Gray's hideout

'Things could have gone better...' I mused, sighing as I removed my equipment and slumped onto my comfortable couch, recalling the day's events.

I was hoping to get a bunch of big-name mercenaries in the theatre to send a clear message for anyone who might get the bright idea to fuck with me, but I ended up with Firefly and a crowd of nobodies.

I considered killing a bunch of people to further discourage anyone from coming after me since I was in a controlled environment and made it look like self-defense, which it was, but in the end, it wasn't worth it.

Killing for convenience is one slippery slope I don't intend to tread. I had issues, and that kind of shit wouldn't help my mental health either, even if it would spare me future headaches and probably save countless lives.

I wasn't ready to sacrifice my mental well-being for the sake of complete strangers. Hell no, I wasn't selfless like that. Make no mistake, I have every intention of making this world a better place as it's my home now, whether I liked it or not.

However, there were other ways to do it. I'm not Batman or Superman. I didn't need to go around beating up people to make a difference, save lives, and do good thanks to my system and current archetype classes.

In any case, There was still no sign of Lady Vic, but she's a nobody compared to Deadshot and Merlin. Fucking Super Girl took care of the latter two, so one measly Lady Vic wouldn't change anything even if I go looking for her now.

Still, taking out over a hundred armed thugs was very impressive too, and it should make most people think twice before coming after me to save themselves the embarrassment since most mercenaries cherished their reputation over anything else.

Plus, I even got Deborah her job back, and she might get promoted to captain, which would make life a lot easier since I'd have a friendly police officer I could rely on if the need arose.

Other than that, I'll only need to keep an eye on Deborah to see if she'll end up with the Hitman despite my efforts to know if I could actually change the narrative or not.

'What's done is done... no use brooding over it...' I shrugged my shoulders, dropping the subject as I turned to my character screen and unread notifications.

[+1 level to the Brawling skill]

[Brawling (level 46)]

[+1 level to the Computers skill]

[Computers level (37)]

[+11 levels to the Mechanics skill]

[Mechanics (level 26)]

[Due to reaching a milestone in your Mechanics skill, you have unlocked the perk: Metallurgic Intuition]

[Metallurgic Intuition: The user is a master of the field of metallurgy; they can examine the performance of metals and determine which ones can be put to which uses. The user can find a way to make a unique alloy]

[+4 levels to the Duelist class]

[Duelist (level MAX)]

[+12 EXP points]

[+3 class levels and nine stat points accumulated]

[You have reached the maximum level for your current class. Would you like to choose the next one now?]

'Having too many skills is biting me in the ass...' I sighed, scratching my head as I read through the notifications. My skills were lagging behind while my stats were shooting up.

I wanted to keep my skills and stats balanced because I'd start relying on brute strength rather than technique in my fights, which I needed to avoid.

Being the brute type with nothing other than muscle going for me was not something I wanted for myself, and even if my personal strength was my greatest weapon, I didn't want to go around parading it every time I had to fight someone.

I wanted to keep it as a last resort and rely on my skills and technology to come off as a regular guy like what happened in the theatre because it would be more effective that way.

Oh? So you've spent days studying my sentry guns, and now you know their weakness? What's that? You just destroyed my shit ton of gadgets, and now you think you can kick my ass because I can't hide behind my technology?

How about I kick yours instead?

In other words, I needed to have layers people could focus on countering instead of working on plans to counter my personal strength, so I could use it and put them down when they least expected it.

Thus, I didn't fight myself in the theatre and just used my sentry guns to beat everyone down, and why I've never shied from using my gadgets in public. I wanted people to bring EMPs to fist fights.

'Still... metallurgic Intuition, huh?' I mused, rubbing my chin in thought as I focused on the new perk. If it's as effective as I think it would be, it will help solve many problems I'm having with the shit I create.

'I might need to build a forge or something in the hideout to put the perk to good use...' I nodded, making up my mind to try it as soon as possible as I moved on to pick a new class.

[Available archetype specific classes: (Surgeon) (Chemist) (Biologist)]

[Available basic classes: (Artist) (Scholar) (Linguist)]

I hesitated for a second before choosing the Artist class. I still didn't have the time to work on new skills from the three available archetype classes, so I'll postpone it for the meantime.

The scholar might have been a better option, but I was really bothered by how ugly my creations looked, and I wanted sentry guns that would fit better into the environment to use in ambushes and whatnot.

