Silence descended upon the ransacked living room, broken only by Samuel's ragged breaths. The goons lay sprawled on the floor, unconscious and groaning. Samuel, his body throbbing with a dull ache, stared at his hands, his mind oddly detached from the scene of violence he'd created. He felt no satisfaction, no elation. Just a cold emptiness. The power he had was gone after the battle, so he felt powerless too.
A glint of metal caught his eye. It was one of the goon's dropped weapons, a pistol, lying innocuously on the floor. He hadn't even noticed it before. With a sigh, Samuel kicked it away, the metallic clang echoing in the quiet room. This wasn't his way.
Suddenly, a shrill ringing pierced the silence. It wasn't the phone – the line was dead. His heart lurched. It had to be them again.
Panic surged through him. They wouldn't stop. He couldn't stay here. Not anymore.
His gaze darted around the room, landing on his backpack lying by the door. He grabbed it, stuffing in a few essentials – his phone charger, some protein bars, a small first aid kit, and the meager amount of cash he kept hidden in a secret compartment. No pictures, no keepsakes. He couldn't risk them finding anything that could tie him down.
A loud crash from outside sent a jolt of fear through him. They were breaking in again. He had to move. Now.
Samuel cast one final glance at the room, a lifetime of memories swirling in his head. He forced them down. He couldn't afford sentimentality now. With a heavy heart, he slipped out the back door, disappearing into the cool night air.
He sprinted through the alleyways, his breath ragged in his lungs. He could hear the shouts and curses of his pursuers getting closer. They were relentless.
Police. That's where he needed to go. The GCPD might not be perfect, but they were his only hope. He weaved through the labyrinthine backstreets, his pursuers hot on his heels. Every corner looked the same, every sound amplified his fear.
His heart hammered against his ribs as he rounded a corner, bursting into a dimly lit street. Across the avenue, the imposing facade of Gotham Central PD shimmered like a beacon of hope. Relief flooded him momentarily, but it was quickly replaced by a surge of fear. There was no way to cross – the street was choked with Joker's goons, their faces twisted into menacing grins.
With a desperate glance around, Samuel spotted a grate tucked into the grimy sidewalk. It was a sewer entrance, its iron bars slick with grime and age. Not his ideal choice, but his only one. He scrambled towards it, the shouts of his pursuers growing closer.
Ignoring the stench that wafted from the opening, Samuel heaved the heavy grate aside. He clambered down, plunging into the inky darkness. The metallic clang of the grate falling shut resonated eerily, followed by frustrated curses from above. He was in.
Relief washed over him, temporary and fragile. The cramped space reeked of sewage and decay, the air thick and heavy. He fumbled with his phone, activating the flashlight. The weak beam sliced through the gloom, revealing a labyrinth of damp tunnels stretching out in all directions. This wasn't exactly a walk in the park.
Picking a direction at random, Samuel started walking, the uneven ground beneath his feet squelching with every step. The rhythmic drip of water echoed in the oppressive silence, punctuated by the distant rumble of the city above. He was lost, alone, and vulnerable.
As he ventured deeper, an unsettling feeling began to gnaw at him. He wasn't alone. A faint ripple disturbed the surface of the stagnant pools lining the tunnel walls. He froze, his flashlight beam frantically scanning the murky water. Something large, unseen, stirred beneath the surface, sending further ripples outwards.
Terror constricted his throat. Gotham not only had crazies running around on the streets, it had monsters lurking in the sewers too. He desperately wished for the muggers and their measly weapons back then. He'd take a fistfight over an unseen predator any day.
Slowly, ever so slowly, a hulking shape began to emerge from the depths. Samuel choked back a scream as reptilian eyes, glowing an unnatural yellow, pierced the darkness. A massive jaw lined with razor-sharp teeth broke the surface, sending a wave of putrid water washing over Samuel's shoes. Killer Croc.
Panic clawed at Samuel's throat as Killer Croc's eyes locked onto him. The hulking monstrosity grinned a grotesque parody of a human smile, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth. "…So…The appetizer has arrived. A young boy…I don't mind tasting some veal." He said.
Samuel's mind raced. Flight wasn't an option, not with Croc blocking the only exit. He had to fight. A memory sparked in Samuel's mind – the goons, the struggle, the strange feeling of leveling up. Maybe, just maybe, this near-death experience had granted him some new edge. With a silent wish, he activated his status screen.
Level:12
Current moves
Normal|Pound 33/35
Normal|Tearful Look 20/20
Normal|Rage 9/10
Normal|Bide 10/10
Normal|Recover 3/5
Ground|Sand attack 15/15
Normal|Protect 10/10
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.
