Risk It All: Hedging Bets (ch. 5) (Patreon)

There were two types of Prestige, I found. There was true Prestige, then there were Prestige Points. The latter was merely a token currency for me to earn and spend. It was something that I had noticed when I performed the rolls that I bought against the rolls that I earned. It more or less confirmed that the Prestige I received through quests and rewards were points that I was retroactively earning -- they were points that I would earn in the future laid out in a trail to lead me to that future.

My system was based on fame. The more people knew about my existence, the more true Prestige I earned. The more people that knew about me, the higher my Rank would go. However, if I earned a hundred thousand points from gambling or selling a skill, a hundred thousand people didn't suddenly know who I was. It didn't count towards the Prestige requirement needed for me to increase my Rank.

Thus, I dubbed it False Prestige. It was just a currency for me to buy stuff with or invest in my stats. True Prestige was what went into my counter and went up when more people knew about me.

Which sucked. A lot.

"Next Rank is Redshirt, huh?" I questioned, looking at the rank -- 5000 Prestige needed to reach it. That video of me had gotten around fifty thousand views in the three days that it had circulated, but I'm pretty sure half of them were just me checking it at this point. But, it did teach me something.

I had woken up to 250 points, but over the past three days, I earned an additional 50 points passively. It tapered off on the third day, when interest had died off and newer crime videos caught people's attention. Meaning that I had gained 300 points of passive Prestige, bringing my total to 353.

The last three points came from my Daily Quest -- fifty sit-ups, fifty push-ups, twenty-five squats, and a half-mile of cardio.

At the moment my feet were wedged under my desk, keeping me still as I worked through the sit-ups. It was calling itself my daily workout rather than physical therapy now. My core ached and I felt a pinching in my side, but I ignored it and continued with the sit-ups, even if I did cheat a bit with my hands, cupping the back of my head to push myself up a bit, so it wasn't pure core strength. Each time I rose, I got a view of a few screens displayed -- the market that had stolen my attention for the past few days.

A plan had started to form in the back of my mind, slowly cooking over the past few days as I worked on my physical stats. It was for that reason I found myself looking at the equipment section in the market -- specifically, the camera section. There was a massive variety of them -- disposable, high tech, huge and small… lastly, hidden cameras. Their cost reflected the quality, or so I hoped, but if found myself drawn to the hidden cameras.

"Three hundred points," I muttered, eyeing one camera in particular. What I needed was a good video camera, but I needed it to be hands-free. Additionally, I couldn't set it up in advance on account of the fact that I had no idea when a crime would take place, or where. So, it needed to be something that I could take on the go and set up on the fly. That narrowed my selection to drones, but a drone would also stand out because of the noise.

The best pick that I could afford…

"It's worth it," I told myself, clicking the camera and then confirming the purchase. I just about got hit in the face when a package emerged from my screen -- dull brown cardboard that was just a bit smaller than a shoebox. I caught it, surprised by the instant delivery, and held it in my hands as I paused my daily workout. My gaze flickered to my screen, which was about as thick as a sheet of paper.

My questions about my ability grew tenfold as I clutched the package in my hands. Increasing my stats to improve my body? Weird, but it made sense. Instantly learning skills? Also weird, but it wasn't too far off from increasing stats. Some weird ability that, in theory, made it impossible for me to kill someone? Way weirder, but I could buy it. It was like how Superman could lift a plane without tearing through it -- tactile telekinesis or something. Whatever weird energy I used to improve myself would go into the person I'm fighting and stop them from dying.

It didn't make sense, but it followed my ability's flow of logic.

Sending me a package… that was a break from the flow of logic that I had difficulty swallowing. My ability, in theory, somehow converted fame into a tangible object and sent it to me. How in the hell did that work?

My lips thinned as I sat down, turning the package over for a moment as if it would give me an answer. Its existence just proved how little I knew about my ability, and my questions only grew while there wasn't a single answer in sight. Swallowing a sigh, I opened the box up to reveal my purchase.

A drone that was disguised as a pigeon. I held it up, inspecting it, and was thoroughly creeped out by the fact it felt like I was holding a real bird. The feathers felt real, the body felt real… it looked real enough that maybe those whackjobs on the internet had a point and the government really had replaced all the birds with drones. With a flip of a switch, it came alive, flapping its wings. Its eyes opened and it began to hop around my room in search of bread crumbs.

