DC remastered 1-3

"Oh, FUCK YES!

I realized, that getting my mother out of this life might be a little bit harder than I had originally anticipated.

"Harder! Harder!"

I pinched my nose and resisted the urge to sigh, as a literal motherfucker held her against the bathroom wall. My mother was an actual nympho – and she enjoyed having wild, vivid and rampart sex. She enjoyed her sensuality. She enjoyed stripping. This of course meant, that even I if I did eventually make a million dollars and moved us into the finest areas of Gotham City, she probably would come back here out of nostalgia.

Still, the goal was the same. Make money first, and then, try to find a way to… curb, her slightly crazed tendencies.

"UGH! You're done already? What the fucking hell was that?"

"Damn it woman! That was the third round this night!"

Some words and tirades followed, and of course, once more, the man stormed out, hastily adjusting his belt and pants, his eyes flicking over to me for half a second. My eyes strayed over to the top of his head, where the relevant information about him was.

Mr. Kingsley, Police Officer, Level 14.

Well, who was I to judge – Police Officers also needed some stress relief, especially in a city like Gotham. His eyes immediately turned away, and he continued his march, grumbling underneath his breath about one thing or the other about 'insatiable women'.

"Alright Zacky-boo, time to head home."

A hand gently landed on my shoulder, as my mother came out of the restroom. A lit cigarette in one hand, blonde hair tied into a girl-next-door ponytail, which of course made the stripperific outfit she wore all the more sensual.

"Did you 'member to wash your hands?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, Zacky, I did."

"With soap?"

"The bathroom's all out of soap."

"There are three new soap dispensers."

"They must be busted," she said before stopping, "And how'd you know that?"

I shrugged. "I look, and I see things."

She gave me a flat look. "Cheeky."

"Hands. Wash."

She threw the said appendages in the air. "Fine! Fine! Christ! Who's supposed to be the child in this relationship anyway?"

She turned back inside, and I resisted the urge to sigh. Instead, I allowed my hand to flash out to the small pocket in her skirt, subvocalizing Inventory, as she continued without notice.

From using dexterous speed of fingers to take an item out of your mother's pocket, your Dexterity has gone up by 1!

From deftly pilfering the pocket of an unsuspecting target, the skill, "Pickpocket" has been created!

Pickpocket (Active) Lv. 1

(Imagination Skill)

Hijack an object and place it directly into your inventory, absolving you of any physical evidence of the theft – become the ultimate Pickpocket Legend!

Grants a 10% Speed Boost per Level

Grants a 10% Efficiency Rate per Level

Grants Dexterity Stat Increase Every Ten Levels

[Note: This is an Imagination Skill, meaning, the levels can be tremendously boosted, or even maxed at once, depending on how imaginative you are with the usage. Imagination Skills can be upgraded or used in nearly all situations.)

My first skill, I noted, with some small amount of amusement. Still, the Gamer abilities I had were more or less a means to an end, the end which was of course, taking care of the troublesome woman that I could finally hear using the dryer.

Strange, she was the same age as me when I had died – twenty-one. Old enough to no longer be considered a teenager, but young enough to not be fully considered an adult. In a weird sense though, I felt as though she was younger than me, even though she was supposed to be my primary caretaker.

"There – all squeaky clean Mr. Germophobe Junior. Happy?"

I nodded.

"Now, let's –" she paused. Tapping her back pocket and slowly developing an increasing frown.

"Something wrong?"

She frowned. "I can't find my cigarettes."

I shrugged, deliberately averting my gaze. "Maybe you're all out?"

"No way – it was a fresh pack!" she growled "It must have fallen when I was –"

"Being screwed against a wall?"

"Language."

"Sorry. I meant, being fucked against a wall."

I received a 'love tap' on my forehead for the cheek, wincing at the –4HP notification that came with it.

"You're not supposed to know those words until you're at least twelve – or fourteen at best."

It was extremely hard to stop myself from the incredulous look I gave her.

"Use." She amended. "You're not supposed to use those words until then."

"You use it all the time."

"Only for business." She paused. "And pleasure." She frowned. "Or when I'm pissed. Or happy. Or excited. Or – okay, yeah, I use it pretty much all the time." She gave a sheepish smile. "But! I'm an adult! I'm allowed to use those words. Good little children aren't supposed to know those words."

"I'll keep it in mind when good little children are around."

She rolled her eyes, again. "Cheeky."

"I get it from my mom."

She pinched my cheeks. "Too cheeky. It's both adorable and annoying at the same time."

I pulled away from her pinch, before huffing and making a show of storming off forward. "I'm not adorable! I'm a man! A man! If I wasn't reincarnated into this body, I'd be trying to hit on you right now!"

Of course, she laughed. "Sure thing kiddo. I understand it's natural to want to be with your super mom – but don't you start with that reincarnation story again."

My mother, she wasn't dumb. She knew, even though she never mentioned it, that I was smart and astute for my age, far more than I had any right to be. Most one year olds were out there babbling and failing to learn how to form coherent words and sentences, and I was capable of holding my own in an intellectual debate with someone twenty times my own age. She'd mused about it once, lamenting and wondering how lucky, or unlucky she was to have such a 'gifted' child – and I had told her straight to her face that I was reincarnated. Of course, she laughed and ruffled my hair for it – thinking it another 'cute' quirk.

To an extent, I was somewhat glad that she didn't believe me. Yet, at the same time, I wanted to help her – to tell her that she could be much more, but she would not listen to advice from a 'child'.

"Come on Zacky, let's head to a burger joint – unless, you think that we shouldn't eat the meat, cause the cow is your best friend reincarnated." She snickered, and I resisted the urge to sigh, while at the same time savoring a small amount of relief.

At the very least, she had forgotten all about her cigarettes for the day. And though, as it was, I could not undo any lung damage she had most likely accumulated beforehand, I could mitigate any future damage by making sure she never bought another pack of cigarettes in her life.

It was a relatively small change – a very minor one – but it was these minor changes that made all the difference.

7:41 AM

It was Sunday morning, a day and time in which my mother didn't have to go to 'work'.

I rolled my eyes at the sight of the woman who had cuddled up beside me in nothing but her lingerie, her blonde hair in a scattered mess, and a small amount of drool seeping out from the side of her mouth. She was anything but a graceful sleeper.

Sighing, I made to roll out, only for her hand to wrap around me even more fiercely, and push me closer to her. I couldn't easily get flustered, thank GM for that, and I was fortunate enough to not have developed sex organs that would correlate with my brain, as such, I found the close embrace more annoying than anything else.

A little bit of slight work on my end, and I wrestled free from her slumbering grasp, hearing her let out a half-addled groan of disappointment.

From sneaking out of your mother's grasp, your Dexterity has gone up by 1!

My left eye twitched slightly at the notification, before I shook my head and then turned my gaze back to our lovely… 'house'. The apartment, if it could even be comfortably called that, was not all too bad, aside from the moldy walls and slightly leaky ceilings which had not yet been fixed, and the fact that there were public transport buses that were larger than the small cubicle of a room – but, it wasn't all too bad.

There was only one bedroom, the one which my mother and I shared, there was the bathroom and toilet, again, only one, and then there was the living room/kitchen/dining room, in which everything else happened. I took a cursory glance around the bedroom, rubbing my nose in irritation as I begin the task of picking up her strewn clothes and arranging her boots and other accessories into the closet for her.

From properly arranging clothes and other household items, the skill, "Housekeeping" has been created!

Housekeeping (Passive) Lv. 1

Grants a 10% Speed Boost per Level to the completion of cleaning and chores

Grants a 10% Efficiency Rate per Level to the completion of cleaning and chores

Grants Dexterity Stat Increase Every Ten Levels

Unlocked "Household Weaponry Martial Arts!"

Unlocked "Improvised Weaponry Martial Arts!"

Apparently, swing my mother's D-cup bra around my hands like they were nunchucks and I was Bruce Lee, counted as improvised weaponry.

Seems legit.

I ensured that I had completed the menial task of cleaning, before I turned my attention immediately towards the kitchen.

Opening the fridge made me to grimace slightly at the near-empty nature of it, with just a few eggs, a half carton of milk and a few can of beers being inside it. I turned my direction up, to one of the higher drawers, and frowned in annoyance when I realized I couldn't reach it. I tried a simple hop, and then, once more, I hopped.

From utilizing a hidden skill in your abilities, the skill "Double Jump" has been created!

Double Jump (Active) Lv. 1

Outwitting the Mario Brothers has never been easier, with the nifty ability to jump once more, whilst you are already airborne, by creating small, invisible pockets of air underneath your feet for further ascension!

Grants doubled jump height every twenty levels.

Note: Your Dexterity relates to the jump speed, angle, and height.

So, by the time I maxed out the skill, I would be able to jump five times higher than the average human being? Well, that was nifty. Still, my temporary goal of reaching the high cabinets was completed, with me opening it, double jumping again, and then latching on to it, as I pulled myself up to see what was inside.

A half empty box of Corn cereal and a near empty-tin of instant oatmeal. Simply fantastic.

Sighing regardless, I grabbed the two items and placed it on the kitchen counter. The total sum of the items in front of me, six eggs, half a carton of milk, half a box of corn cereal, and almost empty tin of oatmeal, brought my mind back to the issue at hand, the issue of getting enough money to stop my mother's… "business."

