"Whoops, excuse me..."
Gray disarmingly smiled, having "accidentally" bumped into a middle-aged man wearing a fancy blue suit and a brand wristwatch that matched his expensive getup.
"Are you alright?" he said, reaching to hold the middle-aged man's shoulder and wrist to stop him from falling with an apologetic expression.
The middle-aged man's eyes widened at the impact, only sighing in relief when Gray caught him before he could fall. He turned to Gray and immediately noticed his shabby outfit and the black baseball cap covering half of his, prompting him to scowl.
The middle-aged man's hands went to his pocket to check on his wallet, his expression only relaxing once he was sure it was still there.
"Watch it, punk! Do you know how expensive this suit is?!"
The middle-aged man scolded, sending Gray an annoyed glare, to which the latter merely smiled, raising his hands in surrender.
"Sorry about that. But you should keep an eye out, Mr," Gray remarked as he reached to adjust the middle-aged man's disheveled suit. "This place is crawling with pickpockets, you know?" he added and started walking without waiting for a reply, accidentally pumping into the middle-aged man's side as he moved forward.
The middle-aged man shook his head with a disgusted face and resumed his stride, putting the entire affair out of his mind, unaware of the wicked smile on Gray's face as the latter walked into the closest ally.
...
"Hm? Is that suit just for show?! What a fucking loser," I muttered in annoyance as I took the fifty-dollar bill from the middle-aged man's wallet and threw it aside.
"The watch is the real deal, at least..." I muttered, smiling as I turned to my inventory to inspect the middle-aged man's wristwatch.
...
[Bulova Surveyor Stainless Steel Ref. 96C125]
Brand: Bulova
Case Material: Stainless Steel
Case Diameter: 39mm
Crystal: Domed Mineral Crystal
Dial Feature: Luminous Hands
Water Resistance: 30M
Movement: Quartz
...
'I can get at least $100 if I take this to a fence.'
I smiled in satisfaction as I retrieved the watch from my inventory to take a better look. The original price for this watch should have been somewhere between $200-$250, but I could only sell it to a fence, so the drop in value is expected.
'System, show me my character screen.'
...
Name: Grayson Whitlock
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 17
Class: Thief (level 3)
...
Stats:
Body: 11
Mind: 11
Spirit: Locked
Stat Points: 9
...
Skills:
[Crime (level 6)]
...
Perks:
[Dormant Metahuman]
...
Inventory: [Quarter Dollar Coin]
...
Quests: [Get Rich Or Die Trying (literally)]
Get Rich Or Die Trying (literally):
Money makes the world go round. You want it; you need it. Go for it.
Objective: Gather $1000 through any means.
Rewards: [random equipment] [+5 levels to the crime skill]
Progress: $913/$1000
...
'Nice.
I did the mental equivalents of a fist pump as I inspected the progress, unmindful of the system's peculiar wording. I've already grown used to the biting tone of the system, taking comfort in it instead.
As much as I wanted to say that I had a handle, that I was keeping a level head, and that I didn't feel any fear or uneasiness, I wasn't that thick-skinned.
It gnawed on my mind, hounding my every waking thought that I'd pump into Batman's rogue gallery. It was a real possibility that the Joker could decide to flood the apartment complex in Joker Venom while I slept or that a giant vine would suddenly emerge from the ground and crush me to death at any time, anywhere.
Even Batman himself was a constant source of worry for me. Hero or not, the man was batshit crazy (no pun intended), and he was likely to break my arms or throw me into Black Gate Penitentiary if he caught me stealing, for all I knew. But I digress.
The system's biting remarks and occasional reference or joke from my past life distracted me from my unease. It helped me stay focused and allowed me to cling to my sanity in this oh so insane world.
And now I only need to sell this watch and collect my pay to finish the quest and leave that hellhole excuse of an apartment and rent a place in a safer spot. And even though I could afford a month or two of rent with what I have right now, any money I spend will be deducted from the quest's progress. I know because I tried.
