Risk It All: Hidden Ace (ch. 6) (Patreon)

You know, I had a new appreciation for celebrities after the video that I posted went viral. Having a thick skin for the job was a necessity. People criticizing you, or simply hating you for the sake of hating you -- posting comments in videos, tweets, and so on… it was easy enough to say you weren't going to pay them any mind. That you would be able to just brush it off like it was nothing because you had a thick skin and you didn’t care for the opinions of others… but it was hardly something so easy to dismiss.

In a full twenty-four hours, the video got a grand total of six million views, tens of thousands of comments, and pretty much every single one of them tore me to pieces. That I shouldn’t have intervened in the first place because vigilantes were the scum of the earth. That it was my fault that the guy had died -- that I might as well have pulled the trigger myself. That I was way too violent. That I was too showy. It was forty-five seconds of footage and people broke down every frame to find ways to tear me a new asshole. With more on the way because the video was still making the rounds.

It was totally worth it though.

You have 15,000 Prestige!

I had blown past gaining the Rank of Redshirt, and I was halfway there to earning the rank of Named Character. It seemed that the goal post kept moving further away, because to earn that rank, I had to earn twenty thousand Prestige. Regardless, I had a fair amount to work with now. All it took was getting brutalized on the internet. Given how the clip was blowing up, I would have thought that I netted more Prestige, but there seemed to be a few limiting factors that made themselves known.

With the hospital and school, I earned more prestige comparatively for the number of people that knew me. It was because those people knew me -- my face, my name, and they had met me. With the video, there was nothing really attaching it to me. Thus, I earned comparatively less Prestige than I would have if I had gone without a mask.

Still, fifteen thousand Prestige points weren’t anything to scoff at. And, with a little skill, I could turn that fifteen thousand into thirty thousand. I still had four rolls left for my previous rank, and I had a free roll thanks to increasing a rank. So, five rolls where I could bump up my total of points.

"Stats first, then skills, then equipment," I muttered to myself, sitting cross-legged on top of my bed. It was in the dead of night -- I thought about going out again, but decided against it. Things should settle a bit before I tried going back out. It also gave me time to think about what I should be spending my points on. And while I had a fairly decent amount, I wasn't rich by any stretch of the imagination.

With fifteen thousand, I could buy one expensive Tier 1 Rank 1 skill. Or I could buy two expensive boats. Or I could buy a couple of hundred cups of coffee. Or I could buy three cheap skills like Dishwashing, or Massage, or Calligraphy. But, first, I had to try to double my Prestige a few times. Then my options would really open up.

With that thought in mind, I accepted my free roll for reaching Rank Redshirt. In response, a slot machine appeared before me, and instantly my hopes fell. It was shaped like a small one that sat on my bed, weightless since it didn't deform the surface at all. On the side was a lever capped with a red ball. The screen of the machine displaying three sevens, while an index told me of the rewards available -- Tier 1, Tier 2, and Tier 3, so no change there, but there was an additional Tier 3 available.

"I can't cheat at this," I muttered lowly. I guess it was bound to happen eventually. I wouldn't be able to finesse it all the time, but it was annoying that the first luck-based mini-game I got came when I was finally going to make some serious headway into making some Prestige. A slot machine worked on its own rules that couldn't be gamed -- it was designed to only hit jackpot every hundred thousand spins or so with lesser prizes being more frequent.

I leaned back, propping myself up as I stared at the slot machine -- I could make a bet on which emblems I would get like cherries or smiley faces. Not only was it luck-based, but I might not be able to earn a skill at all if I didn't hit a matching set of icons. I guess the higher my Rank climbed, the more challenging and riskier the games became. Annoying, but that was a sense of progression for you.

"Stats?" I muttered, bringing them up. My eyes narrowed accusingly at the two points in Luck. With a number like that, I was guaranteed a garbage roll. I had been planning to bump it up eventually, but now seemed like the best time. Pressing down on the stat, I decided to bite the bullet and dump about five hundred points into it. It would net me about fifty points, putting my luck at double the average of a normal person.

Tutorial: You have reached a milestone in one of your stats! Congratulations! The cost to improve the stat had been increased from 10 points to 15!

I don't think I've ever seen a more sarcastic exclamation point in my life. My eyes narrowed into slits at the increased cost once my Luck hit twenty-five. With the five hundred points, I could only take it to forty-three. Which wasn't too far off from what I wanted, but the increased cost was a very unwelcome surprise. Especially when I understood that was going to increase every milestone for all of my stats. And I had no way of knowing what the milestones were until I reached them.