The burning anger I had felt had eventually cooled down, and with that cooled anger, returned my ability to reason – my ability to think clearly and objectively.

Becoming a Legend was an interesting prospect, a prospect which I had realized was counterintuitive to my goals of making my mother happy and safe. Superheroes or supervillains had a history of loved ones being held hostage (Lois Lane), or murdered (Jason Todd), or mutilated (James/Barbara Gordon), or worse – and that was the last thing I wanted for my mother.

No – being a superhero or a supervillain would get her killed, one way or another.

I was not willing to take that risk.

Instead, I would focus purely on getting rich, rich enough to live a life that would make it seem as though the Kardashians were starving street performers in Syria.

Of course, as geared up as I was, I realized that I actually had no idea as to how to go about legitimately getting large sums of money, in legal ways. I didn't want to suddenly become a criminal, even a minor one, because I didn't want to end up running into the God-in-bat-suit that was known as the Dark Knight, and have me on record forever. As a one-year old child, I'd obviously get some leniency, but this was entirely dependent on the severity of the crimes I'd have committed in order to gain money.

My body entered auto-pilot as I climbed unto a stool and began preparing the corn cereal for myself, and the oatmeal for my mother.

From lighting the fire to cracking an egg, the skill, "Homestyle Cooking" has been created!

Homestyle Cooking (Passive) Lv. 1

Grants a 10% Speed Boost per Level to the creation of food and drinks

Grants a 10% Taste Quality per Level to the creation of food and drinks

Grants Charisma Stat Increase Every Ten Levels

Developing Food Quality rapidly increases affection and reputation with all characters

Another passive skill and drawn my attention, and this, combined with the memory of the housekeeping skill, gave me an idea to seek some form of employment as a cleaner or cook. Of course, I realized that this would never work because no one would want to hire a one year old to do anything like that in this country. Almost made me miss the backwards third-world country that was my home in my past life. "Street-Hawkers" they'd call them, underage children selling candy and fruits on roads and highways.

Shaking my head to stir away the old thoughts, I realized that my only viable non-illegal option, was to use my Gamer's Ability, and rely on drops from fighting monsters or enemies. A few hours of grinding and slaying monsters should help me rack up several thousands of dollars.

Except, I was in the body of a one year old.

I could walk and run, and I could even manage some few dance moves, but anything more complicated and requiring more finesse than that, I was not ready for. Which meant, as I was, the only thing I could possibly beat or kill, was other one-year old infants, or maybe a few three and four year olds as well. And obviously, that was not a viable way to make money.

The eggs sizzled idly in the pan, as the realization that completing the quest in the one week I had previously claimed – was… impossible.

Even the criminal means were somewhat impossible to properly attain – picking pockets would never make me a millionaire, I could not rob a bank or even a candy shop without the person I was robbing laughing their ass off at best, or asking me where my mommy is at worst. Let's not even discuss anything more complicated like fraud, money laundering, extortion or betting. Who in their right minds would let a one-year old kid close to anything of that nature?

The only possible avenue I could think of was shoplifting – that is, stealing items using my inventory, because they would never be able to realize that I was actually stealing anything, when it was stored in my own personal dimension. Except, that plan also had hiccups, in the fact that my face would be on camera, and there was no way I could 'hide' the theft of an item on camera.

Unless of course, I disabled all the cameras before hand – which came with its own set of problems.

Still, four years was a lot of time in which a lot could happen.

Such as stat increases, which, not that I thought about it, I had almost forgotten about.

"Status."

Name: Isaac Zachariah Cabrera

HP: 100/100

MP: 100/100

Level: 1

Age: 1

Race: Human (Homo Magi)

Occupation: Civilian Child

Title: N/A

Current Alias: N/A

Aliases: N/A

Affiliations: Cabrera Family, Gotham Nightlife Association

Base of Operations: Gotham City

Alignment: Neutral

Identity: Unknown

Citizenship: American

Education: N/A

EXP: 122/1000

Money: $0.93

ATTRIBUTES

Strength: 4

Vitality: 6

Dexterity: 9 (+20)

Charisma: 2

Intelligence: 4

Wisdom: 4

Luck: 7 (+50)

Status

Buffs:

N/A

Debuffs:

N/A

Foils:

(Abject Poverty: Immensely Reduced Standards of living)

(Child of the Slums: –50% Reputation Gains with Rich or Wealthy Characters –25% Reputation Gains with Middle-Class Characters, +10% Reputation Gains with Poor Characters)

(Tragic Origin Story: +50 Luck, +50% Random Encounter Rate of the Heroes/Villains of the world)

Boons:

(Mother's Flexibility: Adds +20 to Dexterity)

(Raised by Strippers: +35% Reputation Gains with Women, +60% Resistance to Seduction Tactics, +60% Boost to Dancing and Seduction Skills)

(Red Light Child: +65% Reputation Gains with Strippers, Prostitutes, Call Girls, Drug Dealers, Pimps, Bouncers, Thugs and the Criminal Underbelly)

Bio

Isaac "Zack" Cabrera, is the son of Eva Cabrera, a relatively young stripper and prostitute who was originally the part of the small mobster group, the Cabrera Family. After witnessing the death of all her extended and nuclear family members by the hands of Carmine Falcone, Eva dove into a life of hedonistic pleasure, eventually becoming a nymphomaniac and alcoholic, with no regard for her life or well-being, until the birth of her son – a reincarnated college student from a different dimension. Zack's goal is to ensure that he manages to put his mother's life back together, stop her from prostituting and stripping, get them out of the slums, and ultimately, have a better life.

That… was…

My mind had momentarily for a brief second blanked out at the information that was presented to me, as my gaze flickered over to the bedroom, where the silent snores of my mother could reach my ears. I hadn't known, or even realized, that she had been part of a crime family – a family which had been destroyed by Carmine Falcone.

She was the last member of her family – spared, or escaped from death.

There was no information about me, about who had put me into this world, or reincarnated me for whatever reason, and instead, I found myself not questioning or having a problem with that, but instead, a burning sense of anger and indignation swelled up within me again.

Carmine Falcone.

The Falcone Family. I knew from different iterations that this family was one of the major crime gangs in Gotham, and that the leader, was a nasty piece of work, who, despite the absence of any supernatural power or quirk of insanity, was one of Batman's constant foes.

There was a sensation drawing up in me, compelling me and telling me that I should take vengeance, vengeance for the grandfather and grandmother and uncle and cousins that I had never known, and would never know thanks to his machinations. Yet, ironically, if not for his actions, the odds were that I would have never even been born in the first place – as my mother's life would have continued as normal, and the odds of meeting whoever my father was, would have never occurred.

The kettle whistled. Steam rushed out of cooking implement, and it drew my attention back to breakfast I was making.

I didn't remember who I was, back in my old life. The memories were slipping, like smoke, or like trying to remember a particular dream that you just had. My original name, my parents or my siblings – if I had any – were all wispy in my memory. However, things, places, events, other information from video games and anime, it was there, forefront at my brain, accessible and fresh.

Maybe that was why I felt strongly for Eva – because I could not remember who my first mother was. I could not remember if I even had a first mother, or if she had not died when I was little or divorced. As far as I knew, my mother, here, was the only woman that I could and had ever called my mother.

Hence, those people that had died, where, in fact, my family.

And Carmine Falcone, had killed my family.

Revenge Mission Unlocked!

Blood is Thicker

Carmine Falcone and the Falcone Family completely wiped out most of your family. It is only fair that you return the favor.

Objective:

Kill the Entire Falcone Family, down to every last henchman, every dog, every goldfish, and every unborn child.

Bonus Objectives:

Do Not Get Caught

Only Reveal Your Identity to Carmine Falcone in his last moments

?

?

Time Limit:

As long as the Falcone Family lives

Rewards:

$75,000,000

Falcone Family Territory

Massively Increased Reputation in Gotham

Massively Increased Influence in Gotham

Massively Increased Reputation with Villains of Gotham

Massively Increased Reputation with the Gotham Underground

Massively Decreased Reputation with Heroes of Gotham

Massively Decreased Reputation with Gotham Police Force

Unlocks: Mafia Operations

Unlocks Achievement/Title: The Godfather

Failure:

Possible Imprisonment

Death

Accept?

(Yes)

(No)

"Deep breaths. Deep breaths. No going all 'avenger' mode. You don't have red spinning eyes."

Kill everyone? That was – well, that was a bit too much. There were probably some henchmen who were in it because they had no choice, or some innocent women who were coerced into his syndicate – I couldn't just slaughter all of them like I was Sasuke-fucking-Uchiha on a revenge spree. Besides, this wasn't my fight – Batman would eventually bring Falcone to justice, sooner or later.

You have declined the Revenge Mission.

Note: Due to the extended time limit on the mission, the mission has been stored in the Codex Library, and you may choose to accept it at a later time.

I highly, sincerely doubted it – but still, I suppose having the option was good… just in case. Ignoring that rather grim mission, I turned my attention back on to something else which had drawn my curiosity.

Race: Homo Magi

Alright, so I hadn't imagined that. Homo Magi… something tells me this has to do with magic. Still, just to be sure, I attempted to push the words and see if I got a reaction.

Codex Information Insufficient!

Well that didn't work.

Tutorial – Codex Library

Collect Books, Scrolls, Parchments, Statues, Totems, and other various items in order to further increase the amount of information available in the Codex Library. Additionally, certain courses or subjects in colleges or High Schools respectively, can aid in rapidly increasing the amount of information available in the Codex Library.

