrested for two murders, but because the gang he worked for had some connections in the precinct. After some ‘negotiations’, the cops let him go free.
Kara once again made them fight, but this time she made sure they both ended up crippled for life.
She looked shaken after that. While dropping her off, I had only told her, “There is no need to rush. We can wait till you are ready.”
Just like that day, she looked shaken today as well. I gently took her hand in mine and squeezed it lightly.
“Do you wanna go back?” I asked with a concerned tone.
“No, I am ok,” she said, shaking her head.
I smiled and started the taxi. “Good girl.”
We left to look for our next victim of the night.
“Did I do the right thing?” Kara asked suddenly as she looked at me intensely through the rear-view mirror.
She looked desperate for approval. The thing Zebediah couldn’t give her, she sought from me.
I smiled and gently patted her head. “You did the right thing.”
“Hey, you will mess up my hair.” Kara pouted. But the relief and happiness in her eyes at my approval were clear.
We continued our fight against crime. After some time, we decided to take a break.
I drove to a better part of the city. At this time, a few food shops and food carts were still open, but traffic was minimal.
Kara gave me a mischievous smile as she left the taxi and walked towards an ice cream cart.
Our little game.
We had started this game for our dates. We would find a place with few prying eyes, and then Kara would go to ‘buy’ something. Of course, in the minds of the shopkeepers, Kara already paid them. Since the command was small and harmless, Kara only needed to turn them purple for a split second to let the command work.
This served three purposes.
First, it taught her precise control of her powers.
Second, it further reduced her inhibitions.
I knew she had also started using her powers more to get by in day-to-day life than she had before meeting me.
And finally the third. The goal was to instill in her mind the idea that using her powers for personal gain was acceptable.
The fact that she was doing vigilante work less because she cared about others and more because she wanted to train her powers, subtly reinforced the notion that it was ok to use powers for personal gain.
Without it, she might even become a female version of Punisher, which would contradict my intentions for her. Hunting criminals was only for her to get used to killing freely without hesitation.
She came back with two cones, giggling as she handed me one. She didn’t even look guilty anymore. That was progress.
After eating them, we hunted a few more criminals, and then I dropped her off at her apartment.
“I am proud of you, Kara. You were excellent today,” I praised her with a smile.
“Really?” Kara giggled in delight, then, with a shy face, she turned around and left. “Bye, Kevin.”

Chapter 32: Catfight

Chapter 32: Catfight

“Hey, Kitty. How are you?” I said over the phone.
“Kevin, this time I will not listen to any of your excuses. I have checked that there is no exam for first-years tomorrow. You can’t use studying for midterms as an excuse," Black Cat said.
“You’re right there, Kitty,” I agreed without hesitation.
“By the way, how do you know that?” I asked with a smirk. “Are you stalking me?”
“Who is stalking you?” Black Cat replied with a slightly irritated voice. Then she stuttered, “I have some connections from whom I found out.”
“Connections? Interesting,” I laughed. “Oh well, forget about it. But even if I don’t have an exam tomorrow, I do have one the day after tomorrow.”
She paused for a few moments because, of course, she knew that was the truth and couldn’t argue against it.
“You can study for it tomorrow. We can go for a heist today,” Black Cat reasoned.
“Should I?” I asked, sounding conflicted. “If I agree, I will have less time to study; I don’t want to compromise with my grades.”
“No, you won’t lose much time. We can just do a small job,” Black Cat offered. A hint of desperation was already appearing in her voice after being denied for two days straight. She didn’t want the same for the third time.
I fell silent to make her think I was considering her offer.
“A small job doesn’t sound bad. It can be considered a break from the monotonous studying," I voiced my thoughts aloud.
“Exactly, you can come back and study with a fresh mind. It will be perfect for you,” Black Cat agreed immediately.
“Are you sure we will just do a small job?” I asked skeptically. “The last time you fooled me about the scope of the job.”
“No, no, no. I promise. This time, we will just do a small job together, then you can immediately get back to your studying,” Black Cat said, trying hard to hide the desperation in her voice.
“Hmm,” I paused, then said, “Fine, it’s already been more than a month since we last went on a heist together. Let’s do it.”
“Yes,” Black Cat squealed in delight and immediately quieted down. “I mean, exactly as you said. It’s been a while.”
“So, which poor bastard are we targeting this time?” I asked out of curiosity.
“We are—” Black Cat started, then cut herself off. There was an uncomfortably long pause.
“Kitty, don’t tell me you didn’t even decide on a target?” I asked with a hint of accusation.
“I, what, uh, I, no,” Black Cat suddenly couldn’t form a coherent sentence.
“I thought you would refuse again,” Black Cat finally said in a low voice.
I sighed loudly.
“Do you still want to do a heist?” I asked.
“Of course!” she blurted, almost screaming. “I will immediately look for our target. Just give me a few minutes.”
“Forget it,” I said.
“Wait! No, don’t cancel. I’ll find something, I swear.” Black Cat hurriedly said, with a hint of pleading.
“Relax, Kitty. We’re still hitting something,” I reassured her calmly. “I meant you don’t need to look for a target.”
Black Cat calmed down, then asked in a confused voice, “What do you mean?”
“Actually, a few days ago I got a job, but you know how busy I was, so I had put it off till now. But since we’re going on a heist, we might as well do this job,” I explained.
“What’s the job?” Black Cat asked curiously.
“Oh, nothing much. We need to liberate some tech parts from a small Oscorp warehouse,” I introduced the job with a smirk.
“Oscorp?” Black Cat screamed in excitement. “Really?”
“Calm down, girl. Yes, it’s Oscorp. But it’s only a small warehouse with barely a few guards. It doesn’t have any of their cutting-edge stuff," I laughed.
“But it’s Oscorp,” she countered, breathless with excitement.
I understood her excitement. Even if the loot were ordinary and not much challenging to get, the idea of stealing from a big name like Oscorp itself gave her a considerable dose of dopamine.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s Oscorp. Be ready, I’m coming to your haunted-house hideout,” I said and hung up.
I looked at the phone and smirked.
The job was obviously from Fix. And no, it was not from a few days ago. But Black Cat didn’t need to know that. He called me this morning about the job. I thought this job could be a good way to move towards the next stage of taming the cat.
Like Reina’s jobs, I received a corresponding mission from the system. The reward it showed was what Fix had promised me for completing the job.
I could have done it alone, given the job's simplicity, but I lacked many of the core skills required in this profession. Most of my mission count came from stealing microwaves and toasters out of people’s kitchens. Hardly pro-level.
Anyways.
I needed someone with Black Cat’s skills for the job. This time, we were targeting a corporate warehouse, and not gang property. We couldn’t just kill our way out if we were discovered, as we did in the previous job. The death of even one of those guards would paint a bigger target on my back than those burglaries, with the news making headlines on the front page, especially with Oscorp involved.
Norman might not even find out about the theft at a small warehouse belonging to his company; hell, he might not even be aware of such a small warehouse. Theft at that place might not even reach his ears, but death at the said warehouse was a much bigger issue.
Norman doesn’t care about missing spare parts, but he will care about blood spilled in his building because it exposes Oscorp to lawsuits, investigations, and bad publicity.
The plan was to do it with Black Cat from the start, but I couldn’t just ask her; that would undo the progress I’d made to make her chase me. So I played my little game on the phone until she begged me to agree.
Fix had already sent me the blueprint of the place, marking the areas where we needed to shut down the power to stop any surveillance.
I left the house and went to Black Cat’s safe house in my taxi.
I arrived there, and Black Cat was already waiting for me, sitting in the passenger seat of a black sedan.
The place still looked like where Jigsaw “enlightened” people about appreciating life.
I parked my taxi in the garage and hopped into the sedan.
This sedan was not the same as the one we used last; it had a different model.
Of course, the car was different. We torched the last car after the job. And yes, that car was stolen, obviously.
This one? Also stolen. No doubt.
“Hey, Kitty. Did you miss me?” I asked as I started the car.
“Why would I miss you?” Black Cat shot back, her chin high. It looked like she was trying to gain back some of her lost self-esteem.
But despite what she said, I saw her sneakily stealing glances at my face from the rearview mirror.
“Don’t you know, Kitty? Naughty liars get punished,” I smirked.
“I didn’t lie,” she huffed.
I laughed and continued driving towards our destination.
After arriving, I parked a block away from the location. I showed Black Cat the building's blueprint and the map of the surrounding area on my phone and explained the first part of the job.
“There are two electrical panels.”
“This one controls the main power of the warehouse, including the cameras and motion sensors.” I pointed to one on the warehouse's outer wall on the second floor.
I needed her expertise in parkour to climb the building beside the warehouse and reach the electrical panel to shut it down.
“This is the other one. It separately only controls the alarm system.” I pointed to the electrical panel at the back of the adjoining building to the left of the warehouse.
“Sneaky,” Black Cat commented with a smile. I only smirked in response.
“You take the top one and see if you can find a way inside from there. I will take the bottom one,” I instructed. She nodded, looking eager.
We made our way towards the warehouse. From the outside, there were only two security guards. One was patrolling a small area in front of the building, back and forth. He had a gun on his waist, together with a bunch of keys. The other was actually sleeping in a small guard room, his mouth wide open.
We nodded to each other and made way to our respective locations.
Black Cat nimbly climbed a nearby building by the drainage pipe and then started scaling towards the warehouse. I looked at her enviously as she climbed the wall effortlessly, but I shook my head and left the area. I was already overloaded; I had no time to add another skill training to my schedule.
I went around the building and came behind them. From there, I found the building adjacent to the warehouse. I pried open the panel and shut down the power.
I came back to the front of the warehouse, and the guard was still patrolling in front of it. After confirming the second guard was still sleeping, I tiptoed behind the patrolling guard and attacked the side of his neck with a palm knife, and he lost consciousness. I caught him before he hit the ground and eased him down.
Then I made my way to the sleeping guard in the guard room. The door was ajar. No cliche squeaky sound was produced when opening the door, and it opened smoothly. Another knife chop to the other guard, and now he wouldn’t wake up even if we made some noises.
I came out and then dragged the fallen guard towards an empty chair nearby, which I assumed the guard had kept to sit when tired. I sat him in the chair in a natural pose, making it look like he had just dozed off on shift.
I took the keys, opened the door, and entered the warehouse.
The warehouse wasn’t huge. There were several boxes of varying dimensions, with two forklifts parked inside. There was a table standing against a wall with some files on it.
With the torchlight, I looked for what I wanted: boxes of new prototype energy cells. Black Cat was already inside on the upper floors looking for them. I had earlier sent her the photo of the box to look for.
I didn’t find anything, so I made my way to the first floor. Black Cat had also come down to the first floor, likely not finding the target on the second.
We looked for it separately on the floor, and finally, I found the target.
“Got ‘em,” I told her in a low voice, but in the silence of the warehouse, it was enough to reach her ears.
There were two boxes of those energy cells. Each had ten of them. I picked up one. Roughly 15-20 kg, heavy, but not unmanageable.
Black Cat showed the way with the torch as I made my way down, then to our ride, and put it inside the trunk. We went back and brought out the second one, too.
After securing both boxes, I locked the warehouse door and put the keys back where I had taken them from.
Last, we went back to the electrical panels. I turned on the alarm panel, and Balck Cat did the same for the main one. We met back at the car and left the area.
“So, how much for these boxes?” Black Cat asked.
“10 grands,” I smirked.
“Not bad. Even if there wasn’t much action, the reward is at least enough to cover the difference barely,” Black Cat grinned.
I glanced at her. She looked almost giddy. Was it the payout? The thrill of robbing Oscorp? Or just finally getting me back on a heist after all my refusals?
Didn’t matter. Excited was excited. And it was because of me.
Finally, we returned to Jigsaw’s secret vacation home.
I transferred the boxes from the car to my taxi and then went inside the house.

