[Friday, October 13, 2006 ~ Location: Manhattan, New York ~ 6:41 AM]
The day started like most others, but with a current of anticipation that hung in the air, subtle yet not so subtle at the same time, like the calm that comes before a storm. Grayson sensed it the moment he opened his eyes; there was a low, vibrating hum in his chest that had not been triggered by the System. This feeling wasn't a notification or an alert; it was pure instinct, his gut whispering that something was about to change. For better or for worse, he did not know.
As the morning unfolded, it followed his familiar routine, each movement deliberate and ingrained. The sun began to break through a thick blanket of gray clouds, casting a soft, diffused light across his small apartment. Grayson finished his push-ups, sit-ups, and squats with meticulous control, each repetition slower than the last, pushing through the burn in his muscles as a testament to his body's evolution over time. He moved seamlessly through his workout, a choreography he had perfected. Instead of his usual run on the ground, he decided on a rooftop sprint, feeling alive as he leaped between buildings with unmatched agility, muscles coiling and releasing like a well-tuned spring.
[13, 10, 2006 ~ 7:34 AM]
After a refreshing cold shower that jolted him awake, and collecting his rewards, he headed to the kitchen to prepare a quick yet nutritious breakfast. He deftly boiled a few eggs while slicing an avocado, placing the creamy green fruit atop crisp toast, and then washed it all down with a glass of ice-cold water, the chill invigorating him. As he sat at the small table, the comforting scent of his breakfast wafting through the air, he pulled up his Status Panel. His eyes quickly scanned the display, looking for updates on his abilities and upgrading them, with each line of text a reminder of the progress he had made and the challenges that lay ahead:
|Username: Grayson Matthew
Level: 4 (240/600)
HP: 860 /ENE: 640
VIT: 20
STR: 20
END: 20
DEX: 20
AGI: 20
PER: 20
INT: 20
WIS: 19
LCK: ??? (Obscured)
Stat Points: 0
Inventory: [8 regular items] [19 ticket items]
Quest: [1 in progress]
Character Card: [Empty]
Skills: [4 skills]
Available Tickets: [2 Bronze] [0 Silver] [0 Gold]
Gacha Points: 1670 GP
Worlds Access: None
[13, 10, 2006 ~ 8:09 AM > 7:12 PM]
He carefully packed his backpack and made sure he had everything he needed before stepping out into the bustling morning. The familiar scent of baked goods from the bakery down the street filled the air as he made his way to school. He navigated through the crowded halls, attended his classes, and shared laughter and stories with his friends over lunch, feeling at ease for just a moment.
Once the last bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, he waved his friends goodbye. It was time for his shift at the construction site. The work was demanding, with his muscles straining under the weight of heavy materials as he toiled until the sun began to dip low on the horizon. That relentless ache in his body, however, was somewhat comforting; it kept him grounded and focused.
Later, he found himself back at the Hell's Kitchen warehouse—the place had transformed into more than just a hideout; it had become his training ground, his crucible. The air was thick with dust, and shattered wooden crates lay scattered in one corner, remnants of his previous training sessions. Chunks of broken concrete dotted the floor, a testament to weeks of overzealous |Runic Surge| strikes that had gone a bit too far.
He began his routine with a warm-up, slowly loosening his muscles before diving into an intense training session. For hours, he practiced fluid shadowboxing, low rolls that sent him smoothly across the floor, and kipping up to regain his footing quickly. He chained together |Runic Surge spells|, targeting the practice dummies he had made from steel rods and old tires, tightly put together with duct tape. Each movement he did felt more instinctual than before; his strikes were faster and more precise, as if his body had developed a rhythm all its own.
But despite his improvement, he felt a need for more. He pushed himself, running through the drills repeatedly, determined to reach a new level of mastery. He worked until his muscles screamed with pain, continuing until exhaustion threatened to overtake him. Until he couldn't do it anymore.
By the time late afternoon arrived, he sat on the cold concrete floor of the warehouse, gulping down water, the cool liquid refreshing against his parched throat. His shirt clung to his back, drenched in sweat, and he could feel his heart racing, not just from the physical exertion, but from the anticipation humming in his veins of what he was about to do.