"Okay," I told myself, looking inside of the box to grab a phone-like object. With it, I could outline its behavior and focus. With the screen, I could see through the pigeon’s eyes, and I saw some junk underneath my bed in high definition despite it being fairly dark.

It was perfect.

"Now I just have to make my money back," I told myself, standing up. I spent three hundred points on it. I had to make that back. I was committing myself to the idea, no matter how bad it seemed. It was the best way to earn Prestige that I've found… and it would give me experience.

Black Mask wasn't someone I could deal with right out the gate. He was someone I had to work up to. And I wasn't there yet.

Keyword being yet.

…

I was all too aware of my eye in the sky. It flew above me, following along with no issue. In a city like Gotham where there are a dozen pigeons for every person, it blended right in. It was set to follow me -- forcing me to wear my yellow hoodie and face mask to make sure it could identify me easily since it was in the middle of the night, a full half-day since I bought the thing.

This was my second time going out, but this time I liked to think I was more prepared. I wore a face mask that covered my face a bit better, and a headband that hooked my hood in place, preventing it from flipping back. I had a pretty distinctive marking on my forehead, so I had to make sure no one saw it -- first with my floppy hair, that I hated more and more every second, then with my hood. Additionally, I got some colored contacts that would make my eyes a more traditional dark brown. My identity should be safe.

The same for my vitals. I had a bit of money left over from my gambling days, so I bought a bulletproof vest. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but I did feel a bit better about going out with it on. I did have to buy it from an actual store, though. The ones on my market page were out of my price range-

My thoughts were interrupted when I heard the sound of gunshots. My gaze snapped to the direction they were coming from, my hands curling into fists in my hoodie pocket. I froze for a second, unsure what to do. My normal reaction would be to walk in the other direction or call the cops. But…

This was what I was out here for, wasn't it? I just… really, really, really wish that it was harder for people to get their hands on guns.

Taking in a deep breath, I broke off into a sprint as I headed towards the direction of the gunshots. I earned a few looks from those still on the streets in Chinatown, but they moved out of my way. More shots echoed out -- reaching into my pocket, I brought up the controller for the bird to see that it was flying over the nearby buildings to perch itself on a ledge that overlooked an alley. I recognized it. I lived in Chinatown all my life, and since I resolved to go out, I memorized the smallest of details to recognize them on sight.

A quarter of a block up. I rounded the corner and came to a complete stop, adopting the footing for a Lightning Step. This time, now that I was expecting it, it felt far less like teleportation and more of an insane burst of acceleration, like going 0 to a 100 in a millisecond. The world moved by me in a blur of motion and colors, the neon becoming streaks of light and the people blurry figures. A dozen feet were crossed in a fraction of a second.

The speed began to fade when I took another Flash Step, darting forward another dozen feet. A third burst came when I slowed again. My ankles ached, but I wouldn't have been able to do another one anyway because a man stood in my way. "Excuse me!" I shouted, darting around him as I resumed my sprinting, ignoring how he flinched back because, to him, I looked like I had practically teleported in front of him.

I spotted the alley, hearing another gunshot. Stuffing the controller back into my pocket, I took in a deep breath before I rounded the corner. I saw the exact scene that the bird had witnessed -- three gangsters shooting at someone that was hiding behind a dumpster. The three were spread out, one hiding behind a set of concrete steps, another in the dip that led to a back alley basement, and one brazenly in the middle of the alley. I recognized their colors.

Black suits with a black dress shirt and a black tie.

The Black Mask mob.

"You were told to keep your nose in the dirt!" The one in the center of the alley announced, taking aim with his pistol at the bullet-riddled dumpster. The fact that it hadn't been emptied in about a month was the only thing saving the guy hiding behind it. "And off our turf!"

The gang war that Black Mask had started. The one he used me and four corpses to start. I hadn't really heard one way or another how it went down -- I just didn't have many opportunities to. Wasn't like gangs were sports teams with people gossiping around the water cooler. But the fact that Black Mask's mob was here, this deep into Chinatown… I'm guessing that things didn't go well for the Triad.

That shouldn't piss me off as much as it did. I didn't care about the Triad one way or the other… but it really pissed me off that Black Mask had won that gang war.

I took in a deep breath and I entered the alley, first at a sprint, then with a Flash Step. The leader of the trio took aim at me, moving his gun in my direction, but in that split second that it took him to change his aim, I crossed the distance between us with a Flash Step and a half. Gritting my teeth, the world snapped back into normal speed -- his eyes had enough time to widen before I slammed my fist into the bottom half of his arm, snapping it in two at the elbow.