[R-18 Start]
As I sat on the couch and stretched my limbs, I saw Black Cat enter the room. She had a seductive expression. The zipper of her suit was down to below her navel this time. Her breasts were already free of the constraints of her tight suit.
But she didn’t walk towards me; instead, she leaned against the wall and stood in a way to emphasize her sizable breasts, like she was posing for a magazine cover, and looked at me with a mixture of teasing and seduction.
So that’s her move. Trying to claw back control? Cute.
I smirked, pushed off the couch, and strolled over, slow on purpose. Her eyes tracked me like a cat pretending not to care.
As I reached her, I placed one hand on the wall behind her, and with the other, I held her chin and turned her head to make her look directly into my eyes.
“Trying to seduce me, Kitty?” I asked in a husky voice as I placed my other hand on the wall behind her, too. Our lips were dangerously close, but still not touching.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she purred, playing innocent. “I’m only standing in my own house.”
“Really?” I brushed my lips across hers, just a ghost of contact, then pulled back.
Her eyes lit with hunger at the touch, then narrowed with resentment when I denied her more.
“Want me to kiss you, Kitty?” I asked. I pressed my body tightly against hers, and her body was sandwiched between the wall and me, with no way out. Her erect nipples were stabbing my chest. But our lips still stayed separate with less than one centimeter distance between them.
“No,” she whispered. Her voice said no. Her body said otherwise as she started rubbing her body against mine. Her face became rosy and her breath quickened.
I didn’t say anything and just maintained the smirk. The more time passed, the more she looked desperate to touch my lips. But it might be her pride or her wanting to assert her control, she still stubbornly didn’t move her head.
I was impressed by her willpower, so I increased the difficulty as a reward.
I slid my hands under her ass and lifted her easily. Her legs wrapped around me, her core pressing against my cock through our clothes. She bit her lip, grinding instinctively, face flushed scarlet.
Her face looked even redder. I began to move my lips towards hers at a very slow speed. Her eyes lit up in anticipation and arousal.
But just as they were about to touch, I went to the side and placed my lips close to her ear.
“Want me to kiss you, Kitty?” I asked again in a husky voice. As the warm breath hit her ear, it sent a shiver down her spine. Her body trembled slightly; she just had a mini-orgasm.
I pulled back my face and placed my lips back at the same distance they were before in front of hers. Her expression was a cocktail of arousal, frustration, and imploring.
She said something so low that even when so close, I didn’t hear anything. The only reason I could tell she said something was the subtle movement of her lips.
“I didn’t hear it. Say louder, Kitty,” I smirked.
“... me,” she said with a needy look. But only a part was audible; the rest was still inaudible.
“Louder, Kitty. Can’t hear you.”
“K… m.”
“Louder.”
“K...s me.”
“Louder, Kitty. I can’t hear you.”
Was I having fun? Hell yeah.
Black Cat's expression was filled with resentment. But it was drowned in lust and arousal. Finally, her pride snapped.
“I need you to kiss me, you asshole!” she screamed.
That was it.
The sweet, sweet breaking point.
But it wasn’t enough.
I smirked in satisfaction. I no longer made her wait and kissed her lips. She moaned heavily while kissing. Her hands went behind my head, wrapping around it. We kissed each other, devouring each other ravenously.
The grinding didn’t stop, even as our lips locked. Time blurred — seconds stretched, minutes dissolved — until finally her whole body shuddered, a raw orgasm tearing through her.
She broke the kiss, panting hard, eyes rolling back before she slumped against my shoulder. I let her rest there, trembling, until her breathing evened out.
She pulled her head back and looked into my eyes. Her eyes were still clouded by arousal, but resentment was no longer present there. Instead, a softness was present in that gaze as she looked at me.
I smirked as I felt the tenderness in that gaze.
I pulled back and let her stand on her own feet. She maintained our eye contact, her gaze filled with the same emotions as she went down to her knees on her own.
Her hand gently caressed my bulge for a few moments and then went to the belt on my pants.
[R-18 End]

But before she could unbuckle it, I caught her wrists.
She looked confused and hurt.
“Not tonight, Kitty,” I said with a smirk. “Midterms don’t study themselves.”
It took all my willpower to stop her and say those words. It was no easy feat for a man to refuse a willing woman on her knees, ready to serve all his needs.
My words only increased the hurt expression on her face. She looked like she would cry at any moment. I pretended to ignore her expression and backed off. She was still on her knees, looking at me with a hurtful gaze.
“It was nice meeting you, Kitty. Let’s continue this next time,” I said with a smile and turned around to leave.
After I took a few steps, I heard her voice.
“Is it because there’s another girl?” Black Cat’s voice, devoid of any emotion, came from behind. Her gaze looked vacant.
I turned around, maintaining a smile, and asked, “What other girl?”
“You’re ignoring me because of someone else,” she said. No emotion on the outside — but her eyes were fractured glass.
“What are you saying, Kitty?” I shrugged. “Even if there's another girl, why would I ignore you?”
I turned around again and left. “Later, Kitty.”

Empire State University:
“It’s all because of you, you bitch!”
All the students stopped whatever they were doing as they looked at the source of the voice.
It was Felicia who looked like a possessed woman, looking at Gwen like she would tear her apart alive.
On one side, the students looked excited at the commotion; on the other side, Gwen looked totally confused by what was happening in front of her.
“Is there a misunderstanding, Felicia?” Gwen asked, confused, maintaining a polite smile.
“Shut up, you bitch. It is because of you that he is ignoring me. He should be with me, not some boring nerd,” Felicia screamed and slapped her.
But with Gwen’s spider sense, there was no way she could be caught off guard with a sudden slap, and she easily stopped Felicia’s hand mid-way.
And that was all it took for the students to start screaming madly.
“Catfight! Catfight! Catfight!” Some random student.
“Felicia, show that nerd bitch, who is the boss.” That was one of the girls who was jealous of Gwen’s beauty and intellect.
“Go, Gwen. Beat up that trashy whore.” That was the boyfriend that Felicia dumped before Flash; like the other three, he was also dumped in a week.
I looked at the guy and smiled. He would not be able to leave the bed for the next six months.
The guy shivered suddenly as he looked around in confusion. I had already turned back to enjoy the catfight.
This morning, when I reached college, Felicia looked at me expectantly. But once again, I ignored her existence. She even tried speaking to me, but I didn’t bother responding to her.
Felicia looked even more hurt than before. After all, it was an imbalance for her. Yesterday, no matter what happened later, we talked, laughed, went on a heist together, and even had an intimate moment. But today, she was ignored once again by the same person.
Since she couldn’t let out her frustration and resentment on me because I refused even to acknowledge her existence, she found the next best target, Gwen.
“Kevin, here,” Marko said, coming to me and passing me a small popcorn box. There was one in his hand, too.
When I saw the look Felicia was giving to Gwen, I knew something was going to happen. So, I immediately asked Marko to grab snacks for the show.
As we ate popcorn together, Felicia pulled her hand back and punched Gwen in the stomach, but Gwen easily slapped Felicia’s hand away.
I grinned, tossing another popcorn into my mouth.
Better than TV.
“Gwen, is there a problem?” A concerned voice came from my left. I saw Peter coming with MJ and Liz in tow and then passed by me.
“Nothing, Peter,” Gwen replied with a smile. “I think Felicia here has some misunderstanding.”
When Felicia looked at Peter, she thought of something and gave Gwen a nasty look. Gwen looked uncomfortable with that look.
Felicia immediately showed a seductive expression and came to Peter, linking her hands with his.
“From today onwards, Peter, you are my boyfriend,” Felicia purred. But she didn’t say this while looking at him; instead, her gaze was maintained on Gwen from start to finish as Felicia gave her a mocking laugh.
The drama thickened, and our popcorn-eating speed increased. The students near us gave us strange looks, but who cared? This was premium entertainment.
Immediately, as Felicia said that, three people took offence.
“How dare you say that, you bitch?” Liz snapped.
“Who do you think you are, barging in like that?” MJ looked livid.
“You broke up with me to hook up with that loser?” Flash roared.
MJ and Liz immediately pulled Felicia away from Peter. Flash came towards Peter, ready to beat him. But Peter merely looked at him, and he stopped midstep, hesitation painting his skin.
“Let go of me, you floosy bitches,” Felicia tried to pull her arms, but they were each held by MJ and Liz, who dragged her towards Gwen, away from Peter.
Flash changed his target and walked towards Felicia. He was convinced that Felicia had defeated him by fluke last time.
“Don’t ignore me! Answer me, Felicia!” Flash shouted towards her.
“Shut up.” x4
Gwen, MJ, Liz, and Felicia shouted at Flash at the same time. Flash shivered under their combined gazes and backed off immediately.
With the nuisance out of the way, Felicia once again pulled back her arms, with more force this time. This time, she succeeded because she yanked harder, and her captors’ grip was weakened slightly due to Flash’s interference.
Then, Felicia directly took a fistful of MJ’s hair, who was closer to her, and pulled it hard.
“Aaah.”
Peter looked concerned and immediately wanted to go to them to try to stop their fight.
I took a step and put a hand on Peter’s shoulder. He looked back with a questioning gaze.
I pointed towards the fight and asked, “Do you really think you can stop that?”
Peter looked in front.
MJ directly slapped Felicia, and a red slap mark appeared on her face. Felicia, livid with anger, slapped her, but MJ backed off in time; the slap struck Liz instead.
And just like that, a two-on-one brawl erupted amidst the students' hooting.
Seeing that, the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man lost his courage and backed off with his tail between his legs.
I offered him popcorn. He hesitantly took a few popcorns and started watching the fight with us, with mixed feelings.