I've been doing this song and dance for a week now, roaming Gotham City's downtown area, carefully picking the softest and fattest targets I could find to pickpocket.
But even with my caution, my first attempt at pickpocketing had almost ended in a disaster. I had forgotten one essential detail. Even the most average Gotham city resident had likely a thief or three in their lifetimes, and their instinct upon pumping into someone is to check their pockets.
Luckily, and I'm ashamed to admit it, my first target was an elderly gentleman, and so I managed to run away in time when he realized his wallet was missing.
I was smart enough to learn from experience, so I started pumping into people without stealing anything to lower their guard and only emptying their pockets after.
Besides pickpocketing people, I've also been rigorously training myself by attempting Saitama's infamous training regime; 100 pushups, 100 situps, 100 air squats, and a 10-km run every day. And I emphasize the word "attempting" because that shit is just impossible for me right now.
I can barely do half of that before I'm on my knee panting for breath, so I started waking up early at 4 AM for a 5-km run in Gotham City's Park, resting for an hour, then going for 50 pushups, and repeating the cycle until it gets dark.
I wasn't idle during my resting time either. I'd head into the library and read about this world's history to stimulate my brain and study this world's history, something the old Gray didn't have the leisure to do.
My exercise and study had shown results relatively quickly, no doubt thanks to the system, despite the meager one-point increase in my mind and body attribute. But even then, it was too fast and parent of a development for a regular human.
"Whelp, time to take this to Old Jack and get rid of it..."
I muttered with a faint smile, a spring in my step as I headed towards Old Jack's pawn shop. He was a well-known fence in the area, and I've been selling my ill-gotten gains to him for the past week since he had the tact not to ask any questions, and didn't try to rip me off too much.
But my cheerful attitude didn't last long as a mad cackle reverberated from above.
I paled as I turned to the source and saw a man in a black full-body protective suit barreling in the air flying with a jetpack strapped to his back.
"Shine in glorious orange! Burn for me! BURN!"
The man, dementedly exclaimed as he spun in the air, dragging along a wave of searing flame that devoured everything in its path, which he unleashed with a flame thrower attached to his jetpack.
"HAHAHAHAHA!"
He cackled like a madman as he randomly began throwing bombs with reckless abandon. His laugh grew louder and more demented at the panicked screams and pleas of the pedestrians in the street and the residents of the buildings he torched.
"The bastard is getting off of it..."
I muttered as I stood rooted in place while watching the hell The Firefly brought upon the unsuspecting civilians, my teeth chattering as I tried and failed to process the reality before me.
I knew it would happen. I knew I would encounter something like this sooner rather than later, yet I couldn't process it. It was one thing to see a psychopath setting fire to people while laughing in glee in a comic or a movie. But to see it with my own eyes was entirely different.
I watched in a daze as people caught fire and started rolling on the ground, running around like headless chickens, and only came to my senses when someone tackled me down.
"H-help me... P-pleas.."
He spoke, and I immediately felt my lunch shooting up my throat as I looked at the man's disfigured head. His burnt face looked melted. It was full of blisters and hideous burn scars, most of his hair gone, leaving only loose patches of hair on a disfigured bald head.
"GET OFF ME!" I exclaimed, getting back to my sense as I forced myself to push down my lunch, and shoved the man to stand up.
"I- I'm sorry."
I muttered with a grimace as I looked at the man who reached towards me with a shaking hand and started moving, turning away from the man's hideous imploring face that will no doubt haunt my dreams. I started sprinting, intent on running as far away as I could from this hellish scene.
I willfully turned away from the burning people, covering my ears in a lame attempt to filter out the screams, which miserably failed as I ran towards Gotham City's Park.
...
Collapsed on all fours on Gotham City Park's grimy paved road, Gray could do nothing but heave heavy, erratic breaths while cursing his rotten lock, the images of people burning and screaming in agony, begging for mercy fresh in his mind.