"Fuck! Meta!" He shouted as he went down while I pivoted, looking to the other two. I retreated a half step, throwing off their aim before I picked one and crossed the distance between us. My Achilles tendon ached, but I Flash Stepped once more and appeared in front of the man using the stairs for cover.

His gun was out of place, still pointing in the direction I had once been. He didn't even have time to flinch before I punched him in the forearm, breaking his arm. The sound was awful, and his pained scream twisted my guts into knots. I could feel the impact travel up my arm, especially in my knuckles. The feeling of… hitting people, hurting them, hadn't really sunken in yet. And I doubted that it ever would.

I heard a gunshot and I ducked instantly while the guy collapsed, cradling his broken arm to his chest. Another shot rang out, impacting the wall behind me. My heart thundered in my ears as I realized it was the first guy I had punched. His gun was in his other hand, but it looked like he wasn't a good shot with it.

I Flashed Stepped out of cover, coming to a stop in the center of the alley before I Flashed Stepped again towards him. The weakness of the skill was apparent -- I could only go forwards or backward, so turning was out of the question. I couldn't pivot or dodge something if it was in my way either. But, even with the glaring weakness, it was more than enough for most people.

Another bang rang out in the alley -- the thug fired a shot at me, missing as I activated the skill yet again. As I neared, I threw a punch, and it slammed into his hand, shattering it. The gun handle warped, breaking as well, but I barely noticed as the guy howled in pure agony, dropping to his knees before he puked from the pain. I hesitated, taking a step back…

This is why I went for the arms. I went for clean breaks. If I hit someone in the leg, they might not ever walk again. If I hit them in the stomach… the Soul-Crushing Strike was made to destroy bone, but I'm guessing it would be effective on organs. I hadn't tested out Thou Shall Not Kill yet, and I had no intention to. Even if I couldn't kill people easily, that wasn't a reason to be reckless.

There were fates worse than death, after all. Being a vegetable was one of them.

The guy dropping to his knees revealed that the Triad man had poked his head out and taken aim with a gun of his own. Just not at me. He fired at the last remaining member of the Black Mask mob, who ducked down, hiding from the bullets.

I could feel sweat gathering at my back, but I Flashed Stepped to where the basement stairs led up to find the guy ducking, a phone in his hand. Another weakness of the Flash Step -- I couldn't go up or downstairs. He noticed me and went to take aim with his gun, only to get knocked off of his feet when I leaped down and tackled him. My shoulder slammed into his gut, knocking him off balance and sending both of us down the stone stairs.

He landed heavily on his back, grunting in pain, while his phone flew free of his hands. He recoiled in pain, but with him absorbing the worst of the blow, I recovered instantly. I lunged for the gun, making sure it couldn't be pointed in my direction by slamming it into the ground and pinning it there. Raising a fist, I brought it down on his arm, breaking the bones in it and I heard him howl in pure agony. Ripping the gun free of his hand, I swallowed my squeamishness.

That was it. I won-

I heard the sound of a gunshot and I flinched, but I didn't feel an impact. Were they not shooting at me? Rushing up the stairs, I found the Triad member standing over the brazen thug, a gun pointed at his head while the thug laid limp on the ground, blood dripping down his head.

He was dead.

The blood drained from my face, my jaw dropping ever so slightly -- it felt like time had frozen as the sight was burned into my memory.

The member of the Triad -- a snake flower pin proudly set at his lapel -- looked over to me, our eyes meeting. He offered a nod before his attention was stolen by the last remaining member making a break for it. He turned, leveling his gun at him-

"No!" I shouted, jumping up the steps. The Triad fired a shot, but I think my shout caught him off guard, so he missed the guy fleeing from the scene. Or the guy had so much adrenaline in his system that he didn't so much as slow down if he had been shot.

I Flashed Stepped the distance between us, my hand clenched into a fist as I glared at his face- no, I couldn't hit him there. As I darted in front of him, I redirected my punch and slugged him in the shoulder. I could feel bones shattering under the blow as he spun around from the force of it. He hit the ground heavily and went limp -- for a moment, I thought he might be dead, but he was still breathing. He had just blacked out, I think.

