Gray's mind went blank, any calm and ability to see reason evaporating from his head, destroyed by the stinging pain coming from his wounded, bleeding shoulder.
The bastard shot him. And for what? To make a point, an example? Gray didn't know nor care. He was sick of it all, of this rotten city, of its unsympathetic residents, and how light the weight of his own life seemed to everyone.
He cared for one thing and one thing alone right now. To kill the bastard who'd shot him despite getting what he wanted, to calm the seething rage and resentment gouging out his heart.
In the back of his mind, he knew that there would be no going back once he did this, but the countless howls of anger and hatred managed to silence that tiny sliver of reason that remained.
He slowly raised his left hand as the middle-aged gangster turned around, the steel wire coming to life under his clothes as he prepared to take his life.
However, before Gray could act on his dark urge, a shadow came flying from above, drop-kicking the gangster and knocking him to the ground, unconscious.
Gray froze as he took in the looks of the newcomer. He wore weird green gloves and shoes, a bright green spandex speedo, and a red shirt with a black badge on his chest, a yellow R in the middle.
He regarded the newcomer with a light of recognition in his eyes, identifying him as Robin. Though which Robin, Gray did not know.
He instantly returned to his senses and immediately stored the steel wire in his inventory as Robin turned to face him, feeling like a bucket of ice water was just dumped on his head.
"You were about to do something stupid." Robin blankly stated as he gave Gray another look, earning a confused look from the latter. "You almost got yourself killed." He waved a hand to the side and continued as he turned to the gangster, picking up the gangster's gun and waving it in Gray's face as if to elaborate.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Gray replied, walking past Robin and delivering a vicious kick to the gangster's midsection hard enough to bring him back into consciousness. A second kick to the side of his head sent him right back to sleep.
Robin looked at this scene and frowned, but he silently sighed and said nothing, losing the sternness in his countenance when Gray stopped after only two kicks.
However, he quickly felt the need to interject when Gray crouched to start rummaging through the gangster's pocket.
"What are you doing?!" Robin questioned as he reached to hold Gray's intact shoulder, frowning at his actions.
"The guy mugged me. I'm taking back what's mine," Gray replied, scowling as he stopped rummaging through the gangster's pockets and turned to Robin with a scowl over his shoulder.
"The hell you are!" Robin exclaimed with a scowl, mirroring gray's expression as he pulled the latter away from the unconscious gangster's body.
"Look, I'm giving you a break because you clearly need one, but I know a thief when I see one," Robin said as he crouched near the unconscious gangster, reaching towards his suit, much to Gray's confusion. "So don't push your luck," he remarked, narrowing his eyes at Gray over his shoulder.
"Now stand still, and let me patch you up before you bleed to death," Robin added as he ripped a small cloth piece from the Gagster's suite and stood up to approach Gray, an earnest expression on his face.
Looking at his expression, Gray could do nothing but sigh and comply as Robin went to work, wrapping the cloth around his gun wound to stop the bleeding.
"There," Robin said, nodding as he tied the cloth. "This won't last for long, so head towards Thompkins Clinic in East End. Dr. Thompkins should patch you up properly," he added, crouching to wipe the blood off his gloves on the gangster's suit and take out two $100 bills.
"Take this," Robin said, stuffing the money into Gray's hands. "I'm being lenient here, but the police are already on their way. They won't be so inclined, so do me a favor and get out of here," he added as the police siren sounded, causing Gray to turn in their direction.
"And keep your nose clean! There won't be a second time!" Robin concluded, and Gray turned to him, a retort on the tip of his tongue but froze as the Boy Wonder had already disappeared like some kind of serial killer in a nineties movie.
Gray merely sighed in annoyance as he turned to walk away with twitching eyes.
...
Thomas Wayne Memorial Clinic
'I can't believe I got scolded by a kid wearing a bright green speedo... man, fuck this world, and whoever designed Robin's costume...'