Also, speaking with relevant characters and attaining new information from them can also update the Codex Library, and grant you access to new powers, abilities, special gifts and talents.

Please note, that once you have read a book, watched a scene, witnessed or participated in an event, it can be accessed and revisited at any time via the codex library, stored for as long as possible via virtual medium.

Ignoring the ridiculous potential possessed by the ultimate cheating tool in my possession, I rubbed the sides of my head and pinched my nose out of habit. It was a habit that I had whenever I found myself entirely too surprised or overwhelmed by something. Of course, my mind was clear and wasn't overwhelmed by any of this in the slightest, but none of these things particularly helped me in becoming the world's first, self-made, one-year old millionaire.

And of course, my attention was focused on the "Foil" which was –

(Tragic Origin Story: +50 Luck, +50% Random Encounter Rate of the Heroes/Villains of the world)

What.

My life wasn't that tragic, was it?

Sure I was poor, and my mother was a stripper and hooker, I had no father, I didn't have any friends or acquaintances my age, and I hadn't yet attended school because my mother was scared that child services, however shitty they were in Gotham, would take me away once they realized my horrible living conditions –

But, I usually spend my time in an adult strip club and I've seen more live strip shows, sex and blowjobs than most men would ever get to in their lives, the women gave me sweets and treats, and sometimes Aunt Purity and a bunch of them would give me lessons on how to 'please' women, teaching me awesome tongue and fingering tricks and letting me practice on them. How was that tragi–

…

Oh.

Well… fuck.

For realizing the true nature of the strippers' "lessons" you have gained +2 Wisdom!

I felt like slapping myself. Of course, in hindsight, 'teaching you how to please women' sounded like a perfectly logical excuse to let a kid give you cunnilingus and finger you – but they were good lessons about knowing key sensitive spots in the female anatomy. Of course, I was not a child, I was a twenty-one year old man in a child's body – so it didn't really count –

Did it?

Probably yes, according to my gamer system.

Huh.

"Eat your fucking heart out Bruce Wayne." I growled underneath my breath, "You'd have died at six fucking months old if you were to have lived as me."

From successfully completing a dish, Homestyle Cooking has gone up by 1!

The smell of perfectly fried eggs, and the aroma of oatmeal wafted around the house, and I immediately took a tray, before placing the two bowls on the tray and entering into the bedroom.

She'd wake up sometime past noon, eventually, considering the all-nighters she had, and the possibility that she might have also had sex which could have possibly tired her out even more.

I covered the bowls, before I returned into the kitchen and turned my attention back to the box of cereal.

"Gamer's Body should help me out here…"

I placed it in a manner that would make it look like I had eaten out of it, so my mom wouldn't be worried when she eventually woke up and felt bad that I did the cooking and didn't eat anything.

I technically didn't need to eat, as long as I slept, I would always wake up at full energy. Of course, she didn't know that. Too bad she didn't have a camera recording the place, otherwise I'd never get away with it.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

I grimaced at the sound of heavy pounding coming from the door.

"Oi! Eva! Come out here right fucking now before I bust this door down!"

I immediately moved over to the door, utilizing Double Jump to aid me reach the bolts and click them open. I had barely finished before the door swung open, and I was greeted with the sight of a boar of a man.

Landlord

Mr. Gabe

Lv. 7

The man's eyes shot into the room, his mouth opening, until he could find no one at eye level, and then his face twisted into confusion, before his eyes eventually strayed downwards.

"Oh, it's you – brat."

Part of me wondered if it was the "Red Light Child" boon that was responsible for how the man's face seemed to soften at me.

"Where's your mother boy?"

"Mommy's not in."

"Not in?"

"Not in." I repeated.

The man's gaze turned to me, looking slightly leery.

"You're three months overdue on your rent boy. You know what that means?"

I tilted my head innocently. "That I'll be sleeping in the gutters soon?"

To his credit, he only managed to look somewhat off put by the blunt truth.

"That isn't up to me boy. It's up to your mother to hand me my fucking goddamned cash."

I frowned. "How much does my mommy owe you?"

"This isn't the type of debt that you can pay off by washing my car or picking up after my dog –"

"How much?"

He stopped, rubbing his thick, alcohol stained beard with hand and his potbelly with another, as his gaze turned even more suspicious in my direction.

"Six hundred bucks."

Was that a lot of money? Was it a small amount? Was he pulling one over me? Hell, I didn't know. I wish I had been an American in my past life so I'd at least have a proper understanding of their prices and living standards, but I wasn't, so I'd have to take his word for it, until I knew better.

"I'll get it for you."

A thick, heavy snort was the response.

"Sure kid, and tomorrow, it'll rain diamonds."

He wasn't taking me seriously. Of course he wasn't. If I were the one in his shoes, I wouldn't take me seriously either. Hence I turned my gaze on the man, and focused.

From close and careful analysis and observation, a new skill has been created!

Gamer Vision [Active] Lv. 1

The Mystical Eyes of the Gamer, the ability to read the lives and contents of souls and objects at a single glance, gathering their deepest fears, strengths and weaknesses to use or abuse as you so desire, all as if reading it straight from a videogame screen.

More information about targets will be unlocked as the skill levels up.

All information witnessed with Gamer Vision is catalogued and stored in the Codex Library for later viewing.

I was expecting the 'Observe' skill, but I supposed this Gamer Vision was my variant. Rather than complaining about it, I instead turned my vision 'on' and cast my gaze unto the man in front of me.

Name: Gabriel Norris

Level: 7

Age: 31

Race: Human (Homo sapiens)

Occupation: Landlord/Retired Bouncer

Title: Landlord

Bio

Gabriel Norris, or just 'Gabe' as he has come to be known by several of his tenants and clients, is the thirty-one year old owner of the Blue Light Apartment Complex. He is a proud, hot-headed man who secretly dislikes Eva because he is attracted to her, and knows that he will never be able to sleep with her. Despite this, he has a soft-spot for children and people in unfortunate circumstances, and has a six year old daughter who was taken away by his ex-wife due to fear of his temper and alcoholism.

Well, that explained a lot.

And no, Gabe, you're not coming within six feet of my mother.

"I'll get the money for you by Friday. If not – I'll get something else for you."

He sneered. "And what exactly can a brat like you get someone like me?"

"Some alone time with your daughter."

It was a good thing that I could always go back and re-play this moment, when a man who appeared outwardly to be something else, changed and shifted, his eyes gaining clarity, his back standing straighter, and his nose flaring as his brows contorted.

"You – you –"

"You miss her, and you care for her." I said, doing my best to smile. "I know, getting her to you isn't money, and it won't pay our rent – but – I think seeing her again… it should be worth more than six hundred dollars."

I wasn't sure how long we stood there in silence. His gaze met mine. It strayed. Everywhere and anywhere but on me – it strayed. The sound of feet shuffling eventually echoed, as did the sound of delayed movement and breaths.

"Friday."

I nodded.

"Friday."

His large arm slammed the door shut.

And I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding.

Holy – had that actually worked?

From finding a suitable solution to a problem utilizing your abilities, your Charisma has gone up by 2!

Yes, yes it had.

I wasn't sure which would be an easier task – getting six hundred dollars before Friday, or looking for, and finding Gabe's daughter. Oh, and of course, you know, getting her to the guy without the wife ever being the wiser.

"You, and your big, dumb, mouth."

Well – looks like I was going to have to get money anyway, so –

"Shoplifting it is."

«

Gotham City was a dangerous place.

"Please! HELP! SOMEBODY!"

I made it abundantly clear to avoid turning my gaze and attention towards the sounds of the screams. It was a Sunday Morning, and, amidst the other civilians and pedestrians who were walking to or from their varied destinations, I was not the fool who was going to play hero. When full grown men and women merely increased the briskness of their gaits, taking their time to agonizingly ensure that they did not look in the direction of the alleyway. Sure the feminine screams were annoying and somewhat grating, but, of course, I knew it would only be a matter of time.

Yup. Cue the idealistic hero charging down the alleyway in hopes of stopping what he probably assumed was a poor woman being raped.

"You – GURK –"

The world's supply of altruistic people was once more chipped off.

A woman in a trench coat emerged from the alleyway, suspiciously smiling, before putting her hands in her pockets and walking away. I shook my head at the sight, letting out another sigh before I continued moving along. I had a convenience store to go shoplift from.

My small, childlike form walking around the streets without any form of adult supervision had clearly drawn some surprised looks and stares, but ultimately, no one in this city was bothered or invested enough to approach me and ask why. I supposed it was one of the few reasons that I truly enjoyed this place. Other than the constant nature of the cloudy skies which meant that Gotham never, ever got sunlight, and the stone gargoyles which hung on the tallest of buildings, looming down upon the mortals beneath as supposed protectors of evil, I would say that Gotham's ambient 'you-live-or-die-on-your-own' attitude resonated with me. When a city was steeped deep in corruption and crime and violence, the citizens and average folk had evolved to learn that it was never best to look too closely at things, and it was always best to mind your own business.

A lesson which, if not learned, would mean ending up lying in the ditches in some empty alley, bleeding out, and wondering how your desire to help had led to your untimely demise.

A major reason as to why Gotham seemed to be so horrendously bad, was of course, the lovely Batman. I had no idea how old he was supposed to be as of now, but I had begun hearing of him, being spoken by the angry and wrathful customers of my mother's workplace who ranted as to how their "Bat problem" was causing them to lose on their "legitimate" investments.