There, shimmering faintly in the gloom, were two new skills. Relief, sharp and unexpected, washed over him for a fleeting moment. Two new skills against a monster like this? It wasn't much, but it was a lifeline in the churning sea of fear.
One of the skills was labelled "Protect," its type designated as "Normal." The other, however, held a different designation – "Ground." Samuel didn't understand the difference, but the unfamiliar category gave him a sliver of hope. Perhaps it was something new, something unexpected.
A guttural roar ripped through the tunnel, shattering Samuel's fragile hope. Croc, tired of the pre-meal theatrics, launched himself forward with surprising speed for such a massive creature. Samuel's heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat urging his body to move. He stumbled back, his eyes darting between the approaching monstrosity and the flickering glow of his phone screen.
He didn't have time to ponder the intricacies of his new skills. He had to act. Now.
He focused with all his might, willing the unfamiliar "Protect" skill to activate. A tingling sensation spread through him, followed by a faint shimmer that materialized into a semi-transparent barrier around his body. It pulsed with a faint blue light, a fragile bubble against the oncoming onslaught.
The holographic screen flickered to life before his eyes, displaying the words.
-Samuel used Protect! Samuel protected himself.
The message seemed cold and distant in the face of immediate danger.
Killer Croc, a juggernaut of scales and muscle, didn't even hesitate. With a roar that echoed through the damp tunnels, he charged. Samuel braced himself, the stench of rotting flesh and stagnant water filling his nostrils.
-Samuel protected himself!
The impact was unlike anything Samuel had ever imagined. Instead of the bone-crushing blow he expected, there was a sickening thud. Croc, massive and unstoppable as he seemed, bounced off the barrier with a surprised yelp. The force momentarily knocked the wind out of Samuel, but the barrier held, shimmering momentarily before dissipating with a faint pop.
Killer Croc stumbled back, his beady yellow eyes wide with confusion. In all his years of dominating the sewers, nothing so small, so insignificant, had ever dared to resist him, let alone deflect his attack so effortlessly. Samuel stared back, a flicker of disbelief warring with the terror still gripping his heart. He had stopped a creature ten times his size, if only for a moment. Maybe, just maybe, he had a fighting chance.
But that second, another screen appeared in front of Samuel as if it was warning something.
-Protect: This move enables the user to protect itself from all attacks. Its chance of failing rises if it is used in succession.
"…Oh great. You're telling me this now…?"
Samuel sighed. His plan of protecting himself until this monster tires himself has failed before it even began. But he couldn't stop here. Samuel's heart hammered in his chest. He had one defensive move, and it was already spent. He had to think fast, or this brief reprieve would be his last.
Meanwhile, Killer Croc was slowly inspecting his prey from a distance. A predator always had to be careful since every prey could be a threat. And this small veal that he thought of as a quick snack…was more dangerous than he imagined.
A low growl rumbled in Croc's throat. "What kind of trickery is this?" he bellowed, his voice echoing in the damp tunnel. "Are you some kind of metahuman?"
Samuel, heart still pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs, remained silent. The barrier had vanished, leaving him utterly exposed. But Croc's hesitation gave him a sliver of hope. He darted his eyes toward the holographic screen, searching for another option.
His gaze landed on "Sand Attack." It was a gamble, a move he didn't fully understand, but it was his only remaining option. With a silent plea, he activated the skill.
The screen flickered, displaying the message.
-Samuel used Sand Attack! Waylon Jones's accuracy fell!
Samuel blinked, surprised to learn Croc's real name. But there was no time for wonder. A small flurry of sand and dirt erupted from the ground at his feet, propelled towards Croc's face.
Croc, still disoriented, saw the incoming projectile and instinctively raised a massive arm to block it. But something strange happened. The sand seemed to phase through his arm, ignoring his attempt to ward it off. A bewildered snarl contorted his face as the sand rained down on his eyes.
He didn't feel pain, not exactly. It was more like a disruption, a gritty annoyance lodged in his sensitive reptilian vision. The world blurred before his eyes, the previously clear outline of Samuel dissolving into a hazy outline.
"What the…?" Croc roared, thrashing his head from side to side, trying to dislodge the irritating sensation. His confusion deepened into a primal fury.
Croc's roar echoed through the sewer tunnels, a sound thick with frustration and pain. The sand attack, though not physically damaging, had thrown him off balance. He swiped blindly with a massive claw, aiming for where he thought Samuel stood, but the blow connected with nothing but air. The world was a blurry mess, his reptilian senses overwhelmed by the grit in his eyes.