"Fuck," I cursed, looking back at the man fleeing. I…

He turned the corner and I knew he had gotten away. My ankles ached from overusing the Flash Step technique, and I doubted that I had more than a few more left in me. More than that, the exertion was catching up with me -- the entire fight lasted about forty seconds, but in that time… my skills used up a lot of stamina, because I found myself hunched over and gulping down breaths of air while sweat started to soak through my shirt.

My headband kept the worst of it out of my eyes, but I wiped away what it couldn't catch before I reached into my pocket and grabbed the controller. I ended the recording before I made the bird take off, flying up and zooming in on the guy that was fleeing the scene.

I tagged him so the bird would follow him. He was with the Black Mask mob. Maybe I could learn something by keeping tabs on him. Maybe not. Right now, it was the best lead that I had. For now… my eyes dipped to the unconscious Triad member before they went to the dead man. My guts clenched and I just about gagged -- that… I didn't like seeing dead bodies. Part of me just wanted to leave and let the cops sort it out, but gunshots and bodies didn't always go reported. And I had no clue what a shoulder shot would do to a person, so I had to call an ambulance.

Only I didn't bring a phone. I didn't want to drop it or something and have it lead back to me.

Recalling that there was one on the stairs, I forced myself to swallow my exhaustion and headed towards it. Exhaustion was an easier thing to ignore when you’ve worked your way out of single-digit stats. The mobster held up a hand, a gesture of surrender, his face pale but he still glared at me.

"You fucking yellow bastards -- this is going to be another war, you got that? Black Mask left you bitches in charge to keep the peace! Now he's-" he cut himself off when I grabbed his phone, which had cracked during the fall. It was password protected.

"Do you want an ambulance for you… and your friends?" I asked him, making him go still. I didn't have the heart to tell him that one of them was dead. Or that the other had left him behind. I tried not to feel bad about lying about who the ambulance was for either. "What's the passcode?" I demanded and the mobster thought about it for a long second.

He shifted, "Eight-oh-oh-eight." He answered with some shame. So, boob. That was about as good as a password as one-two-three-four. Then I pressed the emergency call button that brought me straight to 911 without needing the password.

"You've reached the GCPD -- what is your emergency?" A woman's voice asked me, her tone curt and professional.

"I need an ambulance in Chinatown, in the alley behind Won-Grill. There was a shootout -- one has a broken arm and another has a shattered shoulder. They're both alive, but another person died during the shoot-out." I answered, not entirely sure what to say. However, the woman on the other end took it in stride.

"The police and an ambulance are en route -- please remain where you are. Can you provide me updates on their condition?" She questioned, and I saw that for the trap it was. She was trying to make sure I stayed here until the cops showed. I couldn't really afford to do that.

"They'll live," I said, ending the call.

A groan caught my attention, bringing it to the member of the Triad. He looked at me with glazed-over eyes, seemingly delirious with pain. "Why…? We could have…" he trailed off, not finishing his sentence.

He had a point. The Snake-Flower Triad seemed to exist in some capacity, so teaming up with them was an option for me now. They would want to deal with Black Mask as much as I did.

But…

"I don't want to work with people like you," I decided before I broke off into a brisk jog, fleeing the scene. I didn't want to work with murderers and gangsters even if it would get me a shot at Black Mask. Call it pride, or whatever, but… that's not who I wanted to be or what I wanted to do.

I wasn't Batman. Not even close. I could try to be like him though.

…

I sat at the library, a thumb drive in hand that I slid into the ancient computer. While it processed the future tech that had just entered it with the processing power of a potato, I brought up the smartphone I got from the mobster. Booting it up, I typed in the password and saw a default home screen. Bringing up the tabs, I saw he had a selection already left open for convenience -- a few favorite websites, his email, and a selection of porn tabs. I pulled up the smartphone provider and saw that he had the information on autofill.

A dangerous thing, that was. Clicking manage passwords, I learned that he also used the same password for the majority of his logins.

Then I brought up the same smartphone holder on the computer, typed in his information, and logged in. With that done, I brought up the tracking feature while I turned off the phone, and saw the blip disappear from the website. There was up to a week-long timeline that I could follow, letting me track the phone’s movement during that time.

And, just like that, I had a half dozen frequently visited addresses. His apartment, a favorite restaurant, and four other unknown locations. There were a few more outliers as well. I marked down all the addresses. They could be hideouts or fronts used for Black Mask.

By that time, the computer figured out what a thumb drive was and I was able to pull up the video file on it -- the recording from the drone. There was a few hours worth of footage in all. It started when I put on my hoodie and went out, about thirty minutes of me walking around Little Asia, then the shoot-out. The last chunk of it was of a building that the man had run to but never exited. An underground doctor? A front for Black Mask?

