Om Nom lay on the ground in bliss, his stomach slightly bulging.
'Looks like he enjoyed the jawbreaker.' My stomach let out a weak growl. 'And it looks like it's time for me to eat again.'
I examined my groceries, mainly the ramen packet. While it may be delicious, it wasn't exactly filling or nutritious.
'I wonder.' I glanced at the vegetables I'd just bought.
A recipe formed in my mind, I grabbed two pots. Filled one with water, placed both of them on the stove. One was on high heat, the other on low.
'Hopefully I have everything I need.'
I reached into the fridge and pulled out a small handful of cilantro. 'Perfect.'
Next, I pulled a tomato, a purple onion, and two eggs from the grocery bag. The eggs went into the pot of boiling water. While those were boiling, I chopped up a third of the purple onion. I grabbed some vegetable oil and drizzled it into the dry pan, swirling it until I coated the entire bottom.
After finishing with the onion, I dumped it into the pan. Grabbing a nearby spoon, I started to stir it. The sharp aroma filled my nostrils, and a faint hum of approval slipped from my mouth.
"Mix it slowly, make sure the onion bit browns perfectly. I don't want them to end up burnt, don't you agree?" I asked for the onion bits.
"Yeah, we want a golden tan. We want to be golden brown, not black and charred." I replied in a squeaky voice.
My brain froze as it processed the weird shit I just did."What the fuck?"
'Where did that come from? Was I just talking to the food? Did I answer them?'
I groaned, It was Bob. Just like I've inherited some of Dexter's violent urges, I'd apparently picked up Bob's habit of talking to his food. Not the worst thing, but I had a feeling it would get annoying pretty quickly.
I chopped half the tomato and added it to the pot. On cue, my phone buzzed, it was the timer. I turned off the burner with the boiling eggs, filled a large bowl with ice water, and dropped the eggs in the water to cool.
While they cooled, I chopped the cilantro and tossed it into the pot. Luckily for me, the fridge didn't have a water dispenser, which meant we had a water cooler, one that happened to come with a hot water feature.
I filled a mug with steaming water and poured it into the pot, stirring until the tomato and onion flavors merged. Then came the ramen noodles, along with the included flavor packet
As the noodles softened and the broth thickened, I peeled the boiled eggs. I sliced each into eights and dumped them into a large bowl. I gave the pot another stir, letting the flavors mix. It smelled amazing, It was thanks to Bob. His skills had turned a loner's dinner into a health, filling, and comforting meal.
I poured the contents into my bowl, the broth soaked into the egg pieces. For an extra kick, I added a splash of lime juice.
Carrying the bowl into the living room, I set it on the table. Call me lazy, but I was going to eat in front of the TV. I sat on the couch; On Nom leapt up beside me.
It was kind of nice having him there. Made things feel less lonely. 'Lonely.' I let out a weak sigh.
Things were complicated, I didn't have much in my old life. My new life was better, but felt just as messy. The memories of my dad were fresh, but I barely remembered my mom. She died when I was pretty young, but my dad made sure I didn't forget her.
He told me stories, but those only gave me so much. He showed me pictures, but I couldn't remember her face outside of them.
'I wonder.' One of my new abilities was Sheldon's eidetic memory.
Maybe I could remember, just a little. I heard a comforting laugh, a woman in a white dress, facing the sun. A tiny arm reached for her. She turned her head, but the sunlight obscured most of her face, except one thing. Her smile, clear, bright, and full of joy.
'Dang.' I couldn't remember.
A tired sigh escaped my lips, I stood and walked into my parent's old room. It was dusty, untouched since my dad's death.
I just didn't have the heart to clean it. I knew I'd have to eventually, but I needed more time. I searched until I found what I was looking for: a small photo frame. It held a picture of both my parents, holding a baby.
My mom had fair skin, long blonde hair, ocean-blue eyes, and a perfect smile.
My dad? Clearly not a photo guy. He wore an awkward expression, one eye closed. Still, he was a decent-looking guy, I had to get my looks from somewhere afterall. Dark tan skin, caramel-brown eyes, short messy black hair styled into a tuft, and a small, but noticeable smile.
I brought the photo to the living room and placed it beside my still-steaming bowl. It was a weird sentiment, but it made me feel like they were with me.
