Risk It All: 2-7 Offsuit (ch. 3) (Patreon)

"You can do it, just a little more," my physical therapist -- Alice -- coached me as I spun the pedals in my hands, filling the room with the sound of shifting sand. Or at least I'm assuming it was sand. My biceps burned with effort, and my shirt was plastered to my body because it was completely soaked through with sweat. It dripped down my face, into my eyes, and despite my best attempts, my breathing came in and out as erratic pants and gasps for air.

Despite that, I spun the pedals, driven by two things -- first was the visceral rejection that spinning a wheel for fifteen minutes had me acting like I had ran across the country. The second was reward.

"And… time!"Alice declared, clocking her stopwatch, but I just offered a small shake of my head as I continued to spin the pedals, choosing to speed up instead of slowing down. Mostly because I knew that time was now off the essence. "Ren, you have to pace yourself. I know you want to get back to where you were, but you could set yourself back by being reckless." She tried to gently make me stop.

I spun the pedals, my eyes fixated to my stat screen, my breathing growing harsher-

Through diligence, you have gained +1 Endurance points.

I smiled before I stopped pedaling, my arms throbbing with exertion. My chest heaved, rising and falling as I gulped down air, my floppy hair getting in my eyes. I didn't care for it, but there was no easy way to get a haircut in the hospital. Or maybe there was and I just didn't know because it hadn't annoyed me enough to mention it to anyone.

Even still, I only had eyes for my stat screen.

Ren Song

Rank: No Name

Prestige: 9

Strength: 10

Perception: 33

Endurance: 10

Charisma: 5

Intelligence: 35

Agility: 6

Luck: 2

My Endurance had finally broken the double digits. Everything else was lagging behind except for Strength, but out of all the physical stats, Endurance was currently the most important. Getting more of it would in turn allow me more time to get points in other stats before collapsing into exhaustion.

"Ren…" Alice began, giving me a warning look.

"Sorry," I gasped out, getting a handle on my breathing. "I set my own goal -- ten minutes without a break," I told her, and I could see her swallow a rebuke. I had absolutely no clue if Alice was a good physical therapist, but she was nice. Setting my own goals had been her idea.

She sighed, but she plastered a smile on her face, "That's good to hear. You've been doing a great job, Ren. I just don't want you to undo your progress by overdoing it," she reminded me. It wasn't the first time I had heard her say as much. She remained friendly throughout, but it was becoming increasingly clear that she was getting sick of repeating herself because I kept ignoring her.

I just nodded, not offering any verbal agreement because I intended to do the exact same thing tomorrow. Alice handed me a water bottle, and I took in a deep gulp from it, only realizing how thirsty I was when the cool liquid raced down my throat.

Your Daily Quest has been completed!

Reward: 1 Prestige Point.

"Can I try walking back with my crutches?" I asked Alice, looking at her when she went to help me into my wheelchair. Alice paused, looking at me like she didn't know how to break the bad news to me.

"Ren… it's barely been more than a week since you've woken up. Walking… it's going to take you a little bit, okay?" She tried not to sound discouraging, and I had to swallow a response.

It had only been ten days since I woke up from my coma. Those ten days were filled with nothing by physical therapy and rest. Most of which was spent in a bed. A bed that I've spent the past six months in. I could have never imagined how luxurious being able to walk was until I found myself too weak to support my own depressingly light weight. It was a luxury that I wanted back. Desperately.

Instead of pressing the matter, I just sighed and nodded. Just not for the reasons that Alice would likely assume. In the end, I was making good progress. Ten days of constant effort and I was about halfway to being considered average, meaning I was only a good handful of points from being able to move around again. My physical therapy was supposed to last a year. I was scheduled to be able to walk in another six months, not days.

My ability was real. It wasn't a hallucination. I was feeling the evidence of it. A few more points and I would be able to walk again.

And it was only recently that it started to sink in how much that would make me stand out.

