In the dim recesses of a shadowy alley, another event unfolds. A pair of men, clad in black leather jackets, close in around a young girl. They've her cornered, relentlessly thrashed, crimson staining their knuckles. As they exhale, their breaths blend into an ethereal mist, a frosty halo around their visages.

"Fuck you," she spits out, defiance surging through her battered frame. This is the very same girl who'd confronted the gang earlier. Now, their return visit - less a retrieval mission, more an instructive punishment.

"The boss never said we'd bring you out unscathed," one of the men jeers, his fist audibly cracking in preparation. "Annoying little rat, that's what you are."

"T-The hell did I even do?" The girl stammers, her countenance bruised and swollen, leaning desolately against the alley's cold, grubby wall.

"You lied to us, kid," one of them utters, an undertone of vexation coursing through his voice. "The information you fed us was a sham. Our crew paid the price for your lies."

"I-I told you what I'd seen, you son of a b-bitch," she growls, an ember of rebellion flickering in her bloodshot eyes, even amidst her harrowing state.

"The base's location you shared was a deathtrap," he elucidates. "What have you got to say now?"

"Then your gang must be the real idiots," she chortles, her demeanor defiant, her eyes dripping with mockery. "I handed it to you as you asked. Doesn't change the fact that it's a tra—"

Mid-sentence, her words are snuffed out as a fist plows into her face once more. Some of her teeth part ways with her mouth, spewing forth blood that mingles with the cold night air, a macabre dance of crimson.

"Silence, you rat," the gang member hisses, his malevolence bared. "Time to go, the Boss has a fitting punishment for you."

But then, a distant rhythm of footsteps interrupts their impending departure. The duo turns, greeted by the sight of a boy, his age akin to the injured girl's, traversing the path towards them. His hair a cascade of fiery red, swept by the wind at his back.

"Scram, kid," one of the gangsters barks, his tone an attempt to reassert control. "This isn't your concern."

The boy halts his advance, locking eyes with them, his gaze as piercing as his cerulean irises. He glances upon the beleaguered girl, his brow furrowing with concern.

"You guys just walk away after this?" he queries, his words cutting like a blade. "Didn't realize Tombstone's henchmen had a knack for brutalizing kids."

"What did you say?" Both men pivot towards the boy, fully engaged now. "Last chance, kid. Beat it, this doesn't concern you."

"I'm betting your boss would be thrilled to discover his subordinates have been thrashing a defenseless girl under his oblivious watch," the boy retorts, a semblance of a smile playing on his lips.

“Shut up.” one of them spat.

The boy sighed deeply, and he raised his hand, his palm opened to the direction of the two men. The gesture made the gang members confused, but soon quickly laughed.

“What? You think there’ll be a laser appearing from your palm just because you do that?” one of them sneered. “You ain’t Tony Stark kid, you’re missing the suit.”

Undaunted, the boy fixes his gaze upon the two men, uttering a single, unfamiliar word that dances on the edge of the gangsters' comprehension.

"Dolor."

In an instant, twin beams of sizzling energy hurtle towards the assailants. The alley is engulfed in a fleeting crimson blaze, gone as swiftly as it emerged. In that fraction of time, the men are propelled into the wall, shattered by the energy's might, surrendering to unconsciousness.

The girl, teetering on the precipice between consciousness and unconsciousness, glimpses this surreal spectacle. However, her thoughts are muddled, unable to process what she witnesses. Her final sight is of the boy approaching her, a gradual advance. He kneels, murmuring a question she can't quite decipher. His hand rises once more, now aimed in her direction. Yet, before her vision fades, veiled in the shroud of unconsciousness, a radiant white light envelops her, a respite from the darkness that's consumed her world.

===DnDnD===

The girl stirred awake from her slumber in a jolting motion, her breath coming in irregular spurts as she scanned her surroundings, attempting to grasp the reality of what had just transpired. The chill in the air was biting, the winter winds sweeping through the vicinity with a wild force. As she slowly comprehended her situation, she realized she was cocooned in a blanket, still dressed in her previous attire, now stained with faint traces of blood. Inside the tent, spacious enough to accommodate three adults, her gaze took in the 'furnishings' – a collection of books, a collapsible study table, and a rechargeable emergency light casting a feeble glow.

Her fingers brushed against her face, the once-prominent swelling now absent, the pain a distant memory. Memories surged back, cascading through her mind like a torrential current – the final recollection centered on the boy possessing those weird powers. Was he responsible for her recovery?

Rest no longer held any allure, prompting her to cast aside the blanket. Despite the harsh cold, she was acclimated to such conditions, the life of homelessness having prepared her for this. With a determined stride, she made her way to the tent's entrance, and as she pushed aside the flap, a gust of frigid wind struck her face, triggering involuntary shivers. Stepping fully outside, her eyes widened in realization – she stood atop a building, an aging apartment structure to be exact.