[Art: have you ever wanted to create some masterpiece for the ages or have your CD go platinum? All you need is a high enough level in the Art skill. The skill covers music, painting, sculpture, creative writing, and everything in between]

[You have gained a new class: Artist]

[You have gained the skill: Art]

[+3 class levels to the Artist class (accumulated)]

[Artist (level 4)]

[+12 stat points]

[Stat points: 41]

'Finally! With this many stat points, I can finally even my attribute numbers!' I fist pumped the air, feeling the urge to cry tears of joy as I immediately put 40 points into my mind attribute.

...

Name: Grayson Whitlock

Race: Human

Gender: Male

Age: 17

Archetype: (The Mad Scientist level 4)

Class: [Thief (level MAX)] [Fighter (level MAX)] [Acrobat (Level MAX)] [Programmer (Level MAX) [Gunman (level MAX)] [Mechanic (level MAX)] [Duelist (level MAX)] [Artist (level 4)]

...

Stats:

Body: 140

Mind: 140

Spirit: 140

Stat Points: 1

.....

Skills:

[Brawling (level 46)]

[Crime (level 40)]

[Acrobatics (level 27)]

[Computers (level 37)]

[Gun Mastery (level 24)]

[Mechanics (26)]

[Medieval Weapons Mastery (11)]

[Art (1)]

....

Perks:

[Dormant Metahuman]

[Silent Step]

[Eidetic Kinesthesia]

[Superhuman Stamina]

[Perfect Recall]

[Accelerated Healing]

[Energy Detector]

[Energy Concentration]

[Augmented Reality Vision]

[Energy Conductor]

[Enhanced Durability]

[Empathy]

[Energy Manifestation]

[Metallurgic Intuition]

...

Archetype powers:

[Network Crash]

[Code Manipulation]

[Personal Computer]

[Machinery Scan]

[Machine Control]

[Machine Morphing]

...

'Not bad... now I need to work on my Mechanics skill a bit more, and maybe get my Brawling over 50...' I mused, rubbing my chin in contemplation as I browsed my stats, skills, perks, and powers.

'I'll need to stop doing everything else... and maybe take another general class...' I nodded as I closed the system interface and shut my eyes to get some sleep.

However, sleep didn't come, and I even moved to my bed to toss and turn for a couple of minutes, only to get the same result, prompting me to get up with a sigh.

'Should I go out and beat up some thugs to clear my head...?' I contemplated but quickly shook my head, dismissing the idea. The streets were likely peaceful right now since a good portion of mobsters were currently in lock-up, courtesy of yours truly.

'A normal walk would do then...' I concluded as I put on my street clothes and moved to exit the hideout. 

...

Gotham

The Iceberg Lounge

Oswald Cobblepot couldn't help but sigh in contentment as he leaned on his luxurious chair inside his office in the bar he operated, overlooking the bar's hall.

There were criminals from all levels mingling in the bar, low leveled grunts, executives, lieutenant, underbosses, and even the occasional super villains.

Each and every person who frequented the Iceberg Lounge was a criminal of sorts. They were all very aggressive people with big egos, but they knew better than to act on them.

They were in the Penguin's territory, in his personal fort. Oswald had a reputation for taking personal offense at people making trouble under his nose that looked more like a peek than anything else, not that anyone had the courage to point it out to his face.

The Penguin has always been an oddball, even among the countless villains and crime lords to call Gotham their home, and it wasn't his bizarre appearance to make him stand out.

Among Batman's many foes, Oswald was likely the only sane one out of the bunch, and while others would spend every waking moment plotting against the caped crusader, he would try to avoid him like the plague.

He once even created a partnership with the dark knight and helped him multiple times to get the vigilante off his back, but that was neither here nor there, just business.

"There you are, Mr. Whisker..." Oswald said with a smile splitting his face as he turned to the door when it opened, and one of his henchmen accompanied an elderly gentleman inside.

The elderly gentleman wiped the sweat off his forehead and nodded in greeting without saying a word. He then opened his suitcase and retrieved a wooden ventriloquist doll, which he immediately put on his right hand.

"Whatcha need, Oswald?" the doll that looked like a stereotypical mafioso with a striped suit, fedora hat, and a thick cigar in its mouth asked in a heavy Brooklyn accent.

"I want what every man wants, my dear Scarface. Untold power and riches," Oswald replied with a wide grin. "And now, with Black Mask and so many thugs behind bars, it's our opportunity to achieve both..."