"Don't look so down! You're doing fantastic! You just have to keep motivated. Stick to your schedule and you'll be out and about in no time," Alice encouraged, before she helped me into the wheelchair and she started pushing me back to my room. She was full of little encouragements like that.

I had no clue what my ability was, I thought, and not for the first time. The blood tests had come back negative for the metagene, confirming that wasn't the culprit. Superheroes had been a growing thing for a few years now with Superman, the Flash, Wonder Woman -- and the Justice League as a whole, as well as the people they fought. However, it was only recently that Star Labs announced the cause for superpowers -- the metagene.

Which I tested negative for. So, unless those two bullets I took to the head were magical bullets that gave me superpowers, something else was going on here. But, for now, I had no clue what. What I did know was that the fact I had been tested for it meant that other people had noticed my unusual recovery.

Regardless, Alice rolled me to my room. A suite. One that was way out of my family's price range. All paid for by an uncle that I didn't even know existed a week earlier. One that neither my Mom nor Dad would say so much a word about. The latter mostly because he hadn't visited since I woke up, and my Mom… just wouldn't answer.

I swallowed another sigh as we reached my room -- a nice view of the city, my own bathroom that came with a sit-in shower. Alice rolled me inside before leaving to stand outside the door, leaving me to shower off with a little dignity.

Looking down at my legs, my lips thinned. Lifting up with my arms, I started to push myself out of the wheelchair. Using a handrail in the bathroom to help support my weight, I found myself standing for the first time in over six months. And for the first time, I saw myself in a mirror hanging above a sink.

My face was as usual set in a scowl. My skin had a natural darker hue to it, but because I hadn't seen the sun in so long, my skin had a taken on a ghostly appearance. My black hair was longer than it had ever been before; my bangs brushing my eyebrows while everything else was brushing the back of my neck or ears. Most of the time, I thought I was decent-looking. I could even be handsome with a bit of effort and on a good day. Looking at myself now? I looked sick and tired. Sunken eyes, too pale skin, and just a bit too skinny.

Pushing my hair up to reveal two scars on my forehead I inspected the two white spots. One that messed up my hairline a bit, while the second was more towards my ear. They weren't as neat and round as I expected. More jagged and rough in shape. Shards of skull pierced the skin? The bullet that messed up my hairline, I could see where it had skidded across my forehead before punching through. No more than half an inch, just enough to see that I was as hard-headed as I thought I was.

Looking away, I reached out to the shower and leaned heavily on the handrail. My legs didn't feel like they were there, in a way. Like the strength to support me was long gone. Pressing my lips into a thin line, I took a determined step forward and just about fell over for my efforts.

"Fuck," I cursed to myself, knowing that I wasn't quite there yet. Unless… No… no, I shouldn't invest the points in strength. Endurance was currently more important, however annoying my current predicament was. With the taste of defeat on my tongue, I sat back down in the wheelchair, stripped off my sweat-soaked clothes, then wheeled myself into the shower and took a seat on the chair inside. A moment later, a torrent of hot water washed over me, rinsing away the sweat.

Closing my eyes, I started to clean myself, only to pause when I saw a window appear.

Go-Getter! You have received a reward for your diligence in gaining 10 Prestige Points and over 10 stat points!

You have received a free roll!

"A hidden quest?" I muttered, looking at the screen before accepting my free roll. That was useful to know. My ability really did have ways to award progress. That was perfect, really. So far, I had gained a total of twenty Prestige, and I was capable of gaining another ten if I went all-in with the ten points that I had, which would put me at a total of thirty. Seventy more and I would gain access to the market, which would let me sell my skill and I could distribute the points to my stats.

However, instead of a machine in front of me, I saw a table. Twenty cards on its surface -- the game makeup was similar to the one before. Sixteen black cards, four white cards, and two purple cards. Each bearing a symbol -- triangles, squares, circles, diamonds and so on.