I browsed through the channels until I landed on Chowder. It had been ages since I watched it. Kind of odd that it existed in this universe, but I wasn't complaining.
For the next half hour, I ate while a picture of my parents rested on the table. On Nom lay beside me, half asleep, half watching the tv with me.
Eventually, I finished the bowl. A small yawn escaped my mouth, followed by an even smaller yawn from Om Nom
I picked up On Nom and carried him to my room, too lazy to wash the bowl at the moment. Tomorrow is Saturday, I'll have time to clean then, and maybe even fix up the place.
I laid down in my bed, On Nom curled up beside me. It didn't take long for sleep to come.
'I hope tomorrow is better.'
___
The Next Morning
A kick, blood splattered. A disgusting squelch, more blood. The darkness was filled with blood, It was horrible.
My eyes snapped open, and a familiar blue light blinded me.
[Congratulations, you have survived another day. 1 Gacha Point has been added to your total.]
I waved the screen away. "I don't have the energy for this."
My throat was dry, my body ached like I'd just run a marathon. 'I need water.'
I stumbled out of bed, waking On Nom in the process. He yawned and blinked sleepily, then stared at me. His eyes widened with shock.
Like I said earlier, I didn't have the energy to care. So I decided to just ignore it, get some water first.
Eventually, I made it to the kitchen. My half-asleep state made it hard to walk.
"Fuck." I muttered.
A dozen dirty cups filled the sink, and that was all I had..'I should really clean more.'
I gave the kitchen a quick once-over. 'Maybe I should fix up some stuff around the house too. Some repairs might be pricey, but I can probably use some of the tools in the garage for the smaller stuff.'
I paused. 'Where did that come from?'
I let out another sigh. 'Dexter gave me violent tendencies, and apparently Nolan gave me construction knowledge.'
My mind drifted as I washed the cups, my feelings were all over the place. I wasn't disgusted by the idea of that creep bleeding, but I wasn't proud of it either.
'System, show me my Status.'
[Name: Leo Faith]
[LV 1 (56/100)]
[Quest: None]
[Skills: Parkour, Free Running, Climbing]
[Abilities: BS Protection, Stable Mind, Eidetic Memory]
[Templates Absorbed: Bob Belcher, John Nolan, Dexter Morgan]
[Templates in Progress]
[___]
[___]
[___]
[Summons: Om Nom]
'I was acting differently while they were being absorbed, but now that it's over... I still feel different. Just not as much. Like I've experienced something new, but kept my core.'
A tired sigh escaped me, I didn't like what the Gacha was doing to me, but I didn't have much choice. Marvel was a dangerous universe, especially in New York.
I filled a clean cup with water and took a long sip.
A weird sensation grazed my upper lip. 'What the?'
I ran my hand over it. ". . . . WHAT THE FUCK!"
___
"What the hell happened?"
I stared into the bathroom mirror.
My entire body had changed. The most obvious part, my face. I don't usually have facial hair, so waking up with a FULLY GROWN MUSTACHE was jarring.
I hated having facial hair, nothing personal. It just felt uncomfortable, I preferred being clean-shaven.
'Screw this, I'm shaving it off.'
I rummaged under the sink until I found my dad's old electric razor, but my attention went to my arm.
'Wait a second… Did my arms grow?' I squeezed my own bicep.
I took my shirt off, examining my body in the mirror reflection. 'This is some bullshit.'
I had a dad bod, that's the only way I could describe it. A small gut, beefy arms. Not muscular, they just seem like… like they belong to someone who did manual labor.
'Maybe another side effect of the templates? Dexter was pretty well-built. Nolan did construction and carried heavy stuff most of his life.' I looked down at my gut.
'Ugh. That's probably from Bob.'
Like I said, ignoring it for now. I mean, it's not like I could do anything about it. Thirty minutes later, my face was clean again.
Om Nom watched the whole thing. It must've been a very confusing 24 hours for him.
"It's complicated."
The good news was, my facial structure didn't change, or I had become the amalgamation of the three people and just didn't notice.
The effect was there, and people would definitely start talking about how I suddenly turned muscular. Maybe I could answer it with 'I start taking steroids'The idea made me laugh a bit.