I mused, thinking about my earlier encounter. I'd almost killed a man in my blind rage, and strangely enough, that wasn't upsetting to me. Not in the least. In fact, I'd still kill that damned gangster if I ever get the chance.
What's upsetting to me, however, was that I almost got caught killing, by a member of the Bat-Family, to boot.
I bitterly sighed, dropping that line of that as nothing pleasant will ever come out of it.
Inspecting the waiting room, where I waited for my turn to get treatment, I noticed it was full of seedy characters, all sporting cuts, bruises, and injuries, but I could hear not a single whine or a grunt of pain.
Most if not all people who come here hardened thugs, belonging to different gangs with repeated offenses. And the only reason they waited quietly without causing a fuss or any kind of trouble was the man in a black suit, silently keeping a watchful eye over the waiting room; Mortimer Drake.
The man, Mortimer Drake, suddenly showed up in the clinic one day and took the role of Dr. Thompkins' bodyguard based on the former Gray's memory. And the man seemed to be doing a pretty good job at it, judging by how everyone avoided making eye contact with him.
There was even a rumor that he had single-handedly stopped a gang fight near the clinic. The former Gray didn't believe it, but I thought differently, considering the nervous looks everyone kept sending him whenever he turned away.
He was most likely a named character from the comics based on his reputation alone. Unfortunately, I had no clue who he was because of my limited knowledge, so there's no point in thinking about it.
The operating room opened, and a tall, fit old lady walked through it. She kindly features and graying hair, and wore a doctor's coat with a stethoscope wrapped around her neck
She reached for her shoulder and massaged it with a wince before turning to everyone in the waiting room and gently smiling. She then walked towards me, a kindly smile still tugging on her lips as she greeted me.
"I was hoping I wouldn't see you again so soon, Gray," the doctor said, heaving an audible sigh as she sat next to me and undid the cloth around my wound to inspect it.
"What is it that brought you to me this time around?" she asked as she disinfected the wound and began probing to see how deep it was and what kind of treatment it would require.
"I fell down the stairs," I replied, fighting the urge to shrug my shoulder, to which the doctor sighed but shook her head and said nothing. She continued to inspect my wound.
The phrase; I fell down the stairs, wasn't a lame attempt at lying on my part. It was a code that anyone who came here for treatment would use if they couldn't talk about the cause of their injuries because it could them in trouble, or were simply unwilling to speak about it for whatever reason.
It goes without saying that (I fell down the stairs) was the only answer the doctor ever received since she started working in the clinic. But she never stopped asking, out of sheer concern and kindness, or maybe simple stubbornness.
Looking at such a selfless old lady who could have been a saint gently tending to my wound didn't make me feel warmth, hope, or any positive feeling. I only felt disgust and unease instead. Her existence reminded me of the reality that I was in a fictional world as no real human being could ever be this selfless.
Gotham City was a horrible place, and there were no regular people there.
Only demented psychopaths who'd gut someone for shits and giggles. Greedy thugs who had no qualms about killing for a buck. Pragmatic, cynical civilians who'd walk by a dying man without twitching an eyebrow, and people like the doctor who was so selfless they couldn't possibly be real.
People in this city were either a shade of black or the brightest shade of white. There was no gray in this city, no regular people. This fact served as a constant reminder of my reality that couldn't be called that. Not in the truest sense of the word. Not to me.
"You look considerably better since the last time you came. Save for the bullet- falling down the stairs, I mean..." the doctor muttered, correcting herself mid-sentence, prompting me to give her a confused look.
"You looked so skinny the last time you came and I'm sure you were almost malnourished..." she added, tilting her head in confusion. I suddenly wanted to slap myself when I realized what she was talking about after a second of thought.
The former Gray was malnourished and sickly so it was no wonder the doctor would be surprised by me suddenly showing up in such good health. However, I didn't need to worry as the doctor quickly dropped the subject.
