Chapter 5 : First Blood
The alley was colder than I expected.
February in Central City meant temperatures in the low forties after dark. I'd dressed in layers—dark clothing, the ski mask rolled up like a beanie until I needed it, gloves that would still allow trigger control on the taser. But the cold seeped through anyway, settling into my joints, making my fingers stiff.
I flexed my hands to keep the blood flowing. Checked my watch. 10:17 PM.
Seventeen minutes until Tank's usual arrival time.
The loading dock behind me provided perfect concealment. A concrete overhang cast shadows deep enough to hide in, even when someone walked directly past. I'd tested it last night—stood in this exact spot while a homeless man shuffled through the alley ten feet away. He never saw me.
My heart pounded against my ribs. Not fear, exactly. Anticipation. The knowledge that everything I'd planned was about to become real.
[TUTORIAL QUEST: FIRST EXTRACTION] [TIME REMAINING: 1 DAY, 23 HOURS, 12 MINUTES]
Almost two days left on the timer. Plenty of margin if something went wrong tonight. But I didn't want to need that margin. I wanted this done.
Footsteps echoed from the north end of the alley.
Too early. Tank never arrived before 10:30.
I pressed deeper into the shadows, hand finding the taser at my hip. The footsteps grew closer—lighter than Tank's heavy tread, faster than his confident swagger.
A teenager emerged from the darkness. Hoodie up, headphones in, probably taking a shortcut home. He walked past my position without slowing, never looking left or right, completely oblivious to the predator hiding three feet away.
My breath released slowly. Not the target. Just a civilian.
The teenager disappeared around the corner. Silence returned.
10:24 PM. Six minutes.
I pulled the ski mask down over my face. Adjusted my grip on the taser. Ran through the sequence one final time.
Strike. Close. Control. Extract.
Four steps. Sixty seconds. Everything after that was unknown.
Footsteps again. Heavier this time. The distinctive thud of a large man walking without concern for stealth.
Tank.
He rounded the corner at 10:31—three minutes early. Jacket collar turned up against the cold. Hands in his pockets. Eyes forward, not scanning his surroundings. Why would he? He was the most dangerous thing in this neighborhood.
He used to be.
I waited until he passed my position. Let him take two more steps. His back was to me now, shoulders broad and vulnerable.
The taser barked.
Both probes hit center mass—right between his shoulder blades. Fifty thousand volts coursed through his system. Tank's body seized, muscles locking involuntarily. A strangled sound escaped his throat.
But he didn't fall.
His legs buckled. He caught himself on one knee. His hands scrabbled at the wires trailing from his back.
Enhanced pain tolerance. Shit.
I crossed the distance in two strides, abandoning the taser. My knee drove into his solar plexus—all of Harrison Griffin's military training behind the strike. Air exploded from Tank's lungs. He doubled over.
My weight came down on his back, forcing him to the pavement. His arms flailed. I caught his right wrist, wrenched it behind him, snapped the zip tie closed. His left hand grabbed my jacket—
I felt the strength. Even weakened by the taser, even gasping for breath, his grip was like iron. Fingers dug into my shoulder hard enough to bruise bone.
"Who the fuck—"
I drove my elbow into his temple. Not hard enough to knock him out—I needed him conscious for the extraction—but hard enough to daze him. His grip loosened. I secured his other wrist.
Tank lay face-down on the cold concrete, wrists bound behind his back, chest heaving with rage and confusion.
"You're dead," he snarled. "Do you know who I am? You're fucking dead—"
I pressed my palm flat against the back of his neck.
Extract.
The system responded instantly.
[EXTRACTION INITIATED — MAINTAIN CONTACT]
Fire erupted in my veins.
Not metaphorical fire. Real, burning agony that started where my skin touched Tank's and spread through my entire body like liquid flame. My teeth clamped together to trap the scream building in my throat.
Tank felt it too. His threats cut off mid-word, replaced by a sound I'd never heard before—a howl of pure animal pain that echoed off the alley walls.
Ten seconds.
The burning intensified. My vision blurred at the edges. Something was being pulled through the connection, ripped from Tank's cells and forced into mine. I could feel it—raw power flowing like electricity through a wire.
Twenty seconds.
Tank thrashed beneath me. Even with his wrists bound, his strength was terrifying. Each convulsion nearly threw me off. I locked my legs around his torso, pressing my palm harder against his neck.
Don't let go. Don't let go.
Thirty seconds.
The screaming stopped. Tank's body went limp, still breathing but barely conscious. The power flow continued, slower now, like a faucet running dry.
Forty seconds.
My arm shook. Every muscle fiber burned with the strain of maintaining contact. The urge to pull away was overwhelming—some primal survival instinct screaming that this was wrong, that bodies weren't meant to do this.
Fifty seconds.
[EXTRACTION AT 85% — MAINTAIN CONTACT]
Eight-five percent. Almost there.
Tank's body twitched weakly. Whatever power he'd possessed, most of it had transferred to me now. I was burning from the inside, cells restructuring to accommodate stolen abilities.
Sixty seconds.
[EXTRACTION COMPLETE — PARTIAL] [POWER ACQUIRED: STRENGTH ENHANCEMENT] [RETENTION: 40%] [SYNC RATE: 15%]
I released Tank's neck and rolled off him, landing hard on the concrete. My chest heaved. My hands wouldn't stop shaking. The burning sensation had faded to a deep, throbbing ache that pulsed with my heartbeat.
Tank lay motionless beside me. Still breathing—I checked twice—but completely unconscious. Whatever the extraction had done to him, his body had shut down to process it.
I forced myself to stand. My legs felt like they belonged to someone else.
[TUTORIAL QUEST: COMPLETE] [REWARD: 100 PP] [NEW FUNCTION UNLOCKED: PASSIVE DETECTION] [LEVEL UP: 1 → 5]
The notifications barely registered. I was focused on not collapsing.
One foot in front of the other. Out of the alley. Into the shadows between buildings. Away from the scene.
Three blocks later, I lost the battle with my stomach.
I barely made it to the dumpster before the vomit came. Orange chicken and fried rice, violently expelled. My whole body shook with the force of it. When the heaving finally stopped, I slumped against the alley wall, gasping.
This was what I'd signed up for. This was what the system required.
It had never mentioned it would feel like dying.
The walk home took forty-five minutes. I stuck to back streets, avoiding anyone who might see a masked man stumbling through the night. The ski mask came off after the first ten minutes—too conspicuous, and I was far enough from the scene now.
My apartment door took three tries to unlock. My hands wouldn't cooperate.
I made it two steps inside before my legs gave out. The floor caught me. Hard.
The ceiling swam above me, fluorescent lights leaving trails in my vision. The power burned under my skin—still integrating, still reshaping whatever it was reshaping. Every heartbeat sent fresh waves of agony through my system.
[STRENGTH ENHANCEMENT — SYNC TRAINING RECOMMENDED]
I laughed. The sound scraped my raw throat like broken glass.
Sync training. Right. I'd get right on that. Just as soon as I remembered how to stand up.
Midnight came and went. I stayed on the floor.
Tomorrow, I'd start becoming what the system wanted.
Tonight, I just had to survive.
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