A spark of understanding flickered in Samuel's mind. The Sand Attack didn't directly hurt Croc, but it did something even better – it messed with his ability to hit him! A grim smile touched his lips, cold and calculating. This wasn't a fight he could win through brute force, but maybe, just maybe, he could outsmart this mindless beast.
"...I'm gonna put some dirt in your eye, Waylon."
With renewed determination, Samuel entered a deadly dance with Croc. He'd activate Protect just before Croc lunged, the shimmering barrier deflecting each clumsy swipe. Then, as the barrier flickered out of existence, Samuel would unleash another burst of sand, further obscuring Croc's vision. The beast roared in frustration, his massive form flailing wildly, each attack missing its mark by a hair's breadth.
Crock saw not one Samuel, but ten. Illusions conjured by the sand and his own impaired sight. His primal fury boiled over, a mindless rage fueled by confusion and the inability to land a single blow. He lashed out with renewed violence, the sewer walls shaking with the force of his blows, but Samuel, a nimble phantom, danced just out of reach.
Suddenly, a different kind of awareness dawned on Croc. The attacks he felt weren't just coming from different directions – they felt…weaker. Hesitantly, he lowered his head, peering through the gritted haze. There, barely discernible, stood Samuel, a lone figure against the backdrop of the damp tunnel. But something had changed. A shimmer of what looked like sadness emanated from him.
-Samuel used Tearful Look! Waylon's attack fell! Waylon's fell!
Samuel had activated Tearful Look. He held his breath, watching as Croc's enraged snarl softened into a bewildered whine. The once ferocious attacks became tentative swipes, the primal fury replaced by a strange lethargy. It was time, to finish the weakened beast.
He wasn't a fighter by nature. Brawling wasn't his forte. But survival instincts, raw and primal, stirred within him. He needed to exploit this momentary weakness, this window of opportunity. Without hesitation, Samuel focused on another option in his arsenal – Rage.
The icon pulsed on his holographic screen, a simple symbol of amplified power. With a deep breath, he activated Rage.
Samuel sprang into action, no longer a passive target. He charged towards Croc, not with blind fury, but with calculated aggression. Croc, momentarily bewildered by the shift in tactics, didn't react fast enough. Samuel braced himself for the impact, Tearful Look mitigating the blow that would have crippled him moments ago.
Each subsequent attack from Croc, fueled by confusion more than malice, only served to further empower Samuel. He moved with a measured efficiency, utilizing Croc's own momentum against him. This wasn't a fight of raw strength but of strategy and exploiting weaknesses.
Finally, with a well-timed maneuver, Samuel slammed Croc against the wall, pinning him down with his newly enhanced strength. There was no triumph in his eyes, just a grim determination to end this.
"Stay down," he said, his voice calm but firm. Unlike Tearful Look, Rage didn't affect his speech. He didn't waste any energy on threats. Croc's fear was evident enough. Samuel gave a quick jab to the Croc's throat, to make sure he didn't make any other moves. Croc fell to the ground unconscious. Samuel laughed. He was acting like a vigilante. Well, since he was only protecting himself, it might be different, but...He hated this feeling of hurting others to save himself. It felt too loud. It wasn't quiet as the way he liked.
Scrambling to his feet, Samuel activated his phone's flashlight, his calm demeanor belying the frantic urgency in his chest. He had a temporary reprieve, but his pursuers could be anywhere. He needed to put distance between himself and them.
With practiced ease, he spotted a precarious crack in the tunnel ceiling, a possible escape route. Heaving himself through the opening, he pulled himself onto a higher level of the sewer system, disappearing into the labyrinthine network of tunnels.
He didn't stop running until his lungs burned and his legs threatened to give out. Where was he going? It didn't matter as much as disappearing. All he craved was the anonymity of the city's underbelly, to become a ghost in the labyrinth he was currently navigating.
As he collapsed against a damp wall, drawing ragged breaths, a chilling question gnawed at him. Why? Why was he a target? The Joker was known for his chaotic schemes, but this felt different. There was a purpose behind his capture, a calculated effort. But what purpose?
Samuel gripped his phone, the faint signal a cruel joke. He had no one to turn to. He was alone in this dark city, hunted by unknown forces, a pawn in a game he didn't understand. A sigh, devoid of emotion, escaped his lips, a sound that echoed through the silent tunnels, a stark reminder of his desperate situation.