Swallowing a sigh of frustration, I dismissed the window and grabbed hold of the lever on the slot machine. Those points in Luck had better have been worth it…

Pulling it, the three wheels spun on the screen. The first one was cherries. A few seconds later, the second one cherries. Lastly, the third one was cherries -- the machine lit up with flashing lights to celebrate my victory.

Congratulations! You have won…

Double Jump

T2R1

By slamming your foot down after reaching the apex of a jump, you can now jump even higher!

Rank up: 2500

Sell: 1500

Huh. Not exactly the most useful skill, but it would give me options. Especially if I could combine it with Flash Step -- so, instead of being stuck going forward and backward, I could possibly go up and down as well. And it was a Tier 2 skill, so I could sell it for a decent bit if I couldn't or I found something better.

The free roll had cost me about five hundred points, and the next four rolls would take me down an additional four hundred. So, I needed to make some bets to recoup the losses. Or sell a skill.

The first roll I bought was a crossword puzzle -- six words that flowed into a single long word that was highlighted in blue. The theme was coffee and I could bet on how many words I could get before the time limit expired. Even with the letter index, I didn't feel confident making a bet, so I didn't.

The second game was a crane game with the rewards as the prizes. It was another game I didn't feel confident about winning, so I didn't make a bet. A good thing too because the thing was rigged like a normal crane game and I failed to get a reward at all for that one.

The third game was a game of darts with a point threshold to determine what tier reward I would receive. The answer being a Tier 2 one, because throwing darts was a lot more difficult in reality than it was in a videogame mini-game.

By the time the fourth and final game rolled around, I wasn't feeling confident. Still, I chose to roll all the same and found myself sitting in front of a game of Snake. My lips thinned -- it wasn't a bad game to play, but it wasn't one that I felt confident betting it all on. I could always try my luck with higher-ranked rolls, but those were more expensive and so far I was bleeding prestige. Still, I did feel some confidence.

"Five thousand points," I decided, selecting a number of pips to aim for. It wouldn't get me a T3R5 skill, but a T3 was still a good prize. With my bet made, I began the game. In the end, Snake was just about space management. Each pip the snake ate would make it grow, and there was a time delay between the movement that the head made and the tail following through it. Meaning that the key to success was preparing for a long snake well in advance.

I probably should have bet it all, I thought as guided the snake across the screen, leaving behind an intricate set of movements for the body to follow. Another pip fell, bringing me closer to the number needed. That was a mistake on my part, but… it was easier to accept a loss and keep playing when you only had a set number of hands you could play. The pressure was on, and it was a lot harder to swallow a risk of ten thousand points compared to ten.

Still, I received my reward and 7,500 points. Smiling to myself, I looked to the three rewards I managed to get out of four rolls.

Driver

T1R1

If it has four wheels and a steering wheel, you can drive it. In theory.

Rank Up: 1000

Sell: 500

Multilingual

T2R1

The ability to speak several languages. All languages are broken up into regions -- North America, Latian America, North Asia, South Asia, East Asia, West Asia, Africa, Middle East, Eastern Europe, Western Europe, Oceania. Upon learning a language in one region, all subsequent languages are easier to learn.

Rank Up: 2000

Sell: 1000

Water Stream Rock Smashing Fist

T3R2

A foundational martial arts style centered around devastating counters and relentless offensive strikes.

Rank Up: 3000

Sell: 5000

It was interesting how many of the skills I was getting were geared towards fighting. It made the first two stand out because of it. Driving and the ability to learn languages easier. Neither was particularly useful for me right now, but each had potential. Learning languages was a valuable and marketable skill. Driving… well, no one but taxis drove in Gotham, but I might need to eventually. Out of the four rewards I got, it was Water Stream Rock Smashing Fist that stood out the most -- it was an entire martial arts style rather than a singular skill.

Getting off my bed, I settled in a natural stance -- body angled, feet wide apart, my front leg bent, and shoulders squared but with my arms bent towards my chest with my hands arched. However, that was about all I had. No real techniques came to mind outside of Soul-Crushing Blow. It was just a stance… but, when I imagined someone taking a swing at me, a few more options made themselves known.

“Alright,” I muttered, straightening out. I got a few decent skills. I didn’t double my money like I wanted, but I was sitting comfortably around 16,600 points. A small profit was still a profit. Taking a seat on my bed again, I brought up my Stat screen.