Approaching the floor's railing, she peered downward, the distance to the unfamiliar street below unsettling. How had she ended up here? Had the boy carried her to this elevated place?

"Finally awake?" a voice sliced through her contemplation, and she pivoted to identify its source. The boy from her memory was perched at the very edge of the railing, nonchalantly consuming an apple.

"Yeah," a flurry of words swirled in her mind, but only one found a voice. "Who’re you?"

"Jason. Jason Carter. And you?" His response was succinct, punctuated by a casual retrieval of another apple from a tastefully adorned sling bag. "Catch."

The apple arced toward her, landing safely in her grasp. "Tommie, Tommie Boyd." she replied.

Starving, her hunger gnawing at her, she bit into the fruit with urgency. Her recent days had been a battle for sustenance, and today's acquired bowl had swiftly met a tragic end thanks to the gang members. Thus, the sight of food in her hands was a salvation, albeit short-lived, as her taste buds met an unexpected blandness.

"It... doesn't taste good," she muttered, her brows furrowing. "It's bland."

"Yeah, that's kind of expected. The food from that place lacks any taste," he sighed. "It's annoying, really. That's why I tried to spice things up by taking those porridges..."

"What?" Tommie queried, her confusion deepening at Jason's verbal meandering.

"Never mind," he brushed off, rising from his perch. "Just eat it. It's filling, at least."

Acknowledging his advice, she nodded, taking another bite of the apple. Her hunger propelled her, and within moments, the apple was consumed. Her gaze shifted back to Jason, who now approached a brown sack and proceeded to pour apples into it – apples that seemed to have materialized from the small sling bag he had previously carried.

"How did all those apples fit in that bag?" she inquired, intrigue replacing confusion.

"It's called a bag of holding," he replied. "You know, like from DnD?"

"DnD?"

"Dungeons and Dragons," he clarified. "You're not familiar with that?"

Her head shook in negation. "No..."

"Oh… well, here," he proceeded to tie the brown sack brimming with apples before extending it toward her.

Her bemusement mingled with surprise. "Why are you giving this to me?"

"You were starving, right?" Jason's tone was matter-of-fact. "These apples should keep you for around two weeks. They won't spoil, so it's fine."

"But... why? Why help me?" she probed again.

The boy shrugged, setting the sack at her feet. "No real reason. You needed help, so I helped. I thought about asking you to play a campaign with DnD with you but you’re alone, so…"

She raised her brow, confused. The boy before her presented as an enigma, coupled with his extraordinary abilities.

"How long was I asleep?" she ventured.

"A couple of hours."

"A couple of—” her brow furrowed. "Then how did you heal my face so quickly?"

"That's a long story," he sighed. "Anyway, you're free to leave. The stairwell isn't heavily guarded, so sneaking out won't be a problem."

Rather than making her exit, another query escaped her lips. "Wait. What were those beams that came out of your palm when you took on the tombstone guys?"

"As I said, it's a long story."

"Can I do that too?" her words held an unvarnished directness.

"Well..." Jason deliberated. "You could head to 177A Bleecker Street. There's an old woman there who might teach you something similar..."

"Similar? So, it's not the same?" A different approach surfaced, and she extended an offer. "If I play that 'DnD' with you, could you teach me that?"

Jason's response brought forth silence, his gaze fixed intently on her, his expression unreadable. Then he posed his own question. "Are you sure?"

Her eyes widened, capturing the implication. "Yes."

"You're alone," he dismissed. "It'll be harsh, and you'll need friends."

"Would my friends also gain those 'powers'?" she inquired, a barely contained excitement beneath the surface.

"They'd have the choice," he mused.

"Could you... demonstrate it for me?" she asked again. "What you did earlier."

"You mean this?" he raised his hand, directing his palm toward the air, and murmured an unfamiliar incantation. "Dolor."

A surge of crimson energy coursed through the air, momentarily illuminating their surroundings. Clarity descended upon Tommie – like any other kid, she wants to have superpowers, to emulate the likes of Iron Man, Thor, and other superheroes…

Her gaze dropped to the ground, contemplation racing through her mind.

"I... have some friends," she confessed. "Maybe  they could join too?"

"Well, sure. You're the first player around my age," he shrugged. "Are your friends similar?"

She nodded. "Some older, some younger."

"Finally, a campaign with someone my age," he sighed contentedly. "I'm tired of doing it with those bitter old men and women like those sorc—" He halted, shifting his focus back to her. "Alright, where can your friends be found?"

"They were supposed to wait for me for the porridge..." her voice trailed off. "They might be worried by now."

"You were planning to share the porridge?" Jason's brow lifted. "Why not have them come with you?"

"You saw the tombstone gang members... They're hunting us. We didn't realize they intended to abduct us," she explained. "We should go now. I don't want them wandering to find me."

"Sure." Jason nodded. "Lead the way."