"That can't be right. All that overwork is probably affecting my memory," the doctor remarked, sighing as she stood and beckoned a nurse. And I had to resist sighing in relief.
"Gray here has a flesh wound on his shoulder. Stitch him up while I examine the other patients, won't you, Patty, dear?" the doctor remarked, turning to the chubby African-American nurse and earning a nod from the latter.
"Take care now, Gray," the doctor said, gently smiling as she moved to the next patient.
...
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 17
Class: Thief (level 8)
...
Stats:
Body: 11
Mind: 11
Spirit: Locked
Stat Points: 24
...
Skills:
[Crime (level 17): breaking and entering, pickpocket, lock-picking, skulking around, lifting evidence—if it's illegal, this skill covers it, with two exceptions, computer hacking uses the Computers skill, and conning people the Influence skill. You don't have to be a criminal to have this skill; cops, private investigators, and other honest but street-wise folks have it as well]
...
Perks:
[Dormant Metahuman: you have the Metagene, the source for all Metahumans' powers. However, it lies dormant for now]
...
Inventory: [Neuron Adaptive Steel Wire]
...
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: $576/$1000
...
'I can't keep living like this..' I mused as I walked the streets of street end after exiting the clinic. The world seemed to have a problem with me finishing the damned money quest. Every time I take a step forward, something comes up and pushes me two steps back.
'I need to stop obsessing about it and do something else...' I lowered my cap to cover my face, stuck my hands into my pockets, and started walking with no destination in mind.
I had hoped the walk would help clear my mind, but instead of assurance or peace of mind, what I saw only worsened my mood; gunshots echoing in the distance, countless shady dealings, and garbage everywhere I looked.
I willfully ignored it all and kept walking in a daze as every breath I took filled my lungs with chemicals and thick smog and only snapped out of it when I found myself in Gotham City Park.
I looked around, and my eyes lit up as I saw the homeless man sitting on the grass beside the road, leaning on a tree with a book in his hand. I didn't know why I came here, what I was expecting, or why I approached the homeless man, but I did it, nonetheless.
"Another bad day?" the homeless man said as he closed the book and turned to me with a knowing look that contrasted his quizzical tone, to which I sighed and nodded.
"Make yourself comfortable," the homeless man said while patting the grass next to him, and I only hesitated for a second before obliging and sitting next to him.
"When I found you heaving your guts out on the road, I asked you what was making your run so desperately," He remarked after a few seconds, which I spent making myself comfortable on the grassy ground.
"You said you didn't know what else to do, and by the looks of things, you still don't," he jokingly said with a chuckle, to which I could only sheepishly scratch my head and shrug.
"Then allow me to rephrase the question." Turning to me with a serious expression, he shot me a stern look. "What are you running from, and what do you see in the end line?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, making me pause for a second.
"I... I don't know," I replied, shaking my head after some thought. I honestly didn't know why I ran, exercised, and worked so hard to better myself when I could put my stat points into my body and save myself the effort.
I had already figured out the amount of effort I'd need to increase my attributes through training. The system even told me I could strengthen my body beyond human conditioning limits if I had special equipment and training methods.
Technically, I had no valid reason to hold on to my stat points, but I still did, despite knowing I'd have a better chance at survival if I used them to strengthen myself.
"Of course you do; you just haven't realized it yet," the homeless dismissively said, waving a hand to the side. "Because in the end, no matter you're running from, no matter the prize waiting for you at the end line, you only need one thing alone to succeed," the man added, speaking in a matter-of-fact tone.
"So tell me, why do you run? Better yet, tell me, what do you want? What will you gain by running?" he added, likely guiding me to find the answer he could have easily given.
I lowered my head in thought, debating the answer in my head.
"Strength," I remarked after several minutes, still not sure where this was going as I raised my head to meet his eyes, to which he nodded with a smile.