Ren Song

Rank: Named Character

Prestige: 16,600

Strength: 20

Perception: 35

Endurance: 17

Charisma: 6

Intelligence: 35

Agility: 21

Luck: 43

I eyed my stats for a moment, then my prestige. It was tempting to just dump the lot into my stats, but I couldn’t. I needed to buy a few things from the market, and I would have chances to increase my Prestige later with free rolls, and another five rolls for my new rank. So, with that in mind, my budget was six thousand and six hundred points, so I would have an even ten thousand to work with between my stats and my equipment.

It would take about thirty-six stat points to bring everything up to twenty-five, the first milestone that would bring me to average for a total of three-sixty Prestige. Mulling it over, I eyed my stats and considered each one. Bringing everything up to fifty would cost just over two thousand points. From there… Endurance was the most important, followed by Agility. Intelligence and Perception were next. Then Luck, Charisma, and lastly Strength. Soul-Crushing Strike made Strength a dump stat at the moment. If I was going to divide the points evenly…

Ren Song

Rank: Named Character

Prestige: 13,300

Strength: 50

Perception: 65

Endurance: 75

Charisma: 52

Intelligence: 60

Agility: 65

Luck: 55

The moment I hit confirm, it felt like I was dying. A strangled gasp escaped me as every muscle went taut. My brain felt like it was getting stabbed by an icepick…

Thankfully, everything went dark a moment later.

…

“Uggh…” I groaned, opening my eyes before squinting when streams of light hit me in the face. I raised a hand, blocking the light before I turned on my side. Wait… sunlight? Turning back over, I squinted at my window to see that it was indeed sunlight streaming through the blinds. Blindly grasping for my phone, I grabbed it and checked the time to learn that it was six in the morning.

A sigh escaped me as I pushed myself up, swinging my feet over the edge of the bed. Cracking my neck, I stood up and stretched myself out. “I passed out before I could look at the market,” I muttered to myself, finding my body… changed. I half expected it, really. I went from below average to at least double the average in a single go. There had to be some changes.

Bending over, I effortlessly managed to touch my toes -- a feat that had managed to escape me long before I went into a coma. Raising back up, I looked around my room to find it… ah. I grew taller? It was difficult to judge, but it couldn’t be more than an inch or two. Walking out of my bedroom, I headed for the bathroom in the hall -- flicking on the light, I looked at myself.

My muscles were way more defined -- pecs, abs, biceps, shoulders, and even my back. It looked like I just packed on about twenty additional pounds of pure muscle. There was other evidence of the change in my face. Ever since the coma, I had ended up looking gaunt. Just a bit too skinny in the face. Mom was working on fixing it, but some combination of stats smoothed out the imperfections in my face. It was still set in a scowl, so I hadn’t managed to shake off my RBF-Syndrome, but things like a pimple here or there were gone, and my jawline was a little more pronounced. Even my hair had a healthier shine to it.

I still looked like me. Just a slightly better-looking version of me. A me that hadn’t been in a coma for half a year.

"I'm going to have to wear baggy clothes," I remarked before I stepped into the shower. While scalding hot water washed over me, I brought up the Market. Overnight, I gained another two hundred Prestige, bringing me back up to 13,500. It was tempting to dump it into stats, but they seemed to increase in increments of five each time, so buying items was a better use for the points.

At the moment, I had about five possible locations that the Black Mask mob operated out of. Four, technically since one had been a studio apartment for the guy whose phone I stole. So, four possible leads. And if I could find that guy that ran away, that was five leads. What I needed right now was surveillance. Bird drones were great, but they couldn't get inside of a building, and that was a big weakness.

The Market had a wide variety of options, and they only seemed to expand the higher my Rank climbed. I saw more options for drones -- more birds, as well as insects. Cockroaches, flies… the smaller the drone, the more expensive it was. Still, I mulled over the choices all the same.

Then I looked beyond surveillance. There were bulletproof vests, as well as clothing. Nanocarbon fiber and stuff that made it bullet and slashing proof. There were a variety of options to choose from, some were on the cheap side and the better they sounded, the more expensive they were. There were weapons too -- taser knuckles, guns, and explosives.

The goal was to defeat Black Mask. Completely and utterly to the point there was no chance of recovery. What did I need to accomplish that task?

Drones and body armor.

Getting out of the shower and getting dressed, I made my purchases. Another two pigeon drones for three hundred apiece, four fly drones for five hundred apiece, a handheld system so I could control them all remotely for a hundred. Lastly, I dropped eight hundred points on body armor. The best the Market could offer me at the moment.

The express delivery dumped the packages in my room and unpacked them. The pigeons looked like pigeons while the flies looked like flies. The body armor I picked looked like a black piece of spandex with yellow trimming around a few armor plates stitched into the spandex. I thought about trying it on, but it would stand out even with baggy clothing. If I could wear a hoodie, then it would be fine. But wearing a hoodie during the day in the middle of Summer was asking for a heat stroke.

