To all my readers, I was quite angry reading this chapter. Its so filler that I wanted to skip it, but the author had the nerve to add crucial information at the end... like, bruh. (Courting Death)
Please don't enjoy the chapter; suffer with me.
muhahahahaha!!!
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The sun crept over the horizon, bathing the city in a warm, golden light, marking the beginning of another day. Inside his apartment, Charlie stirred from a deep, refreshing sleep, courtesy of his state-of-the-art sleeping capsule. As he sat up and stretched, he felt a satisfying crack in his back, a signal that his body was well-rested and ready for the day. However, as he glanced at the clock, he realized that he had slept through the entire morning.
"Well, that's what happens when you stay up all night playing the nocturnal vigilante," Charlie mused to himself with a chuckle.
He pushed himself out of bed and walked over to the window. Pulling back the curtains, he let the sunlight flood into his room. The rays of light were warm on his face, and for a moment, he closed his eyes, letting the warmth wash over him. It had become a routine for him—praising the sun, much like a character in one of his favorite video games. But today, the light felt different, more invigorating, perhaps because he knew he had a full day ahead of him.
He was aware that being a nocturnal crime-fighter had its tolls. After all, Bruce Wayne hadn't become a night owl without consequences. Nights spent battling criminals required a strong body, a resilient mind, and, of course, the stamina to keep going night after night. Even a billionaire like Wayne needed to maintain a rigorous fitness regime to support his dual lifestyle.
Charlie, not yet at that level of conditioning, knew he was still in the process of building that strength—both physically and mentally. The irony of a rich nightlife needing a strong liver wasn't lost on him, though it was the metaphorical kind in his case.
As he began his day, the first order of business was a long, invigorating shower. He cranked the water up to just shy of scalding, letting the heat penetrate deep into his muscles, easing any lingering tension. Charlie lathered his hair with shampoo, scrubbing vigorously as though trying to wash away not just dirt but any remnants of the virtual world he'd left behind a few hours earlier. He repeated the process three times—an old habit from his teenage years when he believed that cleaner hair somehow made him luckier in games. It was a superstition he'd never quite shaken.
Next came the body wash, and Charlie was just as thorough. He scrubbed every inch of his skin until it practically squeaked, imagining that he was scrubbing away the "bad luck" that sometimes clung to him after a rough night of gaming. By the time he was done, his skin was not just clean but gleaming—smooth and reflective, as if polished to a shine.
Satisfied, he stepped out of the shower and toweled off. The mirror above the sink reflected his image back at him, and he couldn't help but notice the small changes in his physique—a little more definition in the shoulders, a bit more muscle tone in the arms. Progress, slow but steady, was being made.
Dressed and refreshed, Charlie made his way to his computer. This was where the real ritual began.
The day wouldn't officially start until he drew some cards.
Sitting in his chair, Charlie cracked his knuckles and fired up the game. The bulk of his points had been spent the previous night, so he only had enough left for a few single draws. He knew the odds weren't in his favor—ten draws were statistically more likely to yield something good—but he couldn't resist the thrill of pulling one card at a time. After all, there was a certain magic in the ritual, a belief among the gaming community that sometimes, just sometimes, the universe would reward the audacity of a single draw.
This debate over single draws versus ten pulls had raged for years within the card-drawing community. There were those who swore by the efficiency and higher probability of ten pulls, while others claimed that the single draw was where true magic happened—where miracles were born. If one were to graph the probability, it would look like a jagged mountain range, full of peaks and valleys, each turn unpredictable.
But Charlie was a firm believer in the saying, "You lose nothing by trying." It was a creed that had served him well in the past. Who knew? Maybe today would be the day when the universe decided to reward his faith.
With a deep breath, he initiated the first draw. The familiar animation played out on the screen, the digital cards flipping in the air before revealing his reward.
Hawkeye's arrows.
Charlie frowned. It wasn't what he had hoped for—a standard arrow, lacking the high-tech enhancements that made Hawkeye's quiver legendary. It was just a regular arrow, useful but unremarkable.
Undeterred, he tried again. The animation played out, and this time he was rewarded with a Bat Shark Repellent.