Chapter 33: The Rat and the Lookout

Chapter 33: The Rat and the Lookout

The week finally dragged to an end, and I was back in Newark. After Thursday’s catfight, Friday was painfully uneventful—just me getting tossed around in the Chikara Dojo, grinding through some programming, and chatting with Arachne while she played night patrol.
Speaking of Arachne, we had our last study session on Friday, but decided to extend it for the upcoming weeks. Gwen suggested it, of course. It was less about studying and more about her unloading the weight of her shiny new secret life to the only guy who knew about it. It was a plus for me and a step toward earning her loyalty.
I was glad she didn’t blame me for the catfight. Given her character, I wasn't really concerned, as she’s not the type to blame others for such things.
What I was worried about was that the catfight might make me more famous than I originally was, which would be a nightmare. But once again, I was safe, as apparently everyone thought that Felicia fought Gwen over Peter. Flash’s interference in the fight when Felicia declared Parker her boyfriend only solidified that belief.
And speaking of boyfriends, Parker’s two very pissed-off girl friends made sure Felicia never got close. They even told him, right in front of everyone, to stay the hell away from her. Possessive much? And yes, the space between “girl” and “friends” was once again intentional.
I half-expected Gwen to jump in and stake her claim, too, but she stayed quiet on the sidelines. Sure, she looked uncomfortable when Felicia made her declaration, but compared to MJ and Liz, her reaction was muted—another small win for me.
Flash, ever the genius, tried to spin the chaos into rekindling things with Felicia. It backfired beautifully. She ripped into him so hard in front of half the students that he bolted with watery eyes like a kid who just dropped his ice cream.
The best part? When Felicia finally glanced at me—at my usual blank mask of a face—she cracked, then bolted herself. Call it cruel, but I didn’t feel a shred of sympathy. Even during our last “intimate” moment after the heist, she still hadn’t taken the mask off.
And as I said before, no deal with the mask on.
I pushed open the door of the ramen shop. Two customers were hunched over their bowls, slurping their noodles. Behind the counter, Old Man Kobayashi was sitting idle, eyes half-closed.
As I stepped in, he looked at me, and his eyes immediately narrowed.
“Come inside,” Old Man Kobayashi ordered.
I was confused, but I nodded and followed him into the kitchen and then to the first-floor training room.
“So, you good, old man?” I asked along the way.
He grunted, which was basically a yes for him.
We finally stopped in the training room. I wondered what the old man wanted to say.
Just as I was about to ask what was wrong, he suddenly turned and attacked me, and a fist came straight to my face. My new, improved martial reflexes kicked in, I jerked my head back slightly, and slapped at his knuckles, trying to redirect. Even if my palm strike was not full force due to the suddenness of the attack, it still had considerable force, because my strength increased to F2, but I was unable even to budge his fist.
His fist stopped just before my face, slightly touching my nose. In my panic, I yanked my head even further back, even when the fist stopped. I lost my balance and landed on my ass.
“What kind of greeting was that, old man?” I barked, wincing in pain.
The old man didn’t bother answering that; instead, he gave me a scrutinizing look.
“Your strength’s higher than last week. Your form’s sharper,” the old man observed. Then his expression twisted into disgust, “But your balance is still shit.”
This fucking old man.
He didn’t even offer me a hand. Not that I expected it from a sadist like him. I forced myself up, legs wobbling.
“Have you learned from someone during the week?” Kobayashi asked flatly.
“Yeah, I joined the Chikara Dojo to help with my training on weekdays,” I answered truthfully while rubbing my ass.
“Isn’t that the Dojo of the Ozawa lass?” Kobayashi asked, more to himself than to me. Then he said, sagely nodding his head, “Then it isn’t a bad choice.”
We went downstairs, and Kobayashi switched the “Open” sign to “Closed.” The customers looked at him in confusion, but he didn’t bother explaining. We didn’t wait long since they were mostly finished eating. Once they paid and left, we were alone in the shop. Kobayashi locked the door from inside and sat in a chair. He gestured for me to sit in the opposite chair, and I did.
We sat in complete silence as he stared at me. It was growing more and more awkward with him just looking at me like that.
I let out a breath of relief when he finally decided to speak.
“Your progress in just one week is absurd,” Old Man Kobayashi said flatly. “I would have never believed it if someone told me. But seeing with my own eyes is forcing me to believe it.”
Well, I’m just special.
Jokes aside, his reaction was expected because not only had my strength attribute improved, but also two of my skills—martial arts and stealth—had gotten better over the week.
The stealth skill was upgraded after the last burglary, which completed the first objective of the Burglary mission and rewarded me with the Apprentice stage of the Stealth skill, thus upgrading it from novice to apprentice.
It was actually this skill that improved my reaction speed, allowing me to respond to his punch much faster. Without it, I still wouldn’t have ended up with a broken nose because Kobayashi would have stopped the punch in time, but I would have made an even bigger fool of myself.
“Maybe I was just close enough to reach the next level and did it this week,” I said cheekily.
“Despite your ridiculous claim, I feel you are not lying, or there is at least some truth to it, which, in itself, is even more ridiculous,” Old Man Kobayashi said, looking like he forced down the urge to smack me on the head.
Ridiculous for a muggle like you, but not for a gamer like me.
“But no matter what, at least it shows that you have some ability to back your exaggerated delusions and they are not just some empty talk of a delusional fool with his head in la-la land,” Old Man Kobayashi continued, his tone flat as he casually insulted me.
“Hey, that’s no delusion,” I snapped. The old ghost didn’t bother humoring me with a response to that.
“How much do you know about martial arts?” Kobayashi asked.
Know about martial arts? What kind of question was that? Was it a philosophical question? Wasn’t martial arts just learning how to hit people with style?
My expression was more than enough to tell him that whatever answer he wanted from me, he wouldn’t be getting it.
“Do you know about the levels of martial arts?” Kobayashi asked, changing his question.
I knew system levels—Novice, Apprentice, etc.—but that probably wasn’t what he meant.
“Do you mean the belts? Like white, yellow, all the way to black?” I asked, confused.
“That’s just the modern way of dividing martial artists into levels,” Kobayashi said with disdain. “But it’s shallow.”
Interesting. I had a faint guess where this was going, so I flicked open my interface and checked the title I’d gotten when martial arts hit Apprentice.

Third-rate Warrior: Increase martial arts training speed and comprehension by 5%.

Were these levels related to the title I got? It did give some wuxia vibes.
Kobayashi’s tone grew heavy. “The real levels are recognized in the eastern hidden martial world—called Jianghu, Murim, or Wulin. Different names, same idea.”
His face told me he was going to start an info dump on martial arts.
“The first level is Third-rate Warrior—someone who’s finally grasped martial arts enough to use it against others. Outer disciples of the great sects sit here. Cannon fodder with basic skills.” He paused, then delivered the verdict: “That is where you stand right now.”
Yay me. Months of grinding, sleepless nights, busted bones—just to be qualified as disposable grunt number three.
Fucking fantastic.
So, the apprentice-stage martial arts skill was equivalent to a third-rate warrior. That meant, before, at the novice stage, I wasn’t even qualified to be cannon fodder.
Outstanding.
“The next level is Second-rate Warrior,” Kobayashi continued. “At this stage, martial artists can hold their own against multiple opponents. They’ve sharpened their skills enough to carve out a name for themselves. Inner disciples of the major sects are here. Most modern black belts barely scrape into this level—only a few touch the next.”
So, the Adept stage is the Second-rate Warrior. Huh, noted.
Uncle Niko and Reina’s F3 subordinates were both at this level.
“The third level is First-rate Warrior,” he went on. “By then, a martial artist has mastered the majority of their style and can apply it with precision. Fighting multiple opponents—or cutting down anyone below their level—is trivial. Core disciples, elders, and sometimes even sect masters sit here. It’s also the final stop for sheer effort. Even the untalented can claw their way to First-rate if they have the patience to grind away their entire lives.”
Kobayashi paused, then scoffed, “And tell me—how many truly have that will?”
Fair point.
So, the Expert stage is the First-rate warrior. I haven’t seen anyone at this level yet.
Wait a minute! What he meant by this was the last level someone can reach by hard work.
I knew my martial arts talent was shitty, but was he saying talent capped the grind? That I couldn’t hit the ceiling and surpass just by abusing my Gamer system?
No way. That’s bullshit.
Almost like he read my mind, Kobayashi said, “I know what you’re thinking. But it’s true. Effort alone only gets you to First-rate. Beyond that, you need something more.” His tone dropped, almost mysterious.
I leaned forward despite myself. “And what’s that?”
“Comprehension,” the old man answered.
Comprehension? Wait, didn’t my title improve it too?
“Yes. Comprehension.” He leaned back, as if the answer was obvious. “Every martial art was born from someone’s body and mind. It’s tuned to its creator—habit, stance, even how they breathe. You can copy the movements, but sooner or later, the technique and your body don’t sync. That’s where you hit a wall.”
“So you make it compatible with you,” I guessed. “Bend the art to your frame.”
A thin smile flickered across his face. “Exactly. You must understand the art’s essence—what it’s trying to do, not just how it looks—and then alter it until it lives in your body. That is the door to Martial Master.” He tapped his temple. “Only when every move is yours, instinct, not imitation, have you truly reached that level.”
According to the system's levels, after the Expert stage came the Master stage. And, to reach it, I would no longer be able to rely on just grinding.
Old man, you just made my life even more difficult.
But, at the same time, it was more interesting. After all, what’s the fun if I could reach the peak with just grinding?
“Every person who can reach this level can be considered a genius. Rarely are sect masters and ancestors in major sects at this level of attainment. Most give up at the first-rate warrior level and instead learn more martial arts to improve themselves. This method can improve them marginally, but it only takes them further and further away from the next level, which requires a deeper understanding of one martial art.”
“Of course, sometimes martial artists, in their pursuit to learn more martial arts, come across a martial art that resonates with them deeper than the other, then they might have a chance to peek at the next level,” Kobayashi explained.
“Not only that, if someone practiced a weapon-based martial arts, then if they became a Martial Master, generally together with Martial Master, they can also be called a similar title created with the weapon. Such as Sword Master, Spear Master, Bow Master, and many more,” the old man continued.
Then Kobayashi showed a playful smile as he said, “Maybe if you have hundreds or even thousands of years to practice, then you can brute force your way to the Martial Master level.”
Centuries. Right. I’d die before the first season finale. Brute force was an option only for immortal NPCs.
Moreover, that method was still a maybe.
Kobayashi’s gaze drifted as he’d just remembered something. “Your dojo instructor—the Ozawa lass—she’s at this level. A true prodigy. Martial Master before thirty. And she still has a shot at going further.”
Yeah, well, that was something I already knew from her status.

Name: Colleen Wing
Rank: E3

Titles:
Martial Master
Sword Master

Skills:
Chi Manipulation (Master)
Martial Arts (Master)
Swordsmanship (Master)
Unarmed Combat (Master)

“What’s the next stage, old man?” I asked in anticipation and eagerness when Kobayashi stopped to drink a glass of water.
“Next is the Martial Grandmaster,” Kobayashi introduced.
Martial Grandmaster was equivalent to the system's Grandmaster level.
“To reach Master, you must comprehend the art,” he continued cryptically. “But to reach Grandmaster, you must comprehend yourself.”
The fuck?
Did I somehow crossover to a xianxia world from Marvel?
Kobayashi explained after looking at my blank expression.
“Even if you’ve modified a style to fit you, it is still borrowed. To become a grandmaster, you will need to search and comprehend your own style. To this day, very few have done it, but each is immortalized in the annals of history. Even if you finally found your style and comprehended it, it was not the end, but the beginning. Grandmaster is a long road where you continuously polish, expand, and evolve your style.”
“Many Martial Masters comprehend multiple martial arts to the master level, and combine them to make their own style. Whether they could become a grandmaster is another matter.”
“Of course, some create their style before even reaching the Martial Grandmaster level. That doesn’t make them a grandmaster, but makes becoming one far easier.”
No one spoke for a few minutes. I was too busy digesting what Kobayashi just explained to me. The old man made me realize that the road of martial arts was still too long for me, and I had merely taken the first step on it.
“Is that it? No way it just stops there,” I pressed.
“There is another level,” Kobayashi said at last. “The realm of Innate. Those who touch it are called Martial Sages.”
That’s it. That was the equivalent of the Transcendent level in the system.
“What is it? What’s so special about it?” I asked excitedly.
He gave me a deep look, hearing that, then shook his head. “Forget it. It’s too far from you. Knowing too much is also not good. Become a Master first—then we’ll speak of Sages.”
“Oh, come on. You can’t just drop a bomb like that and clam up. Give me something, old man,” I groaned.
Old Man Kobayashi ignored me and went to the door to switch back the “Closed” sign to “Open”.
“Get ready to take orders,” he said flatly. “And we will continue your training. We need to work on your balance. Don’t spill a single drop.” With that, he vanished into the kitchen.
Any protest I had died instantly at the mention of one word: training.
I lowered my head dejectedly. All thoughts related to martial arts left my head. I didn’t want any stray thoughts to spill the soup and give the old ghost any chance to punish me.