Seventeen years. The former Gray had managed to live in Gotham for seventeen years and didn't encounter any of the true psychopaths prowling the damned city.
Yet it's only been a week since he came to this world, and he had already encountered one of the most twisted, demented psychopaths Gotham had to offer on his seventh day.
His mind was unable and unwilling to understand what would drive a man to commit such atrocities, despite knowing such individuals, who were simply evil for the sake of being evil, indeed existed in this world and maybe even in his home.
Being aware of the dark nature of humanity and experiencing it firsthand were two things entirely different from each other after all. And for all his bravado and willingness to stand up for himself, both Grays, current and former, were regular people with no experience in dealing with such dark happenings.
"Are you alright, son?"
Gray heard a voice calling, and he turned to the speaker with weary, tired eyes. Thick ginger beard and a receding hairline of the same color with rough masculine features, accompanied by a well-built body.
Gray recognized him as the homeless man he'd always see lurking around the park whenever he swung by for a run.
"The ground is dirty and cold. Let me help you up." Noticing Gray's haggard appearance, the homeless man offered a hand as he reached for Gray with a soft smile adorning his face.
"Don't- don't touch me. I'm fine." Gray weakly snapped, trying to slap the homeless man's hand away, but he couldn't muster half the strength to reach it.
He merely sighed at Gray's gesture and kneeled to be on the same eye level as the haggard teen, his expression turning soft.
"I've seen you running here every day for the past week. You always looked exhausted and sweating like a gypsy with a mortgage..."
The homeless man chuckled at his own joke, but it fell on deaf ears as Gray unblinkingly looked at him with the same hollow expression he had since the start of the conversation.
"You looked so desperate when running like your life depended on it, so I couldn't help noticing you and wondering what made you run so desperately." He cleared his throat, continuing with a gesture of his hand to the side as he sent Gray a curious look despite not any reaction.
"Let's just say I didn't know what else to do... I still don't," Gray sighed and unwittingly replied despite himself, a bitter smile tugging at his lips.
"As good a reason as any, I suppose. But you always came back every day and finished your run, and that's all that matters." The homeless nodded, raising a closed fist.
"Now, I don't know what you've been through, and I know it's none of my business, but that expression on your face, I've seen it before on many people's faces, and it didn't end well for any of them."
He sighed again, a wistful expression creeping into his face, but there was a tenderness in his tone, contrasting his masculine, hardened visage and fondness for times past.
"You've got heart, son. It'd be a waste if you let whatever it is your facing be the end of it," he added, shaking the wistfulness away, smiling instead as he stood up and offered his hand to Gray again.
Gray stared at the homeless man's hand for several seconds, clearly hesitating, but the homeless man didn't take back his hand.
"It's just a hand, son. It will not bite, and there's no shame in taking it either," the homeless man said with an encouraging smile, to which Gray sighed and took hold of his hand.
"You don't have to thank me or say anything," he said, slightly amused at Gray's expression as distrust and bewilderments marred the haggard teenager's face.
"Take care now, son," the homeless man remarked as he patted Gray's shoulder and turned to walk away, leaving the latter to sigh and do the same after a shake of his head.
However, Gray only took several steps before pausing to inspect his pocket as it felt lighter and found no trace of the wristwatch he stuffed inside his pockets in a panic while fleeing the scene of The Firefly's rampage.
Gray turned around to see the homeless man smiling over his and playfully dangling the watch over his shoulders as he deliberately walked away slowly.
Looking at this scene, Gray merely sighed, unable and unwilling to resent the homeless man, who was the first to show him kindness in this rotten city, fake or otherwise.
He left the park with a bitter smile adorning his face, albeit considerably less forced, the light returning to his hollow, weary eyes.
...
I sighed as I plopped into my bed, having taken a shower, the cold water doing wonders to calm my agitated nerves. I couldn't help but think about my encounter with the homeless man earlier today.