However, as it stood, Batman primarily operated in Gotham City at night. It was his M.O. which struck fear and panic into the hearts of villains and criminals alike, because they would never know when the dark shadow above them would morph into a dark bat ready to render 'justice.'

It was for this reason, that many criminals, both petty and grand, had moved their operations towards the day.

I knew for a fact that Batman still had to work as Bruce Wayne, and contrary to how the movies and books or shows portrayed it, there was no way the C.E.O. of an important company like Wayne Enterprises would just 'delegate' all his duties and responsibilities to someone else, without either losing faith from his board and employees, or utterly sending the entire company crashing.

Hence, Batman could not truly be as active in the day as he was at night.

And the ratio of daylight crimes skyrocketed once people realized that the Batman only went hunting once the sun came down.

I had realized that this was one of the aspects that most of the numerous franchises failed to mention or incorporate, or perhaps they did, and I was not simply knowledgeable enough to know.

People adapted.

They weren't the dumb, idiotic, one-dimensional villains and mooks that would continue to follow a pattern and stick with it regardless of the better alternatives. No. They were multifaceted beings capable of coming to their own conclusions and realizing their limitations – as all humans are. Adaptability is the sole reason we as a species have continued to evolve.

The Dark Knight's crusade to end all crime in Gotham city was a laughable quest. He was in essence, attempting to use anti-biotics to cure cancer. Beating up and locking up the crooks didn't truly dissuade them, instead, it only thought them how to be smarter, and how to avoid running into the Batman next time.

Ganged up on a poor defenseless girl with nefarious plans in a dark alleyway at night, only to find yourself beat to a pulp by the masked crusader?

Next time, they'd use chloroform or drug the girl first before she could scream and gain anyone's attention, and then commit the deed in a hidden location.

Got busted for trying to burgle a jewelry store at night?

They'd come back during the day dressed in an elegant suit, a mask, and pointing an SMG at the cashier, while wisely telling them that they dared not trigger the silent alarm you saw in your previous attempt.

Thrown in the slammer for supposedly committing arson?

They'd set up their explosives a few days earlier, get into a slight or minor altercation and be arrested, and then watch and snicker as the fire starts and they have a near-airtight alibi as to why they could not have been the one who started it.

In essence, Batman was causing the criminals to evolve.

Batman was making better criminals.

It annoyed me, personally, and I wondered if the idiot even realized what his actions were doing, or if he did, but insisted that he continued to 'fight crime' under some misguided notion of pride or purpose.

I shook my head as I ultimately strolled through the Department Store that was quite a reasonable distance away from my house. Of course, by reasonable distance, I was talking the distance of about twenty blocks, which, so far, my legs had walked and made me feel as though I had been trekking for an eternity.

So… what to steal?

My eyes turned to the left. There, standing, was a refrigerator. Within, bottles of chilled liquor, ranging from brands like Guinness to Jack Daniels, stood, uniformed. Side by side, with a small layer of glazed frost over the glass, they beckoned.

Beside the refrigerator, crates of cans of beer. Neatly packaged in four-rows, waiting and expecting to be purchased.

My eyes flickered over to the right. Aisle six stood, with cooking equipment, toasters, microwaves, pressure cookers, blenders, pots and pans.

Behind me, a rack of sunglasses. Beside the rack, cheap, easily made, hats and baseball caps hung quietly. To the right of that, lay an area for jeans, T-shirts, and clothes that were made more for practical purchase reasons than for any sense of fashion. Then, finally, behind that, was a display case for faux-golden wristwatches, and Made-in-China Rolex knockoffs.

I couldn't take everything. There was no way that they would fail to notice the significant number of items gone missing. Instead, I needed to weigh my options to figure out which of these things would be the best ones I could steal and pawn off to raise six hundred dollars. The liquor was probably one of them, the microwaves and cooking equipment were another, and the wristwatches would be a third and final option.

I decided that the wristwatches would be the best bet, they were small and inconspicuous enough, and then the liquor would be the next thing I could go for. I highly doubted that people would fail to notice a missing microwave.

My feet moved over to the display case, my eyes roving over the different collections and sizes, for men, women, and people of unfortunately diminutive heritages.

All I would need to do, would be to extend my hand out, and put it into my inventory.

Yep.

That was it. Simple.

Seconds ticked by as I continued to stare.

It was an easy task, no one was looking in my direction, and there were far too few people here to notice the theft.

Yet, I stood.

Fake silver and phony gold stared up at me, the seconds of the clock ticking in reminder of the non-stationary nature of the universe. My eyes could see them, recognize them, understand the value of them, realize the importance of them. My hands and fingers however, were magnetized to my sides. It was as though there was a kinetic force compelling them to refuse my mental commands to rise and pilfer.

Why?

A spark of emotion followed. Irritation, I could recognize with ease, annoyance came second, the two primary entities which were the inhabitants of my subconscious.

Why?

It's just pickpocketing, my mind rationalized. There was no need to be overly dramatic about it, and almost everybody had done it at one point or another.

You need this, my mind tried again, harder, when my hands still rebelled against it. You need to steal this to get money, to become rich, to help your mother, to pay off your debts.

And what would you say, when she eventually asks you how you got the money?

Lie to her face?

Tell her the truth?

To tell an explicit lie about something like this, it would be the start of the deterioration of any form of trust we have.

To tell the truth, would be to admit to theft and stealing.

What does that matter? She sleeps and strips with men for money!

The illegality of prostitution aside, there was the clear fact that this was a trade. It was an exchange. A service for a sum. She had not earned the money dubiously, she had worked hard to get it. Many would agree that a prostitute was somehow better off than a thief.

YOU! NEED! THIS!

The problem with this method of thought, I knew, would be when it would become my growing alibi for the fractured moral compass I would gain. I would shoplift with the justification of necessity. When things got harder, I would commit burglary with the justification of necessity.

From there on, the spiral continued and never ended. Blackmail, extortion, drug running and smuggling, armed robbery, grand larceny, human trafficking, and eventually – murder.

I would justify it all as a necessity.

Would I eventually justify rape as a necessity too?

I took in a deep breath, shaking my head to clear it. A snarl escaped my lips without me ever intending to, I could feel how my facial muscles contorted into avatar of disgust and uncertainty. Why had I chosen now, of all times, after walking twenty blocks, after making such badass claims and boasts, why had I chosen now, to develop a fucking moral compass?

It was stupid. Naïve. Absolutely ridiculous.

I could watch people get murdered and assaulted without batting an eyelash, yet, the thought of entering into the world of crime made me hesitate. Gotham City was not a place for bleeding hearts who were unable to do what needed to be done. It was not a place that would reward you for your humanity and munificence. No. It was a place that would tear you down to shreds, rip asunder any guise of innocence and goodness, and leave you feeling like an orange sucked dry from the lips of a parched whore.

DO IT!

JUST DO IT!

WHY WON'T YOU DO IT?!

Some people would claim that you could become a petty criminal all your life and never kill or get into anything serious or major. There were most likely individuals in the world who fitted that description. However, I knew that it could not be the case for me. Games advanced and progressed, and being a Gamer, any criminal activity I partook in would eventually lead to a serial escalation, no matter what.

Shoplifting? Oooh! Take this nifty skill and quest that will improve your skills and make you the best! Oh, you could even upgrade this into direct armed robbery!

What if I got a skill for murder? A skill particularly designed just to kill people in the most imaginative ways possible like I was in a hack-and-slash game and being awarded style points?

Or what if I unlocked some eroge feature that needed me to rape as many women as possible to gain experience points and level up faster?

Would I decide, then, that there was a line that should not be crossed, or would I bite down on my lower lip, steeling my mind to the fact that I needed the benefits, and as such, it was a necessity?

"Fucking hell!"

I found myself turning around, ignoring some of the stares I drew from my potty mouth, and immediately rushing out the door of the convenience store.

Good and evil were arbitrary, and there was no definite source on what morality was or should be. My standard however, was simple: Don't do anything to others that you wouldn't want done to you.

I wouldn't want to be killed, or burgled from, or sexually assaulted, or sold into slavery, or blackmailed, so, why then should I do the same thing to anyone else?

At the same time, there was the realization that just because humans did not eat lion meat, did not mean that a lion would spare you the same gesture should you encounter one. In essence, any and all of those things could happen to me, whether I liked it or not, or whether I did it or not.

"Gods I'm such a fucking pussy."

Where was my spine?

Where was that grit and determination that said I would do anything for my mother?

Where was the arrogant claims of becoming a legend in a world of gods?

It was always easier said than done, apparently. I let out a bitter chuckle. If I didn't even have it in me to shoplift, I would have to kiss my beautiful dreams of saving my mother from this hell-hole goodbye. I would have to live in poverty, and watch the only person I cared about in this world continue to live miserably, because I didn't have it in me to do what needed to be done in order to change that.

"Hey there little guy!"

My self-loathing was cut short. My gaze turned upwards. Nelly, Lv. 6, Donahue's Convenience Store Employee.

She – she followed me? Had she discovered what I had intended? No – it wasn't possible, I was certain that I had been careful, certain that I ensured I did not give away my intent – but then, why did she –

"Are you lost? Where's your mommy?"

I blinked.

Oh. That's right. I'm a toddler.