Charlie blinked at the screen, momentarily stunned. The Bat Shark Repellent was legendary among Batman fans, not because it was useful, but because it was one of the most hilariously specific gadgets ever created. Originating from the 1966 Batman TV series, the repellent had been used in an episode where Batman, hanging from a helicopter ladder, was attacked by a shark. Without missing a beat, Batman had pulled the repellent from his utility belt and sprayed the shark in the face.
It was a classic moment in Batman lore, a meme that had persisted for decades. But in terms of practical use? It was practically worthless.
Charlie let out a laugh despite himself. "Well, it's not a Batmobile, but at least it's something."
Still, the disappointment lingered. He had hoped for something more useful, something that would give him an edge in the game. The Bat Shark Repellent was fun, but it wasn't exactly going to help him in his next mission.
He stared at the screen, the words "Thank you for participating" flashing across the screen like a taunt. He sighed and leaned back in his chair, contemplating his luck. Maybe he needed a change—something to shake up the routine. Perhaps a new hairstyle or a different approach to his morning ritual would turn things around.
But even with these minor disappointments, Charlie reminded himself that he had gained more than just a few single draws from the previous night's missions.
The hero points he had earned were substantial, but the real prize was the fact that he had leveled up again.
Leveling up in the game was a momentous occasion, and it came with its own set of rituals. Charlie knew that as he progressed, the difficulty would increase. The experience required to reach the next level would be greater, and the challenges would be more intense. It was a pattern that mimicked real life—whether in academics, sports, or personal growth, the higher you climbed, the harder it was to keep advancing.
But Charlie was still in the early stages, where the room for improvement was vast, and the potential gains were significant.
And now it was time for what Charlie affectionately called his "Five-Turtle Superhero Crash Course."
As with each level-up, Charlie had the opportunity to randomly draw a hero skill from the pool of existing superheroes. There was no hesitation—he had already decided who his next draw would be from.
Captain America.
The choice was obvious. Captain America was the quintessential power user, a super soldier whose abilities could enhance Charlie's own physical prowess. With repeated draws, the odds of pulling a superpower increased, and the potential for unlocking something truly transformative was too good to pass up.
Moreover, Captain America's skill set was a treasure trove of combat techniques. Even if Charlie didn't pull a superpower, there were countless other abilities that could prove invaluable. The only concern was the possibility of drawing something less practical—like a specialization in painting, which, while interesting, wasn't exactly what Charlie was aiming for.
He chuckled at the thought. Captain America, the star-spangled Avenger, secretly harboring a passion for painting. It wasn't entirely out of the realm of possibility, considering the character's age and the era he was from. Perhaps, long before becoming the leader of the Avengers, Steve Rogers had entertained thoughts of becoming an artist.
But Charlie shook his head, focusing on the task at hand. Thankfully, his draw this time didn't yield any such oddities.
Power Up (Super Soldier Version).
The words flashed on the screen, and Charlie's heart skipped a beat. He had drawn the ability to enhance his arm strength to superhuman levels—specifically, the strength to perform a bench press of over 500 kilograms.
This was no ordinary power-up. This was the strength of legends. Few in the Marvel universe could match this level of raw power. It was a monster-level ability, one that would give Charlie an undeniable edge in both the game and his virtual exploits.
To put it in perspective, the strength Charlie had just gained was akin to what many would consider superhuman. Even characters like the Kingpin—who, despite being a "normal" human, could rival Spider-Man in strength through sheer willpower and rigorous training—would struggle to match this level of power.
However, Charlie hadn't received the full super soldier serum, just the strength boost. And in a way, he was grateful for that. The serum itself was known for its unpredictable side effects—an abstract mutation that could just as easily enhance the mind as it did the body. It made good people better and bad people worse, amplifying their innate qualities.
Charlie wasn't sure how he would fare under such a transformation. He was aware that the serum was not for the faint of heart. It required a strong will, and the process of mutation could be grueling, even deadly, for those who weren't prepared.
But the power boost? That was perfect. It was straightforward, effective,
and didn't come with the baggage of potential psychological side effects. It was the kind of enhancement that would make a tangible difference in Charlie's gaming performance.
Excited, Charlie equipped the power enhancement and immediately set out to test its effects.
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