I remember running past him every day for the past week during my runs, but I never paid him any attention since I had other things to worry about then.
I'm still not sure why the man approached me when nor I did understand his intentions. But I was grateful for him nonetheless. He knew what I needed to hear and said it.
I've always thought myself capable of motivating myself and above the need for encouragement from other people. But I guess you will only understand the value of such things when you truly need them. Gotham City sure has a way of humbling people.
Still, the entire encounter felt weird. As grateful as I was for the man, I couldn't help feeling suspicious at how convenient the whole thing was, especially with how he seemed to be taunting me with the watch.
Something tells me I haven't seen the last of the man, so I'll probably figure out his aim eventually if my hunch is any good.
I opened my system interface, and a new window in the corner drew my attention.
[You have three unread notifications]
'Show me the notifications'
[New mandatory quest initiated: Fast and Fiery-ous Demise]
[mandatory quest accepted: Fast and Fiery-ous Demise]
[mandatory quest completed: Fast and Fiery-ous Demise]
...
Fast and Fiery-ous Demise:
The Firefly, being the arsonist psychopath that we all know and love, is getting his rocks off, burning down everything that moves and everything doesn't, and it just so happens that you're in his crosshairs (or whatever is the flame thrower's equivalent of a crosshair).
Objective: Get your ass out of there before the Firefly burns into a crisp
Rewards: [Neuron Adaptive Steel Wire] [+10 levels in the crime skill]
...
[Receive rewards now? Yes/No]
I smiled at the quest's name and how hard the system seemed to be trying to make references, but I shook my head and ignored it.
'Receive rewards'
[Received: Neuron Adaptive Steel Wire]
[Received: +10 levels in the crime skill]
[Neuron Adaptive Steel Wire: a twenty-meter long steel wire which can attach itself to your nerves, and by extension, your brain, allowing you to control it through thoughts alone]
'Interesting'
I mused as I took out the steel wire from my inventory to inspect it, and it came out in a roll. It looked no different from regular steel wire except that one of its ends had a pointy tip while the other had a flat contraption.
My eyes widened as the wire's tip with the flat contraption came to life and slithered into my back through my sleeve.
I grunted as I felt something brick me in the back, and the rest of the steel wire entered my sleeve and began wrapping around my arm.
"Wow..."
I intoned as I suddenly felt like I had a new limb as the steel wire attached itself to my nerves through my back.
I slowly raised one of my hands, pointing towards the wall, and the steel wire immediately shot out of my sleeve, hitting the wall and piercing it with an audible thud.
I couldn't help smiling like a kid in a candy store as I began experimenting with the steel wire, throwing random objects and having it retrieve them with a mere thought.
"Today's been a horrible day, but at least I got a new toy for my suffering," I muttered to no one in particular, snickering as I retracted the wire and turned to my character screen again.
Looking at the 24 available stat points, I really wanted to dump them into my body attribute and be done with it to give myself more wiggling space if something like The Firefly encounter happens again.
But I pushed it down when I noticed my Crime skill level (16) and my Thief class level (8).
'If I finish the money quest right now, it will add five levels to the Crime skill and two levels to the Thief class by extension, but what will happen to the extra skill level? Will it count to the new class or go to waste?'
[Any skill levels that go over the host's maximum level will contribute to the next class the host choses]
'Good. You had me worried there for a minute.'
I would have had to delay completing the quest and raise Crime's level myself to avoid wasting levels if that was the case.
'For a passive-aggressive system, this thing sure is well made.'
I mused, smiling as I lay down on the bed, closing my eyes as the fatigue of my long day caught up to me.
...
'It's just $90. You can do this..'
I tried to encourage myself as I walked the streets of Gotham's downtown, the mad cackles of the Firefly still fresh in my mind, along with images of his victims.
'He's gone. Batman kicked the shit out of him, and he's in Arkham Asylum now.'
I assured myself, taking a deep breath as I nervously turned to the sky, searching for a demented arsonist that wasn't there, luckily.
