The streets of Hell's Kitchen thrummed with life, the growl of revving engines, the sharp patter of rain striking the pavement, the hurried footsteps of those trying to escape the downpour.
James Buckley rolled his shoulders as he stepped out of the boxing gym, a hood pulled over his head to keep the rain off. His knuckles ached, still raw from the evening's sparring session, but the pain was a familiar one, reassuring almost.
He slung his gym bag over his shoulder, looking up, the rain peppered his face. The light sheen of moisture, a sharp relief, cooling the heat in his exhausted body.
His apartment was only a few blocks away, a cramped one bedroom in a building that had seen far better days.
He would rather live somewhere nicer, cleaner, safer. Maybe even get a decent job, something steady with a retirement plan, but he shook his head and snorted.
That wasn't him.
Something always pulled him back here, the fights, the easy cash, the cheap rent. He sighed, his body aching with exhaustion as he started to walk the familiar route home.
His knuckles burned as he flexed his hands, remembering the way his fists had connected with his opponent's jaw. It had been a hard spar, him and his partner lacking the usual restraint.
It was a messy fight, almost a brawl but even then James didn't get hit cleanly even once. That was the type of atmosphere he thrived in, the brutal, messy kind when he had his back to the wall.
It lit a fire in him.
He turned down the alley leading to his building, the narrow space echoing with each step. The rain hissed as it hit the fire escape above. His eyes flicked to the two men standing at the far end of the alley.
They were arguing, their voices raised, their gestures angry and fast.
"—You owe me my fucking money!" shouted the shorter man, a ginger with a sharp voice that seemed to cut through the rain.
James barely looked up, pretending to ignore the scene, but his pace slowed just a touch as his eyes followed the pair.
"I don't owe shit! I already sent you the damn money!" the larger man, with dark hair, growled back.
The ginger man's lip curled into a snarl, clearly tired of this exchange. It wasn't the first time, and he seemed to be losing patience.
James snorted under his breath as he neared the end of the alley. His apartment was now in sight. He dug his hand into his pocket, reaching for his phone, but—
BANG! BANG!
James whipped around at the sound, his heart suddenly slamming in his chest. His eyes locked onto the sight of the ginger man standing over the now prone, dark-haired figure.
The gun in the ginger man's hand gleamed in the dim moonlight, held too casually, as if he weren't bothered by the crimson blood pooling around the larger man's body.
James' pupils shrank to pinpricks as his gaze locked onto the ginger..
The man slowly raised his eyes from the dying man, and for a moment, his pale, sharp eyes widened in surprise at the sight of James.
It was as if he'd forgotten James was even there.
The ginger man's gun wielding arm raised, no hesitation as his eyes narrowed on James. But before he could squeeze that trigger the boxer had already sprinted out of view.
His desperate but swift footfalls echoed through the near silent alley. The ginger man snarled, carelessly stepping over the dark haired soon to be dead body as he chased
—-
James slammed his apartment door behind him with a thud, quickly locking the door with shaky hands.
James's breath came in ragged gasps, the panic slowly creeping back into his bones. He wasn't sure what had been more terrifying—the gun, the murder, or the look in that man's eyes.
He had been seconds away from dying. Seconds.
And yet, somehow, he'd survived. Not by anything smart or strategic—no. His instincts had just…kicked in. His body had moved before his brain even registered what was happening.
The ginger man's sharp eyes ran through his mind.
He ran a shaky hand through his dark hair, his pale skin almost glowly as iridescent moonlight shined through his small and dirty balcony window.
He was just the witness to a murder…
He knew it had to be a murder, the sheer amount of blood coming from that man was…he didn't—didn't even know a body could have that much…
He took a deep breath, walking over to his kitchen counter and resting his weight against it. He closed his eyes as his breathing slowed, a sudden, but deafening creak causing his head to shoot back up.
He looked out of his balcony window, his fists suddenly clenched, his knuckles turning white as he eyed the empty and bare balcony. He ran his tongue along the roof of his mouth nervously.
James gave a shaky laugh, trying to shake off the lingering tension. It was stupid to be paranoid. The old building creaked and groaned in bad weather, just like it always did.
He rubbed his hands over his face, trying to steady his nerves. He could still see the man's face—the ginger guy, eyes wide with that terrifying coldness.
Fuck, I need to calm down.
He walked into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him for extra security, but the unease refused to leave him.
The silence was oppressive, thick with the weight of what had just happened. He peeled off his wet hoodie and dropped onto the bed, feeling the cold sheets seep into his skin, offering some small comfort.
His head throbbed from the adrenaline crash. He wanted to forget everything—the gun, the blood, the eyes of that man.