Instead, I got dressed and tucked everything into a pair of cargo pants before I headed out into the kitchen where I found Dad in his usual spot at the dinner table. Mom was still asleep, but both of us had always been early risers. He looked up before his eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

"Did you get taller?" Dad questioned, setting down his phone that displayed a red stock graph. Hopefully not one he had invested in.

I shrugged as I headed to the fridge, "I think I might have had a growth spurt during the coma. Might explain why I was so skinny at the end of it," I deflected, grabbing some milk and cereal. The breakfast of champions. When I turned back around to face him, I saw he was eyeing me curiously. Enough so that I didn't think that he bought it.

Except he nodded, "That would explain it. It might have something to do with how you recovered so quickly." He remarked idly, a small smile on his face. And he hit the nail right on the head there.

I took a bite of cereal, "Maybe? I don't have the metagene, but I got out of the hospital way too quickly to be normal." I returned, taking another bite. Dad nodded, his lips thinning ever so slightly as the smile slipped off his face. I barely saw it before he turned his attention back to the stocks. "I figured the doctors would have more questions about that."

"They might, but on record you were moved to a different facility," Dad answered, earning a blink of surprise from me. I was what now? "For your protection. Black Mask tried to kill you once already, Ren. Moving hospitals, then here is the simplest way to throw him off our trail." He said entirely too calmly.

A question nipped at my tongue, but I swallowed it down with a bite of cereal. It was a question that I knew wouldn't be answered so I didn't bother asking. Still, I couldn't help but wonder -- Mom had practically written off Black Mask. She wasn't worried about him in the slightest. A far change from the deathly worried she had been when she refused to leave my bedside for over a week after the assassination attempt. Now, Dad was treating Black Mask as if he weren't a threat either.

We move down the road. Dad and Mom still worked at the same companies. Black Mask had a finger in Chinatown as it was -- if he wanted to find us, I couldn't imagine it would be difficult for him.

So, why was I the only one worried about him?

"I'm going on a run," I told Dad after scarfing down my cereal. "Love ya'," I told him, setting my bowl in the sink and heading to the door.

"Be careful out there, Ren. A metahuman was spotted not far from here," Dad informed, making me go still as I slipped on my shoes. "People are calling him a killer."

My lips thinned as I slipped on my sneakers, "I saw the video. The guy didn't kill anyone," I felt compelled to defend myself as my guts twisted into knots. It… that blood wasn't on my hands. It wasn't. I didn't kill anyone. I tried my best to make sure that no one died. That Triad member… he was the one at fault. He was the murderer. Not me.

"That's true, but he's dangerous for other reasons. Those men all suffered terrible breaks to their arms and shoulders. The hospital hasn't released an official statement, but I heard about it on my way home yesterday. Those men are never going to recover fully." Dad stated, an edge in his tone.

Fuck. I… I shouldn't be surprised. Soul-Crushing Blow did what was advertised, but it still caught me off guard. It wouldn't have crushed so many souls if there had been a clean break, now would it?

"...I'll be careful," I said, my tone sullen as I headed out the door and locked it behind me. I stuffed my hands in my pockets, wearing a deep frown on my face as I let my feet carry me outside. My fingers twitched to go towards my phone and I gave in to impulse and brought up the video. Seven million views now. I imagine most of them were Gotham natives.

The top comment with twenty thousand likes was: That's no hero. That's a villain.

And fuck me, that stung way more than it should have.

It was easy to say that you could brush off the opinions of thousands. I thought I could. After all, they were just faceless people on the internet. But, when I saw my nickname in the comments was the Breaker, I felt a bit sick to my stomach. How did Batman handle this? He was a legend for putting people in the hospital… but he also wasn't some punk teenager that wasn't as self-confident as he thought he was.

That feeble feeling called resolve suffered a major blow as I stepped outside and started walking. I wavered for the briefest of seconds, really wondering if I should just hang it up and leave it alone. But that would mean leaving in fear of retaliation from Black Mask. It meant waiting for that one day when Black Mask decided to send out a hit on my parents and they turned up dead. It meant living in constant fear, constant paranoia that one day something could happen.

It meant that Black Mask would get away with it. All of it. Shooting me, starting a gang war… murdering Alice. And everything else he's done over the years. He would get away with it all. If he wasn't stopped… then he'd just keep doing it.

Because I hadn't been anything special. I was just some dumb kid and he tried to kill me for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

He couldn't keep getting away with it. And he wouldn't. I would make sure of it.

