While resting peacefully in his apartment, Neron analyzed his surroundings with satisfaction. The gray walls and simple decor gave the interior a raw, minimalist character. The old bed, with its slightly worn frame, was equipped with a high-quality mattress that must have cost a fortune. Simply lying on it brought Neron a sense of relaxation he hadn't experienced in a long time.
He reached for the bedside cabinet to check its contents. The number of items was modest: a few trinkets and two sets of basic accessories. What surprised him, however, was a cleverly hidden mini-fridge behind one of the small doors. Inside, he found a stock of energy drinks adorned with a distinctive logo of three green claw marks.
"So even in this world, I have a problem with energy drinks. Haha..."
For a moment, he reminisced about his previous life, where his daily consumption of energy drinks—those in 0.5-liter bottles—often exceeded four. In the last few months before ending up in this world, he had cut back, but they still remained a staple of his diet.
After a brief moment of reflection, Neron sat on the edge of the bed and looked at his status once again.
He was slightly disappointed to find that instead of detailed statistics, he was only provided with an abstract metric called Power Level (PL). His current level was 45 PL, which placed him slightly below the average for a typical human.
"If I had access to precise data, it would be easier to identify areas for improvement," he thought with irritation. A numerical representation of progress would be a much better motivator for him. Power Level, however, seemed unpredictable; gaining a single point could be as easy as pie or nearly impossible to achieve.
Setting aside the lack of detailed stats, Neron's attention was drawn to two abilities—Gangster Tactician and Street Charisma—which he had likely inherited from the original owner of the body.
"System, can I get information about the ability 'Gangster Tactician'?"
[Request for information considered-positively.]
[[Gangster Tactician](02/10)(120/1000)
(Planning raids, ambushes and quick actions in the field. The skill develops the ability to react quickly, predict opponents' actions and effectively use resources and the environment.)
Level 1 - Novice
- Basic knowledge of planning ambushes and escapes.
- +5% effectiveness in using the environment (e.g. hideouts, quick escape routes).
- Ability to plan simple actions.
Level 2 - Observer
- Increased ability to analyze the environment.
- +10% chance to predict opponents' movements.
- Ability to recognize the best anchor points in the environment.
???
The system presented the information clearly, although several new questions arose in Nero's mind. First of all, he wondered whether leveling up skills actually provided significant enhancements to their individual features and aspects, or whether it was merely a formal representation of his current capabilities in a simplified form.
To check this, he knew he had to attempt to develop one of the skills.
"But how do I do that?" he thought, looking again at the description of his abilities.
Neron took another look at the skill description and his currently unlocked levels - "anticipate enemy actions and effectively utilize resources and the environment" and Ability to recognize the best footholds in the environment. - Analyzing these sentences again, he saw in them the inspiration for a rather interesting idea.
He decided to devise an emergency escape route from his room. The plan was meant to address a situation where he'd need to leave Penguin's headquarters immediately, and the door would no longer be an option.
"Where should I start?" he muttered to himself, scanning the small room.
The lack of windows was a significant problem. The idea of digging an escape tunnel, while tempting, was quickly dismissed as unfeasible in his current circumstances. After a moment of intense thinking, his gaze landed on the only sensible solution: the ventilation duct.
Removing the fan turned out to be a relatively simple task. Neron unscrewed a few screws using a screwdriver he had found under the bed and disconnected a couple of wires. Soon, the ventilation duct was accessible. Next, using a few old blankets hidden under the bed, he constructed a makeshift rope ladder.
With each passing moment, he felt a spark of creativity ignite within him. He knew he had to reinstall the fan to avoid raising suspicion if someone unfamiliar entered the room. To achieve this, he tied one end of the fabric ladder to the back of the fan, using the wires he had previously disconnected to secure the ladder in a stable yet discreet manner.
The other end of the ladder was attached to wires running through the ventilation duct. Not stopping there, he reached for a pair of old, worn-out shoes he also kept under the bed and removed their laces. Using these makeshift cords, he connected the ladder to the metal grille covering the fan's rotor.
This created a simple but clever emergency mechanism. If necessary, the ladder could be deployed with a single motion, providing a quick and safe exit into the duct. It was a seemingly minor invention, but in a crisis, it could prove invaluable.
