Chapter 8: Aimless Daze #8

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]

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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.

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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.

 

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