Instructions: Find all the matching cards in the allowed time limit of 1 minute. Bet on the set of cards that you believe will be the last matching pair. You can only flip one card over at a time.

So, a memory game rather than a timing one? And it had a time limit too. A rather small one, too.

I smiled ever so slightly. If I could memorize card probabilities, then this was no problem. So I pressed on the purple card and dumped the ten points that I had on it. Maybe I could get another expensive skill to sell on the market. I confirmed my choice, and I didn't so much as blink as the cards rearranged themselves on the table, shuffling about while they remained face up. A second later, they flipped upside down, displaying identical backs.

The game began.

The memorization game was less about memorization and more about math. The former did have a key part, just less than one would expect in a game like this. Because, in the end, it was less about memorizing the individual card locations, and more about memorizing the card locations when compared to a more distinct card -- like the four whites and two purple cards. A black card with a circle on it? The match card would be one card up and three left from the white card with a square on it.

You used the distinct cards to triangulate the locations of the more prominent and less distinct cards, and with each pair eliminated, it just got easier.

That wasn't to say that it was easy in itself, but it was possible for anyone. The biggest hurdles were panic and the urge to rush -- the time limit added a sense of urgency, which made you want to rush through it, which made you make mistakes. Get over that, then memorizing the cards was easy. You just had to break it up into smaller bites.

With fifteen seconds left on the clock, I flipped over the last two cards -- both purple with a triangle on them.

Congratulations! You have doubled your Prestige points! You now have 20! Your reward is…

Soul-Crushing Strike

T3R5

A devastating blow made for the sole purpose of shattering an enemy’s bones, rendering all blocks useless.

The name comes from how many martial artists' souls have been crushed with a single blow, thus ending their careers and dreams of becoming masters.

As soon as I read the words, I felt what I could only describe as a pinch in my brain. I let out a hiss, clenching my eyes shut, but when I opened them, I…

I looked down at my hand as if I had never seen it before. I made an experimental fist a few times, clenching and unclenching my hand. I… I had been in a few fights in my life. It was just part of growing up in Gotham. I never really considered myself a good fighter or anything, but I thought I knew how to throw a punch. Now, with the knowledge in my mind as I settled on closing my hands into a fist… I realized I hadn't known the first thing about throwing a real punch.

"Security-!" I heard someone shout from the other side of the door, snapping me out of my thoughts. I looked over just in time to see the door shake, a thump echoing out. Out of reflex, I went to get up, only to collapse onto the shower floor, and that was the only reason I stayed alive. A second later, a bullet tore through the cheap door, followed by a dozen more.

Glass rained down on me, each bullet impacting the plastic behind me, not far off from where I would have been seated. I covered my head with my hands, each bullet sounding like a clap of thunder to my ears.

I had almost died.

Someone was here to kill me.

Black Mask.

It was impossible to describe the feeling that swelled up in my chest. The only word that came close was hate. Ice cold hate. He sent someone to kill me after he failed to do it himself. After a week, I dared to hope that he would just leave it alone, but that was a vain hope. That much was apparent.

The gunshots stopped for a moment, before I heard the doorknob jostle. The assassin was trying to get in.

My options were so limited that they were practically nonexistent. The one play that I had was the one I went with -- the twenty Prestige points I just gained were put into Strength, bringing me up to 12. It felt like a jolt of electricity shocked every muscle in my body, but I barely noticed it with the surge of adrenaline in my veins. Before I really understood what was happening, I was on my feet, rushing the door the same moment that the assassin kicked it down.

I wish I could say that I had planned to tackle him, but after six months, it was like I had forgotten how to walk. I had managed to take a few steps, cutting my feet up on the broken glass, and my momentum carried me into the guy. Despite being bone-thin, I managed to tackle the guy to the floor, sending us skidding a good foot.

Pushing myself up, I looked into his wide green eyes. My right hand clenched into a fist, and I slammed it into his face. His head snapped to the side, a loud bang echoing in my ears, but I barely heard it. Rotting and broken teeth flew free of his mouth along with a jet of blood, his jaw set at an unnatural angle.