Tonight felt different. The System hadn't brought him any quests, rewards, hints, or guidance. Yet, in the quiet moments between his breaths, he sensed it was the right time to embrace what he was gonna do. It was time to wear a mask. He took the subway home as the city began to shimmer under the soft glow of the evening lights. Arriving at his apartment, he wasted no time; he pulled out his school assignments and knocked them out with surprising speed. The apartment was dim, and the silence wrapped around him like a comforting blanket.
Methodically, he shifted gears—he discarded his regular clothes, reveling in the cooling feeling of a quick cold rinse in the shower that washed away the sweat of the day. He slipped into black tactical pants and a snug compression shirt that clung to his form, ready for action. No mask yet, just a simple hooded jacket that concealed his identity. It was nothing fancy, but it marked the transition into who he was about to become. The night awaited, filled with possibilities.
He carefully pulled out the N7 Phantom Combat Suit from its storage compartment, feeling the fabric's sleek texture as he slipped it on. The suit clung to his body, a second skin designed for agility and protection. Next, he retrieved the Grapple Gauntlet, a high-tech device that he strapped onto his right forearm. As he activated it, the |Traversal Sync| feature came online, emitting a soft beep that signaled its readiness. The gauntlet prompted him to pair it with the suit, a seamless integration that would enhance his mobility during the mission.
Shifting his attention to his weaponry, he took out the Wyvern Blitz, a cutting-edge firearm known for its precision and firepower. He conducted a thorough inspection of the weapon, checking the barrel and mechanisms for any signs of wear or malfunction. Satisfied that everything was in order, he pulled back the slide, feeling the satisfying click as it secured into place. He then attached the weapon to his back, resting it against his left side, within easy reach.
With one last check, he pulled out his dual M1911 pistols. The weight of the familiar firearms was comforting in his hands. He quickly assessed each one, looking for any issues with the slides and chambers, ensuring they were loaded and operational. He opened up the show and searched for some utility items that would help him in his patrol:
|Vigilante Utility Shop Items|
🌫️ Smoke Pellet
Rarity: Uncommon
Use: Disengagement or stealth cover
Effect: Creates a 1m - 5m smoke cloud for 10 seconds
Shop Price: 10 GP
⚡ Flash Bomb
Rarity: Rare
Use: Disorients enemies with blinding light/sound
Effect: 5 seconds blindness + 25% stagger chance
Shop Price: 10 GP
🧠 Voice Modulator
Rarity: Rare
Use: Conceals identity during confrontations
Effect: Alters voice and prevents audio tracking
Shop Price: 150 GP
🕶️ Night-Vision Goggles
Rarity: Uncommon
Use: Operate in total darkness
Effect: Grants clear vision up to 30m in low light
Shop Price: 200 GP
💥 Taser Darts
Rarity: Rare
Use: Non-lethal takedown
Effect: Shocks the target, incapacitating them for 15 minutes
Shop Price: 30 GP (3-use charge)
📡 Mini Surveillance Drone
Rarity: Rare
Use: Recon tool for mapping enemies or areas
Effect: 10-minute flight, live feed to user's HUD
Shop Price: 200 GP
📱 Encrypted Communicator
Rarity: Uncommon
Use: Covert communication with allies
Effect: Immune to standard surveillance or interception
Shop Price: 150 GP
🩹 Field Med-Kit (Compact)
Rarity: Common
Use: Emergency healing
Effect: Restores 25% health, stops bleeding
Shop Price: 100 GP
would you like to buy or search for something else in the shop?
He carefully selected three smoke pellets, their sleek, spherical shapes promising to obscure his movements when activated. Alongside them, he grabbed two flash bombs, compact devices designed to temporarily blind and disorient anyone in their vicinity. He also included two taser darts, each loaded with enough charge to incapacitate an opponent quickly, and a field med-kit stocked with essential emergency medical supplies.
After closing the shop, he took a moment to double-check the gear, ensuring it was all ready for action. Satisfied, he placed the items into his inventory, feeling a reassuring weight of security with this arsenal at his disposal. As dusk fell over the city, casting long shadows and bathed in an orange hue, he cautiously stepped onto the fire escape. The metal grating felt cool and unyielding beneath his feet, grounding him as he prepared to venture into the twilight-lit streets below.
