James stuffed the business card into his pocket, stepping back into his apartment and locking the door with a quick, practiced flick of his wrist. His breath came short and sharp—too much was happening at once.
He needed to focus.
His eyes flicked to the bedroom door. Shut. Undisturbed. But he knew what lay behind it. His stomach clenched. His fingers curled into fists, then relaxed, then clenched again. He had to do this.
He crossed the room, each step heavier than the last, his body resisting even as his mind forced him forward. Reaching the door, he hesitated for only a second before gripping the chair blocking the handle, his knuckles white as he yanked it aside.
One deep breath. His fingers brushed the handle.
Cold.
Then he turned it.
The door swung open.
The smell hit first. Not just blood, but something deeper, worse—thick and metallic. The air was dense with it, warm, sinking into his skin.
Then the body.
The man lay sprawled across the floor where James had left him, but now the full horror of it settled in. The skin was waxen, stretched taut over stiff limbs, the unnatural stillness making it somehow more disturbing.
The skull was caved in, a sickening crater of exposed bone and pulped flesh. Fragments of bone jutted out, white and jagged against the dark red mess.
One eye was half-lidded, blood-matted lashes barely clinging to the ruined face. A piece of shattered skull had embedded itself in what remained of his cheek, barely held together by torn, ragged flesh.
James swallowed, his throat dry. The room felt smaller, the walls pressing in. This wasn't just a dead man. This was a corpse. And it was his responsibility to make sure it disappeared.
James grimaced, lowering to one knee. With a thought, his system flickered to life, the interface appearing in his vision as he navigated to his inventory. It was empty. Not for long.
His fingers trembled as they curled around the dead man's collar, the fabric damp and sticky with blood.
He envisioned the man disappearing into his inventory, and with a soft pop, the body ceased to exist. One second it was there. The next, gone.
He exhaled, eyeing the bloodstained—but empty—bedroom floor. He still had a mess to clean, but for now, he was in the clear.
Well…almost in the clear. His thoughts flicked back to Jessica Jones.
His gaze landed on the bloodstained pistol—the same one the ginger bastard had tried to kill him with. Without hesitation, he picked it up, careful not to brush the trigger.
He didn't know how to use a gun, but this was undoubtedly useful. With a pop, the deadly weapon was placed into his inventory.
He looked back down to the bloodstained floor, now he just needed to dispose of the body and clean this. Then, maybe, he could finally start his weight cut—without the looming threat of a murder charge.
—-
James checked the cleaning supplies under his sink , he had no gloves or bleach. He clenched his jaw, he'd need to grab some now. Might as well find a place to dump the body while he was at it.
He stood, quickly throwing on a dark jacket and leaving his apartment, making sure to lock the door behind him as he left. His fingers brushed against his pockets—phone, card, cash, keys.
Then he paused. Hell, why was he even carrying them? He could just toss them in his inventory. Convenient.
He hummed as he realised he could just leave them in his inventory from now on, that was convenient.
James brushed by a neighbour, his mind focused on the gloves and bleach he needed yet one thought wouldn't leave him alone.
Where the hell was he gonna dump the body?
James stepped out into the cool evening air, the door creaking shut behind him with a soft click. His feet hit the pavement with a solid rhythm as he moved quickly, his eyes scanning the street, the weight of the body in his inventory pressing on his mind.
He pulled his jacket tighter around himself as he made his way down the block. The neon lights of a nearby corner store flickered in the distance, reminding him of what he needed—bleach, gloves, maybe a mop. Simple stuff.
But then something caught his eye.
Three men, all stood close together slowly walking around the perimeter of the building, their gazes turned up towards the windows and balconies above them.
He instinctively reached into his jacket pocket, his fingers brushing over the shape of his phone, keys, and cash.
Everything was still there, but he felt exposed, out in the open. These men weren't just wandering—this was deliberate. They were looking for something. Or someone.
James kept walking, his mind still racing, trying to shut out the tension crawling up his back. Jessica's warning was like a lingering shadow in his head, making his skin prickle with unease.
He needed to clear his head, focus. One problem at a time.
As he walked, his gaze drifted to the ground, his eyes catching the faint outline of a sewer manhole. For a moment, he didn't think much of it. But then, an idea flickered in his mind.
The sewers.
It was quick, practical. If he dumped the body down there, no one would ever find it. The perfect place to hide something. He didn't have time to get sentimental or picky. He needed it gone, and that was the first thing that popped into his head.
He stopped for a second, weighing the thought. It made sense. A whole city full of tunnels and pipes. He could just—get rid of it.
