In the heart of the bustling city, Fisk Tower stood as an imposing monolith of steel and glass, its shadow stretching across the crowded streets below. Positioned at the intersection of the financial district and the cultural hub, it dominated the skyline like a silent guardian—or perhaps a silent predator.
The streets surrounding the tower teemed with life, a mix of hurried professionals, wandering tourists, and the occasional street performer adding a splash of color to the otherwise gray urban jungle. Skyscrapers loomed on either side, but none quite rivaled the height or presence of Fisk Tower.
Nearby, a network of narrow alleys crisscrossed behind the main avenues, their dim lighting and graffiti-covered walls a stark contrast to the polished facade of the tower. A few blocks away, the riverfront sparkled under the sunlight, with its ferries and cargo ships weaving in and out like clockwork. Despite its grandeur, the tower's surroundings hinted at a darker undercurrent—whispers of deals made in shadows, and the invisible web of influence that extended far beyond the walls of this fortress of wealth and power.
Fisk Tower's exterior was a masterpiece of modern architecture, its sleek, black marble façade reflecting the sun's rays in a way that made it gleam like an obsidian jewel. Towering windows, framed in polished chrome, gave the building a sense of elegance and power, making it a symbol of luxury and authority. The upper floors housed high-end offices and penthouses, offering a breathtaking view of the city, where everything below seemed small and insignificant in comparison.
The lobby, with its polished floors and grand chandelier, was a place of quiet opulence, where only the most influential and wealthy could step foot. The walls were adorned with art pieces, each one more expensive than the last, reflecting Fisk's taste for beauty and dominance.
But this outward beauty was just that—outward.
Below the building, hidden beneath layers of security and deception, lay a far darker reality. The basement, far from the gleaming halls above, was a labyrinth of cold steel and concrete. Here, there were no windows, no sunlight to pierce the gloom. The air was thick with the scent of mildew and iron, the faint hum of machinery reverberating off the walls. In this forgotten corner of the tower, rows of cages lined the floor—some empty, others filled with the remnants of those who had dared cross the Kingpin.
And in one of these cages, amidst the darkened corners and rusting metal bars, was our protagonist—trapped, bound, and surrounded by shadows. With no clear path to escape, they could only wonder how long they would remain forgotten, lost in the depths of Fisk's empire. The cold steel of the cage pressed against their skin, and the sound of distant footsteps echoed through the empty corridors, marking time with every passing moment.
Suddenly, the sleeping boy stirred, his bright green eyes flickering open, filled with confusion as he tried to make sense of what was happening.
"Huh? Where is this place?" he mumbled, struggling to sit up, only to realize that his hands were bound by ropes, and his legs were similarly restrained.
"The fuck?" he exclaimed in shock, struggling against the ropes, his heart racing. "Am I in prison?" He wondered if he'd been kidnapped in his sleep.
"But why...?" he muttered, trying to make sense of his situation. As he slowly stood up, looking around, doubts crept in.
"The heck? This isn't a prison," he mumbled, his voice trailing off as he scanned the area. It was an underground space, grimy and grim. The dim lighting revealed rows of cages—some holding people in battered conditions, others containing lifeless bodies, already being picked at by flies.
"The heck is this place?" he whispered in disbelief. "What happened to me?" Panic began to rise as he looked around the strange, grim surroundings.
"Okay, calm down. Calm down," he muttered to himself, taking deep, heavy breaths as he tried to steady his racing heart.
"Yelling and freaking out certainly won't help me. I need to figure out what's going on here," he thought, scanning his surroundings. He knew he had to find a way to escape, but first, he needed to get rid of the bindings.
With determination, he focused on his hands and feet, struggling to loosen the ropes. "Fuck, they really tied these tight," he cursed under his breath. After about ten minutes of frantic effort, his hands were still bound. He took a moment to calm his nerves.
"they sure made it look easy in movies"
"Really, what's been happening? I was just asleep one second, and now I'm here..." he wondered aloud, still trying to piece together the situation. Where had he even gone? What was this place? His mind raced, but it was hard to focus with so many questions.
Ding!
Suddenly, he heard a sound and turned back. "What was that?"
[ Host soul is perfectly fused with the body ]
[ System is now fully activated ]
[ Welcome Host to the Ultimate Gacha System ]
Alexander King was the name he had in his previous life, and even in this new one, he still carried it. He had been a regular white-collar worker in a big company, earning a decent income. It was a normal day: waking up, eating breakfast, going to the office, driving his car, grabbing a coffee, and then heading home to rest before falling asleep. But out of nowhere, he woke up in a strange cage.
As he sat there, wondering what was happening, a game-like screen popped up in front of him. Though he hadn't kept up with many comics or anime lately, he used to be a big fan. Now, he found himself in the middle of one of those stories, a character transported to another world with a system on his chest to help navigate this new, dangerous reality.
"Hah! It seems my life is no longer a simple one," Alexander muttered to himself as he leaned back, staring at the floating screen in front of him.