Morning. New York City.
Sunlight filtered through the slits of the WayneTech-manufactured rolling shutters, casting thin beams across the dimly lit warehouse. The air was thick with the scent of gunpowder residue and dried blood, remnants of last night's chaos.
Jason lay sprawled on an old, worn leather sofa, his face pale, brows furrowed. His grip was tight around a Glock 20 Gen 4, its polymer frame molded to his calloused hands—a weapon favored for its 10mm stopping power, the same round used by Frank Castle, aka The Punisher.
[Ding! Escape from the pursuit of the Russian Mafia – Task completed! Reward: 500 villain points. Current progress: 2460/2000.]
[Ding! Congratulations, host! Level up to Level 3. +10 attribute points. Current progress: 460/3000.]
Jason's eyes snapped open. Instinct took over.
Click.
The Glock's slide racked back, chambering a round. His heart pounded as his gaze swept the warehouse. No assassins from the Hand. No HYDRA strike teams. No Bat-family lurking in the shadows.
False alarm.
Exhaling sharply, Jason ejected the bullet from the chamber, letting it roll across the WayneTech-reinforced concrete floor.
He sat back, grabbing a bottle of Stark Industries mineral water, splashing some on his face. The sting of the gunshot wound on his left arm reminded him he was still breathing.
Still sealed. No infection.
Jason tore open a nutrient bar—stolen from an Oscorp facility—washing it down with a gulp of water before pulling up his system interface.
---
[Skill Progression System]
Level 3 unlocked 10 attribute points.
Where to invest them?
Jason opened the System Mall—a virtual black market of power, where skills scaled from Level 1 to 10. Each upgrade demanded either villain points or absurd amounts of cash:
Levels 1–5: 10–50 points or $100K–$500K
Level 6: 100 points
Level 7: 300 points
Level 8: 500 points
Level 9: 800 points
Level 10: 1000 points
Total cost to max out a skill? $28.5 million. Even Wilson Fisk or Lex Luthor would hesitate before sinking that much into one ability.
Jason's immediate focus: [Firearm Proficiency].
Gunfighting wasn't just about pulling a trigger—it was an art, a blend of reaction speed, precision, recoil control, and tactical awareness.
Main attributes: Agility (quick draw, fast aiming, reflexes) & Intelligence (predicting movement, adjusting for ballistics)
Secondary attributes: Strength (handling recoil, firearm control) & Endurance (maintaining accuracy in prolonged firefights)
By contrast, [Fighting Mastery] was the opposite.
Brute force. Pain tolerance. Last man standing wins.
There was no choreographed ballet like a Daredevil brawl—no fancy Nightwing acrobatics. Up close, it was about who hit harder and lasted longer.
Jason preferred hand-to-hand combat—the crunch of bone under fist, the raw violence of a fight.
But modern combat was ruled by firearms.
A Glock, an AR-15, a sniper rifle—those were the true equalizers.
For now, [Firearm Proficiency] took priority.
---
[Stat Allocation]
Jason adjusted his stats:
Strength: 33 → 35
Agility: 35 → 38
Endurance: 30 → 35
Intelligence: 35 (unchanged)
---
[Updated Status]
[Host: Jason Walter]
Level: 3 (460/3000 EXP)
Reputation: 13 → 37
Points: 3
Abilities:
Fighting Proficiency (Level 4)
Driving Proficiency (Level 3)
Firearm Proficiency (Level 5 → 6)
Cold Weapon Proficiency (Level 2)
[Ding! New Quest Triggered: "Don't Be a Fool." Reward: 500 villain points.]
[Mission Description: You and Vanessa Fisk were discreet. So how did Wilson Fisk find out? Uncover the truth.]
---
Jason froze.
Vanessa.
Kingpin's wife.
Their affair was a ticking time bomb, but they had been careful. No loose ends.
Jason was certain the Hell's Kitchen underworld hadn't tailed him. His counter-surveillance was flawless—something he'd picked up from a stolen SHIELD training manual.
Then how?
For an hour, Jason sat on the sofa, replaying every moment.
Still no clear answer.
"When night falls," he muttered.
"I'll find him. Then I'll get my answers."
---
Lying back, Jason pulled out a new StarkPhone XR, scrolling through the news.
Midtown Manhattan was in chaos.
On CNN's homepage, a massive image showed black smoke billowing from Jason's old apartment.
"Damn shame."
That two-million-dollar condo—custom renovations, reinforced walls, bulletproof windows from LexCorp.
All gone.
Blown to hell by his own hand.
With a sigh, Jason clicked the article.
10,000 words. Too long.
Skimming through, three key points stood out:
1. Jason Walter—a known Hell's Kitchen enforcer—was listed as "missing, presumed dead." NYPD believed he was either kidnapped or executed.
Translation: They had no clue.
2. The "masked attackers" were ID'd through forensic analysis.
NYPD confirmed they were Russian Mafia, ex-Spetsnaz operatives.
Translation: Not random thugs. These were trained killers.
3. The most disturbing part—on the rooftop of Jason's apartment, NYPD found the body of a disfigured woman.
Tortured beyond recognition.
DNA analysis identified her as the owner of a Manhattan art gallery.
Jason frowned.
That last one wasn't his work.
Whoever did it wanted the NYPD to think it was.
The real question: Who left the body? And why?
Jason's grip tightened around the phone.
This wasn't over.
Not by a long shot.
---