Or maybe I should just not go to school for the next few months to explain the changes. Then again, I'm pretty sure my social service worker wouldn't approve. I should wait for a few days, see if the changes are permanent.
___
Given the state of my home, I decided to spend the weekend fixing things up.
I started small, mainly cleaning the floors. Halfway through, I noticed something.
'These walls are ugly as hell. The paint is cracking and peeling, I need to repaint them.'
'Now that I think about it, I think dad mentioned a few times about repainting.'
Too bad he never got a chance, maybe I should paint it now. Fix up the house like he always wanted to, make it more of home instead of just a house.
Though, if I'm being honest. The entire house was a mess, but the main issue is that I don't have much money to fix it. My monthly budget is around a thousand dollars, half of that money goes to the gas bill, electric, water, and wifi. My dad made sure to pay off the mortgage first, so that was one less bill to worry about.
Another hundred or so goes to my food bill, but that's going to be increasing now. Om Nom only eats candy after all, and those jawbreakers are only gonna last so long.
Most of my furniture are things you could find in the thrift store. The electricionics weren't much better. The TV was a massive box that could probably crush a person, the stove from the 1980's. The couch was in pretty good condition, minus the few holes and stains it had.
I know I should probably focus on getting stronger, but I couldn't help myself. Is it wrong to want to live in a nicer home?
My house was old, pretty much the last of an age. That's not me exaggerating by the way. My house is almost a century old, doesn't have AC. Probably still has cloth insulation, most homes like this would have been torn down already. Not this one though, somehow it survived despite everything else changing around it.
'I need to find some source of income, something that could earn me money while I focus on more important things. Maybe make an app, but I don't know how to do that.'
I'll figure something out, it's not like I had much of a choice anyways. If I want a good life, I need money. For now though, maybe I'll just repaint the walls.
___
I was walking home, I still don't have a license or a car so I didn't have much of a choice. I carried four cans of navy-blue paint, two in each hand.
Part of me hoped the Gacha would eventually give me super strength, but I'd settle for any kind of superpower at this point. Although, these new muscles made it easier for me to carry stuff now.
'What the—?' I spotted the alley from last night.
It was taped off with police lines, there were three officers. Two of them guarding the perimeter, one investigating.
'This isn't good, Did someone spot me? Did that girl report what happened last night.?'
'No, it wouldn't be the girl. It's something else, maybe a trace of the fight was reported to the police. Some blood splatter, or maybe even an unconscious body.'
Dexter's mind helped me analyze the situation, perks of having the knowledge of a cop/serial killer.
I approached the younger officer, he was more likely to slip up and say something he wasn't supposed to say "Hey, what happened?"
He was a young Native American guy, early twenties. Long black hair tied into a bun, a small scar above his right eye.
"A shop owner found a pool of blood outside his store, it probably happened around last night," He explained.
"Crap, that sucks. Do they know who it belonged to?"
He shook his head. "Nope. The alley was empty when it was reported. If you ask me, it's probably those freaks."
I raised a brow. "Freaks?"
"You haven't heard? Rumor has it that a gang moved in nearby. They have some sort of edgy, cringy name—The Crimson Blade." He scoffed.
"Rookie! What are you doing?!"
The older officer stormed over, white guy. Late forties, Buzz cut, wrinkles, scars, most likely ex-military.
"Nothing, sir. Just answering questions."
"What kind of questions?" He snapped. Before the rookie could even respond, the older officer cut him off. "Officers are ordered to keep details of ongoing cases private, spreading private information will result in a reprimand. Understood?"
"Yes, sir."
I stepped in. "It's alright, he didn't say much. If I'd known, I wouldn't have asked."
The older officer sighed. "Apologies, sir. But we'll have to ask you to leave the area for now."
"Understood, sorry for the trouble." I continued on my way.
They assumed the blood was gang-related, that's a relief. Still, the fact that a gang even existed to take said blame unsettled me.
'The Crimson Blade. What kind of edgy bullshit is going on?'
[New Quest Has Been Discovered.]
'What the?'
[Quest: Investigate The Crimson Blade.]
[Reward: 100 XP & 1 Ultra Card.]
'Well. That changes things.'
But first, the walls were a priority. I will deal with it after I paint my house. I feel like if I put it off now, then it will never get done.