"That's right," he replied with a nod. "If you're running from something, strength will give you the confidence to stop and face whatever is pursuing you," the homeless man said, raising a clenched fist.
"If you're running towards something, strength will help you get there faster." The homeless man dramatically spread his arms.
"Now, ask yourself what kind of strength you desire? Is it of the heart or the body? Then ask yourself what you will do with the strength you desperately seek once you have it?." he smiled and lowered his hands to pick up his book.
"Find the answer to those two questions, and you'll realize what you already know deep down; the reason you run so desperately..." He opened the book.
"Come back to me when you find the answer, and I will help you gain the strength you need." He turned to the opened book and stopped paying attention to me, marking the end of the conversation.
I momentarily lingered as I turned to the sky, seeing nothing but pitch-black darkness, prompting me to sigh in disappointment at the lack of stars and get up.
...
Lying on the bed in his room which had nothing but the bare minimum furniture, Gray couldn't help but think about the homeless man's words as he stared into the ceiling, hands tucked under his head.
Gray honestly didn't know why he went looking for the homeless man, why the man's words weighed so heavily on his mind, or why he felt the need to do as the man said despite his paranoid side screaming at him not to let his guard down.
All Gray knew was that the homeless man felt authentic, real. The man showed him genuine kindness when I needed it the most, and that was enough for Gray to trust the man.
Gray didn't know how to explain it, but the man felt natural, and so did his words and the kindness he's shown to Gray, unlike Dr. Leslie. The doctor felt like a fictional character whose only purpose was to be kind and selfless, merely to contrast the cruel Gotham City and its pragmatic citizens.
Gray wasn't dumb enough to assume the homeless man wasn't a comic character like the doctor, but he still felt like a regular person with how he spoke and carried himself, and Gray had no idea how he reached that conclusion.
Maybe that's why Gray was wracking his brain, looking for the answers the man told him to find, and why he unconsciously wanted to gain the man's approval and get to know him; because he felt real. But it didn't matter to Gray. He knew what He wanted to do, and he'll do it.
'What kind of strength do I need? And to what end?'
Gray wondered, turning to his system and looking at the available 24 stat points. Physical strength? It was within Gray's reach. He only needed to spend the stat points and gain a physique superior to even Batman, who had been training for years.
He didn't know why, but Gray would always create an excuse or jump into any distraction to avoid broaching the subject whenever he thought about investing the stat points.
Gray kept turning on his bed, thinking about the reason, but no matter how hard he racked his brain, he found no clear answer to why he was hindering his own growth.
Unable to sleep or find an answer to the question plaguing his mind, Gray sighed and sat up, his steel wire coming to life as it picked up the newspaper lying on the ground and brought it to his hand.
Gray looked at the front page and scowled at the front-page article; The Batman foils yet another conspiracy to organize a breakout in Arkham Asylum.
He immediately crumpled the newspaper and threw it away in annoyance, only frowning in confusion at his own reaction once it hit the ground, making him go still as realization dawned on him.
Gray hated this world because it didn't feel real. Almost everything here was black or white, with no middle ground regarding morality. Everyone was either good or evil.
Until he had met the homeless man, he'd always felt like the only real person in this fictional world and avoided using the system to strengthen himself because he feared it would make him stop being himself. He Feared It would turn him into yet another mindless fictional character.
Gray had read and enjoyed fanfiction stories where a regular person would die and go to a fictional world. He wasn't nearly foolish or arrogant enough not to consider the possibility. The possibility that he was a mere character in such a story.
He considered such a possibility somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, but he would always push it down whenever it came to the surface, too afraid to face it until he had no other option.
Finally finding his answer, Gray bitterly sighed and plopped down into his bed, finding no comfort in it, only more unease instead.
He needed the strength to face his fear, his doubt that he was no different from fictional characters in this world, and that was his answer.
...
[+1 level to the Crime skill] [Crime 20]
[+1 level the Thief class] [Thief 10]
[New Class available. Chose a new class now? Yes/No]
[quest completed: 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.
