"Hey, Mark," I said softly as I climbed into the ambulance and took a seat beside him. "How are you holding up"
Mark looked tired and sad as he spoke to me. "Hey, Michael," he said, his voice sounding weary. "I'm okay, I guess. Just... processing everything, you know?" He seemed to struggle to put his thoughts into words. " Our school got destroyed, Michael. There was a terrorist attack, and some people didn't make it," he explained, his voice shaky. "And... Teacher Dan... he's gone."
The mention of our teacher's name felt heavy, reminding us of the sadness we all felt.
"Right," I admitted, recognizing Mark's point. "He saved everyone. And... I wish I could've been there with you all," I added, feeling a tinge of guilt for not being present during the attack. "If I was there, perhaps I could have saved Teacher Dan," I thought to myself, the regret weighing heavily on my mind.
"What's important now is that we're all safe," I said to Mark, trying to offer him some comfort.
"Thanks, Michael," Mark replied with a slight smile, appreciating the reassurance.
"Where's the Mark I knew?" I asked, trying to bring him back to his old self. "You know, the Mark who always had a joke ready to go, even when things were tough?" I glanced at him, hoping to see that familiar spark in his eyes.
Mark chuckled softly, a glimmer of his usual humor shining through. "Don't worry, Michael, he's still here," he said trying to be his usual self
"Hey, let's change the topic, how about Emily? Her parents are here. We could go greet them; you know?" I suggested to Mark, attempting to shift the conversation to something more positive.
"Well, I don't have the confidence to greet her parents, you know? They're rich, and I'm just... well, poor. I'm not exactly what you'd call handsome, and the only thing I have is my love for her," Mark confessed, his voice tinged with a hint of insecurity.
"Hey, Mark, don't sell yourself short," I replied, trying to encourage him. "You're more than just your looks or your family's financial status. You've got a lot to offer, man. You're smart, funny, and you've always been there for your friends. Besides, Emily's parents probably care more about who you are as a person than how much money you have. Trust me, they'll see what I see in you."
"Yeah, maybe you're right," Mark agreed, his expression shifting as he reached for his mcall device. "Oh, it's my sister," he said, sounding a bit nervous as he answered the call.
"Oh, right," I responded, understanding now. "With everything on TV, it's no surprise your sister's calling. "I said as I looked at the reporters nearby.
"Alright, Mark, I'll leave you to catch up with your sister," I said, giving him some space for their conversation.
"Sure thing, Michael," Mark replied gratefully as he focused on his call with his sister.
As I walked away from Mark to give him some privacy, I couldn't help but wonder about the reward I received after completing the mission. I asked the system to provide me with the details.
(Meanwhile Mary Rose Fletcher )
Mary Rose Fletcher, Mark's sister, was hard at work in a local restaurant. Unlike her brother, Mary didn't have the luxury of a scholarship. As a working student in 1947, she needed to earn money to pay for her tuition.
In the busy restaurant, Mary Rose skillfully weaved between tables, carrying trays of food effortlessly. Suddenly, a man sitting at a table tried to touch her butt. Then Mary Rose immediately pushed his hand away.
The man backed away, looking both surprised and angry. "How dare you!" he snapped, sounding like he thought he was more important. "Do you know who you're touching, young woman? I am a customer, and you should be serving me!"
Mary Rose stayed firm; her voice strong. "I don't care who you think you are," she said firmly, her anger showing. "No one can touch me without my consent"
The people around stopped what they were doing, watching the scene unfold. Back in 1947, men usually had the upper hand, but Mary Rose's refusal to back down was rare indeed considering she was just a waitress. Despite the pressure, she stood her ground against the harassment.
"What's happening here?" asked the female manager, stepping in to assess the situation.
"Remind this young woman what her job is," demanded the angry man, gesturing towards Mary Rose.
"Mary Rose Fletcher," the female manager said firmly, her expression showing clear displeasure. "Come with me now. We need to talk."
Mary Rose obeyed, nodding as she clenched her jaw in frustration, accompanying the manager to a quieter corner of the restaurant.
"Mary, you know you have to do what customers tell you," Lory said firmly. "That's your job, and you're well aware of it." She added with concern, "You're always like this, Mary. I worry about you."
"I know what my job is, but..." Mary Rose began, her voice firm but filled with emotion. "I can't let them do that to me. They can laugh at me, They can insult me, but They can't take away my purity," she declared, her words resolute. "Because that's all I've got." She paused, her expression reflecting a mixture of determination and vulnerability.
Lory sighed, her expression softening as she listened to Mary Rose spoke from her heart. "You're too pure for this world, Mary," she said, sounding impressed and worried. "If I had a child your age, I'd want her to be just like you — kind-hearted and pure." She gently patted Mary Rose's shoulder, showing her support and care.
