Chapter 21

[David's POV]

I had lost track of how many days had passed since I started this routine. Wake up, eat, study the market, train, sleep, repeat. But the changes were undeniable.

With my character templates fully integrated, my mind worked on a completely different level. I could recognize trends, calculate risks, and predict market shifts with almost unnatural ease. It was like a switch had flipped, unlocking a part of me that processed information at a speed and depth I had never experienced before.

[STATUS]

[Name: David Arthur Brown

Age: 25

Race: Human

Strength: 20

Agility: 20

Intelligence: 25

SP: 725 

Lottery Stack: 2/3 draws

Skills: Hand-to-Hand Combat Mastery, Parkour Mastery, Hacking Mastery, Perfect Recall, Cooking Mastery, Bullet Time, Eye Color Manipulation, High-Speed Calculation (Psycho-Pass – Shinya Kogami's Combat Analysis), House Cleaning Mastery

Inventory: Glock 17 (5 Mags, Leg Holster), $20,000 Cash, Knuckle Dusters (Hidden Knives) – 2 nos, Luce & Ombra (Devil May Cry), Senbons (Naruto), Full Potion x 5 (That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime), Elucidator & Dark Repulsor (Sword Art Online), Yubashiri (One Piece), C-147B Paladin (Splinter Cell), "Monster" Ford Mustang GT (Death Race), Agent 6 (Generator Rex), Marco Rossi (Metal Slug), C-1 (Robocop 2014), Background Customization Card +5, Grapnel Gun (Batman: Arkham Knight), Gideon

Character Assimilated: 

-Deadshot (DCEU)

-Jason Bourne

-Chris Wolff

-Harold Finch

Character Assimilation: 

1.Snake Eyes - 45%

2.Nil

3.Nil

Characters Summoned: Nil

Missions:

Primary Mission: Revenge

Objective: Make those responsible for your mother's murder pay.

Time Limit: 8 months 

Rewards: 500 SP, A Skill, Mystery Box] 

Looking at my status screen, I was starting to understand just how much the system stats works. The stat boosts had real, tangible effects on my body and mind.

Strength was the most obvious. I felt it every time I trained, every time I moved. My muscles were more efficient, more explosive. Whether it was learning new skills or assimilating more characters, my body could keep up. And that was important. Even though I had to train to speed up the assimilation process, my physical foundation made everything smoother. My body could handle the strain of new techniques, new instincts, new ways of moving.

But intelligence? That was something else entirely. I had felt the shift most when I assimilated Chris Wolff and Harold Finch. My brain worked differently now, it has become sharper, faster, able to process information in ways I never could before. Numbers made more sense. Patterns jumped out at me. I could see connections I wouldn't have even considered before.

So in the end, stats were just a base. The system could enhance my abilities, but it wasn't going to do the thinking for me. Everything was still up to me, from my experience, my knowledge, my choices and my ideas. I could have all the intelligence in the world, but if I was dumb, I was dumb. No system could fix that.

At least, with the character assimilation progressing, I was starting to come around.

I sat on the couch, the Toolbox resting in my hands. The small, unassuming cube of vibranium was cool to the touch. To anyone else, it was just a block of metal. But I knew better.

As I pressed my thumb against the surface for the cube, the top of the cube split apart and a thin beam of light swept across my face, completing the scan with a brief flicker over my retinas.

A pale blue holographic interface flickered outwards expanding. Strings of code flowed in midair, rapidly reorganizing into a structured UI right before my eyes.

Then, a voice which was clear, and feminine, spoke.

"System activation confirmed. Stand by."

I watched as the interface stabilized, the floating windows snapping into place.

"Good evening, sir. I am Gideon, your personal assistant."

I leaned back slightly. "What can you access right now?"

"Currently, I am interfacing with two devices: your laptop and your mobile phone. Additional systems can be linked upon command."

"List your functions."

"I can process and analyze large volumes of data, assist in strategy formulation, provide real-time operational support, and execute cyber operations upon command. I am capable of learning and adapting based on available information."

I picked up the Toolbox and walked over to my desk.

Placing my custom-built PC on the table, I powered it on. This machine was the best I could put together with the current available resources available in the market.

"Gideon, connect with this PC and integrate with the algorithm I designed for data collection and analysis. It's built for pattern recognition, behavioral tracking, and open-source intelligence gathering. Run it."

"There's a folder named Pigshit. I need full information on everyone mentioned and everyone who appears in the videos. Everything."

"Understood, sir.," Gideon replied.

That folder contained the confessions of that pig bastard, Alan. Along with them, I had retrieved all the backups he had collected as an insurance in case any of his deals ever went south.

The videos were intriguing. I needed to know everything about the people involved with him.