He'd need to go further out, further away from his apartment for when the body was eventually found. Without wasting another moment, he flagged down a yellow taxi. The car screeched to a halt beside him, and he jumped in without hesitation.
"Harlem" he said, as he leaned back into the seat making himself comfortable as the Taxi started to move.
The ride felt too long, each minute stretching out in his mind. When the car finally pulled up near a dimly lit industrial area, he paid the driver and stepped out into the cool night air.
He didn't wait for the driver to pull away before he made his way to a nearby manhole. With a grunt, he lifted the heavy cover, the sound of metal scraping against concrete echoing in the silence of the street.
His fingers were already at work as he opened his inventory, tapping the icon of the dead man. In an instant, the body appeared with a soft pop, landing in the wet sewers below with a sickening splat.
James didn't linger to listen. He dropped the manhole cover back into place, his heart pounding as he turned to leave.
That felt too quick, too easy, now he just needed a taxi home, and too pick up those cleaning supplies.
Congratulations! Mission Accomplished!
Reward - Kiroshi Optic Implant (Right Eye)
He eyed the reward with a furrowed brow, he'd honestly forgotten about the mission and its reward, get only the right eye? That was odd.
He opened his inventory, clicking on the cybernetic eyeball waiting for the item description to appear.
Kiroshi Optic Implant (Right eye)
Enhanced Vision: Increased visual acuity in both low light and high contrast environments. Improved long-range and close-up focus.
Digital Overlay: Seamless integration with digital data streams, allowing for real-time access to information about people, objects, or environments through an augmented reality interface. Can scan for weaknesses in mechanical structures or security systems.
EQUIP
EXIT
James eyed the implant with clear interest. The perks were tempting, no doubt. He could already imagine the convenience, the advantages it would give him.
But then he remembered the pain of the Kerenzikov implant. He hesitated, his fingers hovering over the 'Equip' option. He took a deep breath, and before he could second guess himself he clicked equip.
A sharp, searing pain shot through his head, like a jagged needle stabbing directly into his brain. His vision blurred for an instant, and he felt as though his skull was being cracked open. The pain was blinding—intense, raw, and unrelenting.
He staggered back, clutching his head as the pain pulsed like a thunderclap in his skull. Just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore, the pressure released, leaving him gasping for breath.
His eyes fluttered open, his eyelids heavy from the lingering pain. He had clenched them shut as the agony tore through him, but now that it had subsided, his vision was… different.
A sharp wave of dizziness swept over him, and he stumbled for a moment, using his hand to steady himself against a nearby brick building.
His right eye—a strange, almost mechanical sensation—seemed to zoom in on everything in his line of sight. A crack in a wall, the faint dust drifting through the air, a loose thread on his jacket.
Everything was unnervingly crisp and clear, too clear. It was as if his eye had a mind of its own, snapping from one thing to the next with unnatural speed.
He blinked rapidly, trying to regain control. Slowly, the dizziness faded, and the world around him came into focus.
The enhanced vision was disorienting at first, like trying to adjust to a new lens, but as he began to focus on specific objects—his own hands, a nearby streetlight—he felt the optics start to make sense.
He could feel his right eye scanning his surroundings almost involuntarily, zooming in and out, adjusting focus without him having to think. His mind clicked into place, matching the new sensations to the technology, like learning a new skill. It was strange, but the more he used it, the more natural it felt.
Skill Unlocked!
Kiroshi Optics Mastery (Level One)
A digital overlay began to pop up in his vision, almost like a transparent HUD in the corner of his eye. A quick scan of the surrounding buildings showed the temperature of the walls, the structure's integrity.
His breath caught slightly, the possibilities suddenly becoming clear. This wasn't just about seeing better; it was about seeing everything.
He let out a startled laugh as his right eye worked seamlessly, zooming in on a nearby cat and, to his surprise, accessing the chip in its neck. The cat was owned by a man named 'Lee Harvey.
Quickly, he hailed a taxi—he still needed to grab cleaning supplies and get home. But who would blame him if he broke every privacy law in existence for fun, now that he could?
—-
James walked into his apartment building, noticing the men he'd seen earlier weren't there anymore. A sense of relief filled him as he slowly made his way up the stairs. He held a grocery bag, a large bottle of cleaning supplies held within.
When he reached his door, something felt off. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as his gaze caught the slight crack in the door.
The door was ajar.
Mission- Flatline
Goal - Defeat the intruders in your home, and find out who they work for.
Rewards - Dash Mastery (Level One), 5000 Eddies, Malorian Overture.
Failure - Death
—-
This chapter felt a bit off to me, like I was just writing filler, sorry for that guys!
Anyway, any ideas! Let me know!