Samuel Schulze perpetually viewed himself through the lens of normalcy. With dark hair, obsidian eyes, and an unremarkable countenance, he blended seamlessly into the backdrop of society. Neither strikingly handsome nor notably plain, he possessed the unassuming stature of six feet—a middling presence in a world of extremes.
His tenure at Gotham Academy bore witness to academic prowess, his intellect transcending the ordinary. Yet, Samuel remained reticent, his predilection for the solace of books and games eclipsing any desire for camaraderie.
"...Samuel."
"..."
However, amidst his scholastic achievements and steadfast hobbies, weariness clung to him like a relentless shadow. In the city rife with criminality, chaos reigned incessantly. Each passing moment ushered in fresh tragedies, the streets awash with bloodshed and the vigilantism of caped crusaders. For Samuel, the ceaseless pandemonium proved intolerable—an affront to his yearning for tranquility.
Despite harboring his own moral compass, his disdain for these costumed figures of justice only deepened. Yet, rooted in this tumultuous city were his familial ties; his mother, a stalwart figure in the local hospital, tending to the wounded and broken, while his father, an esteemed engineer at Wayne Tech, forged innovations amidst the chaos. Their prosperity afforded Samuel the luxury of indulging in his literary and gaming pursuits.
"Samuel, I regret to inform you that... your hallucinations. They may indicate Schizophrenia."
"..."
Nonetheless, Samuel's aspirations remained tethered to his impending graduation—a harbinger of emancipation from Gotham's clutches. In the hallowed halls of higher education, he envisioned refuge in distant locales such as Metropolis or Keystone City. Yet, despite his steadfast resolve, the specter of mental instability loomed large, casting doubt upon his quest for normalcy and sanity.
As Samuel emerged from the hospital, the weight of the prescribed medication nestled within his grasp served as a tangible reminder of his newfound affliction. Hallucinations, once a distant concept relegated to the realm of fiction, now manifested as vivid, almost tactile illusions—holographic in their clarity and disconcertingly real in their semblance.
"...Was it since that game? Yes, I think... I think it was. I played a game, and it was enjoyable. but... I can't remember what it was."
Before him, an apparition materialized—a screen adorned with an array of numbers and names, its presence both ominous and inexplicable.
Name: Samuel Schulze
Type: Normal
Level: 9
HP: 35
Attack: 30
Defense: 35
Sp. Atk: 10
Sp. Def: 30
Speed: 30
Ability: Incomplete Transmission
Due to an incomplete transmission for an unknown reason, this person can learn only, but all status moves. Can learn more than four moves.
Current moves
Normal|Pound 35/35
Normal|Tearful Look 20/20
Normal|Rage 10/10
Normal|Bide 10/10
Weird. It was way too weird for Samuel to just accept this. This screen was so detailed and had numbers in it. And... It looked too real. Even though this really might be a hallucination since no one else could see this screen but himself.
He had no idea what any of the words above meant. Well, except for the stats.
'...Incomplete Transmission?'
The most puzzling one was the incomplete transmission part. Transmission? That meant that something was being sent to him. The only thing Samuel got was this weird screen, which he couldn't find a use of.
Well, not entirely though. He did find a use. He could use this on other people, like the mental doctor who transcribed him the medicines today. Well, it didn't show much as he did to him, since he could only see the stats, names, type, and ability of the other person.
As Samuel navigated the bustling streets of Gotham, a sense of revulsion churned within him. The grimy alleys and shadowed corners seemed to harbor unseen horrors, each step further reinforcing his desire to escape this urban labyrinth.
Home beckoned like a distant oasis—a sanctuary from the cacophony of the city streets. Yet, even within the confines of his modest abode, solitude reigned supreme. A solitary meal, prepared by the absent hands of his mother, offered little solace in the face of his burgeoning isolation.
With a sense of resignation, Samuel dutifully swallowed the prescribed medication, a ritual repeated with mechanical precision. The screen remained still though, its cryptic messages lingering in the periphery of his consciousness like a persistent echo.
"...Maybe I have to wait a while."
Samuel looked at the note on the fridge. It was crumbled, but it was written in a clear, beautiful writing of his mother.