"Iron Serpents, it's a gang based in Hells's kitchen and Brooklyn. Find everything on them. Warehouses, stash houses, front businesses. Any legitimate operations they use for laundering money or storing contraband, I want them mapped out."

Gideon's voice remained smooth and composed. "Understood. Collating data from law enforcement records, financial transactions, and open-source intelligence. Would you like me to include cross-referencing with the data present in the PC and Laptop?"

"Yes," I said.

"Gideon, also compile a full intelligence report on Hammer Industries. Start with their corporate structure about their executives, board members, shareholders. Then move on to their manufacturing facilities, research labs, and warehouses. I want to know where their high-tech components are stored, their distribution networks, and especially the security around their servers."

I'm gonna go shopping for machines in Hammer Industries.

"Understood, Sir. Compiling the requested data now." Gideon replied.

"Keep me updated," I said.

"Of course, sir."

I could have used Gideon to analyze the stock market, but something held me back. A part of me wanted to do it on my own as a test for myself, to prove that the weeks of hard work I had put in weren't for nothing. Maybe it was pride, or maybe I just wanted to experience the market firsthand. For now, I decided to keep Gideon out of my investments.

Suddenly, I heard a ping.

I stared at my phone, reading Elena's text.

Elena: We're going bowling. You in?

Bowling? That was… unexpected.

I had never been to a bowling alley before. Not in my old life. Not in this one. And honestly, I wasn't sure if I wanted to start now.

Me: Not sure.

I was debating whether to add some excuse like something about being busy, but before I could, the message sent.

Almost immediately, she replied.

Elena: Come on, it'll be fun. Everyone's coming.

My fingers tapped against the screen. Before I could reply, my front door swung open.

Jayden strolled in like he owned the place, dropping a bag of takeout onto my counter. "Yo, you eat yet?"

I glanced at the food. "I was about to."

"Good. I got extra." He dug into the bag, pulling out a box. "What's with the face? You look like you're trying to do math in your head."

I sighed, locking my phone. "Elena invited me to go bowling."

Jayden's chewing slowed. He swallowed. "Bowling?"

"Yeah."

I hesitated, but then something clicked. I turned to him. "You free tonight?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because we're going bowling."

He blinked. "Wait, what? I didn't say I wanted to—"

"Great," I said, grabbing my phone again.

Me: Alright, I'll come. But I'm bringing someone.

I hit send and locked my phone and put it down, looking at Jayden.

He was still staring at me. "Bro, what just happened?"

I smirked. "Quality time with friends."

Then the reply came.

Elena: …Okay. Come to Frames Bowling Lounge by 6.30pm today.

---

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[NYPD PRECINCT] 

The mood in the precinct had soured over the past month. Detective Alan Sloane was still missing and every lead had gone cold. It was like he had vanished into thin air. 

Detective Carter sat at his desk, flipping through case files again. He had been Sloane's partner for the past eight months, ever since Sloane's old partner died of a heart attack. 

The deeper Carter looked, the more certain he became, Alan is a dirty cop. 

Small inconsistencies in old reports, gaps in evidence logs. Then there was the cash. 

Late one night, Carter returned alone to Sloane's apartment, hoping to find a lead on his own. Although forensics had already cleared the scene, his instincts urged him to look further.

In the closet, behind a loose panel, he discovered a small metal box. Inside was cash—a substantial amount. Dirty cops always kept records as insurance in case things went south.

It was just money. Either Sloane had hidden the real evidence elsewhere, or someone had beaten Carter to it. Tempted to take the money, he resisted, leaving everything untouched before leaving the apartment.

He searched once more, but still found nothing.

Back at the precinct, Captain Reynolds slammed a folder shut, his expression tight with frustration. "A month, and we still have nothing?" His sharp gaze swept over the room. "I want every lead checked again. People don't just disappear in this city without a damn trace." 

Carter kept his tone steady. "We've been through his case files, phone records, bank statements, nothing unusual." 

"Which means someone planned it for him," Reynolds said. 

The room fell into uneasy silence. 

Jenkins, one of the younger detectives, hesitated before speaking. "What if we're looking in the wrong places? What if it's not about one of his old cases? What if it's personal?" 

Carter turned to him. "You got something to back that up?" 

Jenkins shook his head. "Not yet. But if this was a hit, we'd have found a body by now." 

That was the worst part, no body, no real evidence of foul play beyond the signs of struggle at his apartment. If someone had taken him, they were either professionals or very lucky. 

Carter's phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and frowned. 

Reynolds caught the shift in his expression. "Something new?" 

"Maybe," Carter said, already standing and grabbing his coat. "I'll check it out to find if it leads somewhere." 

As he walked out, he felt Reynolds' eyes on him. 

To Be Continued...