Why me?

A question probably as old as the human species, but one that continues to be asked all the same, for the simple reason that none of us have any clue what the fuck is going on.

I don’t know why me. I don’t know how me, I don’t know what me, and I barely even know who me.

What I do know though, is where me, and where me is, is Gotham, the gothest city in the fucking multiverse.

Like, it’s so fucking goth, it’s name is a literal declaration of its gothness; Goth(I)am.

Smog-filled skies looming like a bad omen up above, cathedral-like architecture stretching up to the heavens like the misshapen fingers of some ancient leviathan, and then there’s the gargoyles. Everywhere you look the fucking gargoyles.

And all of that is before I get into the sirens; constant, endless, even in the dead of night such as this. It’s like every minute of every day is a constant battle by the first responders to keep this city from burning to the ground.

I swear, simply walking down the street makes me feel like painting the world in monochrome and looking for a high ledge to narrate Rorschach’s journal on.

Jesus!

I’ve been here less than thirty minutes and I already feel fifteen percent broodier.

Is this what Batman has to deal with? No wonder he wears all black. In his shoes I would probably also have painted my nails with black polish and wear dark eye shadow too.

Just go full goth; lay in bed all day and moan to Alfred about the darkness in my soul, or some shit.

The mental image of an emo Bruce Wayne bundled up in blankets and refusing to get out of bed draws a giggle out of me, but then the reality of my situation comes crashing back down.

I sigh. “Where the fuck am I going?” I mutter.

Ever since the alley (which had been low-key terrifying, by the way), I’ve been walking down the streets as my feet lead me.

I have no fucking clue where I’m going though. I have no ID, I barely have any money, and I definitely have no friends or family or home.

Destitute is a nice way to describe my current situation.

I sigh again. At least I have powers. Gamer powers no less. True, it’s significantly limited, seeing as I can’t train to improve my stats, or train to learn skills, or have an inventory, but fuck it it’s still gamer powers.

I’ve got a version of [Gamer’s Body] that makes me not need to eat, sleep, rest, poop, breathe, and several other things. Basically, as long as nothing kills me, I’m effectively immortal; eternally twenty-one.

There’s also the money thing; I receive actual, useable money as quest rewards. That alone makes the things like a lack of an inventory worth it. Because now, all I have to do is complete quests, and not only will I get more powerful, I’ll also get richer.

I step on an empty liquor bottle and fall hard to a knee as it rolls under my foot.

1 DAMAGE!

The hell? I check my HP; 69.

So, basically, if I fall like that sixty-nine more times I’m dead.

Huh. I mean, admittedly, that’s unlikely to happen, but damn, I really need to get my HP (and regen) up.

…Although, if my DEXTERITY was higher I likely would not have fallen in the first place.

…No. I’ve already been mugged tonight, and I’m still in what is clearly the bad parts of Gotham (or, at least, the worse parts, since I doubt there are any good ones). I’ll rather I have the HP to straight up survive a knife to the gut, or gunshot wound, than to try to bank on whatever few points of DEX or STRENGTH I have to be enough to save me from armed assailants.

Getting back to my feet, I slip again.

1 DAMAGE!

Are you freaking kidding me, right now!?

Okay, fine, I get it, next level up I’m adding points to my DEXTERITY and STRENGTH, okay?

I rise a second time, and this time, I keep my balance.

“Thank you!” I say, and continue walking.

It doesn’t last.

Not because I slip again, but because as I walk past yet another dark alley, I hear grunting, heavy breathing, and what sounds an awful lot like struggling.

I stop and peer in, and the image reveals itself.

There is a woman, bent over a sofa that must have been abandoned here at some point.

Behind her is a man, pressed over her, a hand holding both of hers behind her back. His other hand has a knife to her throat.

“Walk away, motherfucker,” the man says, lifting the knife to point it at me.

Alert!

You have received a quest.

Quest [Damsel In Distress] received!

Save the woman getting raped.

Rewards: $150. EXP 150. ?

Accept: Y || N

I look from the man to the woman, and there are two things about her that make me accept the quest.

The first is that she’s not just some nameless woman getting raped, she’s Anastasia (Annie) Springfield, level 14 [Waitress].

If I walk away right now, I’ll be walking away from Annie, and that’s the second thing; her eyes.

They look accepting; Annie fully expects me to walk away, and she’s made her peace with it.

“No,” I say to Mr. Rapist, also known as level 17 [Thug] Keith Andover.

His eyes flash with anger, and steps back from Annie, zipping up his jeans as he approaches me menacingly.

Even though I know what it will be, I scan Mr. Rapist’s profile; his STRENGTH is 32, his DEX 26.

His HP is over five times mine.

I don’t stand a chance against this guy.

In fact, unless I pull a miracle out of my ass, or one of the Bat-fam suddenly drop down and beat his ass, this guy is gonna kill me.

I’m not going without a fight though.

“You should have walked away, faggot,” Mr. Rapist says.

I blink, taken aback. “How’d you know?” I ask.

He halts for a second in confusion.

“That I’m gay,” I say. “How’d you know? Cause I’ve been hiding it for so long, and yet… you see me.”