…
It was already evening. I had been working as an unpaid laborer from morning until now. In that duration, I was punished five fucking times. Of those, twice because of those two clowns who made my life difficult the last time; they did the same thing this time, too.
They better not find me outside, or they would find out why the roses are so red.
My hell training was finally over when I got a message from Reina to discuss the next job. I immediately felt as though I had been granted amnesty and had left the ramen shop for the bar.
I entered Reina’s office. It somehow felt a little different. After looking carefully, I realized that Isabella was missing from the room. I shrugged and strolled to Reina’s desk.
“Hey, Ms. Reina, did you miss me?” I greeted Reina cheerfully.
Reina’s expressionless face immediately twisted in disgust. She picked up the revolver from the table and aimed it right at my forehead.
“Kidding,” I said with a cheeky smile as I raised my hands.
She still didn’t lower the gun, but I laughed lightly and sat down on the chair in front of her casually. Of course, without asking for her permission.
Reina looked like she was having an intense debate in her head about whether it would be better just to kill me and be done with all the nonsense.
But it looked like I had charmed her enough that, after glaring at me, she lowered the gun.
I knew she liked me and couldn’t bring herself to kill her favorite freelance thug.
Then she suddenly picked up the gun and pointed it at me again. “Did you just think of something disrespectful?”
“Me? Never. I respect you more than anyone in this world,” I said innocently, looking like a wounded puppy.
She gave an even more intense glare but lowered the gun again.
I heard a snort of laughter from behind me, but it was immediately smothered when Reina glared at the culprit. I looked back, and it was the big guy who was sitting with the face-tattoo guy on the couch.
I waved at him with a toothy smile, and unexpectedly, he waved back.
Wow, I thought there were only rude people in this building. But there was actually a nice guy among them.
“About the last job,” Reina started, pulling my focus back to her.
She continued when I turned to her, “We found out the rat who snitched the shipment details to the rival gang.”
“And you want me to hunt this rat?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
And, as expected, “Yes. Make sure the rat doesn’t see tomorrow’s sun,” Reina said coldly.
Just before I was about to agree, the office’s door opened, and Isabella entered.
She looked like she was suppressing her rage inside her. She walked with her shoulders stiff, her jaw clenched.
Her expression turned respectful as she came near Reina’s desk.
“Mardina, please let me kill that traitor,” Isabella requested. Her face filled with guilt.
“Isabella, I told you I don’t blame you. It’s not your fault,” Reina said softly.
“Thank you for your understanding, Madrina,” Isabella said gratefully. Then her expression became serious as a hint of killing intent appeared in her eyes. She once again requested, “But he is my subordinate. Please let me end him.”
Reina looked at her subordinate's determined expression and sighed, “Fine.”
Then Reina pointed at me like I was an afterthought, and said, “I have already called Kevin for this job. Take him with you.” She continued dismissively, “He can be the lookout.”
Wait what? Why did my kill job change to a lookout job? Fuck.
Isabella turned to me, her expression one of disgust at the thought of working with me. But since Reina had ordered her directly, she agreed, albeit reluctantly, “Yes, Madrina.”
“Follow me. Make sure you don’t hold me back, or before the traitor, I will put a bullet in your head,” Isabella said bitingly.
Well, fuck you too, bitch.
Of course, I didn’t show it on my face. Instead, with a cheesy smile, I said, “After you, lady.”
She nodded respectfully to Reina and then turned to leave. I gave a two-finger salute to Reina and followed behind Isabella.
On the way, I checked the mission in my system.

Mission: Betrayal’s Price
Description: The cartel finally found out the rat who sold the intel of their cigar shipment to their rival, Iron Serpent MC. Accompany Isabella to eliminate the traitor.
Reward: $200, More missions from Reina
Failure Conditions: The traitor escapes
Failure Consequences: No more missions from Reina, and Isabella despises you forever.

Chapter 34: Rats in the Maze

Chapter 34: Rats in the Maze

Isabella and I left the bar and were on our way to strangle the traitor. And, obviously, I was driving.
From what I had gathered from the conversation between Reina and Isabella and a little asking around, the traitor was Isabella’s direct subordinate.
Isabella was the head of the cartel's smuggling operation, and the man who betrayed her was one of her most trusted subordinates. That’s why she was extra pissed that he betrayed her. And hence, she requested Reina to let her be the one to kill the bastard.
Typical gang politics.
He usually stayed at the small underground gambling den he ran as a side business. As Isabella’s direct subordinate, he was pretty high in the hierarchy in the cartel that allowed him to freely run the business with little to no consequences as long as he gave the necessary periodical tribute to the leader.
We arrived at the location. It was already past 8 pm, and the area was full of parked vehicles. A buff man, wearing a white sleeveless tank top and black pants, with arms covered in tattoos, stood in front of the entrance door, a red bandana wrapped around his forehead.
“Jefa,” the guard said, immediately straightening up upon seeing the boss of his boss.
Isabella gave him a curt nod and walked straight inside. The guard gave me a curious look, but he knew better than to ask Isabella who I was.
As we stepped inside, I looked back and noticed the guard had a sneaky look. He took out a walkie-talkie and said something in a low voice. We were far so we didn’t hear anything.
If my guess was correct, our target was already aware of his doom and should have ordered his underlings to warn him if anyone came here. But that begged the question: If he knew the higher-ups had sent hunting dogs after him, then why hadn’t he already run away?
I smirked. Looked like this “lookout mission” was about to get interesting.
Inside smelled like cocaine, stale smoke, and desperation. Multiple tables were placed with chairs around them. On each table, various games were going on; roulette, poker, to name a few. A few slot machines were placed beside the wall, where addicts were putting some kind of coin inside and praying to whatever deity they believed in, to let them win the jackpot.
None of the guests paid any attention when two new guests walked into the establishment. Only the guards who noticed Isabella straightened their backs upon seeing her.
The guests had a varied range of expressions. A man smiling too loud with a stack of chips, an old guy staring into a slot as if it owed him salvation, and a woman pinching the bridge of her nose after a bad hand. A man maintained a poker face as he played the next card, while the others on the table showed tension as they deliberated over which card to play next.
“No, give me back my money. You can’t take it, it’s mine,” a man shouted desperately near a roulette table as he gripped the collar of the dealer.
A few thugs immediately arrived at the table. They forcibly pried the man’s hands from the croupier’s collars, then they punched him in the stomach a few times, and then dragged him away to the back.
“Don’t play if you don’t have the guts to lose,” a guest said in disgust.
A few others matched his expression, while some others showed concern. Not necessarily for the man, but their own future if they lost their money. The rest didn’t even bother to look up from their game to watch the man.
It was just a small recurring episode in gambling dens, and we also ignored him as we made our way to the owner’s office.
On our way, I noticed the slight shifty expression on the thugs. Some had their eyes darting around, some had a nervous expression, and a few of them even had their hands close to their weapons. That made me wonder what surprise their boss had planned for us.
My eyes met Isabella’s, and we nodded subtly. She had also noticed something was amiss. My hand went to the gun on my waist. It didn’t take it out, but removed the safety so it could shoot at a moment’s notice without delay.
We arrived at the door and found it was locked.
“Eduardo, open the door,” Isabella ordered in a cold tone. But no reply came.
Isabella was already pissed, and this only made her angrier.
“Where is he?” Isabella barked at the nearest thug.
“He should be inside, Jefa,” the man stammered.
“Useless,” Isabella spat. Then she turned to me and ordered, “Force it open.”
Bitch.
Nevertheless, I nodded and slammed my body, shoulder-first, into the door. The door shook but didn’t open. The second time, it shook more, but still didn’t open. I tried the third time with even more force, the lock popped, and finally the door shook open.
We didn’t storm in. Isabella and I pressed our backs to the wall on either side of the cracked door and drew our weapons. I had a pistol in my right hand and a knife in reverse grip in my left. Isabella pulled out the two pistols from the holsters on her shoulders.
The thug looked conflicted, seeing that, wondering whether he should help his boss or his boss’s boss.
We exchanged a single, silent nod. I expected her to send me in first. Instead, Isabella kicked the door open and swept the room with twin muzzles. I slid in behind her. We looked around, but unfortunately, we didn’t find anyone.
Empty. No Eduardo in sight.
The back exit gaped wide, and the hiss of an engine came from the street.
We ran to it and saw a man, whom I assumed to be Eduardo, in a car. He popped his head out from the window and spat, “You’ll never catch me, perra!” and then sped away.
Isabella’s jaw snapped. “To the car! He will not get away.” Her voice left no room for argument.
We quickly ran back to our car. I was in a hurry, too. The mission was clearly stated to fail if the traitor escaped. I also understood why one of the consequences of the mission failure would be Isabella despising me for failing. Since I was driving the car, it was only natural that, if Eduardo escaped successfully, Isabella, with her emotional stake in the mission, would blame me.
“Why are you wasting time? Follow him immediately,” Isabella barked when she saw me buckle my seatbelt.
“Put on your seatbelt, the following ride is going to be bumpy,” I said with a grin to Isabella.
Isabella wanted to argue, but still put it on. I gave a satisfied smile, which only irked her further.
“If we lost him, I am putting a bullet in your head instead of him,” Isabella warned with a grim voice. I immediately heard a notification ping and saw that the failure consequence actually changed, which showed how serious she was.

Mission: Betrayal’s Price
Failure Consequence: Isabella despises you forever. -> Isabella will kill you.