Considering that the vent opening was located above the bed, the cord should be hard to notice for anyone entering the room.
Although the solution required further refinement—especially since he didn't have a map of Penguin's ventilation system—escaping blindly could turn out to be quite challenging and dangerous. Nonetheless, Neron felt a sense of satisfaction with this first step toward testing his skills. Perhaps advancing his abilities depended on their practical application rather than purely theoretical knowledge.
Neron glanced at his status again, a thoughtful expression spreading across his face.
[Gangster Tactician (2/10) (140/1000)][Taktyk gangsterski (2/10) (140/1000)]
Thanks to his recent actions, the skill had gained only 20 experience points. It wasn't an impressive amount, but enough to notice a minimal progress indicator.
"Looks like this skill isn't so easy to develop," Neron thought, analyzing possible ways to accelerate its growth.
He began speculating that the true potential of this ability revealed itself during larger operations, such as a bank heist. Situations like these required the precise application of tactics across multiple areas: planning several alternative escape routes, analyzing hostages, identifying security measures, locating alarm switches, positioning people in strategic points, and even task delegation. Each of these elements could be crucial, and their effective execution would lead to faster skill advancement.
"If only I weren't just a pawn carrying out orders but someone giving them..." he muttered to himself. As a leader, progress would undoubtedly be much quicker.
Neron also pondered the combat potential of this skill. Predicting an opponent's moves could prove invaluable, especially in the brutal world of Gotham, where gangsters often get into brawls and shootouts. In such situations, the ability to use tactics effectively could give him an edge, both in hand-to-hand combat and in armed confrontations.
He considered the possibilities this skill offered and how he might better develop it in practice. His thoughts began turning toward more ambitious plans that could allow him not only to survive but to gain a significant position in this dangerous world.
And speaking of position in a dangerous world, there was the second skill he had received as part of the package along with the body of the original DC Neron. It seemed perfectly suited to his plans of establishing a personal brand in the underworld of DC Comics.
[[Street Charisma](03/10)(230/1000)
(The ability to intimidate and negotiate with other criminals. Arouses respect, allows for conflict or gaining knowledge in conversations with people from the underworld. )
Level 1 - Beginner
-Basic ability to arouse respect in conversations.
-+5% to special intimidation in immediate situations.
-Ability to negotiate with petty criminals.
Level 2 - Brave
-Greater depth of self in contacts with others.
-+10% to alternative favorable conditions during negotiations.
-Ability to use reputation in the criminal environment.
Level 3 - Dangerous
-Ability to apply pressure on less defeated opponents.
-+15% to separate intimidation in group confrontations.
-Ability to force withdrawal from combat.
???
The mentioned skill seemed to be a natural complement to the previous one. One focused on collaboration and resource management, while the other emphasized a practical approach to challenges and effective action in the field.
Neron concluded that these two skills formed a synergistic whole. Together, they constituted the foundational cornerstone of his future plans.
"If I learn how to use them properly, I'll not only survive in Gotham but also impose my own rules on the game," he thought, feeling the first signs of ambition sprouting in his mind.
He understood that achieving his goals required more than brute force. He needed strategy, precision, and the ability to anticipate in order to outwit both his enemies and potential allies.
Both skills were essential to him, and their development was crucial. This was where he saw his chance—in the ability to combine theoretical knowledge with practical application, which, in a world full of chaos, could make him truly exceptional.
Since his system clearly didn't intend to hand him anything on a silver platter—and the question of whether skill advancement actually enhanced his traits and abilities remained uncertain—Neron knew one thing: he had to level up at least one skill to test it.
Despite these doubts, merely having such abilities was a valuable asset for him. Even if the system required effort and dedication, developing these skills could undoubtedly aid him on his path.
"Without risk, there's no chance for success," he thought, clenching his fists with determination.
With every passing moment, he became more convinced that what he saw in the system had the potential to become his key to survival—and perhaps even dominance—in this ruthless world. Everything now depended on his ability to put this advantage into practice.
KNOCK, KNOCK!
A loud knock at the door yanked Neron out of his thoughts, followed by the sharp sound of it being pushed open. Standing in the doorway was a man whose silhouette was all too familiar to Neron.