Mr. Rapist frowns. “What the fuck—” and Annie bashes him on the back of the head with a crowbar someone just left lying around.

The guy goes down, but Annie doesn’t stop.

She hits him again, and again and again, and by the time her arms give out, there’s more of Mr. Rapist’s brain on the filthy alley than in what’s left of his skull.

She collapses to the ground, panting and staring at the corpse like she would very much like to keep bashing its head in.

Alert!

Quest [Damsel In Distress] completed!

Rewards: $150. EXP 150. ?

Alert!

You have levelled up!

You are now level 3!

Alert!

You have received a bonus for saving your first victim.

Bonus: all quest rewards tripled.

Alert!

You have levelled up!

You are now level 4!

Well, it kinda sucks that I missed whatever that mystery reward was, but this isn’t a bad haul considering all I ended up doing was being a distraction.

I look at Annie.

Her eyes are red and wet, her blonde hair wild, and her blue panties (which look cut) hang around one calf.

I feel gross thinking it considering the situation, but she’s beautiful. Like, comic book beautiful.

I suppose that makes sense; I’m in a comic book world, after all.

My mouth opens, and my immediate instinct is to ask her if she’s okay, but I quell it.

Instead, I say; “He’s dead.”

Her eyes flit to me, then down to the corpse. She spits at it.

Noted.

“Uh… do we call the cops?” I ask.

Annie looks at me like I’m high.

Also noted.

Alert!

You have received a quest.

Quest [Destroy All Evidence] received!

Since you’re not calling the police, destroy the evidence enough that the lazy/corrupt law enforcement of Gotham will have nothing linking you or Annie to the crime.

Rewards: $200. EXP 200. ?

Accept: Y || N

“We need to destroy the body,” I say. “And the crowbar.” Annie looks at me, and I explain; “If we’re not calling the cops then we can’t have your DNA all over this.”

Annie nods. “Yeah, you’re right,” she says, and struggles to her feet.

She notices the cut panties hanging around her calf, and she pulls it all the way off, then holds it up to look at it.

Her face twists into rage and she kicks the cooling corpse. “This was my favourite pair you piece of shit,” she says.

After a moment to catch her breathe, she dumps the panties on the dead body and looks at me.

“Right,” I say. “Um… is there a liquor store around here?”

“Yeah, just down the street,” she says, looking confused.

“Good, we’ll hide the body in that dumpster, get some cheap spirits and a lighter, and burn the whole thing.”

Her eyes light up in understanding.

“Come on,” I say, “let’s move the body in there so no one sees it while we’re gone.”

I put all ten Stat Points from my two level ups into STRENGTH, taking it from 5 to 15, before we start, but Annie and I still struggle with the weight.

Corpses are fucking heavy.

As the dead body crashes into the half-full dumpster, I take a moment to reflect on my actions over the past few minutes.

“Holy shit,” I mutter.

“What?” Annie asks.

“Nothing, it’s just… I’ve been in Gotham less than a day and I’m already helping someone dispose of a dead body.”

“You came to Gotham?” Annie asks. “Why?”

“It wasn’t by choice,” I say defensively. “I was kidnapped.”

“Ah,” Annie says. “That makes more sense. So, you’re gonna go back home.”

I shrug helplessly. “I don’t think I can,” I say.

Annie’s face darkens. “Yeah, that sounds like Gotham,” she says, then sighs; “Come on, let’s go get the alcohol.”

The three minute walk is silent, and I don’t even consider that the liquor store might be closed, until we reach there and I see that, while the lights are on inside, the windows and the doors all have security bars that have been locked from the inside.

“Is this open?” I ask.

Annie walks up to the door and knocks.

A skinny, older woman walks up, a shotgun openly carried in her right arm.

What the fuck!?

“Give us three bottles of your cheapest spirit,” Annie says. “And a lighter, if you’ve got it.”

“Go to the window,” the woman says, and walks away.

I follow Annie to the window; where a little ledge has been set up with a small hole for things to be passed through.

The woman returns, tells Annie the price, and only after Annie hands over the cash, does she give us our purchase.

Annie and I head back to the alley.

There’s no ceremony. Annie and I simply douse the body in enough liquor to drown a goat and set it ablaze.

I use what’s left of the liquor to rinse off the bloodstains on the ground.

It doesn’t do much, but I hope it’s enough to further mask any evidence we miss.

It must be, because soon, I receive an alert!

Quest [Destroy All Evidence] completed!

Rewards: $200. EXP 200. ?

Alert!

For having the balls to commit a crime in Batman’s city, you have received a bonus.

Bonus: all quest rewards quintupled.

Alert!

You have levelled up x2!

You are now level 6!

Oh shit! I’m involved in a murder. In Batman’s city!

What the hell was I thinking!?

“What’s your name?” Annie asks as she watches the fire.

“It’s Eugene,” I say. “But you can call me U.”

“U?”

“Fine then, call me Gene.”

Annie laughs, a weak thing that fades quickly.

She looks at me, green eyes carrying a weight than few people deserve.

“Thank you, Eugene,” she says.

I swallow.

You know what? Fuck Batman. If he cares so much then he should have shown up and saved her himself.