-Eat dinner, don't sleep too late, and make sure you go to school tomorrow, okay? Love, Mom.
It was not easy to not sleep late, since he always had something to do. And besides, it was harder for him to sleep because whenever he tried to, one subtle movement would turn on the screen in front of him and blind him with that radiating white light.
Which was weird, since it didn't brighten up anything else. The screen only hurt Samuel's eyes.
Tomorrow was a school day. He couldn't be late. He had to sleep early.
After cleaning up and doing the dishes, Samuel lay down on his bed. The cool blanket and pillows felt nice to the touch.
Samuel looked outside the window. Gotham's sky was gloomy and dark. So he closed his eyes. It was at least not gloomy after that.
But again, the screen abruptly showed up, flashing his eyes. This time, Samuel covered his eyes with a blindfold. It was better.
The Gotham Academy was not good for curing one's gloomy emotions. Especially when there is gossip around the school that there's a ghost of a mentally ill person roaming around trying to find her next victim.
But Samuel learned that human beings are animals of adaptation. However stressful a place can be, human beings adapt and survive. And it applied to him too. Now he felt no big fear...and it was even quite relaxing.
"Hey! Samuel!"
"...D...Grayson."
Samuel wasn't sure why this kid was attempting constant communication with him. He was younger, brighter, and had a lot of hope for his future. Though he was only in first grade, Dick Grayson was one of the most focused students in school.
There was no further conversation, only a brief hello. Samuel met Grayson personally since the last science fair in school, and He thought his project was interesting. Which was funny, since Samuel couldn't even remember what he made back then.
Samuel's classmates, for goodness sake, were less nosy than that Dick Grayson. Most of them didn't really care much about him. whether he daydream through the entire P.E class, or whether he always go somewhere else and eat alone, they didn't care.
...Well. Of course, there were exceptions.
"Samuel. Samuel! Wake up!"
"Gordon."
Barbara Gordon was one of the most...annoying people in Samuel's whole life. While others simply knew how to ignore a person like him, She couldn't stand one wrong happening to anyone in the class.
And that included Samuel. While Samuel was perfectly fine, She kept on approaching his private space for some reason. While he didn't participate in any sort of sports in school, she came to him and asked him why. When he kept daydreaming about the ideals, Gordon interrupted him.
"...Leave, would you?"
"You should stay up, Samuel. I get that it must be hard but..."
Samuel stood up from his seat. The warmness of the seat created by his own body, left. The chair slowly lost heat.
He didn't simply care who she was. The fact that she was a famous student who excelled in every class didn't matter. The fact that she was the daughter of a commissioner wasn't important.
Simply put, to take interest in the outside world is not quite a delightful thing. It was unideal. Though Samuel himself had no idea what 'ideal' was. But he knew it was not the world he lived in.
Justice League, Heroes, Villains, superpowers, Gods, Magic, and aliens.
Things that shouldn't be real were real. Something about their existence bothered Samuel now and then. And, maybe that was why he loved the worlds inside the game and books. Because one thing for sure he knew that those worlds were just fantasy.
Barbara Gordon, Dick Grayson...and more. Those people are the special ones. The main characters of this place, unlike Samuel himself. They were heroic, young, and somewhat dramatic.
Maybe that was why he kept rejecting them when they tried to get near. Something about them gave him nausea. It was the strong feeling that made him feel scared...their presence would be an obstacle to his quiet, plant-like life.
...Curiosity suddenly piped in. Samuel stared at Barbara Gorden who was helping a small girl move her textbooks. And, as expected, the screen popped up.
Name: Barbara Joan Gordon
Type: Normal/Fighting
Level: 16
HP: 50
Attack: 45
Defense: 40
Sp. Atk: 10
Sp. Def: 35
Speed: 45
Ability: Steadfast
The person's determination boosts its Speed stat every time it flinches.
As Samuel quickly glanced away from Barbara Gordon's probing gaze, a sense of discomfort settled in his gut. This wasn't what he had bargained for. Sure, he'd accidentally tapped into this weird ability before with his doctor, but that had been by chance. This time, he'd deliberately summoned the screen for his own benefit.