Lory looked at Mary Rose with kindness in her eyes. Then she said gently but firmly. "But you've got to watch out. Not everyone will like how strong you are." She paused, her expression turning serious. "Promise me you'll stay safe, no matter what, okay?".
"Okay, Ma'am," Mary replied, nodding solemnly. "I'll be careful."
"Good, now go," Lory said kindly, giving Mary a reassuring smile. "Continue your work."
"Thank you, Ma'am," Mary said gratefully, before returning to her duties
As Mary continued working, the news on the TV caught her attention. The reporter's voice echoed through the restaurant, recounting the tragic events of August 26, 1947. Her heart sank as she listened to the report of Midtown High School being destroyed by a terrorist bombing and attack. The mention of students and teachers losing their lives filled her with sadness and a sense of unease. Mary knew her brother and Michael was there at that school.
Feeling really worried about them, Mary quickly put her tray down and rushed to find Ms. Lory. When she saw her sitting in a corner, Mary went straight to her, feeling like she needed to talk to her right away.
"Ms. Lory," Mary said, trying to keep her voice steady despite her growing anxiety. "May I use the telephone, please? It's urgent."
Ms. Lory looked worried when she heard Mary. "Wait, you don't have an mcall device?" she asked, sounding surprised. "In this day and age, it's crucial to have one for communication, especially in emergencies."
Mary's voice shook with feeling as she told Ms. Lory about her situation. "My brother has an Mcall device, but... but I don't have one. We can't afford it," she admitted. "We may not have much, but we do have a telephone at home. It's all I need, really." so that's okay." Her voice trailed off, the weight of her worry for them evident in her eyes.
Understanding Mary's situation, Ms. Lory nodded sympathetically. "Of course, Mary. You can use the telephone in my office," she said, gesturing towards the back of the restaurant. "Whatever it is I hope everything is alright."
Mary's hands trembled slightly as she dialed her brother's mcall device number on the telephone. She waited anxiously, her heart pounding in her chest, hoping for a response.
"Hello?" Mark's voice sounded a bit fuzzy through the Telephone, but Mary could still make out what he was saying.
"Brother, it's me, Mary," she said, sounding worried. "Are you okay? I heard about the attack on Midtown High. Is Michael okay too?"
There was a brief pause on the other end of the line before Mark replied, his voice filled with relief. "Mary! Yeah, we're okay," he reassured her. "Michael and I managed to get out before everything went down. We're safe, don't worry."
Mary let out a sigh of relief, her tense shoulders relaxing slightly. "Thank goodness," she said, feeling a weight lift off her chest. "I was so worried about you both."
Mark teased, "You're quite concerned about Michael, aren't you?"
Mark's teasing remark made Mary chuckle softly. "Yeah, I guess I am," she admitted, her voice tinged with fondness. "After all, he saved me back then, remember? Three months ago," Mary continued, her tone softening as she reminisced about their past encounters. "We've become good friends since then.
Mark teasingly a little bit, said , "Looks like someone is in love," implying that Mary might have feelings for Michael.
Mary blushed slightly at Mark's teasing comment. "Oh, please," she replied with trying to hide her embarrassment. "We're just friends, Mark. Nothing more." Despite her attempt to brush it off, Mary couldn't deny the warmth she felt whenever she thought of Michael.
Then Mary said to change the topic, "The important thing is that I'm relieved you both are safe."
"Thank you, sis," Mark said gratefully, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. "It means a lot to me."
(Mc Pov)
Meanwhile
Seeing Mark happy while talking to his sister on the Mcall device made me feel better. Even though bad things happened recently, it was nice to see him happy and connected with his family. His smile, even if it was just a little bit, gave me hope that Mark would eventually return to his usual self.
Now that I'm alone in this corner, I can communicate with the system in my mind. I think to myself, asking the Spider-Man System about the whereabouts of my reward, knowing that I received a notification about it earlier.
Congratulations host for defeating all the terrorist and assist the civilians in need, you complete the quest
Quest Completed: Defeat the Terrorists and Aid Civilians
Rewards:
Shop Points: 1,000,000
Experience Points: 200
Additional Reward for Defeating Jord Hos:
Experience Points: 100
Shop Points: 1,000,000
"Sweet," I thought to myself as I read the message from the system. It felt good to know that all my hard work paid off. With 1 million shop points and 200 experience points, plus a bonus for defeating Jord Hos, I felt a surge of satisfaction. It was a significant accomplishment, and I looked forward to using my rewards wisely.
Meanwhile
In a different area of the city, a man with a tattoo of the number 69 on his neck expressed shock and anger. "He's dead? That's impossible!" he shouted angrily, "Spider-Man! You'll pay for this!" His words were filled with a threatening tone as he promised to seek revenge.
To be continued