The chaos of the last few weeks felt like a blurred montage of blood and blue light. My body was stronger, but my mind was beginning to feel the weight of a dozen different deaths. I needed to step out of the suit and the shadows for a moment. I needed to remind myself why I was taking over this city.
I landed softly in a secluded alleyway in the Diamond District, the hum of my Gravity Defiance fading into a tingle in my spine. My clothes were rags—scorched by Voltage and shredded by S.W.A.T. lead.
I sank into the Shadow Kingdom and emerged inside a high-end, abandoned apartment I'd "acquired" a few days prior. I showered, the hot water stinging the places where bullets had bounced off just hours ago, and put on a crisp, expensive suit.
For the first time since I arrived in this world, I looked like a man, not a monster.
The Mid-Level Lounge
I headed to The Gilded Cage, a bar on the edge of the Fashion District. It wasn't a hero hangout, nor was it a hive of scum like the Iceberg Lounge. It was where the people who kept the city running—lawyers, architects, and high-end fixers—went to forget they lived in Gotham.
I sat at the mahogany bar and ordered a whiskey.
"You look like you've had a long day," the bartender said, wiping down the glass.
"Longer than you'd believe," I replied. My voice sounded different—more resonant. That was the Spirit attribute. It gave me a natural authority that made people want to listen.
A woman sat two stools away, looking at a stack of legal documents with a frustrated sigh. She looked exhausted.
"The system is rigged, isn't it?" I asked, not looking her way.
She looked up, startled. "In this city? It's not just rigged; it's broken. I'm trying to protect a group of tenants in the East End from a 'new landlord' who's burning buildings for insurance."
I paused, the whiskey halfway to my lips. That was my territory. I had killed the gang that used to run those blocks. It seemed a new vulture had moved in while I was busy playing with S.W.A.T.
"What's the landlord's name?" I asked calmly.
"Does it matter? In Gotham, if it's not the Joker, the police don't care." She sighed, closing her folder. "I'm Sarah. And you are?"
"A newcomer," I said, offering a small, cold smile. "Someone who values order."
The Human Perspective
We talked for an hour. I didn't mention the shadows or the fact that I had died six times that week. I listened to her talk about the "Shadow Butcher"—the rumors of a man who couldn't be killed.
"People are terrified," she whispered. "They say he's worse than the criminals. But honestly? For the first time, the gangs in my neighborhood are staying indoors. They're scared of the dark again."
I felt a strange surge in my Spirit stat. It wasn't from death this time; it was from reputation.
[NOTIFICATION]
Attribute Gain: +1 Spirit (Influence/Observation)
New Insight: Fear is a tool, but Order is the goal.
The Quiet Exit
As I walked out of the bar, the cool Gotham air hit my face. I felt refreshed. Resting hadn't made me weaker; it had given me a target. I didn't just want to "farm" stats anymore. I wanted to shape this city into something that worked for people like Sarah—by being the monster that kept the other monsters in line.
I walked into a dark corner, and my shadow began to boil.
"Heard the name, Sarah," I whispered into the night. "The landlord won't be a problem by morning."
I lifted off the ground, my suit jacket fluttering in the wind as I accelerated toward the East End. I didn't need a gun. I didn't need to die tonight. I just needed to send a message.
[CURRENT STATUS]
Strength: 18
Agility: 18
Defense: 102
Spirit: 19
Condition: Rested (Slight boost to Spirit-based abilities)