I resisted the urge to palm my face. Of course – I was a toddler. Being a child was so far shaping up to be one of the most irritating experiences so far. In her eyes, I was just a lost little infant who had no clue as to what he was doing.

"Fuck off."

I was already irritated at this point, and did not even bother attempting to maintain any childlike façade.

"Wow – that's quite the potty mouth you got –"

"So fucking what? Are you going to bend me over and spank me for it?"

Nelly frowned. "O-kay, wow, even I don't think I have a mouth that dirty."

"Maybe if you blow me, you can get the firsthand experience."

Silence.

"Wow. That was actually a pretty good comeback."

I stared, exasperation clear on my face.

"You're not good at taking a hint are you?"

"Maybe."

I stared at her for a second, before feeling a bit of my anger simmer down.

"Alright. What's your gimmick?"

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"What are you, kidnapper, organ thief, drug dealer or child predator?"

"Excuse me?"

"This is Gotham City. If you live here, and you run out to help every kid you see – you'd be dead already."

"Well that's a rather cynical worldview."

I snorted.

Four seconds reached on the silence afterwards, which was the starting point of its awkwardness.

"You're a child predator aren't you."

The silence stretched on.

"Just. Fucking. Great."

"You know – gagging me was completely unnecessary. Tossing me in the trunk even more so. I could have just sat in the back or something. Oh, and I hope you're not planning on ransoming me back to my family afterwards – trust me, you'd probably be hundred times richer than my mom is. Hell, you have a car!"

I'd always pictured being kidnapped as a slightly more harrowing experience. Perhaps it was because I already had a jilted perspective to the world, or maybe it was just the Gamer's Mind which was capable of making me feel relaxed as the woman in her late twenties, Nelly, proceeded to lift me out of the back of her sedan.

Rather than agonizing over my fate, I blinked, staring up into the night sky with the realization that it was already dark, that my mother would probably be throwing a tantrum looking for me everywhere, and wondering if this kidnapping counted as a random encounter.

Random Encounter – The Kidnapping

Details: ?

Completion Rewards: ?

Failure: Death

Well, wasn't that convenient?

"You're a horrible conversationalist, you know."

The woman ignored my words throughout as she made her way towards what seemed to be an apartment. Her apartment complex was way out of the way though – on the outskirts of Gotham City and almost entering into Bludhaven, and it even looked abandoned. The only reason I knew this of course, was the nifty map which was always in the corner of my vision, that I could bring up any time I wished. Fortunately, the map also contained a 'trail' showing the direction I'd travelled, which meant that getting back home wouldn't really be an issue.

"I mean, aren't you supposed to be buttering me up or trying to make me have Stockholm Syndrome or something?"

Again, the woman was suspiciously quiet as she opened the door to the apartment complex with a swipe of a card.

"Also, quick question, is it the sight or the feel of tiny dicks that get you off, or is it just the concept of having some form of power over a male? Because if it's the latter, you can always just use your fingers – probably more pleasurable that way."

Again, she seemed to not want to give me a retort. I would praise her willpower, for that at least.

Until she unceremoniously dropped me on the ground.

–3HP!

"Ouch! That hurt! Please don't tell me you're into BDSM – that would be a major deal breaker."

I could make out a small briefcase on the floor. I rose my eyebrow, doubly so when the woman began to unceremoniously strip.

"You're lacking in poise. Tuck your stomach in more and let the clothes fall off you like you're made of butter and oils. Bounce your breasts a little bit more – oh, and don't forget to twirl your hips – you're a young woman, not a paraplegic gymnast."

SMACK!

–22HP!

"Shut. Up."

I blinked. There were still some stars in my vision, alongside the resounding static in my ears that accompanied the slap.

So. Things are getting serious now.

I stared in confusion, wondering why, after completely stripping, she put on a red hooded robe.

Don't fucking tell me –

Gamer Vision flared to life.

Two-Bit Occultist

Nelly Patterson

HP: 700/700

MP: 300/300

Level: 19

Age: 29

Race: Human

Affiliations: Gotham Magical Underground, Gotham Black Market

Base of Operations: Gotham City

Alignment: Evil

Occupation: Occultist

Identity: Unknown

Citizenship: American

Bio

An eager and greedy cultist desperate to rise through the ranks of the magical community, dabbling in occultism and rituals which uses the innate youth and vitality of young children to increase her magical prowess and revitalize her own youth. She sucks their souls dry via any method of hedonistic pleasure, leaving them as empty husks for the accomplishment of gaining enough power to accomplish her ultimate goal – serving the interdimensional demon, Trigon.

FUCK.

This was bad. Badbadbadbad!

I watched, from my spot on the ground, as the woman began lighting candles in the dim apartment room, immediately drawing my attention to the red, five-pointed, hexagonal looking thing that was painted with what could only be dried blood on the floor.

Why in the world was I running into psychos like this so soon? Why couldn't I start my way up in this world with slighter milder villains like Toy Man or Black Mask? Why did I have to find a bloody Trigon Cultist?

How the hell in the world did this woman even know of Trigon? My knowledge was sketchy – but should that have been possible?

Oh, wait. That's right. Raven's mother – Arella – was originally an inhabitant of Gotham City in some iterations. She'd been amongst the group of occultists that were planning on summoning the devil – and one thing led to another, Trigon showed up, she fucked the closest guy to Satan, and bam, Raven was born.

Fuck.

Fuck you – Gotham City.

Fuck. You.

–4HP!

– 6HP!

– 8HP!

I continued to methodologically slam my head into the floor.

FUCKING IDIOT!

There I had been, too chicken to simply shoplift – questioning the morality and decency of a never-ending spiral.

The fucking good that did me now!

Had I merely stolen what I needed and bolted, I would not have been around long enough to have run into this crazy woman, and I would not have landed myself in a situation where I was going to be the main ingredient in an evil magical ritual.

But noooooo!

I just had to uphold moral standards!

I grit my teeth hard enough to notice it chip my HP bar.

Then, I took in a deep breath.

And I exhaled.

My eyes, as they were, narrowed in focus.

Agonizing over past mistakes was pointless. Now, the only thing left was to move forward. I would take this experience as a form of divine intervention on my part, as a constant reminder to the moments of weakness and hesitation, as an ever-present souvenir of the day I decided to put moral 'good' over my personal benefit.

I would not make that mistake again.

Ever.

I instead focused on getting free. My hands were tied behind my back with duct tape. Likewise were my legs. I could squirm and turn and wiggle a little bit here and there, and for once, I was glad for having my mother's flexibility.

Nelly the Occultist continued working on her preparations in favor of ignoring me, and it suit me well enough. With my back on the ground and my hands tied under them, I brought my legs up, closer, and closer until my knees were against my chest and my feet were touching my forehead.

Then, I sprung.

The kick-flip I pulled successfully got me into the air, but I wasn't done yet.

'Double Jump'.

Interesting thing about the ability to jump while already in the air – I could choose the direction in which I wished to jump in. Essentially, the skill gave me an invisible platform to jump in any manner and direction I so wished, essentially defying gravity and laws of momentum.

Which was exactly what I did, lunging forwards towards the direction of the unsuspecting woman.

'Gamer's Body – don't fail me now!'

Her back was turned. I was accelerating at height level. Hence, I tilted my head back as far as possible, and let it rip.

CRACK!

–32HP!

INITIATIVE ATTACK!

Dealt x8 Damage!

CRITICAL HIT!

GODS IT HURT!

Had I been a normal child, there was no doubt in my mind that my skull would have shattered from the force I had put in the flying head-butt. I wasn't however, and other than the initial pain, my skull was none the worse for wear.

The same could not be said for Nelly however, as I had smacked her straight in the back of the head, and the unexpected blow had sent her tumbling to the ground with a slight amount of blood now coming from the wound.

My body had barely landed on before I continued.

'Double Jump!'

Tiny feet went up into the air, as high as about six feet, before coming down on the back of the woman's skull with a sickening crack, burying her face into the wooden floor.

'Double Jump!'

Again.

'Double Jump!'

'Double Jump!'

'Double Jump!'

The skill leveled up fourteen times.

I continued, endlessly, only stopping when I could feel a distinct wetness and sogginess at the bottom of my shoes. I was somewhat hesitant to look down, before I crushed the urge, and stared.

Blood and mushed brain matter; barely a head left on the woman.

I gained a healthy new level of fear for the Super Mario Brothers.

Random Encounter Completed!

The Kidnapping!

You have gained 5650 EXP!

You have leveled up!

You have leveled up!

You have leveled up!

You have gained new items:

Tome: The Secrets of Magic!

Totem: The Sex Vampire!

Item: Voodoo Doll!

Skill Book: Beginner Voodoo

Codex Entry on Homo Magi updated!

Codex Entry on Trigon updated!

Codex Entry on The Arts of Magic updated!

I watched, with some sort of awestruck fascination, as the rewards and 'drops' gathered around the dead woman.

Would you like to dematerialize the vanquished foe, or harvest the corpse?

(Dematerialize)

(Harvest)

I stared at the corpse. At the magical circle. At the blood which flowed and ran freely from the dead body. From the body of the woman I killed.

There was no revulsion.

There was no guilt.

There was no sense of strange anguish.

I had killed someone, and yet, all I could feel about the entire experience was…

Dissatisfaction.

