Richard awoke slowly, his head throbbing and his vision blurry. As he tried to gather his bearings, he realized he was no longer in the elevator. Instead, he found himself tied to a chair in the middle of what looked like an abandoned industrial building. The air was thick with the stench of oil and decay, and the faint sound of dripping water echoed around him.
Surrounding him were five men, all dressed in black, their faces obscured by dark shades. Their expressions were hidden, but their body language screamed menace. Richard's heart raced, the gravity of the situation dawning on him.
One of the men, clearly the leader, stood in front of Richard, a cigarette dangling from his lips, smoke swirling around his head. He looked down at Richard with cold amusement.
"So," the gang leader spoke, his voice rough and gravelly, "you're the one bothering the Black Widow."
Richard blinked, trying to process the words through his disoriented state. Black Widow? The name didn't ring a bell. Confusion flooded his mind as he searched for meaning.
"I... I don't know what you're talking about," Richard stammered, still groggy from the tranquilizer. "Who's the Black Widow?"
The leader chuckled darkly, taking a slow drag of his cigarette before blowing the smoke directly into Richard's face. "Don't play dumb with me, boy. You got yourself tangled in her web, and now you're going to pay for it."
Richard's mind raced, trying to piece together what was happening. Was this another part of Katherine's plan? Was "Black Widow" a codename for someone in her schemes, or was this something bigger? He had no answers, only more questions.
"I don't even know who she is!" Richard protested, pulling at the ropes that held him tightly to the chair.
The gang leader leaned in close, his eyes narrowing. "You will soon enough."
The gang leader took one final drag from his cigarette before flicking it aside. Without saying a word, he motioned to the other men with a slight nod.
"Teach him a lesson."
The four men immediately closed in on Richard, their fists clenched. Before Richard could say another word, the first blow landed hard across his face, sending a sharp jolt of pain through his body. Then another hit followed, this time to his stomach, knocking the wind out of him.
"Stop... I don't even know who this Black Widow is!" Richard tried to protest, but his words were cut short as a brutal kick to his side left him gasping.
The beating continued relentlessly. Each punch and kick felt like it was pushing him closer to the edge of consciousness, but Richard held on, refusing to black out despite the searing pain that overtook his body. His vision blurred, and blood dripped from the corner of his mouth.
After what felt like an eternity, the gang leader raised his hand, signaling the men to stop. The attackers stepped back, leaving Richard battered and barely able to sit upright in the chair.
The leader motioned for one of them to loosen the ropes. They cut him free, and Richard slumped forward, his body weak and aching, but he refused to fall completely. His will to survive kept him upright, though just barely.
The gang leader crouched down in front of Richard, his voice cold and mocking. "Consider this a warning. Next time you'll face worse. Stay out of the Black Widow's business, or you'll wish you were dead."
With that, the men left Richard alone in the abandoned building, the echoes of their footsteps fading into the distance. Richard, bloodied and broken, was left in silence, struggling to gather his strength.
Richard growled in pain as his legs hit the cold, hard ground. Every part of his body ached, his muscles screaming with each movement. With barely enough strength, he began to crawl, his hands scraping against the dirty floor. Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself up, his legs wobbling beneath him. It took all the willpower he had left to stand.
He staggered forward, taking five unsteady steps before freezing in place.
BANG!
The sharp, unmistakable sound of a gunshot echoed through the empty building, reverberating off the walls. Richard's heart raced, his body tense as adrenaline surged through him. He couldn't tell where it came from, but the threat was real.
Instinctively, he crouched low, scanning the dark corners of the industrial space. His breath was shallow, his body on high alert. The sound of the gunshot was close—too close.
For a moment, everything was silent. Richard's mind raced with possibilities. Was someone hunting him? Was this part of the gang's plan? He couldn't be sure, but he knew he couldn't stay still.
Ignoring the pain coursing through his body, Richard steeled himself and started moving again, this time slower, more cautious. Each step was a battle against his body's limits, but his survival instincts kept him going.
He didn't know what awaited him, but he was determined to face it head-on.
Another BANG shattered the silence, louder and closer than before.
This time, the impact was immediate. Richard gasped, his eyes widening in shock as a searing pain tore through his chest. He staggered, looking down to see blood quickly spreading across his shirt. It felt unreal—like time had slowed down.
For a moment, he couldn't process it. The world around him blurred, and the sounds faded. His mind screamed at him to keep moving, but his body betrayed him. Within seconds, his legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the cold, unforgiving ground once more.
The pain was overwhelming, each breath sending a fresh wave of agony through his body. Blood pooled beneath him, and his vision started to darken at the edges. His hands instinctively pressed against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding, but it was no use. He was losing too much blood, too fast.
Lying there, with the cold floor pressing against him and the sound of his own heartbeat fading, Richard struggled to stay conscious. His thoughts raced—Was this the end?
Everything around him grew distant, and the darkness crept in further. He fought to stay awake, but his body was slipping further away.
As Richard's body lay on the cold floor, his mind slipping deeper into unconsciousness, a faint ping echoed in his mind.
[Ping! System loading]
[10%... 12%... 27%... 45%... 66%... 81...% 90...% 99%... 100%]
He could barely make sense of it. His vision blurred, his thoughts scattered, but the mechanical voice continued in his head, calm and detached from his pain.
[System analyzing the host]
[Host: Richard Bentley]
[Balance: 100,000,000,000,000,000,000 dollars]
[Welcome, Richard Bentley, to the Deluxe System]
[The host's balance is already bound to all the banks around the world and the host can use their finger prints, face or pupils to pay.]
[Body: 0.7% weak]
[Mind: 8% weak]
[Skills:- can be added freely, needs to use up Deluxe points]
[Deluxe points: 0]
The words didn't register at first, too far from his current reality of pain and blood. But the strange voice in his mind kept going, methodically detailing things he couldn't grasp in the moment—his body's state, his mind, his skills, his balance.
A balance so vast it seemed unreal.
Then, as quickly as the voice had begun, Richard's world went black. He lost consciousness completely, the pain finally giving way to the void.
But deep inside his mind, something had shifted. The system was there, waiting for him when he would awaken, bound to him in ways he couldn't yet understand.