But I just smirked and ignored her warnings.
As the engine hummed to life, I forgot about everything. My one hand was on the wheel, and the other on the gearshift. My focus was entirely on the road. I reversed the car on the road, and once it was there, I slammed it forward.
The world blurred as we tore onto the road, and Isabella was immediately pushed back to her seat. Whatever she was about to say next was stopped in her throat as her eyes widened when the speed kept increasing.
I followed the general direction I saw him going, and after driving for five minutes, I saw his car far in the distance. I couldn’t clearly see the number plate, but the car looked similar to the car he drove.
It was possible he also noticed us on his tail, so the car sped up immediately.
Why did I have the feeling that he was purposefully driving slowly and only sped up once we caught up to him?
But I didn’t have time to dwell on such questions; I had a car to catch up to.
There was heavy traffic between us, but I didn’t bother slowing down. Instead, I skillfully slithered the car through the traffic. I had more than a few close calls, but I never once touched another vehicle on the road.
This panicked our target, as we were closing on him continuously. He sped past the red light and barely made it as a truck came from the right. The truck driver swerved in panic, and since we were closing behind Eduardo, we were now on a collision course with the truck.
“Watch out,” Isabella screamed in fear.
I stayed calm as I immediately pulled the handbrake. The rear wheels were locked in place and started skidding. I rotated the wheel in the opposite direction, and the vehicle drifted smoothly.
The vehicle drifted till it was facing right. The back bumper was extremely close to the truck while drifting, but never touched once.
Once the car was facing right, I released the handbrake, and the rear wheels began to move again. I drove for a few tens of metres and then took a sharp left. Then we were back on the track on the road and followed behind Eduardo.
He once again made quite a distance between us in the meantime.
“He’s good,” I muttered, eyes fixed on his taillights. Not me good—but easily Adept-level good.
“He is one of our best drivers,” Isabella answered after a few moments. Her voice was low. I saw her face in the rearview mirror. It showed a complex mix of bitterness and raging fury over his betrayal. Then she continued in a dark tone, “Or rather, he was.”
I stepped on the gas and continued the chase. However, traffic made things difficult for both our target and us, as the traffic only increased as we progressed.
As we finally once again closed on him, he abruptly changed lanes and ran against the traffic. I had to slam on the brakes and then turn into the other lane.
The sudden brake pushed us both forward, but our seatbelts kept us securely in place. I looked at Isabella through the rearview mirror with a knowing smirk. If she hadn’t put on her seatbelt, she would have shot out of her seat through the windshield like a torpedo. A faint blush appeared on her face as she snorted and looked the other way. But her hand was now already gripping the handle near her seat tightly.
Eduardo didn’t stop making things difficult for us at that point. He utilized his knowledge of the city's various known and hidden paths, which I was unaware of, to maintain the distance between us despite our skill disparity.
After another twenty minutes of tailing him, we finally left the city and arrived at the outskirts. The road was mostly empty. Seeing the opportunity, I sped the car. In response, he also increased the speed.
But no matter how I tried, I just couldn’t catch up to him. Here, the problem was not the skill but the car. Our car was just not made for high-speed street chases. I pushed it as much as I could, but it had reached its limits. How could Eduardo’s car keep up?
“His car is modded,” I guessed.
“Heavily,” Isabella replied in a low voice. I noticed that, after my little stunt, she was now holding the handle with both hands.
That answered the question. I sighed, but kept on following him
Soon, I noticed him slowing down. He went off-road to the left.
When I arrived at the location, I slowed down and noticed a dirt path to the left, which I followed.
The dirt path ended at a massive gate. Inside, I saw rows of cars piled up. Some were complete, some had their tires removed, and some were crushed to pieces.
We were in front of a junkyard.
If I couldn’t tell by now that Eduardo had lured us into an ambush, I might as well quit crime and go back to being a good student.
Isabella, who had previously been burning with fury, also looked alert. Previously, she let herself be blinded by vengeance, but our little joyride had calmed it down somewhat. However, she didn’t look very worried.
“What are you afraid of? Even if there is an ambush, I can handle it,” Isabella said carelessly.
Was that confidence or arrogance? I didn’t know.
“Wouldn’t it be better to inform Ms. Reina so that she can send reinforcements in case things turn ugly?” I suggested. I didn’t want to bet my life on her overconfidence.
She shot me a disdainful look. “Eduardo’s just a rat. How many idiots can he even bring? I’ll put them all down myself. You just stick to lookout duty.”
I took a deep breath and nodded. I started the car.
But was I convinced? Hell no.
Anger and arrogance had blinded her. Her pride wanted Eduardo’s blood, and it blinded her to every red flag.
Fine. Let her posture. I wouldn’t inform Reina for now. But at the first sign of trouble, I was calling her to send reinforcements. And if that broke Isabella’s delicate heart, then that’s her problem.
I eased the car through the gate. The junkyard was a maze of stacked metal, shadows stretching between rows—just enough weak lighting to keep us from driving blind.
A minute later, we saw Eduardo’s car parked, but it was empty. There were rows of stacked vehicles on either side of the path.
I stopped behind it, and we got out of the car. We looked around but found no one.
Suddenly, we saw lights ahead of us. Together with it was the roar of engines.
First, a bike came to a stop in front of us, around 100 meters away. And then two vans stopped behind it.
Then the area was immediately flooded with light as multiple floodlights I hadn’t noticed before brightened the path, as if it were day.
The bike and the vans had a silver-gray snake decal. That information was more than enough; the traitor had changed his master.
Things were getting dangerous, but it was the bike that made me break out in a cold sweat. It had a fucking minigun mounted on top of it with the muzzles facing in front like a vicious metal grin.
Are you fucking kidding me? Who the fuck modded their bikes to attach a fucking minigun to them?
The guy sitting on the bike was huge. He was wearing a black biker jacket, with Kevlar peeking through the open front. He had a thick, unkempt beard and was bald. On his head, there was a tattoo of a snake’s head with the rest of the body going back.
“Derek, do you want to start a fucking gang war between the cartel and the bikers?” Isabella said to the biker in front with fury in her eyes.
Derek laughed loudly, hearing that.
“Sweetie,” he answered with amusement in his voice, “Who says I want a war? As long as no one knows we killed you, how can there be a war? Besides, it is too good an opportunity not to kill one of the Hounds of the cartel and reduce some competition for us.”
The Hounds of the La Corona Roja Cartel.
The Vipers of the Iron Serpent MC.
The Sharks of the Dockmen.
There were the titles of the top lieutenants of each of the three owners of the Newark underworld.
And the man in front of me should be one of the Vipers, Derek Watson. And yes, he was at F3 rank.
“You think just you and a few of your goons are enough to kill me?” Isabella said with disdain as the biker thugs got out of the vans.
But Isabella’s expression immediately turned to extreme fury as she saw that one of the thugs stepping out of the van was Eduardo.
“¡Eduardo, pinche traidor!” Isabella screamed in fury.
Eduardo looked scared for a split second when he saw Isabella’s venomous eyes. Still, as he came up and stood beside Derek, the fear was replaced with sick satisfaction at seeing Isabella outnumbered as if Derek’s presence gave him the necessary backbone to look Isabella in the eye.
“Why the harsh words, Isabella?” Eduardo said with a smug face.
“How dare you betray the cartel, Eduardo?” Isabella asked with anger.
“Oh, come on, Isabella. You sound as if it is my fault that I betrayed the cartel,” Eduardo said with an innocent face.
“Dude, did you perhaps overdose on cocaine to spout such bullshit?” I could help but quip in between listening to his ridiculous words.
His face twisted. “Shut up, pendejo! You don’t belong in this conversation.” He turned back to Isabella, voice dropping into a syrupy sweetness. “Isabella, mi querida. You’re the reason I turned.”
I felt a shiver run down my spine when I heard those sweet words.
Isabella’s eyes narrowed. “What the fuck are you talking about? You got your cut. I pushed you up the ladder. I even ignored your side hustles. And this is how you repay me?”
Eduardo’s expression glazed over, dreamy. “Of course you did…”
I suddenly wanted a fucking shower.
Then his face twisted in rage as he shouted, “Then why reject me?! After all these years, you led me on, and when I confessed, you spat on me! Why?”
I looked at Isabella, then back at him. My eyes said, Is he serious right now?
Isabella sighed as she closed her eyes and rubbed her temple like she was getting a migraine from Eduardo’s delusional talk.
Eduardo kept pressing with a betrayed look, “If you didn’t love me, then why did you help me so much?”
Isabella looked too speechless even to counter that.
Ah. One of those. She was nice to me, so she must love me. Pathetic.
But Eduardo still wasn’t finished. He turned to me, his fury flared again as he said, “Or is it that you found someone else? Did you throw me away for this cabron?”
“Oi, oi, oi. Do not pull me into your lovers’ spat,” I said quickly.
“This isn’t a lovers’ spat,” Isabella cut in, her eyes venomous, voice like a blade.
“Fine, fine. It is not,” I replied immediately, lifting my hands in front of me in surrender.
“And you,” Isabella said, turning to Eduardo,” I already told you I had no interest in you. I helped you because you were an efficient subordinate. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
I could hear the sound of Eduardo’s heart cracking even from where I stood.
“So you never loved me?” Eduardo asked in a low voice, his face looked sad. But Isabella didn’t bother humoring him with an answer.
Then his face twisted again. “Then die, you perra! Today, this junkyard will be your and your boy toy’s grave. My brothers at the Iron Serpent MC will give you a painful death.”
“Hey, I said to keep me out of it,” I interjected once again.
“Shut up, you pen—”
Eduardo’s words were cut off as he was shot in the head by Derek. Smoke was still coming out of his revolver.
The change was too sudden that Isabella and I didn’t know how to react.
“He talked too much,” Derek said casually.
Then he turned to Isabella and continued with a smirk, “Besides, I could see you wanted him dead. So I did you the favor and shot him first. Consider it your last gift.” Then he started laughing loudly.
Isabella went from fury to white-hot rage in the blink of an eye.
After laughing, Derek turned back to Eduardo’s corpse and spat on it. He said with disdain, “Did you think a motherfucking traitor like you is worthy to become our brother? Fucking idiot.” He spat once again on the corpse.
“What do you want, Derek?” Isabella asked with gritted teeth. Eduardo was dead, but we now had bigger concerns.
“Sweetie,” Derek said with a smug voice, “Did you forget so soon? Of course, we are here to kill you.”
Derek laughed, and his buddies joined in.
“Earlier, you said, just us are not enough to kill you.” Derek stopped laughing and said with a smile. “Though that may or may not be correct. But do you think I came with just these many subordinates?”
Then, as if on cue, we heard the sounds of a motorcycle engine. There were too many. Many bikes came behind the vans. Not just them; more thugs appeared on foot, on the ground, and standing atop the metal junk.
The fucker had brought a fucking army with him. I counted at least thirty, with maybe even more on the back.
Now, even Isabella looked solemn as her face looked slightly pale.
Derek looked satisfied seeing Isabella’s expression. He said with a savage grin, “Even if an idiot, your ex-admirer was right about one thing. This place is going to be your grave. And you can’t run away, as the entry gate is now locked.”
I pulled Isabella by hand and ran back. There was a path between the car stack to the right, and we dived in and continued running.
I didn’t use the car, as we would be sitting ducks in it with so many bikers ready to kill us. Moreover, Derek already said that the gate was closed. I didn't believe him, but I wasn’t willing to take any chances. Moreover, going inside the maze in the car would be much more complicated for us than for the thugs coming after us on bikes.
Behind us, Derek’s laugh echoed. “Let the rats run. Makes the hunt more fun.”
We ran for a few minutes without stopping. With our physical conditions, we didn’t feel out of breath. I made sure to take many turns and go deeper into the junkyard maze. It made it harder to make our way out, but at the same time, it made it harder for the bikers to find and kill us.
We finally stopped running. There was no one around us, and no sound of bike engines. But we didn’t let our guard down.
“I am calling in for reinforcements,” I told Isabella. This time, I didn’t bother asking or suggesting. Isabella nodded and didn’t deny this time.
I pulled out my mobile phone to make a call, but noticed that it didn’t show a signal. My eyes widened as I thought of something and pulled out my second phone. It also showed no signal.
“Check if your phone has signal,” I said to Isabella. She raised an eyebrow because of my tone, but didn’t say anything due to the circumstances.
Isabella pulled out her phone but frowned as she looked at it.
“No signal,” Isabella said with a solemn voice. She understood my concerns.
I took a deep breath.
Those fuckers had installed signal jammers.
Fuck.