[13, 10, 2006 ~ 7:44 PM]
The atmosphere around him was charged with the vibrant pulse of urban life—car horns blared in the distance, voices rose from nearby street corners, and the flickering lights of televisions cast a warm glow from the apartments. Yet, in the night, a palpable shift occurred. Shadows stretched longer, hiding the details of the streets below, while the sounds sharpened, echoing like whispers in the growing stillness. The frenetic energy of the day began to fade, and he could feel the world slow down around him, the space between heartbeats expanding with each passing second.
He crouched low, surveying the darkening landscape, and opened his system one final time. His eyes scanned for any alerts or notifications—there were none. No barriers, no distractions—just the mission waiting for him ahead, a stark reminder of the task that lay before him and the challenges he would face in the night.
Just a single Mission flashing in front of him, on his screen:
|System Quest: The Identity – First Patrol|
The city breathes with crime under flickering street lamps, and while the other Heroes are busy dealing with their Issues, no one notices the local decay except for a few. Tonight, you step into the shadows, not as a civilian, but as a vigilante.
Tier: Epic
Objective:
Normal thugs: 1 Bronze ticket | 2 GP | 25 EXP
Mutant thugs: 5 Bronze ticket | 20 GP | 50 EXP
Villains: 1 Silver ticket | 50 GP | 100 EXP
Rewards:
1 Gold ticket
181 GP
200 EXP
$ 1000
*Repeateable
|Do you accept? Y / N|
He read the mission and clicked yes; the screen vanished. His helmet folded out and locked into place with his full-face visor covering his face as the HUD display came to life. He fired his grapple gauntlet at the next apartment building's roof, and he was pulled by the grapple mechanism onto the roof top.
The moment his boots landed on the adjacent rooftop, Grayson felt it—a strange exhilaration, like the city had opened a secret door just for him. The warm summer wind tugged at the Combat suit as he sprinted across the tarpapered surface, vaulting pipes and AC units, leaping across the alleyways below with practiced ease. Every step brought the rhythm of the city closer, his senses sharpening as if something dormant inside him had awoken.
He paused at the edge of a building near 9th Avenue. Yellow streetlights cast long shadows across the sidewalk. His breath came easily now, his training regime proving its worth. The city sounded different from up here. Clearer. More alive.
He waited. Watched. Then, he heard it. A grunt. A stifled scream.
He zeroed in on a narrow alley two blocks down. His eyes locked on a man pressing a woman against a dumpster, one hand gripping her bag, the other reaching for her throat.
Grayson didn't hesitate.
He leapt down two fire escapes, boots striking metal with controlled noise, then dropped into a crouch at the alley's entrance.
"Let her go," he said, voice low and firm.
The mugger spun, startled, brandishing a switchblade. "Who the hell are you?"
Grayson didn't answer. He surged forward.
One step—close the distance.
Two steps—duck under the wild slash.
Three—precision strike.
He summoned the crowbar from his inventory mid-spin as he cracked the man's ribs with a triple-hit combo: ribs, shoulder, knee. The thug crumpled with a gasp.
The woman ran. She didn't even say thank you. That was fine.
He exhaled and checked his HUD. A flicker of light glowed:
|Threat Neutralized|
1 Bronze ticket gained
2 GP gained
|25 EXP gained|
Grayson grinned under his hood and melted back into the shadows.
[13, 10, 2006 ~ 10:02 PM – Lower Manhattan]
He stopped two more muggings in the next hour. One was a pickpocket who didn't expect a crowbar to knock his knee out from behind. The other involved two teens cornered by a man with a crowbar. Grayson struck from behind, disarmed him, and disappeared before anyone could react.
|Threats Neutralized|
2 Bronze tickets gained
4 GP gained
|50 EXP gained|
By the time he reached the warehouse district near Canal Street, his body was humming. This was it. This was what he'd trained for.
Then he heard it—a panicked shout, the sound of shattering glass.
He vaulted a fire escape and crawled to the edge of the roof.
Below, a corner convenience store. The front window was shattered. Five men were inside—three masked, two unmasked—grabbing money from the register, stuffing cigarettes and liquor into duffel bags. One had a shotgun slung casually over his shoulder.