It had been easy. Too easy. So ridiculously easy. It felt like it was truly a random encounter, like as though I was the Dragonborn in Skyrim who was being attacked by a bunch of vampires and bandits who did not realize that they were mere cannon fodder.

The woman, Nelly, had probably not even seen the killing blow coming. She would probably find herself in the afterlife, with a mix of confusion and uncertainty as to how she got there. Here I was, standing victorious, killing her despite my hands and feet bound with duct tape, and being given the option to turn her into particles of light, or use her body any way I wished.

I laughed.

I found myself laughing without even realizing I was doing it.

I laughed at the ludicrous nature of it all. At the strange, near anticlimactic victory. At the odd, now absolutely insane fact, that less than a few hours ago, I could not even shoplift, and now, I had committed murder.

I laughed, and with my laughter, came a realization.

This world… the fanciful world of superheroes and supervillains –

It was a nightmare. A nightmare designed to make everyone crazy. A nightmare that had demons and space beings and aliens and gods –

And this nightmare, was now my reality.

I laughed.

Isn't it funny?

XXXXXXXX

Gabriel Norris was not a man who was often easily intimidated. At the same time, the Landlord was not someone who usually expected people to meet and surpass his expectations.

Both of those thing happened, at the sight of the boy in front of his door. The boy, who was so young, yet, whose eyes possessed a dangerous, blood-curling mirth.

As though the universe and all within it, was but a mere joke.

"It's not Friday yet."

Thick wads of notes slammed into his hands.

"No. It's not."

He counted, silently.

"This is three times more than what I asked for kid."

"I know."

Gabe frowned. "Paying the rent up front are you?"

The boy said nothing, instead, he just kept staring at him with those weird, mirthful eyes.

"I thought –" Gabe hesitated, "I thought you were going to help me. Reunite me with my daughter."

The boy smiled.

"So did I."

He turned around, laughing.

The sound of the laughter would come to haunt Gabe for many, many nights.

I wasn't insane.

To imply insanity would be to mean that I was not in control of my mental faculties, and consequently, I was a bundle of indistinguishable instincts like some human personification of the Freudian Id. Gamer's Mind did well to prevent that I would not truly go insane, not have my mind shatter from stress or horrific realizations, and would instead, function optimally.

There would be no 'Why so serious?' questions coming anytime soon I'm afraid.

Instead, I had merely been struck with an epiphany. A realization as to the somewhat humorous situation I found myself, to the life I found myself, and to the world I found myself. It was hilarious, the level of danger inherent in it, the level of chaos and insanity –

It was just all too damned funny.

And now, I was in on the joke.

I had been trying too hard to make sense of this universe. To look at myself from the outside of it, to try and consider myself a spectator in the grand scheme of things. Except, I wasn't. As far as I knew, I had no magical plot armor in the form of a billion dollar suit or fancy alien genes that could absorb sunlight. I was in essence, the ruler and maker of my own destiny and fate in this bizarre world were gods looked on demurely at the actions of humans, like an amused parent would watch a child splatter paint all over their clothes.

Well fuck that.

Fuck it all. Everything about this entire situation and arrangement. Everything about this world that expected me to play by the rules and become subsumed under the universe, becoming nothing but background noise in the musical pitch of existence.

No. I was going to live in this world damn it. I was going to live.

This was a world where both heaven and hell were most likely real. I already knew that heaven was a pipedream, but when, if, the moment came when demons began to claw at my eternal soul and drag me to the lower depths, I would be prepared to go down laughing, I would be prepared, to give the middle finger to both the guys on top and the ones below, and I would be the one, ultimately, who would make them realize that it was a grave mistake to have allowed my existence on this god-forsaken universe.

"Zack honey… um…"

The sound of my name drew my attention, leading me to turn my gaze towards my mother. She stood, awkwardly, in her brassiere and a pair of boxer shorts, her blonde hair tied into a ponytail.

"You've been… cleaning rather… extensively."

I stared at the house, the small apartment to which I would call my residence of living from now to the nearest future. It was spotless. Tables were reflective, showing my own visage in their polished sheen. The floors shined as though someone had lathered olive oil on diamonds. The chairs produced a sheen that would easily be mistaken for the vibrant fur of a majestic animal in the wilderness. The kitchen area shone brightest, with the counter capable of imitating the squeaking noises of a mouse should one's finger be dragged atop the surface.

"Is something wrong with that?"

I needed to channel my anger and newfound determination somewhere. As it was, my body wasn't sexually mature, and hence, finding a sexual outlet was a moot point. There was no real form of physical training I could undergo for now, and considering my future plans for dabbling in magic, the physical training would be entirely redundant. Similarly, there was no napalm or Molotov Cocktails available for me to go out and blow shit up.

So, I worked with what I had. A wild, untamed frenzy of cleaning, with the goal of making every single square inch of the corporate hamster-box cubicle that was my home absolutely spotless.

"Well no, not really." She said, tentatively, before raising an eyebrow. "It's just – you go missing all day yesterday and now today you come back and start cleaning the entire apartment?"

I rose an eyebrow. I sincerely hoped she was not implying what I thought she was implying.

"I'm a year old."

"Ah – but one cannot ever be too young to start inviting girls."

Of course it was what she was implying. I rubbed my nose. Other than food, alcohol and money, the only other thing that seemed to be on my mother's mind was sex. Constantly. Repetitively. I could not count the number of times that I had heard her wake up in the middle of the night, when she thought I was fast asleep, and then make her way to the bathroom. The buzzing sound of her favorite tool and the gasps and moans would have given her away easily if her sloppy excuse for stealth hadn't. The woman would and could literally spend hours in there.

The only benefit however, was the fact that she had wizened up to the knowledge that I would not tolerate her 'entertaining' guests over here. I would make it incredibly awkward for all the parties involved by walking into the room with an empty popcorn bag, sitting down, and gesturing for them to continue.

After the first three times, she got the message.

"I'm cleaning the house to level up my Housekeeping skill. It's actually at Level Ten by the way. Tons of man hours tossed into it."

She rolled her eyes at me. "I just wish your 'respect mother' skill would level up along with it."

"It's locked unfortunately. The requirement states that I'd need a mother actually worthy of respect to unlock it."

Eva made an exaggerated clutch at her chest, and I, merely shook my head and ignored her dramatics. Of course, I had bluntly told her to her face that my life was a videogame with skills and stuff. And, just exactly with the same scenario about my reincarnation, she only gave me a blank stare and a large chortle, rubbing my head and calling me adorable.

Technically, I had never lied to my mother. Even when it was for her own good, I would generally use half-truths and misdirection than telling an explicit lie. It was not my fault if she did not choose to believe the truths I told her, however exotic and far-fetched it sounded.

"You know, I am kind of worried about how morbid your imagination is getting," she moved over to the couch, plopping unto it. "I mean, getting kidnapped by a pedophile cultist who wanted to mount you and drain your soul to fuel her magical powers in worship of an interdimensional demon? That's a little out there for you Zacky."

I shrugged.

"You forgot the part where I killed her by double jumping on the back of her head."

Eva rolled her eyes. "Like the Mario Brothers."

"Exactly like that. If you know, the Mario Brothers ever got an M-Rated game."

She sighed. "Somehow, I feel your obsession with adult content is slightly my fault."

I gave her a long, piercing stare.

"Okay, maybe more than just slightly."

The stare continued.

"Fine, fine, it's entirely my fault! Jeez! Stop with the staring already." She tossed a pillow in my direction, which I effortlessly dodged anime-style with a slight tilt of my head.

"You know, this was so not what I was expecting when I became a mother. I was expecting diapers and nappy changes and crying – not someone who makes me feel like a child in comparison."

I rolled my eyes. "I could always take a crap in my pants and suck off your nipples if it'd make you feel better."

"Er – no – actually, I'm good."

I blinked, before turning to her. "That's right – your breasts should technically still be capable of producing milk."

She gave me a weird look. "Yeeees? Why?"

Should I?

Shouldn't I?

Fuck it. I wanted to do it.

A large grin came on my face as I began making groping gestures with my hands.

"Milk time."

Eva gasped, covering her chest.

"You're not coming anywhere near my babies!"

"Woman," I said, deadpan "I am your baby."

"NOOOOO!"

It was a match which I knew that I could not truly win, with her being larger, bigger and stronger, but it was merely the fun of it which I enjoyed. It was utterly strange how I gained satisfaction from groping her breasts – even though my body could not gain any sexual satisfaction, and my mind knew that as long as we were biologically related, anything sexual was out, but I enjoyed grabbing the soft bags of flesh anyway, and listen to her squeal.

It was… fun.

It also helped remind me of what truly mattered.

"Haha! The nipples are mine! VICTORY!"

"Zack honey, I'm off to work!"

My mother, clad in her work clothes, which most people would consider a 'lack of' work clothes, kissed me on the cheek as she sauntered in her high-heels and short skirt towards the door.

It was there, bubbling at the back of my mind, with a triumphant rage like that of a wild and territorial black bear facing a silverback gorilla. The realization, that my mother would be ogled and watched by a bunch of men with boners in their pants, all eagerly licking their lips in order to have sex with her.

Gamer's Mind helped me in forcing it down and putting on a manageable smile.

It was only a matter of time. A matter of time before I changed that.

"I'd been trying to get you a babysitter but…"

I rolled my eyes. "…but we can't afford one anyway and you feel I'm smart enough to stay home on my own."

"Or you'd probably drive the babysitter to question their existence in the grand scheme of the universe."