Reed Wolfhouse.
His superior and one of Penguin's most important subordinates, responsible for overseeing thugs like Neron. It was Reed who, during their last operation, ordered Neron and the driver to find an alternative escape route back to headquarters, avoiding direct confrontation.
Wolfhouse was the kind of figure that immediately commanded attention. Tall, broad-shouldered, and with a piercing gaze that seemed to see right through you, he exuded an aura of authority among Penguin's men. There was something about him—a blend of military strictness and the cold professionalism of a gangster—that demanded respect.
"Hex, are you ready for the briefing?" he barked without any pleasantries, his voice as sharp as his glare.
His tone made it clear that it wasn't a request.
Reed glanced sideways at Neron before motioning for him to follow with a curt hand gesture.
"Move it, boy. Penguin doesn't like to be kept waiting. Though today, he might actually be in a good mood," he added, his voice rough but laced with a faint note of approval.
The hallways were narrow, illuminated by dim, flickering light bulbs. The walls bore the marks of neglect, smeared with paint stains here and there or stained by cigarette smoke. Reed strode ahead with confident steps, not looking back, but it was clear he expected Neron to keep up.
"You know, Hex, let me tell you something," Reed said suddenly, not breaking his stride. "You're fresh, that's a fact. But for a rookie, you're doing good work. Penguin sees it. I see it. And that's good. We've got no room for weak links here. And you... you're like one of those adjustable wrenches. Might not look like much, but damn, when you put it to use, it gets the job done."
Neron didn't respond, but the words, delivered in Reed's usual blunt style, carried an unexpected compliment. In the criminal world, something like that could be considered a high honor.
Halfway to Penguin's office, they passed a pair of men leaning against the wall, clearly killing time with an increasingly animated conversation.
In the middle of the dim corridor, the two of Penguin's men stood by the peeling wall, engrossed in their chat, which grew more enthusiastic by the second.
"Man, I'm telling you, I saw her up close, dude. Catwoman, in the flesh," said the first man, a stout, sweaty individual, speaking with such excitement he could barely contain the dreamy look on his face.
"Really? How close?" asked the second man, taller with a thin mustache, lighting another cigarette.
"Well... not arm's length, but close enough to see how that tight suit of hers shows off every curve. I'm telling you, man, she's not just a woman; she's a work of art! If I could only—"
"Oh yeah, that suit... Black, shiny, perfectly tailored. Like it's made of black rubber or something," the mustachioed man sighed theatrically. "When I saw her, I couldn't help but wonder if it's even legal to look that good."
"Legal? Man, she's a thief. Nothing about her is legal!" the stout man laughed, waving his hand dismissively. "But you know what? I wouldn't even hold it against her. She could steal my entire wallet, and I'd still thank her."
"Your wallet? Dude, if she wanted, I'd give her everything I own, including my apartment keys!" the mustachioed man threw his hands up and leaned back, laughing like a madman.
"And you know the best part? When she walked into Penguin's office, she glanced around like she knew everyone was staring at her. And what? Of course, we were staring!" The stout man gestured animatedly as if explaining something of utmost importance.
"And what did Penguin do?" the mustachioed man leaned in with interest.
"Who knows? He probably tried to play it cool, you know how he is. But with her? Man, I bet even Penguin felt the heat."
The two burst into laughter but quickly fell silent when Reed walked by, shooting them an icy glare.
"Standing around doing nothing, huh? You'd better find something to do before Penguin finds it for you," he snapped, his voice hard and commanding.
The men immediately straightened up and began pretending to be busy. Reed didn't even stop, leading Neron down the hallway.
"Tch... bunch of idiots," Reed muttered under his breath, shaking his head.
Neron, walking behind Reed, barely stopped himself from smiling.
They reached the door leading to Penguin's office, massive and ornate, as if they were part of an entirely different building. Reed turned to Neron and looked him in the eyes.
"Remember, Hex. Penguin likes things direct. If you have something to say, say it. If not, shut your mouth and listen." After those words, he pushed the door open, allowing Neron inside.