Snarling, I raised my fist to punch him again, only this time I paused. I smelled garbage. The stench caught me so off guard that I hesitated, and that moment of hesitation let me look at the guy. Wispy gray hair, deep wrinkles around his eyes, a patchy beard -- his clothing looked and smelled like he had just pulled them out of a dumpster.

He was not what I imagined an assassin would look like.

"Dear God!" I heard someone shout, making me look over. To my surprise, they weren't looking at me or the assassin, rather something behind me. My heart went still as I looked, and it fell to my stomach as I saw Alice laying on the ground, her shirt soaked with blood.

The doctors rushed to her side, but there was no point.

She was already dead.

…

The police came after that, and so did my parents. The police confirmed what I already knew -- the assassin had been sent by Black Mask. A homeless man that was given a thousand bucks and a gun, with a promise for more after he took me out. It was the MO of Black Mask.

"I didn't see anything," I told Rene Moiyota, sticking to my story as I laid down in a new bed after… after Alice had been murdered in my old room. "I don't know anything. I can't help you." My words were clipped, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw my parents standing together.

Rene pinned a look at me, "Alice Ferdian is dead, Ren. A young woman murdered in an attempt on your life. And you didn't see anything?" She pressed, doubting me because it was my story last time. And it was this time, even if it was the truth. It was fair, I guess.

I knew that. I… to be honest, I hadn't particularly liked Alice. There wasn't even a good reason for it. Her optimism was grating to me, because I decided to be an asshole because I couldn't walk, and because I had missed out on six months of my life, and she... The assassin had been meant for me. She shouldn't have gotten in the way. She shouldn't have died.

It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. And never before had that fact been more apparent.

"Maybe," I started, "I might have seen something, if you can look me in the eyes and promise me that Black Mask will go down. For good. That he won't get out of prison ever again. That there's no danger of retaliation by him or his mob." I bit the words out, and I knew I should at least try to be diplomatic. Reasonable. I shouldn't be lashing out. But I was.

Because Rene looked away. She knew she couldn't. The track record spoke for itself. Black Mask had been taken to trial twice and both times he had been found not guilty. Everyone knew why. Especially when key witnesses were either found dead, or suddenly withdrew their testimonies. I had no reason to believe that the third time would be the charm, or that Black Mask would suddenly be powerless the moment he entered a cell.

All it would take is a phone call. A message slipped to a bribed guard. An order to kill me and my family for putting him behind bars, and that time, I'm guessing he would hire someone more professional than a bum off the street.

"You want to help me? Then get in contact with Black Mask and tell him that. I didn't see or hear shit," I snapped at the two detectives. It felt wrong and the taste of defeat was bitter. It felt like… it felt like I was letting him get away with it. "So stop coming after me."

Harvey sighed, "It doesn't work like that, kid," he said, looking almost remorseful. "You're just a loose end to him that needs tying off."

My hands curled into fists -- he was right. I knew that. This… this was entirely my fault. I was the one that decided to go to the back room. If I had known it would have led to someone dying to protect me, or put the lives of my parents in danger… I regretted it. More than words could ever say.

I trapped myself in a no-win scenario. Black Mask was already coming after me. Maybe, by not talking after he just tried to kill me, it would convince him that my silence was golden. Or maybe it wouldn't. If I talked, then he would come after my family hard. And I had no way of knowing who to trust. I would be putting the lives of me and my family in the hands of strangers that could be on Black Mask's payroll.

"I can't help you," I spoke, looking between the two of them. "Sorry."

Their disappointment was palpable, but they didn't seem surprised. They seemed to expect it, if anything. Rene offered a nod before she set a card on the plastic table. "If you change your mind," she offered, before the two of them left. I had expected them to leverage my underage gambling against me… so maybe they were good detectives. I just couldn't trust them.