I didn’t know, but now that I knew about it, I could keep an eye on it.

My attention, however, was stolen by the shootout. I watched it, curious about what I looked like when I used Flash Step. "Huh," I muttered, making sure that no one was peeking over my shoulder. I saw myself enter the frame -- I was a solid blur. You could clearly see the outline of my body, but it wasn't clear until I slowed down. I watched myself fight, barely recognizing myself…

It was hard to believe that was me.

I shook my head, dismissing the thought, before I started on the entire reason I was here. Pulling up the internet, I typed in the address for Metube and clicked on the button to make an account. Giving a burner phone number and an email address that was all of an hour old, I had an account. That easy. And it was completely unconnected to me, which made it that much better.

From there, I used the video editing tools to cut the shoot out from the hours of footage. In total, it had only been forty seconds from start to finish. It felt so much longer at the time.

I played the footage, watching it again to make sure that there was nothing to give me away. My stomach clenched at the murder. That… I used a blur tool, covering up the gore, but there was no mistaking that the man was dead. The video ended with me punching the Triad, standing over him -- but the moment before I hunched over breathlessly.

"This is going to suck," I realized as I typed out a title in all caps -- METAHUMAN IN GOTHAM! HERO? -- before hitting the appropriate tags.

Someone died. Murdered when I was right next to them. The people watching the video would’t know the specifics of Flash Step. I'm sure some people would defend me. I hadn't been able to see the Triad member at the time. And I’m sure that people would condemn me for not taking him out first. And they should.

I made mistakes during the fight. I could see them all in those forty-five seconds. Not taking out the member of the Tirad out first, not making sure that the man who died went down after the first punch. I should have used my Flash Step better… I could see the mistakes I made. And because I made them, a person had died. I didn’t kill him, so… I wasn’t really sure if that blood was on my hands… but it sure felt like it was.

I was almost uncertain if I should upload it at all. If the clip took off, that was going to be a crap ton of negative attention. People would tear into me, my every mistake, blame me for his death… and they were right to. Especially when I was about to fucking profit from it. Not even turning off ads helped that guilt.

Any attention was good attention in my case. For good or bad. If the clip blew up… then that was going to net me a huge amount of Prestige. Hell, if it blew up for the wrong reasons, then it could end up sparking that unending powered keg about what should be done with metahumans. The clip would be spread around more and more, and for longer… there shouldn't be any way to trace it back to me. You couldn't see my face at all in the video, not even for a frame, and it was covered.

"I'll be better next time," I justified the decision to myself. It would be worth it. My fuck ups wouldn't be the spark for the US government to purge all metahumans or anything. There were plenty of clips like this one online, some of them with Justice League members. The next time I heard a shoot out, I would have more stats and more skills.

My finger hesitated to click the upload button, knowing it wasn't an action that I would ever be able to take back.

I clicked it anyway.

Thanks to Bruce Wayne’s donations and the small video size, it took no time at all for the video to go live. No sooner than it had, I logged out of the account, pulled out the thumb drive, and left the library.

Stepping outside, I was all too aware of the yellow hoodie, black pants, and shoes that were in my bag. I was in a whole new outfit, but I kept a face mask on just in case. Walking down the sidewalk, I tossed the phone into a nearby trashcan after wiping it of prints. That should be all of the evidence.

With that, I let my feet carry me home.

My legs ached. Especially my ankles. There wasn't that soreness that I associated with full-body exhaustion, but I felt the same level of tiredness. Almost like I didn’t get enough sleep so there just wasn’t enough energy to keep me going. It slowed me down a fair bit, but I pushed through it. All the while I replayed the fight in my mind, not just finding ways I could have done better.

My Endurance was my limiting factor. Right now, forty-five seconds was all I had in me. I’m sure if I used my techniques less, then I could last a bit longer, but they were the only thing that stopped me from getting shot to pieces back there. I needed to be able to use my techniques more, not less. That was a problem that was only going to get worse when I gained more techniques.

Strength and Dexterity, at the moment, mattered less. Soul-Crushing Strike and Flash Step were all I needed for gangsters. Intelligence and Luck were my next picks, but out of all of them, Endurance is what I needed the most of.

How many Prestige points did I have again?

Prestige: 123

I eyed the amount, which was more than double what I should have.

I guess I went viral.