Grayson's heart beat faster.
"Five-on-one," he whispered. "Great odds."
He scanned the area with his visor. No civilians nearby. No sirens yet. Time to move.
He dropped onto the awning of the store. Glass crunched beneath the robbers' boots as they joked and barked at each other, oblivious to the shadow above.
Grayson pulled a smoke pellet from his inventory—thanks to the shop—and rolled it off the awning.
(Tink. Tink. Pft.)
Smoke exploded in a cloud of thick gray fog. Chaos erupted. The thugs looked around, weapons raised.
"What the—?!"
"Yo! Who threw that?!"
Grayson dropped in, crowbar cracking against a wrist—the shotgun clattered to the ground, drove an elbow to his jaw, knocking him out. One robber lunged, but Grayson spun, driving a knee into his stomach before flipping him over a knocked-over rack of potato chips.
The third guy swung a crowbar wildly. Grayson ducked, slid low, and used [Runic Pulse] to blast upward with sudden speed—knee to jaw. The man dropped like a sack of bricks.
Two left. Both running. Not a chance.
Grayson tossed a flash pellet ahead of them—another Bronze prize—and charged in the burst of white light. The nearest thug stumbled, blinded, and Grayson struck his legs from under him. The final one swung a liquor bottle, but Grayson twisted around it and slammed him face-first into the fridge door.
Silence.
Broken glass crunched beneath Grayson's boots. He stood among the unconscious robbers, panting. The store was wrecked, but no one had died. He'd stopped it.
|Threat Neutralized|
5 Bronze tickets gained
10 GP gained
|125 EXP gained|
He allowed himself a breath.
Then the clerk peeked out from behind the counter, wide-eyed and whispering, "Thank you…Whoever you are."
Grayson nodded once, then ran out the back exit before cops arrived.
[13, 10, 2006 ~ 11:39 PM – Midtown rooftops]
Grayson crouched on the ledge of a tenement building, surveying the streets. His muscles ached now—deeply—but a good kind of ache. His crowbar rested across his knees, cooling in the night air.
Then he heard it.
A muffled conversation below—three voices, panicked.
He leaned over.
Three men cornering a limping teenager. A mugging. Again.
He rolled his neck, tired but wired.
"One more," he muttered.
And dropped into the night again.
[13, 10, 2006 ~ 12:58 PM – Midtown rooftops]
Grayson crouched low, his heartbeat beginning to steady after the last scuffle. The city had slowed. The drunks had mostly found their cabs, and the neon signs cast long reflections over puddles in the gutters. But then—voices.
Low. Urgent. He stilled. Down below, in an alley behind a shuttered bar, three men in dark hoodies whispered frantically.
"—the Hell's Kitchen deal. They moved it to the old textile warehouse. Yeah, the one off 47th."
"What time?"
"Now. It's goin' down now. And I hear that one of them brought some freak muscle, so keep your damn mouth shut."
Grayson's eyes narrowed. A weapons deal. Mutants involved.
His adrenaline surged. He rose in one motion, bolting and grappling across rooftops toward Hell's Kitchen. Each leap came easier now—his training, his skills—it was all blending into muscle memory. Even the night air felt more natural.
[13, 10, 2006 ~ 1:48 AM – Hell's Kitchen, Abandoned Textile Warehouse]
The building was dead silent from the outside, a brick husk in a forgotten part of the city. Grayson perched on a cracked window ledge on the second floor, peering into the open center of the warehouse floor below.
Two vans, doors open. Crates marked with Cyrillic text. Guns—a lot of them.
On one side: men in paramilitary gear, all buzz cuts and sunglasses. On the other hand, leather-jacketed thugs with piercings and mutant muscle. Two distinct mutants stood out—one with glowing yellow eyes and cracked stone-like skin, the other levitating slightly off the ground, her hair hovering with psychic tension.
Grayson sucked in a breath. This wouldn't be a simple beatdown. But he didn't come this far to back out now.
With a deep breath, he activated [Runic Pulse]—a faint aura shimmered around him as his limbs charged with kinetic energy. Then he dropped.