A quest has been created:

Taking Matters Into Your Own Hands.

The only way to make sure Black Mask can't attack your family is if you deal with him yourself. Dismantle his operations and defeat Black Mask.

Reward: 1000 Prestige, 1 item roll.

Additional rewards: 10 prestige for each enemy defeated due to Rank: No Name.

Yeah… that sounds about right. I was going to make Black Mask wish that he had killed me the first time around.

…

The story had made the news. A freshly woken coma patient taking down an armed assassin was interesting enough to garner some clicks on news sites. That fame, in turn, gave me fifty Prestige to work with. I was tempted to immediately dump it into my stats, but I held off. At the moment, if I got another free roll, then I would gain a hundred points if I risked it all.

The story itself was just a blimp, and quickly forgotten when Poison Ivy attacked a chemical plant. So, I couldn't expect to gain any more fame from it. Which left me with my Daily Quest to complete my physical therapy.

After the assassination attempt, there was nothing. Mom stayed at the hospital, and Dad already lived at work, so he was always surrounded by people. I wanted to think that it meant that he had gotten my message and he was backing off, but I couldn't. Even after another week passed, my guard refused to slip. Simply because he had waited a week the first time.

Ren Song

Rank: No Name

Prestige: 57

Strength: 20

Perception: 35

Endurance: 17

Charisma: 6

Intelligence: 35

Agility: 21

Luck: 2

“Your room is on the left, Ren,” Mom told me as we stepped inside a new apartment in Chinatown proper -- I doubt that there was anyone that so much as spoke a word of English in the rest of the building. The apartment itself was decent enough. Smaller, but nicer than our last. Given the circumstances, Dad had decided it would be best if we moved, and dipping into my saving that I had gathered over a year of gambling, we were able to get a decent place.

My room was small. Just large enough to fit a single bed and a desk. My parents got the master bedroom, which was a bit larger. Still, the place was cramped for the price tag. It was just worth it for the added layer of protection.

It was tempting to fall face-first into my bed and sleep the day away. To just… forget about it all. To let my guard drop all the way down. But I couldn’t. We had left the hospital and Black Mask… there was no way to know if he would leave us alone. He waited a week after I woke up for this first attempt. He could wait a month for his next. Me keeping my mouth shut wasn’t a sure enough thing to make sure that he didn’t come after us. It was just my best shot, because talking to the cops would ensure that he did.

I heard footsteps behind me, before I felt my Mom wrap her arms around my waist, hugging me from behind. I wasn’t particularly tall, but she was only just barely able to rest her head between my shoulder blades. “It’ll all be okay, Ren,” she told me as if sensing my anxiety. "Everything will go back to normal. You'll go back to school, hang out with friends… you don't have to worry about a thing."

I wished I could believe that, but I couldn't.

"You sound so sure," I remarked, taking in a deep breath. I wish I could be so confident, but there was just this lagging tension in the back of my mind, constantly aware that a Black Mask goon could appear from nowhere and just start shooting. At any time. And the next time I let my guard down, it could be Dad or Mom that died.

"Because I am," Mom responded, confident. "So, for now, get back in the swing of things. It's still summer, so enjoy it before you have to go back to school." It was July 1st, so I still had a month and a half of summer left. It was tempting, but reality reasserted itself.

Mom let go of me before she gave me a push inside the room. "Settle in. Dinner should be ready in a little bit."

I found myself standing in the unfamiliar room, looking down at my hands. A week later, and I could still feel the impact. Curling one hand into a fist, I threw a punch that hit empty air. Yet, I still heard a bang the moment I completed the punch.

"What was that?" Mom questioned, making me frown.

"I dropped a book," I lied as I looked down at my clenched fist. That was a Soul-Crushing Strike. I didn't have much of a chance to practice the attack since Mom rarely left my side after the assassination attempt. What was that bang? It wasn't like I was throwing a punch faster than the speed of sound.

Shaking my head, I unclenched my fist.