But something didn't sit right with him. If this whole thing was just a figment of his imagination, it shouldn't be dishing out real info like Barbara Gordon's middle name. He'd never heard that tidbit before, so it didn't add up.
That's when it hit him. If he could verify Gordon's middle name independently, he could figure out if this was all in his head or if he'd stumbled upon something truly bizarre.
However...Despite the nagging curiosity tugging at his mind, Samuel refrained from probing Barbara Gordon about her middle name. A gut feeling told him it wasn't worth the trouble. Something about her demeanor hinted at annoyance and potential anger if he pushed the issue further. Trusting his instincts, Samuel opted to let the matter rest, preferring to maintain his distance from the enigmatic world of his classmates.
Later that evening, Samuel returned home to the familiar solitude of his empty apartment. With no parents waiting to greet him, he resigned himself to the routine of solitude. He prepared a simple dinner of spaghetti bolognese, savoring the comforting flavors as he dined alone.
After dinner, Samuel retreated to the sanctuary of his books, losing himself in their pages as he sought solace from the tumultuous world outside. He glanced out the window, noting the unusually clear sky—a rarity in Gotham, where the omnipresent bat signal often obscured the stars. Tonight, however, the heavens seemed to shimmer with a clarity that was both beautiful and unsettling.
A sudden impulse seized Samuel, prompting him to reach for his notebook and pen. Without hesitation, he slipped out of his apartment, the cool night air stirring a sense of anticipation within him. There was something out there calling to him, something he couldn't quite explain but felt compelled to investigate nonetheless.
As Samuel gazed up at the night sky, the brilliance of the stars enveloped him in a sense of wonder. Each twinkling light seemed to hold a story of its own, and he found himself counting them, assigning names that resonated with him—Mother, Father, Family. Lost in the celestial symphony, Samuel wandered the streets of Gotham, his senses intoxicated by the cosmic spectacle above.
But as the clouds began to veil the sky once more, reality intruded upon Samuel's reverie. A scene unfolded before him—a caped vigilante, sprawled on the pavement, surrounded by a gang of menacing thugs. Panic gripped Samuel's heart as he sought refuge in the shadows, torn between the urge to intervene and the paralyzing fear that held him in its grasp.
"Boss told us to capture you, Batgirl. But I guess he won't mind if we have some fun."
He watched in silent horror as the thugs closed in on the defenseless vigilante, their intentions unmistakably sinister. Samuel knew he lacked the strength to confront them, and a sense of helplessness washed over him like a suffocating wave.
Yet, even as fear threatened to immobilize him, a familiar screen materialized before his eyes, displaying a name that sent a jolt of recognition through Samuel's veins:
Name: Barbara Joan Gordon
As Samuel's gaze settled on Barbara Gordon, confusion and disbelief mingled within him.
'Since when had she become a vigilante? Come to think of it, her costume...she was one of the bat-themed maniacs?... The hair and body size looks similar...'
It seemed inconceivable, yet there she was, lying vulnerable before a gang of thugs. Questions swirled in his mind, but he had no time to dwell on them. Instinct urged him to act, to intervene somehow, though the rational part of his brain screamed that it was folly.
But Samuel couldn't just stand by and watch. It wasn't in his nature, nor was it what he truly wanted. A surge of determination pulsed through him, drowning out the voice of fear that whispered in the depths of his mind. With a firm grip on his notebook, he hurled it at the thugs with all the force he could muster.
The thugs, caught off guard by the unexpected projectile, momentarily faltered in their advance. One of them cursed loudly, brandishing his weapon menacingly.
"Who the hell... What the fuck are you, brat?" he spat, his voice laced with aggression.
Samuel recoiled, his heart pounding in his chest as regret flooded his senses like a tidal wave.
"...I'm...here to wish you all a nice day...?"
And almost immediately, the thugs rushed in with their bats. He couldn't run, his legs were shaking. All he could do was...crying.
'Wait, crying? But...'
...For some reason, the moment Samuel thought of crying, tears started to flow. And the eyes, full of innocence and tears...
-Samuel used [Tearful Cry]! The opponent's Attack fell! The opponent's Sp. Atk fell!
They were enough to make a grown man lose their combative spirit.