'Focused. I need to stay focused.'
I exhaled the breath I'd been holding as I scanned the surrounding, looking for a juicy enough target to finish my money quest in one go. I didn't want to stay here any more than I had to, not so soon after that.
'I wonder if I should get therapy or something?'
I bitterly mused, my eyes lighting up as I spotted a young man in expensive brand clothing step out of a sport, adorned with a shit ton of expensive-looking jewelry.
However, the bald buff guy in a black suit and black shades stepping out of the other car door made me reconsider my target.
I walked past the rich young man without sparing another glance in his direction, my eyes darting around as I tried to find an easier target. I was desperate for money, not stupid.
I quickly found an old lady wearing a golden ring, and after some hesitation, another glance at her was more than enough to make me decide not to go for her.
Her clothes were unremarkable and shabby, and the only thing noteworthy about her attire was the ring. It's probably something that holds more sentimental value than monetary if she was stubborn enough to wear it outside, despite clearly not being rich.
It's not like I suddenly grew a conscience after stealing to my heart's content for an entire week, but if possible, I'd like to avoid taking from people who didn't have much in the first place. I was no Robin Hood, but even I wouldn't go that far.
It's silly, dumb, and hypocritical, but I needed to set lines for myself or risk turning into something the current me won't even recognize in a few years.
The DC universe in general and the Gotham City especially was as horrible a place to live as you'd get, and I can already feel myself changing, adapting, turning into something that wasn't me.
I was under no illusion that I could continue to live in this world while clinging to the morals and worldview of my past life. I knew I would change. I knew that this world would change me eventually, but I at least wanted to change on my own terms and chose what to become, if you will.
In any case, I walked past the old lady and resumed looking for a new target for several minutes until I found a middle-aged talking to a young, pretty woman with the most obnoxious smile I'd ever seen.
'What a douchebag.'
I raised an eyebrow as I saw the man stealthily put his hand into his pocket, only taking it out once he got rid of his engagement and ring, leaving it there.
'Looks like I found my target.'
I smiled as I walked past the middle-aged man, without pumping into him, or making any physical contact, merely passing by with barely an inch between our shoulders.
[+1 level to the Crime skill]
My smile widened as my metal wire returned to my sleeve, and I turned to my inventory to see the douchebag's ring sitting comfortably inside it.
[Rose Gold 14K engagement ring]
The steel wire was probably the best thing I could have received as a reward. Not only did it feel like an extra limb, but it counted as one too as far as the system was concerned, meaning I could use it to store things in my inventory.
It also gave me a way to defend myself when necessary, with both a lethal and non-lethal option, as I found out the tip of the wire can change shape to be blunt or pointy.
I had spent two days familiarizing myself with its use in an abandoned warehouse in East End where the former Gray used to sleep since I wanted to lie low and wait for the heat (no pun intended) from Firefly's rampage to cool down. Yup, that's why I took a two-day break, and definitely not because Firefly traumatized the shit out of me.
'I should be able to get $150 for this ring.'
I nodded, feeling my mood turn for the better, and immediately paused as I started looking around, expecting Firefly or some other psycho to come and ruin my day.
'No murderous psychopaths, or otherwise within sight. Good.'
I sighed, allowing a faint smile to tug on my lips as I made my way towards Old Jack's, already thinking about where I'll move once I sold the ring and finished the quest.
Old Jack, the owner of the aptly named Old Jack's pawn shop, was an old soul, who lived through everything this city had to offer, both good and bad. There's a rumor he used to be a thief who retired after Batman broke his leg one day, causing him to pull out and start working as a fence instead.
I didn't really care about the rumors or Old Jack's history. I only went there because he offered reasonable payments for my stolen goods, and he was prudent enough not to ask any questions, which made him a-okay in my books.
'Should be right around the corner...'
After several minutes of walking, I exited an alley and turned to where I knew Old Jack's was, only to freeze as I locked eyes with a middle-aged man leaning on the wall near the pawn shop's entrance.