"I can't be wasting time," I muttered to myself. My ability gave me an edge, one that I had proven was real, even if there was no proper explanation for it. However, the mysteriousness of the ability didn't help me either. Simply put, I had absolutely no clue what my limit was.

Currently, I was below average in every physical stat, but how high could I raise them? Did I top out at ten times stronger than a normal human? A hundred? A thousand? Did I have a limit at all? Could I be as strong as Superman? I didn't know, and I couldn't know until I hit some kind of stat cap, if I ever did.

All of which was fantastic, but it didn't help me with my current situation. It didn't matter if I could be as strong as Superman in the future if I died today for being a weakling. Potential didn't matter unless it was realized.

"How can I earn Prestige faster?" I spoke aloud, expecting the window that came up. It wasn't the first time that I've seen it before.

Tutorial: Prestige represents fame, ergo, becoming famous is the best way to earn passive Prestige generation. The more people that know you, and the more reasons they have to know you, the better.

Active Prestige gains come through quests and rewards.

Made sense, but how did quest generation work? My daily physical therapy was still in effect despite me reaching a point that I didn't really need it anymore. The quest to take down Black Mask also appeared out of nowhere. Would I have gotten a different quest if I had gone with the cops? Maybe? Or...

I leaned forward, frowning to myself. Defeating Black Mask was the end goal, but for now, I needed stepping stones. Batman and Robin had been clashing against Black Mask for years -- if they hadn't taken the guy down, then my chances of doing so were incredibly slim. At least, in my current form. I needed…

A Quest has been created!

Getting Blooded

Defeat one enemy in battle

Reward: 5 Prestige.

And there it was. It seemed my desires influenced the quest creation, but there did seem to be some check to determine what qualified as a quest or not. Conflict of some kind. And some level of difficulty, since I couldn't give myself a quest to stand up and walk across the room. Some quests seemed to preexist and I would only know about them after I completed them. It also didn't seem like I could influence the reward amount.

Still, it was a good quest that would put me a little closer to where I needed to be.

All that was left was completing it. Meaning I had to go outside, find someone, and beat them up. With my Soul-Crushing Strike.

Maybe it was best that I held onto Thou Shall Not Kill. At least until I get some other skills under my belt.

"Ren, dinner is ready," Mom informed, breaking me out of my thoughts, and I headed to the kitchen. Mom might not be Chinese, but she cooked like she was. Fried rice soaked in teriyaki sauce, cooked fish, and a helping of grilled vegetables. It would be the first decent meal that I had in months, and it tasted better than I could have possibly imagined.

However, I struggled to enjoy it fully. A nagging thought in the back of my mind. A wrinkle in my plan to grow stronger to be able to protect my parents if Black Mask ever did show his face. What it would take for me to grow stronger.

I was going to attack people. Beat them up. Shatter their bones just like I did to the jaw of the guy that murdered Alice.

I wasn't sure I had that in me. If it was Black Mask, I could do it without a thought, but if it was some random person?

My gaze flickered to Mom's smiling face, wondering what she would say if she knew what I was planning. The tension still lingered from my real source of income, even if she said that she was fine that it happened, so long as I stopped.

The answer was obvious. She'd be furious.

But I'd rather her be furious than dead. Twice… twice, I've nearly died and was only saved by circumstance. If Black Mask used a higher caliber bullet, then I'd be dead. If I didn't have my ability, then I'd be dead. If Alice hadn't waited on the other side of the door to give more heartfelt advice, then I'd be dead. If anything went slightly differently than it had, I'd be dead.

Alice did die.

Just like Black Mask said -- Wrong place, wrong time. That's how fragile a human life was. That's all it took to snuff a life out.

I chewed on some rice thoughtfully, looking down at my meal.

Tonight. I would go out tonight, I decided.

People were so incredibly fragile. So easily snuffed out. I didn’t know the limits of my newfound ability… but there was only one way to find out.