"That too."

She smiled.

"Stay safe!"

"Shouldn't I be the one telling you that?"

She pouted her lips at me. "Well I'm not the child in our little relationship."

"The ratio of laundry done and meals cooked would disagree with that."

She coughed slightly, her gaze turning away. "Er…"

"Just be back by eight. Anything later and you'll be skipping breakfast."

She gaped at me.

"Zaaaackyyyy-booooo –"

"You'll be late." I said, waving "Now shush and be gone – I need to go pick up your discarded stockings and make the bedroom spotless again."

There was some light-hearted grumbling about obsessively-compulsive and bossy children that didn't have any real heat to it, and the door eventually closed with a silent click. I had waited, to assure with all certainty that she was gone for the evening, before I took in a deep breath.

"Codex Library – Entry: Homo Magi."

Codex Entry – Homo Magi

The Homo Magi are a race of humans who are bestowed with the capacity and the capability to perform great magical deeds and feats. This comes from their ancestry being part Atlantean, as their ancestors possessed the mystical powers and magic of the great civilization of Atlantis, although it should be noted that not all Atlantean's had this ability. After the initial fall and collapse of this civilization before its eventual re-establishment (Required Entry: Atlantis), numerous Atlanteans moved unto the mainland, wherein they married, interbred and reproduced with normal humans who were often unaware as to the exotic heritages of their partners. Through centuries and generations of evolution, the strong capacity for magic left in these long lined descendants eventually set them apart from regular humans who possessed no real affinity for the arcane. Hence, they became known as the Homo Magi.

The Homo Magi are capable of casting spells and using magic in means that would be unavailable to normal humans. Using artefacts, tomes, or items greatly doubles the strength of the Homo Magi's base magic, and they are also capable of casting without the need of a foci, simply by drawing forth from the pool of magic within them.

So I was special? Amusing. It was amusing, the way I felt that being a Homo Magi was no different than being a white-belied ant in a sea of termites. I mused over the information presented to me with a cursory and dismissive glance. Had this been years ago, or maybe even yesterday, I would have been soaking up the lore like a dry sponge in a succubus household during mating season. As it was however –

I really didn't give a shit.

The 'lore' of this world, was no less 'lore' as it was instead, an encyclopedia of things that were dangerous and capable of bringing my mortal peril. Demons, poltergeists, myths, folktales, strange glowy rocks – all of it would be a plot element or another that would have me encounter another one of the sociopathic individuals who believed vigilantism was a valid method of attaining peace. Or worse, the psychopathic ones who were created as a result of aforementioned beliefs.

Still it was information. Information was always useful in one way or another.

"Codex Library – Entry: The Arts of Magic."

Codex Entry – The Arts of Magic

Magic exists. It is real and differentiated from science or from any form of pseudoscience. That is to say, magic is not merely some form of advanced technological process which could be deciphered by beings possessing higher technological prowess. Magic supersedes all forms of laws and conventions, it possesses no rules nor natural place within the universe and is not bound by reality. Feasibly, magic has no limitations, and is generated from outside space and time to go against the fundamental structures of the universe. Magic is unexplainable, impenetrable, arcane, and it simply – is.

Hence, it is for this reason, that there is a burden or a great cost required of those who dabble into magic. The requirement may be physical, mental, or psychological – as magic does not give freely, and in exchange for turning the fundamental laws of the universe into a lump of clay, the user must pay this price.

Ah, here it was. The bullshit factor that usually existed as a means or plot element to prevent wielders of a certain power to use their powers to the fullest and be guilt-free about it. Devil Fruits had water, Tailed Beasts had the potential of going berserk, as did Visoreds – Vizards? – or you know, the Eight Gates and death. Shit, I used two Naruto references – needed an equalizer… er… damn, there was nothing.

Regardless, the point was that this 'price' I would no doubt have to pay would come at some great cost. Most people would brush it aside and say that they had nothing to lose, but I wasn't that stupid or naïve. Often times, it would ironically come back to bite me in the ass and have something to do with my mother, which, was the last thing I wanted to happen.

Bah! Enough of the warning labels!

Now, how exactly did I begin to molest reality like an unwilling schoolgirl?

I could almost picture Reality-chan with a red face, whilst black tentacles representing my magic began to encroach in on her.

I was not insane.

I wasn't.

Really.

Codex Information Updated!

Homo Magi –

As you have now unlocked the secret of your heritage, and now possess knowledge on the arcane, you can begin your journey into the world of the supernatural, by selecting the magical branch you wish to follow.

I rose my eyebrow.

Magical branches?

Codex Entry Unlocked: Magical Divisions

[You may only select one at this time.]

Ritual Magic: With the subcategories of Alchemy, Nature Magic, Blood Magic, Soul Magic and Necromancy, this branch of magic has often been outlawed, and is frowned upon by several in the magical community. Arguably amongst the strongest kind of magic available, ritual magic encompasses voodoo, blood sacrifices, and other ritualistic elements which directly draw power from the blood and souls of the creatures or people sacrificed. These can be used to greatly imbue the magician with strength, stamina, life-force, and enable greater magical power and might. The stronger the quality of the blood and/or soul of the individuals used, the more powerful this magic, and in turn, the caster.

Carnal Magic: Subcategories include Illusion Magic, Healing Magic, Pyromancy, Cryomancy and Telepathy. Fleshly consummation and sex is more than just a physical act, but can be seen as a joining of souls, bodies and energies. Hence, this branch of magic focuses on possessing numerous sexual partners willing or unwilling, from which, after intercourse, the magician drains a portion of their life-force and converts it into highly potent magical power for use. Essentially, humans, animals or any creature capable of sexual intercourse are living batteries to which Carnal Magic draws its energy. The more passionate and primal the sex, the greater the magical potency and power – however, those who the caster has copulated with, will be drained, physically, emotionally, and sexually, not unlike the unwitting prey of a vampire.

Patron Magic: Possessing as many subdivisions as there are deities, gods, beliefs and cosmic beings, Patron Magic enables the caster to gain access to far more powerful means of spellcasting by merely pledging their eternal soul to a god, deity, pantheon, religion, or cosmic being. Alternatively, making pacts with demons or angels will gain access to Patron magic, at the small price of your eternal soul and subservience to your benefactor.

Artifact Magic: A less powerful, but similarly less costly form of ritual magic, where rituals are replaced with artifacts of power or influence. Often not considered a 'true' form of magic, and often used by non-Homo Magi, this form of magic centers around the use of spell books, tomes, trinkets, and other magically imbued items in order to cast spells and perform various feats. Often considered one of the weakest forms of magic, except in rare cases where the Artifacts are (Legendary), in which, it can become the strongest.

Inverse Mantra Magic: [LOCKED] Requires: Level 25 or higher, Maxed Reputation with a member of the Zatara Magic Family.

Dimensional Magic: [LOCKED] Requires: Level 50 or higher, Knowledge and Access to alternate dimensions.

Chaos Magic: [LOCKED] Requires: Level 70 or higher, title of "Lord of Chaos"

Order Magic: [LOCKED] Requires: Level 70 or higher, title of "Lord of Order"

Cosmic Magic: [LOCKED] Requires: Level 100 or higher, title of 'Celestial Being'.

The Endless Magic: [LOCKED] Requires: ? ? ?

The Source Magic: [LOCKED] Requires: ? ? ?

The Presence Magic: [LOCKED] Requires: ? ? ?

Ignoring all of the locked options, particularly the last three which sent a shiver down my spine of which I could not tell was trepidation, excitement, or fear.

Or perhaps the phantom touches of an omnipotent, omnipresent, and omniscient being deciding I was worthy of amusing them.

Yeah… let it be said that I best not give the beings any reason to invest interest in me – if they already hadn't.

I was just… yeah… gonna ignore that.

Endless, Presence, Source… yup. Just ignoring that. There was nothing to see there. Nothing at all.

Gluing my eyes to the top of the list, I began to recount my available options as it was. Either to become an occultist serial killer, a sexual vampire, to forfeit my humanity and become a demon, or to sell my eternal soul to a god or higher being.

Talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place.

I sighed.

The 'Artifact Magic' wasn't even a consideration for me, unless I somehow stumbled upon a rare treasure box containing legendary loot like I was Jack-fucking-Sparrow with an armada of leprechauns holding lucky coins, it was something that could not truly be used. The 'Patron Magic' didn't seem like such a bad idea, but, unfortunately, I was an individual who enjoyed freedom. Choosing that would mean forever listening to voices telling me what I could and couldn't do, what I should or shouldn't do, or forcing me to do what I did or didn't want to do. I'd become a glorified puppet for some higher being or figure, dancing around to the tunes without a choice, because, without them, I'd be powerless.

Yeah – fuck no.

The thought of having to 'rely' on others for strength was something I personally abhorred. It had been one of the reasons I had gotten into fights, after I brought up the obvious fact that Naru-Jesus relied far too much on the strengths of others, and without Kurama's help, he'd have died in the first five episodes. Had a problem you can't face? Call up the big guy – he's got your back. Thankfully, Jesuto got my respect when he actually fought and beat the fox in order to use said power.

Hence, if I wanted power, I wanted it to be achieved and attained on my own terms – with my own sweat and blood, and not handed to me down like a reluctant father paying child support. The "Ritual Magic" would be magic and power I would have gained through my own means, through dulling my sense of decency and morality as I sacrificed other human beings to advance myself forward – a 'survival of the fittest' scenario where the weak where gobbled up by the strong.