The door to Penguin's office slammed shut with a dull thud, cutting Neron off from the hum of conversations and the smell of cheap cigarettes that had just moments ago filled the hallway. Inside, the room had a half-dark, almost theatrical atmosphere. The walls were lined with dark wood paneling, shining in the warm light of lamps placed on shelves filled with expensive liquor and crystal glasses. Several cabinets displayed peculiar exhibits – diamond-encrusted necklaces, an old revolver engraved with "Gotham, 1920," and masks that seemed to be artifacts from past heists.
In the center of the room stood a massive desk made of dark oak, almost entirely empty. The only items on its surface were a heavy Art Deco lamp and a penguin-shaped ashtray with a smoldering cigar inside. Behind the desk, in a deep, cushioned leather chair, sat Oswald Cobblepot, known as the Penguin. His stocky figure in a perfectly tailored suit contrasted with his sharp, piercing eyes, which seemed to peer into the soul of anyone standing before him. In one hand, he held his cigar, and in the other, an elegant cane with a bird-shaped handle.
Neron stepped inside confidently, though his gaze scanned every corner of the room. "Classic power play," he thought. The guards standing in the corners of the room – two muscular men with stony faces – were just an addition to the scene. "Penguin likes to show he's in control. Even in his own office."
A trace of envy appeared in Neron's eyes. He too wanted that. To possess that kind of power, to make people fear for their lives if they dared speak ill of him.
"Aaah, Neron. Come in, come in!" Penguin called out, gesturing to the chair in front of the desk. "I don't like it when someone stands in the doorway as if they're afraid... they're about to die. Sit down."
Neron nodded and took his seat. He kept a straight posture, but there was no hint of nervousness in his eyes. Maybe it was his "Street Charisma" skill, or maybe his balls had just grown two sizes. However, in this situation, for some reason, Neron didn't feel an ounce of fear.
"Thank you for the invitation, Oswald," he said calmly, trying to be specific but not overly familiar.
Penguin snorted softly and leaned back in his chair, toying with the knob of his cane.
"Oswald... Yes, that sounds better. None of this 'boss' or 'Penguin' nonsense. Heh... But let's skip the formalities. You say thank you, but I think I should be the one thanking you, kid."
Penguin leaned slightly over the desk, his cold eyes boring into Neron.
"That last job. The bank in the center. Thirty-seven people inside. Five cops dead. The bank owner, that arrogant suit who thought he was clever – gone. And in the vault? Five million. Five fucking million."
Neron nodded, accepting the praise with calm composure.
"I'm doing my best, Oswald."
"My best..." Penguin raised an eyebrow, and his lips curled into a sardonic smile. "Don't be so modest, kid. You're a damn diamond in this mud-covered city. I know how much work that takes. Every move, every decision – it counts. And you count to me."
Penguin took a drag from his cigar and released the smoke, which began to rise in the air like fog.
"But let's get to the point. I don't bring people in for talks just to praise them. Well, unless I care about their loyalty. You're smart, Hex, you know what I'm talking about." He paused for a moment, as if wanting to see Neron's reaction.
"I know, Oswald. I appreciate the opportunity to work on your terms."
"My terms, huh!" Penguin snorted, though there was something cold in his voice.
"Those are your terms too, boy. But now we have to discuss the matter of the reward." – He leaned slightly forward, like a predator ready to strike. – "Tell me, what do you want besides your fate? Everyone wants something, Hex. And I like fulfilling those desires."
Neron raised an eyebrow slightly, wondering whether the reward was a test or a genuine offer. He analyzed every word the Penguin spoke, every hidden meaning in his tone.
"He wants to know what drives me. This question is a trap – answer wrong, and you'll lose more than you gain," he thought, striking a pose and analyzing various scenarios, weighing each option.
"I've thought about it, Oswald." – he began, maintaining a modest yet confident tone. "I appreciate the opportunity to work for you and your organization. If I have to choose... I want tools. Tools that will allow me to act even more effectively in your cause. Equipment, information."
The Penguin smiled broadly, leaning back in his chair.
"Equipment and information... Clever, boy. Very clever. But before you get anything, you need to know that what I give you could be a double-edged sword. So choose wisely."
Neron nodded, his face remaining stone-like. "That's enough about the reward. Now I just need to be careful not to cut myself on that sword."