He knowingly grinned, eyes lighting, and I immediately recognized him as the middle-aged man whose watch I'd stolen before Firefly's attack and the fact he was clearly waiting for me.
'Shit, I got to get out of here. Quick.'
I turned back and burst into a sprint into the alley with a rapidly paling expression as the man reached into his inner pocket and started walking toward me.
I was barely halfway through the alley when I heard a gun and felt something pass by the back of my head at incredible speed, hitting and knocking down a trash can ahead of me.
'The bastard's got a gun. Of course, he's got a fucking gun. Why wouldn't he?'
I cursed under my breath, halting my steps and raising my arms in surrender.
"Smart kid."
I heard a mutter as the man slowly walked towards me, putting a hand on my shoulder, to which I stiffened. He forcefully spun me around and shoved me against the wall, and the first thing I saw was the gun in my face.
"You're the punk that stole my watch and wallet."
He blankly stated, gesturing with his gun and only showing his teeth with a twisted smile when I showed him the nervous expression he expected to see.
"I'm- I'm sorry. I already sold the watch, but I can pay you back!"
I hastily replied, deliberately stuttering as I raised my arms even higher, much to the man's satisfaction, and my growing frustration as he smugly grinned.
Psychopaths like Firefly might scare the shit out of me, but a mere thug like this guy was barely a threat. Even with a gun pointed at my head, I could end his life or knock him out with but a thought. My steel wire would gouge out his eye before he could even think about pulling the trigger if I willed it.
'And then what?'
I bitterly mused while watching the man take pleasure in my faked stuttering and fear. Like the other areas in the city, Gotham's Uptown was under the influence of one gang or the other, and anyone who was bold enough to waive a gun was likely a member of the local gangs.
Unless I could kill this guy and make sure no one finds out about my deed (which I'll have you know is impossible in this setting), I'd find myself hunted by whatever gang this guy belonged to, and I wasn't ready for that. Not by a long shot.
Even if I had the power to fight off the gang and destroy it, there's nothing for me to gain since someone else will swoop in and claim their assets before I could even say what the fuck, and I hate doing other people's dirty work with a passion.
I needed power and, above all else, people before I could even think about taking on gangs, so I'll have to grit my teeth and take whatever this guy throws at me.
"$2500," The man said, pushing the gun against my temples. "You owe me $2500. Better cough up quickly," he added, grinning hideously at my widening eyes.
"The fuck?! That watch was barely worth $200, and the wallet only had $50. There's no way-" I unconsciously snapped despite myself, only for the man to cut me off with a gut punch that drove the air out of my lungs.
"Are you calling me a liar, punk?!" he exclaimed with a scowl as he removed his fist from my gut. "Besides, that watch had uh- sentimental value, so you'll have to compensate me for emotional damage," he added, smiling as I heaved for breath while holding my stomach.
"I- I only have a couple of hundreds! Here, take it!"
I stammered in between coughs as I reached into my pocket, taking out exactly $523 from my inventory, and offered it to the man. A rounded number would have only made him suspicious, so I chose that exact number to throw him off.
He took the money and began counting, only putting the money away a minute later as he reached into my pockets and started searching me for more money.
"Fine, I'll give you a break this one time, but..." He took a step back and grinned, leveling his gun at me. "I'll be seeing you later for the rest of my money..." he calmly added and fired the pistol, grazing my shoulder.
"YOU FUCKING SHOT ME!" I screamed in pain, clutching my shoulder and watching the man turn to walk away as I felt something snap in my mind.
"I sure did. And there's nothing you can do about it..." the gangster leisurely remarked, flashing me a smug grin full of disregard and ridicule and turning away.
Hearing those words, I gritted my teeth as any ability to see reason or logic flew right out of my mind, with the only thoughts of murdering the bastard remaining in my mind, the steel wire coming to life under my clothes.
...
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