The Carnal Magic also worked along that same line, whereas the Artifact Magic would make me useless and powerless the second the artifacts were taken out of my hands. It would not be 'true' strength.

So, it came down to the battle between the two.

Ritual Magic, or Carnal Magic?

Murder and Mutilation, or Sexual harassment and assault?

Reality-chan came knocking.

Hmm… Reality-chan. Someone needed to anthropomorphize that asap just so I could literally give her the middle finger and slam my cock down her arse.

The Carnal Magic was an enticing concept, but not truly. The subdivisions displayed under it, ability to control fire, ice, water and illusions – none of that was special. How many people could control fire in this world? It was pyromaniac heaven here. How many people could control ice? Captain Freeze, Killer Cold, and Mr. Frost – and those were just the popular ones.

Even the option for telepathy was neither novel nor was it seemingly worth it, considering the vast number of heroes and villains who had trained their minds to become immune to such tricks. I could just picture trying to read Batman's mind and getting the equivalent of cable advertising static. The only real benefit to the Carnlan Magic would be the healing magic, but I felt that I would find a way to get around that.

Having sex all the time sounded great – but I could do that without having carnal magic. Eventually.

I hoped.

Er – hem. Instead, the Ritual Magic drew my attention. Necromancy, Soul Magic, Blood Magic, Nature Magic, and honest-to-god Alchemy.

I didn't know if this was the same sort of Alchemy used in my favorite series featuring two blond brothers, and my first ever desire to kill the worst father in history, but I didn't need to know. All I knew, was that at one point, I would be turning rocks into diamonds, and that said diamonds would be converted into the quid I would need to get out of the hellhole that was Gotham City.

You have selected the division – Ritual Magic.

Are you certain of this choice?

(Yes)

(No)

I slammed my hand on the response.

Warning – You will not be able to change this choice anytime in the foreseeable future.

Warning – Selecting this division may cause certain characters to react unfavorably with you.

Warning – Selecting this division may permanently bar your access to certain missions and quests.

Are you certain you wish to proceed?

(Yes)

(No)

Yeah, yeah. I get it – people will be offended. Jesus. Just get over with it already.

You have selected the Magical Division – Ritual Magic!

Your Magical Cost is ?

New Skill Trees Unlocked!

Alchemy Skill Tree

Beginner Alchemic Rituals (Passive) Lv. 1!

Beginner Alteration (Active) Lv. 1!

Beginner Conjuration (Active) Lv. 1!

Beginner Enchantment (Active) Lv. 1!

Nature Magic Skill Tree

Beginner Nature Rituals (Passive) Lv. 1!

Lesser Summon Grass (Active) Lv. 1!

Lesser Summon Pebbles (Active) Lv. 1!

Lesser Summon Leaves (Active) Lv. 1!

Lesser Summon Vines (Active) Lv. 1!

Beginner Animal Discourse (Active) Lv. 1!

Beginner Animal Manipulation (Active) Lv. 1!

Blood Magic Skill Tree

Beginner Blood Rituals (Passive) Lv. 1!

Lesser Blood Drain (Active) Lv. 1!

Soul Magic Skill Tree

Beginner Soul Rituals (Passive) Lv. 1!

Lesser Astral Projection (Active) Lv. 1!

Lesser Body Possession (Active) Lv. 1!

Lesser Voodoo (Active) Lv. 1!

Necromancy Skill Tree

Beginner Necromantic Rituals (Passive) Lv. 1!

Lesser Soul Drain (Active) Lv. 1!

Lesser Create Undead (Active) Lv. 1!

Lesser Reanimate Corpse (Active) Lv. 1!

Those were a lot of skills.

A lot.

It was not the realization of my ability to now turn reality into my moaning bitch that gave me pause or made me giddy, however, instead, it was the sudden charge of energy that completely swept me up. I could feel power humming softly on the fringes of my skin, roaring and screeching and begging to be unleashed towards the outskirts.

Due to embracing your magical heritage, your available Mana Points has significantly increased!

You now have 1000 Mana Points!

Note: Although certain spells require the conduit of magic from your mana in order to cast, this can however be bypassed, and you can cast spells endlessly without using Mana, via finding alternate means of power. Alternate means could include rituals, items and artefacts, or blood, souls and people.

Note: Spells are often especially effective if there is a foci involved. Additionally, the Mana cost is greatly reduced and the effectiveness is increased tenfold if the foci is a personal belonging or artefact or even biological matter (such as hair or nail clippings) of the intended target(s).

Huh. I suppose it made sense. I could not for the life of me remember a time when any magician in this world had failed to cast a spell because they lacked the Mana to do so – that would just be honestly embarrassing, like the magical equivalent of being unable to get it up. They could be lacking the power (size) or the means (tool), but never the Mana – which meant that they relied on external sources for their magic.

Phallic symbolism for magic aside, I already had plans to work around any 'limitations' imposed by magic, so that was not necessarily going to be an issue.

Still, with so many options now available to me, the most important question was simple.

Which one do I work on first?

I was a cheater.

"She said what? Oh no she didn't! Oh – she did? Oh she better not have!"

Ignoring the urge to roll my eyes at the trite dialogue that would not be out of place in the casting requirements of an ethnic stereotype, I shuddered at the night wind, and continued to stalk my new target/test subject.

The reason why I claimed to be a cheater, was due to one simple realization –

Every single one of my magical skills/spells were Imagination Skills.

Meaning, technically, any single one of them could be maxed out instantly under the right circumstances.

I wasn't an idiot, or at least, I did not believe myself to be one. Hence, I found myself standing on the balcony of the apartment complex opposite mine, staring into a room. On the inside, a teenage girl lay, unaware of my presence, eagerly chatting away on her phone in a manner with her legs swinging in the air like it had been rehearsed for Disney-teen drama. Tamara was her name, a sixteen year old high school student of Gargoyle High, the non-posh, non-rich, non-snobby counter to the elite and fashionable Gotham Academy.

As it was, I held no judicious ill will for Judy. I just did not care about her existence in one way or another. And unfortunately, the fact that she seemed both dull-witted and dim-minded for my purposes was just an extra tick mark in my reasons as to why I had picked her as my target. Hey – social Darwinism declared that it was merely survival of the fittest for the weak to be consumed by the strong and sucky as it was, that was the unforgiving nature of Gotham.

I took a potted plant from her window. It was a foci. A weak foci, but a foci no less. With that in mind, I turned my attention to the girl inside, drawing up my Mana and focusing.

"Lesser Body Possession."

To explain the sensation of your body losing all illusions of corporeality and your soul lunging forward at break neck speeds was almost impossible. It was almost as though someone had decided to slam you with the full force of a train a few seconds before reaching sexual orgasm. Painful in so many ways, but none more so than the deprived access to finishing.

I could the very instant I slammed my soul into her body –

And this was why I was a cheater.

The rules of Body Possession were simple – the stronger the will of the person being possessed, the harder the possession, and it was a dominant battle of minds and of willpower for the control of the body.

Except –

Gamer's Mind Activated.

Yeah… you can probably see where I'm going with this. Gamer's Mind had its sole purpose being to purge out any negative influences that could damage my mind or psyche. Unfortunately for poor Tamara, her consciousness and mind was considered a damaging force.

With a pitiable screech of horror and confusion, I could feel the weak and feeble consciousness of the girl forcefully get shoved into the deepest, darkest recesses and pits of her own mind as I immediately took and assumed full control of her body.

Lesser Body Possession has gone up by 1!

Lesser Body Possession has gone up by 1!

Lesser Body Possession has gone up by 1!

Lesser Body Possession has gone up by 1!

On and on it went, until finally –

Lesser Body Possession has been Maxed Out!

Lesser Body Possession has upgraded to Intermediate Body Possession!

And then –

Intermediate Body Possession has Maxed Out!

Intermediate Body Possession has been upgraded to Greater Body Possession!

Greater Body Possession has reached level 50!

BOO FUCKING YEAH BITCH!

I pumped my fist into the air and resisted the urge to begin doing victory dances.

Lesser Body Possession was meant to only work failingly on some lesser animals or beasts, or at best, work on babies and infants. Except, I had skipped ahead of the evolutionary ladder, and used the skill on a fully sentient teenager, albeit with laughable levels of willpower and mental prowess.

I blinked – Oh?

The skills evolution came with some rather nifty upgrades. Motor controls of the body was now included in the possession package, and there was no feeling of awkwardness that came with the sudden height boost and increased reach. Additionally, recollection of the person's last twenty-four hours prior to possession also became available to me, which just had so many interesting uses.

Still, the girl's body was a little bit stiff for my liking, and the absence of something between my legs was somewhat discomforting, but it was not a serious hindrance.

The two puffy balloons on my chest however, were.

I gave them a slight, experimental squeeze.

Was it wrong to be aroused by that?

Probably.

Did I care?

Not one bit.

Because they were boobies. And they were soft.

And… I was finally in a body that was mature enough to comprehend sexual arousal. Curiosity alongside with the blatant need to use this opportunity overcame me.

When else would I get to masturbate as a girl?

"Wait… is this gay?"

I paused.

"Fuck. Doesn't matter."

Panties to ankles. Fingers to crotch.

So that's what it feels like when women are aroused? Oh… yeah.

I am not insane.

No, really.

Believe me.