Chapter 35: Hunt in the Maze

Chapter 35: Hunt in the Maze

Shit. Shit. Shit.
What should I do?
I will die.
I don’t want to die.
Fuck. Calm down, you fool.
I took a few deep breaths to calm my heart’s hammering like it’s trying to escape my ribs. The [Gamer’s Mind] automatically activated and helped me calm down instantly.
Think.
Thirty psychos, maybe more. Signal jammed. No exit. Closed junkyard.
Isabella’s with me. Just the two of us against an armed mob.
Their leader is riding a bike with a mounted minigun, grinning like a sadistic cat with a trapped mouse.
My skills are laughably inadequate to handle a threat of this level.
Sigh.
I am royally fucked.
I looked at Isabella. Her face looked solemn but was no longer pale. She checked her guns one by one for the upcoming battle with steady hands. For now, I could only depend on her Adept-level [Firearms] skill.
But we had limited bullets. Our extra bullets and magazines were in the car, and in a rush, we couldn’t take them while running. My only bullets were in my gun. As for Isabella, I wasn’t sure whether she had any extra magazines on her person.
“You ever been in a gun fight before?” Isabella asked, feeling my gaze on her.
The serious expression on my face vanished to give way to a smirk. Spiraling was useless. Even if I were to die, I would take a few of those fuckers down with me.
“Nope, today will be the day I lose my gun fight virginity,” I answered with a smirk.
Isabella cracked a smile at that, tension easing from her face.
“Do you have to act like a clown every time?” Isabella asked, amused.
“Better a clown than a panicked idiot,” I shot back.
“Wise words for a virgin who has never been in a gun fight,” Isabella retorted, half serious, half amused.
I shook my head with a light laugh and pulled out my gun from my waist.
I chuckled, checked my pistol, and felt a flicker of gratitude to past-me for grinding [Firearms] in the dungeon.
Even though my skill was only at the novice level, it was still significantly better than using my gun as a makeshift iron stick.
As I finished checking my pistol, we heard the engines.
We met each other in the eye and immediately grew alert.
The hunt had begun.
The hunters were close, searching for their prey.
But in the end, it remained to be seen—who would be the hunter, and who the hunted.
I moved towards the edge. My presence was hidden in the shadows. From the gap in the car frame with its mirrors removed, I watched two bikers. They were riding slowly while carefully looking around for us. Both had a Uzi in their hand.
The sound was coming from their engines. I didn’t hear any other distant engine sounds, so the others were in different directions.
I looked back towards Isabella, who had come near me, and showed her two fingers. She nodded to show she understood.
She peeked at them and whispered, “You take the left, I will take the right.”
I nodded.
She leaned out and fired. One clean shot and the biker had a fresh hole in his head. The bike lost balance and fell, sliding on the pavement. Her skill should not be far from the Expert level.
I shot at the same time, but forgot about the headshot; the bullet passed by my target.
The biker was immediately alerted, but I didn’t give him time to react. I fired again, which, once again, to my embarrassment, missed him.
The biker had already aimed his gun at my location by then. The muzzle spat fire as bullets sprayed towards me. We took a step back from the edge to cover.
Isabella gave me a look that was part judgmental and part disgusted.
I gave her a toothy smile in return.
When the bullet spray stopped, I came back to the edge. The biker was already close. This time, I didn’t target his head but his wider chest.
Previously, seeing Isabella’s headshot made me competitive. Moreover, when I played FPS games, I liked aiming for the head. But after missing two shots pathetically, my head came back to earth.
This time, I hit the guy, and he fell from the bike. He thrashed for a bit, then became motionless. His status showed he was dead, so no need to fear him faking it.
At the same time he died, I received two notifications from the system.
I quickly robbed both dead bodies for valuables. I pocketed the cash and kept one of the Uzis. I offered her the other one, but she refused. I shrugged and kept both. Unfortunately, the two bikers didn’t have bullets for the guns we used, but at least they had spare Uzi magazines.
There was no time to waste, as others might have heard the bullets being fired. We had to leave the area as quickly as possible.
But before that, I checked my notifications. I had an idea of what one of those might be.
And it was what I expected.

Mission: Vigilante
Objective 1: Eliminate 20 serious criminals (Completed)
Reward: Strength (F3) (Ready to receive)

Usually, I would have preferred taking the strength upgrade in a safe location, but I had no choice but to do it now. Any improvement would increase my chances of surviving this clusterfuck.
As I accepted the upgrade, my muscles spasmed immediately, and I felt an intense burning. My whole body was in intense pain. It was nowhere near what I felt when my strength increased to F2, as I had reached that level by grinding, whereas my current strength was forcefully upgraded to the next level.
The pain was over as suddenly as it arrived. For me, it felt like an eternity, yet the transformation took only a few seconds.
I immediately felt full of power as if I could snap a tree trunk in half with a single punch. Of course, that was merely an illusion, born of the sudden surge in strength. I had just attained peak human strength, certainly not enough to break a tree trunk in two with a punch.
I checked the other notification.

Killed a human with a firearm. Sharpshooter mission activated.
Title: Sharpshooter
Description: Successful kills with a firearm
Objective 1: Kill 20 individuals with firearms
Reward: Passive Skill: Firearms Mastery (Apprentice)
Objective 2: Kill 50 individuals with firearms
Reward: Passive Skill: Firearms Mastery (Adept)
Objective 3: Kill 100 individuals with firearms
Reward: Passive Skill: Firearms Mastery (Expert)

So, I needed to kill only a hundred people with a firearm to become a better shot than Isabella?
It didn't even have any restrictions on the target, unlike the Vigilante mission, which counted only the number of criminals killed. Objectively speaking, even an innocent person killed by a firearm would count as progress for the Sharpshooter mission.
It sounded easy, but it wasn't. I was not living in a medieval world where no one would give a flying fuck if I massacred two or three border villages that no one gave a shit about to speed run the mission.
I had no choice but to grind it with only criminals. At least the silver lining was that any criminals I put down with a firearm would count toward both the Sharpshooter and Vigilante missions.
I looked at the fallen bike near me. If we wanted to make it out of here alive, we had to rely on our respective skills.
I pulled up the bike and sat on it. I had never driven a motorcycle before, but as I sat on it, the [Driving] skill kicked in, and I felt like I had been driving it for years.
“Hop on,” I said, revving the engine. Isabella didn’t say anything and sat behind me.
“Can you handle the shooting while riding?” I asked.
“You just focus on driving and leave the shooting to me,” Isabella said, tone dripping with confidence.
I grinned. “Then let’s dance.”
I released the clutch and went straight ahead.
Since they wanted a hunt, I would give them a hunt.
A minimap appeared at the bottom of my vision. It showed the area I covered, while the rest was covered in fog. It would help me understand the nearby terrain so that I wouldn’t drive blindly. As I drove, the fog lifted, and I could see the paths around me.
A minute later, I heard the faint rumble of engines to my right. There was a right turn up ahead.
When I reached the turn, I slowed the bike, then eased the brakes, and the rear wheels slid clockwise until I was facing right. Then I released the brake, and with only a slight loss of speed, I continued driving forward.
The bikers were startled when they saw us coming towards them. But before they could come out of it and shoot us, Isabella had already aimed at them.
Two bullets, and the bikers were down. We quickly looted the bodies for spare bullets. Unfortunately, there was no place for any more guns.
We drove again, but after a few minutes, we saw no one.
Then, we once again heard the faint sounds of the engine. But this time they were from behind. I could already see the three bikes in the distance from the rearview mirror.
“Behind us,” I warned Isabella as I looked to find any corner to turn.
The bikers saw us and started firing in our direction. To dodge the bullets, I started driving erratically in an S-shape. It made it hard for the bikers to hit us, but it also made it hard for Isabella to hit them.
Finally, one of the bullets hit one of the bikers, and he fell off the bike with a scream. With one less psycho shooting at us, there was less pressure on me.
“Hold tight,” I told Isabella.
I stopped driving erratically and started moving in a straight line. Then, I pressed the front brakes hard. The rear wheels were lifted off the ground. Isabella immediately held my waist tightly.
I thought I heard Isabella cursing me in Spanish. Must be my imagination.
With the rear wheel in the air, I rotated my bike 180 degrees around the front wheel as the centre. We were face-to-face with each other.
Isabella didn’t waste the opportunity, and before the rear wheel could hit the ground, she shot down the two bikers.
We continued our hunts. The bikers dropped like dominoes. We had taken down at least a dozen by now.
At the front, I saw only a sharp left turn. Moreover, I could hear engine noises ahead.
I didn’t slow down or reverse; instead, I kept on driving. On the way, there was a pile of car wheels. I stretched my hand and picked up one of the metal wheels, and kept it in front of me. At the corner, I slid the rear wheel to face left, and I could see two bikers coming from the front.
I sped ahead and picked up the wheel. I hurled it towards one of the bikers. The wheel flew and hit the front wheel of one of the bikes. The bike immediately lost balance and fell. With its momentum, the bike kept skidding, dragging the biker along.
The other biker didn’t care about the predicament of his buddy and instead sprayed bullets at us with his Uzi. I again drive in an S-shape to make it harder for him to hit us.
A bullet hit his chest, and he fell off the bike. We stopped, and Isabella shot both bikers in the head to make sure they would stay down, then, after looting the bodies, we left.
While hunting the bikers, I was also looking for where they could have hidden the jammers. The junkyard covered several acres, with heaps of metal everywhere, which would block and reflect a significant amount of radio waves. Therefore, multiple jammers should be used to cover the area effectively.
Of course, we didn’t need to turn off all, but just needed an area with a signal to call for reinforcements.
And after driving for a while and hunting down a few more bikers, I found a possible location for one of the jammers.
I saw a crane in the distance. A jammer might have been placed high up on the crane.
As if to prove my words right, I saw a biker standing at the base of the crane looking vigilant. He heard the sound from our bike and immediately aimed his gun towards us. But Isabella shot him before he could pull the trigger.
I stopped at the base, and we both got off the bike.
“I will go and check if there is a jammer on the crane; you stay and kill any biker that approaches,” I said, and without waiting for her answer, I started climbing the ladder.
I first checked the driver's cab and, unexpectedly, found the jammer openly on the dashboard. I turned it off and looked down.
“Isabella,” I called, and showed a thumbs up when she looked up. She nodded in response.
I climbed down the stairs, and Isabella was already on the phone talking to someone. I waited on the side, keeping an eye on the surroundings, until she finished the call.
“The reinforcements are coming,” Isabella said. But it looked like she wasn’t done speaking. I could feel a but coming. And as expected, it came.
“But because we are so far, it might take around forty-five minutes to an hour for them to arrive,” Isabella completed.
Fuck. Of course, it will take time.
The next course of action was to open the gate and get the fuck out of here. We could come back once the reinforcements arrived.
We left the area to find our way back to the entrance gate. There would definitely be more guards at the gate to prevent our escape. So we needed to be prepared to face them.
After driving for a few minutes, we heard the engine's sound once again. This time, it was from just one source, but the sound was much louder. As the sound neared, it felt more and more like background music for a game boss.
“He is coming,” I said.
“Good. We can then finish him before the reinforcements,” Isabella said with confidence.
But I didn’t join in her confidence. I had stopped the bike, but didn’t turn off the engine for the face-off. I was slowly revving the engine, keeping it ready for an escape at any moment. I still hadn’t forgotten the minigun. The only reason I even entertained Isabella’s confidence was that it needed time for the minigun to start firing—enough time for me to do a tactical retreat.
A few seconds later, Derek finally turned onto our path from the right in front of us. The only difference from before was that he wore a helmet, which he didn’t before.
“Hey, sweetie, fancy seeing you here,” Derek’s smug but slightly muffled voice came through the helmet.
Isabella didn’t bother replying and unloaded the entire magazines of both her pistols on him.
My face became solemn because after the barrage, he stood before us unscathed. The bullets that fell on his helmet ricocheted. A bulletproof armor protected his body. Even his bike had a fucking armor plating, like his helmet, all bullets bounced off of it. And the last, even the fucking tires were bulletproof.
Without high-calibre firearms, we couldn’t do jackshit to him.
“And here I wanted to give you a few more moments to live,” Derek said, amused, shaking his head. “Oh well, if you want to die so much, then who am I to stop that?”
My eyes widened as the barrel of the minigun started spinning.
Nope. I wasn’t going to fight the final boss without at least taking care of its minions first. Who knew how many would shoot us in the back while we focus on fighting that beast?
“Hold tight!” I yelled, yanking the clutch and twisting the throttle. The front wheel lifted, and the bike exploded forward toward Derek.
The minigun spun, but the first rounds tore the air just as we streaked past him. Bullets screamed by, kicking up sparks and dust. Derek’s laughter followed us, harsh and gleeful. He swung the bike around and gave chase, barrel whirring up again.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
We needed to get away fast, or that gun would tear us apart. But I couldn’t find any place to turn or take cover.
“Kevin, look!” Isabella pointed ahead.
I followed her gaze and saw a metal sheet lying at an angle on a car frame. I could use that as a ramp to jump across, but I didn’t know if it could support the bike's weight. If it gave up midway, we would be sitting ducks in gunfire.
But it was the only way we could get away from the metal beast safely. So, I took a risk.
I increased the speed even more and reached the metal sheet. Then, using it as a ramp, I jumped the bike across. Fortunately, the metal plate beneath our weight held, but the minigun tore it to pieces as it fired just a moment after we left the ramp.
“Run, you rats!” Derek roared, voice warped by the helmet. “The more you run, the better the hunt!”
I ignored his ramblings and focused on my landing. We had crossed one path, and after passing another car stack, we landed there. The dirt road absorbed the impact of our fall, so it was relatively easier to control the bike after landing.
Checking the map, I took the opposite route Derek might come from and drove there.
After some twists and turns and gunning down a few more biker minions, we arrived at the gate.
As expected, Derek had prepared an excellent welcome for us. Both the vans we saw earlier, and a bike were parked in front of the gate, with six bikers patrolling or standing vigilantly around. Each of them carried a gun, and some also had a melee sidearm.
We were watching them from a distance, hidden behind the metal stacks, so they still haven’t noticed us.
“I have a plan,” I said in a low voice.
Isabella looked at me inquisitively. I shared my plan with her, and she nodded in agreement.
I hopped on the bike and rode a distance behind, then came back to create speed, and finally passed by Isabella. I turned to the last gear and gave the bike full throttle. The bikers had already noticed me.
They didn’t immediately shoot me, likely thinking that I couldn’t run away with the gate closed and with so many of them guarding it.
I smirked seeing them. Then my hands left the handle, and I leapt to the side when I was close enough to them. I rolled a few times before coming to a stop.
The bike kept going straight, driven by its momentum, and finally crashed into one of the vans. The bikers didn’t expect such a move, and for a few moments, they were in chaos.
Isabella took advantage of that confusion and shot down four of them in quick succession.
While lying on the ground, I pulled out the two Uzis I had taken earlier and sprayed the entire magazines on the two bikers near me. Even if I had limited skill, I could simply compensate for it with quantity.
Enough bullets hit the two bikers that by the time the mags were finished, both of them turned into Swiss cheese.
I got up, and Isabella had arrived by my side by then.
We then searched for the gate controls, which we found in the guard shack beside the gate, along with another jammer. We opened the gate and turned off the jammer.
I took a deep breath of relief. Finally, we could leave this hellhole.
But something felt off.
Strange. I am not feeling as much relief as I had hoped.
Why? Why am I feeling reluctance?
I looked at Isabella. Her face also didn’t show much relief at the fact that we could leave here unharmed.
“We can leave now,” Isabella said. “We can wait for the reinforcements to arrive to hunt Derek and the rest.”
Isabella said so, but it didn’t feel like she wanted to do it.
“Or,” Isabella continued with a strange look. “Since we have reached this point, we may as well see to it till the end.”
“The choice is yours,” She said.
Seeing to it till the end. Yes, that was why I was feeling reluctant.
Today, it was the second time I felt the same fear and helplessness I felt when that thug pointed his gun at my head in my taxi a few months back. I still didn’t get a chance to tear that motherfucker apart limb from limb.
And today, I was thinking of leaving without putting to death the second person who made me feel those feelings. I couldn’t do anything then. But the Kevin of today was different from the Kevin of that day.
I looked up towards Isabella. She looked nonchalant, but I could see the expectation in her eyes. Even she didn’t want to leave just like that.
It would be challenging to hunt that beast on my own. But with her, we could take him down.
I laughed. The answer was clear.
“Let’s go hunt a snake.”