…

Two days later, on the 4th of July, I learned that it was pretty awesome having a fly on the wall. Their data capacity wasn't that big so I ended up having to switch them out every two hours or so with each house as I searched for evidence of Black Mask's mob. The things that people were willing to say when they thought no one was listening.... They avoided using their phones where they could, passing messages between people and using intermediaries, but with the drones I could just follow them.

Two days later, and I had a much fuller understanding of Black Mask's mob. I knew a half dozen fronts, a handful of safe houses, and twenty or so members of the mob. Each member led me to other members, where the visit gave me more chances to listen in on them. In the end, I spent all the Prestige coming in from the video on surveillance equipment -- five pigeons and six additional flies.

I still didn't know how big his mob was exactly, but I was getting an idea. I was moving up the ranks, identifying the shot callers and following them. That led me to higher links in the chain and the frontrunners. It wasn't bad for a few days’ work -- and it made it abundantly clear just how hampered the police was because of security laws.

But, I needed more info. I needed to know where everything was so I could destroy it all in one go. So, I was going to shake the tree a bit and see what came loose.

I wore my body armor under a dark blue and white hooded vest and a pair of cargo shorts -- it was just too hot with the skin-tight body armor. And it looked fairly normal. Ish. My face was covered with a mask, contacts were in my eyes and my hood was secured. Checking my surveillance tool, I followed three runners that were on their way to the Triad front.

Something that I learned -- Black Mask thought I was Triad and I only punched the guy to throw the scent off the trail. That was the story that was spread through the mob. I had no clue where Black Mask was exactly, but I was hoping to find out by keeping tabs on his lieutenants. And because he thought I was Triad, he was putting pressure on what was left of the Snake-Flower Triad.

It was possible that I was starting a gang war. Again. The only way to avoid it was to be seen attacking the Triad too. Or taking down the mob before they could start that war.

Stuffing it back in my pocket, my gaze drifted towards the three men. Others stepped out of their way, knowing who they were. They didn’t seem to notice me and the eye in the sky didn’t pick up anyone tailing me. So, it probably wasn’t a trap. Even if it was, I felt good about my chances. Being twice as strong and agile as a normal person didn’t sound like a lot, but that put me in the realm of professional athletes.

The three men walked towards a restaurant -- one that I’ve eaten at before. Shit, was it a front for the Triads? I hadn’t known that. I liked their dumplings. The faint worry that I felt was quickly wiped away when I saw that the men pushed back their coats to retrieve something. I wouldn’t have thought anything of it until they hid the objects behind their backs.

Guns.

They were going to light the place up.

It was a twenty-four-hour diner. There would be people -- normal people -- in there. And Black Mask didn’t care. The words he said echoed in my head like a bell and my hands clenched into fists. Fuck, I wasn’t about to start a gang war. I had already reignited one. The realization hit me in the gut like a fist, but I didn’t have any choice but to swallow my shock.

My foot arched and I blurred forward -- a few days gave me time to test out my new limits and I found myself able to take twenty feet steps at a time. I took another, then another, finally closing the distance between us as they turned towards the restaurant, bringing their guns up and aiming at the front. Clenching my hand into a fist, I swallowed my hesitation too and slammed that fist against the closest man’s elbow, shattering it and forcing him to drop the gun.

The others swung to face me as the first went down, clutching at his arm as he screamed in mind-numbing agony. I jumped up, sailing up into the air as I was carried by my momentum. I lashed out with a foot, kicking at the second man’s gun, knocking it up, away from anyone else, before I spun sharply and slammed my other foot in the side of his head. He started to go down while the last of the three began to backpedal, his eyes wide as he looked up at me.

Kicking up, I performed a double jump, bringing me to him as I performed a front flip, building momentum that I brought down on his collarbone in an axe kick. I don’t think I broke the bone, but he still went down, clutching at it, when I landed on my feet. Turning on my heel, I turned to face the fallen three, my hands clenched into fists. The first was still screaming while the second was starting to get up.

However, my attention was stolen by a man standing across from me, from my point of origin -- he was dressed in a traditional Chinese black and white suit, the collar marking it as such. He seemed to be around the same age as my dad, somewhere in his late thirties to forties. Actually…

The man smiled and clapped lightly, the sound reaching me only because the first guy seemed to have passed out. There was a slight smile on his face as his dark eyes met mine.

“An unorthodox set of techniques, I see,” he remarked in Chinese, his smile growing a fraction. “I suppose I should expect nothing less from my nephew.”

Wait… what?