Right into the middle of the deal. The impact cracked the floor. Crates flew. Everyone shouted. He didn't wait for introductions.
He blitzed into the closest armed man, crowbar moving in a rapid four-hit combo—stomach, jaw, ribs, elbow. The man collapsed. He turned to another, hit him with a knee to his gut, and he doubled over, then got knocked out with a right hook.
Bullets erupted around him.
Grayson dove into cover, ducked behind a toppled crate, and rolled out the other side, launching a smoke pellet at the nearest cluster. Smoke exploded. Screams followed. Three thugs dropped.
Then—pain. A brick-like fist struck him across the ribs and sent him skidding across the floor. The mutant with stone skin.
Grayson coughed, pulled himself up.
"Alright, big guy," he muttered. "Let's see what you've got." The brute charged.
Grayson sidestepped at the last second, delivering a [Runic Surge]-enhanced strike to the back of the mutant's knee. The joint buckled—but the man didn't fall. Instead, he backhanded Grayson into a support beam.
Sparks flew. His HUD display flickering.
System Alert: HP -15%
Grayson gritted his teeth, pushed through the pain.
The psychic woman raised a hand, and a metal crate lifted, hurling itself toward him. He dove, twisted midair, and threw a flash pellet into her face mid-toss.
(Boom.)
She shrieked and dropped, covering her eyes. Grayson landed, disoriented, but functional.
Then he charged again, crowbar sweeping low to trip the psychic, then leaping off her prone form to slam his full body weight into the stone-skin mutant's chest.
The impact cracked the concrete beneath them. The mutant gasped—finally winded.
Grayson followed up with [Runic Pulse], fists hammering faster than the eye could track. He ended the combo with a [Runic Pulse] kick that launched the brute backward into a support column.
The column snapped. The mutant didn't get back up. Grayson panted hard.
He turned just in time to see the rest of the gang scrambling. With their mutants down and their weapons scattered, most of them fled.
One reached for a phone.
Grayson kicked it out of his hand, then grabbed the man by the collar and yanked him forward and head butt him, out cold
Grayson took a phone lying on the floor and dialed the emergency line. His voice came out low, rough.
"There's an illegal weapons deal at the textile warehouse in Hell's Kitchen. Mutants involved. Several suspects are unconscious. Send backup."
Before the operator could respond, he tossed the phone next to the thug. Sirens already echoed in the distance. Grayson didn't wait.
He melted into the shadows, slipped through the broken roof access, and vanished into the night.
[13, 10, 2006 ~ 3:04 AM – Grayson's Apartment
The window clicked quietly.
Grayson shut the window behind him, leaning against it with a shaky breath. Every muscle burned, bruises already forming across his ribs and shoulder. His Combat Suit had scratches, soot on it, and his hands were scraped raw and red.
But he was alive.
He dropped the crowbar onto the counter, then peeled off his Suit. Cold air bit into his skin as he crossed the apartment, grabbed a clean towel, and gently wiped away the sweat.
The city buzzed faintly outside his window. The System pulsed silently in his mind.
|System Quest: The Identity – First Patrol|
The city breathes with crime under flickering street lamps, and while the other Heroes are busy dealing with their Issues, no one notices the local decay except for a few. Tonight, you step into the shadows, not as a civilian, but as a vigilante.
Tier: Epic
Objective:
Normal thugs: 1 Bronze ticket | 2 GP | 25 EXP
Mutant thugs: 5 Bronze ticket | 20 GP | 50 EXP
Villains: 1 Silver ticket | 50 GP | 100 EXP
Rewards:
1 Gold ticket ✅
181 GP ✅
200 EXP ✅
$ 1000 ✅
*Repeateable
|Claim Rewards? Y / N|
He clicked yes and sat down heavily at the edge of the bed, exhaling into the quiet.
His hands trembled—not from fear, but from the aftershock of something he couldn't name. Not yet.
But this?
This was only the beginning.
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A\N: Hello, people. Sorry about the late upload, and this is all I can give for now, as for the second chapter, I'm still fixing some of its mistakes, so you will not be getting it at this time. Also, tell me, should I bring villains from other universes to be my own Rogue Gallery? Comment about it, bye.