His eyelids fluttered, his mind fighting the exhaustion. His body slowly relaxed, muscles unwinding as sleep beckoned, the faint creaks of his old apartment lulling him toward unconsciousness.
But before he could drift away, a sudden metallic ting of something unusual echoed through the room, jolting him awake.
His eyes snapped open, panic surging as he instinctively scanned the room. The first thought that struck him was that the ginger man had somehow made it into his apartment, gun in hand, standing right at the foot of his bed.
But the sight that greeted him was far stranger.
A large, glowing blue box hung in the air right in front of his eyes, hovering. It was completely out of place, a sharp contrast against the dim, weather-worn room. His breath caught in his throat.
Welcome to your CYBER SYSTEM!
The words were clear, clean, and impossible. What the hell is this?
James blinked rapidly, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Was this some kind of… hallucination? Stress-induced by what happened earlier?
His chest tightened again as the adrenaline shot through his bloodstream, but no matter how much he tried to shake it, the box stayed right there, glowing faintly in the darkness.
He reached a trembling hand toward it, half-expecting it to disappear when he touched it. But as soon as his fingers brushed the box, the text shifted.
Name - James Buckley
Title - None
Age - 19
Eddies - €0
Level - 13
STR - 14
END - 11
DEX - 17
INT - 9
WIS - 9
Skills
Inventory
Missions (1)
Store
Settings
He felt a knot tighten in his stomach. This was not normal. His breath quickened again, the panic clawing at him. He couldn't take his eyes off the glowing screen, afraid it might disappear if he looked away.
His hand shook as he reached out again, unable to resist the pull of the glowing options in front of him. His fingers hovered over the 'Missions' tab. A strange tingling sensation crawled across his skin, like the touch of static electricity, and then—without any warning—his finger pressed the highlighted word.
Mission - Survive the night
Goal - Eliminate the man in your home.
Rewards - Kerenzikov Implant (Military Grade) 5 Attribute points, 2000 EXP, Murderer Title, 3000 Eddies.
Failure - Death
James eyes didn't even reach the rewards, his focus locked on the goal, his heartbeat started to pick that up, a cold sweat breaking across his suddenly tense form.
The earlier creak suddenly felt much, much more sinister, he let out a slow and quiet breath as he stood, his eyes shooting to his shut bedroom door.
Another creak of a floorboard echoed through the silence of the apartment—deafening.
Then, the door smashed open with a sudden crash. The ginger man stood there, gun in hand, eyes locked on James.
James's gaze snapped to the weapon. He didn't need a plan. There was no time for one. He just had to move, hit hard, take control.
The gun was too close. He wasn't fast enough to dodge it.
So instead, he dove.
BANG!
The bullet whizzed past, the heat of it grazing his cheek as he collided with the ginger's chest. The impact sent them both crashing to the floor in a tangle of limbs, each struggling for control.
James's hands wrapped around the man's wrist, twisting, grinding the bones until the gun slipped from his grip, hitting the floor with a metallic clang. But that wasn't enough.
James's hand shot out, grabbing the heavy gun. He didn't think, didn't care. He whipped it into the ginger's face with all his strength. A sickening crack echoed in the room as the man's head snapped back.
The ginger's hand shot up in a desperate, clawing motion—fingers seeking to gouge out James's eyes. Panic flashed across the older man's face as he fought to gain the upper hand, but James was already moving.
Despite the fingers raking across his face, scratching him raw, James brought the heavy gun down again—THWACK—and again—CRACK—each blow sending a sickening sound through the room.
The ginger's hands now weakly clawed at James's arms, his nails scraping down the skin, but James barely felt it. His focus was razor-sharp now, his anger clouding any trace of hesitation.
The man's groans grew quieter, weaker, but still, he fought, still, he twisted and writhed beneath James. His once-strong body, now a bloody mess, refused to give in.
With one final, savage blow, James drove the gun down into the man's skull, feeling the skull shatter beneath the weight of the impact. The ginger's body jerked violently, his eyes glazing over, his chest no longer rising with breath.
Then, a ping. A soft, electronic chime that shattered the silence like a gunshot.
The world around him seemed to slow as the glowing blue box materialized in front of his vision.
Congratulations! Mission Accomplished!
Rewards - Kerenzikov Implant (Military Grade) 5 Attribute points, 2000 EXP, Murderer Title, 3000 Eddies.
LEVEL UP! Level 14! + 3 Attribute Points!
—-
Thoughts?
Also, gonna be taking this story slower than others so I don't burn out, rereading my HOTD Fic rn, planning to update that once I'm all caught up
But seriously thoughts?