Requirement: Gather $1000 through any means.
Rewards: [Random equipment] [+5 levels to the crime skill]
Progress: $1034/$1000
...
[Receive quest rewards now? Yes/No]
Looking at the notifications filling up my vision, I couldn't help but grin as I moved the wallet I'd just stolen from my pocket into my inventory after emptying it of its contents.
However, my good mood instantly soured as I saw a dark alley to my left and began looking around, expecting a supervillain or an angry mobster to come out of nowhere and ruin my day.
I've been thinking about my failures, and I noticed a pattern; whenever I'm about to finish the money quest, I'd walk into an alley, and things would immediately turn to shit. So, in my infinite wisdom, I've wisely decided to break the cycle and start avoiding alleys.
And I've been doing just fine while avoiding any form of alleys, dark and dingy or otherwise, which only proves my point; alleyways are pure evil and the source of all my trouble, especially the dark, dirty ones.
Yes, I am blaming my rotten luck on all dark alleys in Gotham, and yes, I realize that I might be suffering from dark alley PTSD. I didn't care one bit, though. Alleyways are evil, and that's that, moving on.
It's been 15 days since my last encounter with the homeless man (note to self: ask his fucking name next time we meet), and I've been frenziedly pickpocketing people's wallets to complete the money quest while continuing my training.
It took me this long to complete the money quest because I was only stealing cash, as I didn't want to go back to Old Jack's to sell jewelry since the gangster could have told his gang friends about me. I already had my fill of those. Let me tell you, if I never saw another gangster, it would still be too soon.
I, of course, could have finished the money quest much earlier since I made up for not stealing jewelry by stealing more often, but I decided to stop obsessing about it and moved out of Logan's apartment.
I had to pay $600 for two months' rent in advance in cash, plus $100 so the landlord wouldn't ask any questions, and the apartment was barely an upgrade over Logan's own. But it was all mine and in a safer spot in the midtown near the park.
I also didn't need to look at Logan's ugly face or get blue-balled by prostitutes who didn't know how to keep their hands to themselves and didn't give two shits that I was technically a minor every time I walked in or out of my apartment complex. Because, as it turns out, I was very susceptible to being blue-balled by prostitutes.
And oh my god, I think I just discovered my personal kryptonite. I only hope it doesn't have any weird variety like pink kryptonite, which would make me gay like superman. That would suck.
All jokes and my thieving activities aside, my training went just as well and slowly. I had managed to increase my Mind attribute by 3 points, raising it to 14, and my body by 2, raising it to 13. And yes, I didn't use my stats points yet. Pathetic, I know.
On the upside, I noticed something about the system and how my stats increased; the increase in my physique and brain wasn't instant or notable as soon as the number on my character screen increased.
The increase was gradual, and the system wasn't rewarding my efforts and raising my attributes because of my training and study. It was merely quantifying it instead. And that was probably the best thing I discovered since coming to this world.
Sure, I'd be sweating my balls off during the day and feeling sore all night, but the improvement and hard work felt authentic and non-fictional if that made any sense. It felt real. It was all me.
It didn't feel like some carrot dangling in front of my face for mere entertainment value courtesy of whatever or whoever bastard brought me into this shitty world. Up yours, you bastard. You and whoever's reading, watching, and consuming this shit as entrainment in any form.
In any case, I had enough money to finish the quest, and I knew better than to be greedy, so I called it a day and made my way home before someone came and nuked me or something. I'll have you know; that's a real possibility in this world, so do with that, what you will.
I sighed, relieved as I reached the apartment complex without trouble and found no overzealous prostitutes anywhere within sight while looking around for signs of trouble.
Looking at the apartment building, I really felt like sleeping the architect or DC artist who came up with the city's theme. Everything looked pointy and dark gray for some reason, including my apartment complex.
"Hang in there, Mark."