*********************
Bonus chapter
Enjoy.

Chapter 36: The Serpent’s Nest

Chapter 36: The Serpent’s Nest

“What the fuck is going on? Where are the rest? Why aren’t they answering?” Derek roared, veins bulging in his neck.
He’d been riding high minutes ago. The plan was airtight — trap one of the Cartel’s Hounds and mount her head on his wall. When Isabella slipped away, he’d even laughed, thinking it’d be fun to hunt her through the junkyard like a rat in a maze.
He had heard a few reports from his subordinates about some of his men dying, but he ignored them, thinking it was an expected loss. The hound was cornered but still had her fangs and claws.
But only when he repeatedly heard the news of more and more of his subordinates dying, did he know something was wrong. So, in a hurry, he called all but those who guarded the gate to find out what was going on. But despite waiting for many minutes, only four returned.
The four looked timid before the angry Derek. Their faces were covered with panic.
The four looked at each other. The three looked at the fourth one, who was the most timid, and gestured to him with their eyes to reply to Derek. The fourth guy had a pleading look in his eyes, but in the end, he was forced to answer.
“Cap-captain. They are all dead—James, Mike, Luke, Xander, Caleb, and the others with them. We saw with our eyes,” the biker stammered, sweat rolling down his head.
“Useless!” Derek snapped, eyes blazing. “So many men, and you can’t handle two people? Pathetic!”
‘No way those idiots died to just two people—no fucking way.` Derek was cursing under his breath at his worthless subordinates. He was in denial about how just two people systematically decimated the entire group he brought with him.
Then they heard the engines, and they all grew tense. Their hands hovered near their weapons, ready to shoot at a moment’s notice.
Fortunately, those who came were their comrades. Their tense nerves calmed down as two more bikers stopped in front of them.
Their faces were serious, fear mingling. One of them said, “Captain, they killed Jack and Flint’s teams who were guarding the gate.”
“The jammer’s down. Gate controls are busted. The gate is now open and can’t be closed,” the second biker said.
The mood turned somber at once when the bikers heard that. They understood what it meant by the destruction of the jammer and gate controls. The cartel was already alerted and was on its way.
“We are leaving. It will take them time to come here; we will be gone by then,” Derek said with extreme unwillingness.
He’d promised his boss Isabella’s head, but now he was forced to run away with his tail between his legs. He would become the laughing stock of the entire gang. The thought burned worse than a bullet.
But just as they were about to leave, they once again heard an engine sound.
They grew tense again, but at the same time, they hoped it might be more of their comrades who had survived and were coming back to regroup.
But even as the sound neared them, they still couldn’t see anyone, only that it was coming from the other side of the metal stack.
“Hey Derek, did you give up so soon that you are running away like a coward?”
A mocking voice came from above. They saw Kevin with a loudspeaker and Isabella directly above. The bike was in midair after a stunt jump from the left stack, and they were falling toward the right vehicle stack.
“You should change your name from Iron Serpents to Rusty Worms,” Kevin continued trash-talking through the loudspeaker. But before any of the bikers could retaliate, Isabella opened fire on them. The bullets hit three, and they died on the spot.
All of that happened in a period of a few seconds.
The bike reached the other side, and the remaining biker could only watch them go with a mixture of fear, humiliation, and anger.
“Find them,” Derek roared with impotent rage. “I want them to regret being born!”

— Kevin —
That was fun.
I threw the loudspeaker away and continued driving. After driving for a few minutes, I stopped, hiding behind a car stack.
I had decided to hunt Derek, but it was no easy feat. His bike was bulletproof. His helmet and jacket protected his upper body.
The only place we could try was the lower body, which I assumed wasn’t protected with bulletproof clothing. Of course, it wasn’t so easy to just aim and shoot his legs. The bike's armored leg guards covered his legs. The entire front of his legs was protected.
“If I give you the opportunity, can you shoot at the back of his legs?” I asked, looking at Isabella in the rear-view mirror.
Isabella cocked her eyebrow, hearing that, then nodded as she understood why I was asking her that. The back of Derek’s legs was the only exposed part she could shoot.
“What did I tell you before, rookie?” Isabella asked with an easy smile. “You drive. I shoot.”
I laughed. “Aye aye, captain.”
We drove around, searching for traces of the bikers who were still alive. After a few random turns, we found Derek in front of us.
“Go to hell, Isabella!” Derek barked the moment he saw us.
Derek started his minigun, but since it took a moment to begin firing, we had a tiny window to get away from it.
I immediately turned up the gear and revved the accelerator. The bike immediately picked up speed, rocketing down the street.
Before the minigun could start spewing bullets, we passed by Derek. I immediately slowed down. At that moment, Isabella turned around and shot the back of Derek’s exposed right leg.
The moment the minigun started shooting, Derek screamed in pain, but didn’t fall off. Even as he sat on his bike, the injury to his right leg kept him from using the rear brake pedal.
Despite the pain, Derek wanted to turn the bike around and shoot at us, shredding us into pieces. But with the injured leg and the extra weight of the minigun on the bike, it was difficult for him to turn quickly.
I took advantage of that and immediately sped and left Derek in the dust.
There was no need to finish the fight then and there. We had injured his leg, which was a considerable progress. But even with the injured right leg, he was still dangerous.
“You damned slut!” Derek yelled in rage as we took a turn and disappeared from his view.
Our next target was the three remaining bikers. Once they were dealt with, we could deal with Derek with a piece of mind knowing there would be no minions to interrupt in the final boss fight.
Unfortunately, before we could find our target, our target found us.
A biker appeared behind us and immediately started shooting. I drove haphazardly in an S-shape to dodge the bullets.
But it looked like our good luck was over. Before Isabella could shoot down the biker behind us, two more bikers appeared in front of us. It became even harder to bodge bullets from both front and behind. A few stray bullets even hit the bike, but fortunately, they didn't hit us, especially not the gas tank.
“I will take the left, you will take the right,” I said while trying hard not to get us shot. The bikes were getting closer, making it harder to dodge.
Without giving Isabella a chance to understand what I meant by that, I pulled the front brake hard.
The front wheel jammed shut immediately, but the rear wheel did not. The bike was lifted from behind in a stoppie. With the front wheel as the pivot, the bike rotated counterclockwise.
The moment the bike rotated roughly ninety degrees, I faced left. With one hand on the handle, I pulled out my Uzi with my left and emptied the entire magazine on the biker.
The moment I left, Isabella, who had understood what I meant by my earlier words, faced right. She drew her pistol and aimed it at the two bikers. Two bullets, and the two bikers were down.