I nodded in greeting at the building's one and only security guard, stuffing a pack of cigarettes into his hand and patting his shoulder on my way inside.
"Oh! You don't know you have to keep getting me stuff, Gray," the security guard, Mark, remarked as he stuffed the pack into his back pocket, sending me a smile, which I returned with a wave without saying anything.
I'd made a habit of getting a treat and passing it to Mark every time I went back into my apartment. It was never anything expensive or fancy, but it made his day, and I was more than happy to get on the good side of whoever was standing between me and the crazies out there while I slept.
I quickly reached my apartment, then fished the key out of my inventory and opened the door.
"Home, sweet home," I muttered with a broad smile splitting my face as I looked at the interior of my apartment. It was small, with one bedroom, a living area, a kitchen, and a small bedroom, and I had absolutely no furniture other than an air mattress in the middle of the living room.
Still, it was mine; it was safe, and it beat living with Logan or being homeless.
I quickly took a shower to wash away the wariness and accumulated grime of the day and plopped into the air mattress. Then I opened the system interface and accepted to receive the money quest's reward.
[+5 level to the Crime skill] [Crime 25]
[Due to reaching a milestone in your Crime skill, you have unlocked a new perk: (Silent Step)]
[Silent Step: as a seasoned, hardened criminal (your mother must be proud,) your footsteps are silent, and only those with supernatural hearing ability can detect you through the sound of your footsteps]
[+2 Class levels. Thief Class is already at maximum level; the system will add the excess to whatever class you choose next]
[Randomizing equipment... randomizing complete]
[You received: Bulletproof Black Trench Coat]
[Bulletproof Black Trench Coat: the wet dream of every edge lord and their mothers out there, and a stable in Gothamite fashion (it's a bulletproof trench coat, what more do you need to know?)]
I sighed in frustration as information about how to better steal and break the law to my benefit began flooding my brain after the number next to the Crime level went up by five.
I felt no sense of achievement or realness from the increase in the skill level, my good mood souring. I didn't even want to inspect my new toy, the trench coat, and merely decided to sleep instead of brooding about it.
'And here I thought the day wouldn't possibly turn shitty at the last possible second. Serves me right, I suppose.'
...
Gotham City Park
The pale moonlight slithered its way across the leaves of the thick greenery, shining on a man punching the air as he stood rooted in place, his face a mask of calm and concentration.
Every time he punched the air, his fists created an audible thud, his toned muscles that looked more steel than flesh, hardening and constricting with every strike.
'Unfortunately, no one was there to enjoy the sight.' the man jokingly mused. However, the sound of footsteps quickly snapped him out of his thoughts.
He turned to the source of the sound, and a knowing smile tugged on his stoic visage upon seeing the face of the woman walking towards him with deliberate, measured steps.
"Miss me already, Sandra? I knew you couldn't stay away from for too long," the muscled man said with a snicker as he regarded the approaching woman, to which she scoffed.
"Don't flatter yourself, Richard. I'm here on business," the woman, Sandra, or Lady Shiva, blankly replied, dismissing the man's flirting with a wave of her hand.
"Oh? And what business could the great Lady Shiva have with a humble martial arts instructor like myself?" The man, Ricard, questioned, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
"I said not to flatter yourself, Richard, but that does not mean you must depreciate yourself on my behalf..." Lady shiva said with a slight smile as she stopped one meter away from Richard, locking eyes.
"I am here because of my daughter..."
...
Author's note: things are finally starting to look up for Gray, but the day still ends on a sour note nonetheless. And a wild Lady Shiva appeared. What will come of it?
Anyways, the chapter has been one long monologue and the transition between some paragraphs was a bit awkward, but I'm very satisfied with it.
You guys might notice that Gray seemed more chill and was cracking a lot of sarcastic, cynical jokes and even broke the fourth wall mid-chapter. That's a coping mechanism he developed during the past two weeks to get his mind off things.
...
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