Vigilante (23/100) (+1)
Sharpshooter (3/100) (+1)

Those notifications were enough proof that I killed the biker I shot.
Now, only Derek remained alive.
We drove around for a few minutes but couldn’t find him.
I suddenly thought of something and drove immediately towards the exit. My hunch was correct. I saw Derek passing by the gate.
It seemed he discovered that the rest of his remaining subordinates were already cold and decided to bail out.
I increased the speed and followed behind. In a minute, we caught up to him.
“Isabella, tell your dog to stop,” Derek shouted in panic when he saw us getting near him. “It will not be suitable for either of our gangs if we kill each other for no reason. We can’t afford a gang war.”
But all he got was a mocking smirk from us.
“Isabella, don’t be so vindictive. Yes, we ambushed you, but you have already killed all my men. That should be enough compensation,” Derek continued hurriedly. His voice was getting tenser with each word. “I will not hold you responsible for their deaths. So, how about we call a truce?”
“Hey, Kevin?” Instead of answering Derek, Isabella called me out. She asked with a mock curious expression, “What did you call them earlier?”
I played along and said, “Oh, that? I called them rusty worms.”
“Right? I guess that name suits them better. Cuz, they don’t live up to the name of Iron Serpents,” Isabella said and started laughing. I joined in the laughter.
“You? YOU??” Derek was so pissed he couldn’t even form a perfect sentence.
In that moment when Derek lost his focus due to rage, Isabella shot his left leg from behind twice. One pierced the back of his knee, and the other his ankle.
“Aaah,” Derek screamed and fell off the bike. He was lying on the road, howling in pain, but we didn’t go near him to finish the job.
“You filthy swines,” Derek bellowed in rage and pain and took out his gun. That was what we were waiting for, because we knew he still had a gun that he used to shoot Eduardo earlier.
But the moment he pulled out his gun, Isabella immediately shot his hand, and the gun fell to the side. Derek howled again, clutching his bleeding palm.
We got off the bike and came near Derek. Isabella took off his helmet. His face was covered with rage, pain, humiliation, and fear.
Just as Isabella was about to shoot him in the head, I interrupted her, “Stop.”
Isabella didn’t shoot and instead looked at me curiously. The playful expression on my face on looking at Derek lying like a half-dead dog turned serious.
“Let me kill him,” I said with a no-nonsense tone.
Isabella frowned, hearing that. She neither agreed nor denied. “Why?” She asked.
I narrowed my eyes, and Isabella immediately showed a wary expression seeing that.
Is she thinking that I will take her credit?
“If you are worried about me taking your credit?” I started. “Then don’t. I have no interest in that.”
I took a deep breath. “He made me feel some emotions that I didn’t want to feel. So, now I gotta return the favor to him.”
Isabella still didn’t answer. With each second, I felt my irritation rising.
“Fine,” Isabella finally said.
I took out my pistol and put it to Derek’s forehead. “Any last words?”
“No, no, no. Wait, wait, wait,” Derek said in panic. “You don’t have to do this. I can see you are a talented person, especially in your bike driving skills. You will definitely fit in with us. Let me go, and I promise I will personally request the boss to give you a high position. You can get both money and bitches. Hell, if you help me, you can even take Isabella as—”
His words were stopped midway as I pulled the trigger, and the bullet pierced his head.
“He talked too much,” I said, putting back the gun.
“Nice shot,” Isabella commented with a slight grin. Then she did the unexpected.
Isabelle leaned and kissed me on the lips. But the kiss was too short.
“A reward for your earlier performance,” Isabella said with a smile.
Seriously? I save her life, and she gives me a charity kiss.
My hand found her waist; a quick pull brought her against me. She gasped, eyes wide, and I silenced her with a fierce kiss.
The whole time of the kiss, Isabella continued struggling in my arms. But at the same time, it didn't look like she was actively avoiding the kiss. Finally, I had had enough of her squirming and released her lips.
“You think one kiss gives you the right to touch me? Let go, or you’ll be lying next to Derek,” Isabella threatened with rage in her voice.
My patience was thinning, and her words pushed it to the breaking point.
“Stay still.” My tone was calm, but it cut through her anger like a blade. I looked down at her without a hint of emotion.
The moment I spoke, a shiver ran through Isabella’s body before her tension melted away, and her body went limp. I drew her in again, and this time, she didn’t resist. The kiss deepened, her defiance gone—she moved with me, matching my rhythm.
When I finally let her go, her face was flushed and her breathing uneven. The severity in my expression faded into a smirk. She harrumphed and turned away, refusing to meet my eyes.
Well, look at that. So that’s what she likes—cold, ruthless, commanding.
After our makeout session, Isabella left to call Reina and explain what had happened, and I used the time to check a bunch of notifications.
I got two notifications right after I killed Derek.

Killed an important individual at least one minor grade above. Assassin mission activated.
Title: Assassin
Description: Assassinate important people at least one minor grade above
Objective 1: Assassinate 5 people
Reward: Perception (F3), Agility (F3)
Objective 2: Assassinate 12 people
Reward: Passive Skill: Danger Sense, Active Skill: Hunter’s Mark
Objective 3: Assassinate 25 people
Reward: Perception (E1), Agility (E1)

Important people? As the top lieutenant of the Iron Serpent MC, which was one of the owners of Newark’s underworld, he should be significant enough. And with his F3 grade, killing him satisfied the mission's unlock condition.
It had fewer numbers to kill than the Vigilante or Sharpshooter missions, and it doubled rewards. At first glance, it might look like this mission was too easy with abundant rewards, but it was not the case.
While the Vigilante mission had the requirement to kill serious criminals, and the Sharpshooter mission required killing with a firearm, this mission had two requirements. One was to kill an important person, and that person must be at least one minor grade above me. Just like how at F2, I killed the F3 Derek.
The main difficulty would be finding individuals who met both requirements. Each target must matter: politicians in power, prominent businessmen, scientists, actors, high-ranking military officers, criminals in key positions within major gangs, and many more.
But how many would be above me in grade? And as I would get stronger, it would be harder and harder to find anyone who matched the requirements,
I checked the second notification.

Mission: Betrayal’s Price (Completed)
Description: The cartel finally found out the rat who sold the details of their cigar shipment to their rival, Iron Serpent MC. Accompany Isabella to take down the traitor.
Reward: $200, More missions from Reina
Hidden Objective 1: Isabella survives the ambush. (Completed)
Reward: $10000
Hidden Objective 2: Kill Derek, Iron Serpent MC lieutenant. (Completed)
Reward: $20000, Gunkata Martial Arts Manual (Equilibrium)

Finally, a decent payout.
And that manual? Now we’re talking. Time to learn how to shoot with style.
Lastly, I check the last notification. I got this one right after my strength stat reached F3. The notification was too long, so I had ignored it at that time.

Requirements satisfied: Peak Human Threshold (F3) achieved in three physical stats.
The streets remember only those who bleed for their throne.
Commence your graduation trial — prove whether you are predator or prey.
Main Mission Unlocked: Trial by Blood

Trial by Blood
Primary Objectives: Survive for 48 hours in Hell’s Kitchen and complete the following objectives:

1. Eliminate three gang outposts (safe houses). Each must be from a different gang.
2. Kill at least thirty gang members, at least from three different gangs, and at least 10 per gang.
3. Annihilate one gang.

Rewards:

1. System Upgrade: Territory Management Module
2. X-Gene Awakening

Bonus Objective: Complete the mission without using firearms.
Bonus Reward: Soryu Style Inheritance Stone (Akaza, Demon Slayer)
Failure Consequence: The mission and all its rewards will be permanently locked and inaccessible.

Note:

1. Once accepted, the mission must be completed within the designated timeframe.
2. Stats will be capped at F3 during the mission time.
3. All physical skills will be capped at the Expert level during the mission time.
4. All mystical and superhuman skills will be sealed during the mission.
5. The objectives must be completed without external assistance.

I have an X-Gene?!

Somewhere in a secret hideout:
Three people were sitting across a table, two on one side and one on the other.
The two who were sitting together were a man and a woman.
The man was dressed in a tight blue bodysuit with jagged purple patterns. The hands and feet of his suit were of a similar purple, contrasting against the lighter blue of the rest. The mask covered his entire head, leaving only his white eye lenses visible. The suit’s glossy surface gave him a slick, almost wet look.
The woman, on the other hand, didn’t cover her face. She was dressed in a white, high slit halter dress with snake patterns. The outfit exposed her legs and the side of her hips. Her arms and lower legs were covered in white wrappings, with green, high heels adorning her feet and coiled snake armlets adorning her arms. She had straight black hair with blunt bangs. Her expression was calm but slightly seductive.
On the other hand, the man sitting in front of them was wearing a black, sleeveless biker jacket with snake tattoos on his arms. He had messy blonde hair with a thick mustache. His explosive muscles were visible in his exposed arms, thick veins running down them.
“Eel, Asp, I told you that the mission will be a success. I sent Derek for the job, and he is one of my best men. We will hear the news of his success any minute now,” the biker said with a relaxed smile.
“Iron Serpent, it will be suitable for you if you don’t mess up this time. The leader is already displeased with you after your previous failure, despite the funds and resources we provided to you to buy those cops in your competitor’s backyard,” the man in the blue suit said.
“But Eel, you can’t blame me for that. I didn’t even know how that bitch found out about our plans. If we had proceeded with it, we could have captured at least 30% of her businesses and crippled another 30%,” Iron Serpent explained.
Of course, Iron Serpent didn’t know all of his plans went up in smoke because the new precinct captain, whom he got appointed to the precinct nearest to Reina’s base of operations after bribing plenty of higher officials, terminated an old and useless janitor. The janitor not only lost his stable job but also the cartel support because he lost his worth as their informer.
That bitter janitor, to have his revenge against the new captain, whom he had already found out was corrupt, spent all his waking moments of his life collecting every piece of evidence against him. Using his decades-long contacts as the precinct janitor, he amassed enough evidence after months of hard work to either regain his position in the cartel or sell it to the highest bidder, earning enough money to retire to an island.
“What’s the use of explaining yourself now?” Asp said with a mocking smirk. “You do realize that you are still just a temporary member of the Serpent Society, right? And with your current actions, your chances of becoming a permanent member are only decreasing.”
“Asp, don’t tell me what I already know,” Iron Serpent said with a straight face. “The leader is supporting me to take over Newark’s underworld, and I will live up to the leader’s expectations.”
Before Iron Serpent could say anything more, they heard knocking sounds from the door.
Iron Serpent showed an expected expression. “Come in,” he said, already anticipating the good news.
The biker who entered the room suddenly felt weak under the combined gazes of the three people. Moreover, with the news he was about to deliver, he felt even weaker in his legs, as each step felt heavy like he was walking in a quagmire.
“Boss,” the biker said hesitantly, his throat moving as he gulped nervously.
“Has Derek killed Isabella?” Iron Serpent asked in anticipation.
The biker stayed silent, with his head down. He didn’t know how to break the news to his boss.
“Speak!” Iron Serpent barked, slamming his fist on the table.
On the other side of the table, Asp and Eel exchanged a glance; both had already sensed the answer.
“Did he fail?” Eel asked sternly.
“What the fuck are you saying, Eel? There is no way Derek can fail to kill a single person with so many men and equipment,” Iron Serpent roared. He turned back to the biker, and this time his voice dropped to a threatening low. “Say, what happened?”
The biker knew he couldn’t stall anyone; his face was already covered in cold sweat. He said in a trembling voice, “B-boss, D-Derek is dead. All of them. Everyone who went with him… they’re gone.”
Hearing this news, the room froze. Not just the Iron Serpent; even the Eel and the Asp were shocked.
“Did Isabella bring the cartel members with her, or did the gang take advantage of the fight?” Asp asked with a frown, her eyes narrowed.
The biker was now even more nervous. “N-no, ma’am. There was only one other man. Just… just one, with Isabella.”
“Bullshit,” Iron Serpent roared. “Isabella is capable but not capable enough to fight a small army on her own while locked in a cage.”
After he paused, he thought of something and asked, “What about Isabella? After fighting them, she should be dead too. Even if she is not, she shouldn’t be far from it. We can send more men to finish the job.”
Now, the biker wished nothing more than to just disappear from the room. But his wish was to remain unfulfilled, and he had no choice but to continue the report. “Our men saw her leaving with the other cartel member unharmed on one of our bikes. Even if they are injured, it isn’t by much, as seen from their relaxed expressions.”
The report ended with a gunshot. The biker died before he hit the ground.
Smoke curled from Iron Serpent’s pistol. His breathing was heavy, his face pale.
“How…” he muttered, staring at the blood pooling on the floor. “How’s that possible?”
Eel and Asp said nothing; they only showed him disdainful looks. They didn’t believe that just two people could kill so many gangsters. Isabella should have had backup with her, and the ambush might have been evolved into a gang fight. Derek and his subordinates’ skills were so poor that they all died.
Contrary to their expressions, Iron Serpent felt fear. Fear of the leader’s wrath.