New York City, New York
Volume 1: Origins
Cole slung his backpack over one shoulder as the notification flared. Cole couldn't help but think of video games and literature-RPG books from his past life, and yes, Cole has thrown away his original life, or was it his first? The message made him shake his head.
System-Generated Mission: Jeremy York's avoidance of school has left you with a dilemma. But, choices are important, so make the best one for your future!
Before his untimely demise, he was warned that his choices were a detriment to him inheriting his fortune as the rightful heir to York Enterprise.
Forces are availed against you. Those that brought down the previous CEO won’t sit by and allow you back.
Choice-Hero: Attend school, against the wishes of the Carmichaels and improve your image and failing grades. Reward(s) Persona-related upgrades. One thousand dollars.
Choice-Neutral: Although Your attendance is required by law, and for the right of inheritance there is something suspicious about the demise of the York's, find a way to skip school unnoticed and still bring your grades up to good standing. Whoever said you can't be of both worlds? Reward(s): Unknown
Choice-Villain: Don't attend school, wallow in immorality and continue down the path preordained for Jeremy York. Reward(s): Villain alignment percentage increase. Wayne Industries Excalibur 9MM (50RD) Drum Magazines.
Cole scanned the mission details briefly, then nodded slowly; he was right; something must have gone wrong; the Yorks demise couldn't be as simple as he thought. Although Jeremy wasn't as inquisitive as he thought he would be, there were bound to be things he missed, especially with his new persona and the fact that the world's best detectives had trained him.
The man descended the rickety staircase from the attic, where his bedroom was, to the ground floor. The mission window was transparent and invisible to everyone besides him. With a small measure of will, he shoved the system screen away.
In a sense, alignments were akin to his charisma and how the world and its inhabitants perceived him. Just the idea of the concept made him realize that it was very powerful and that it had the potential to affect everyone in both a positive and a negative way.
Cole Stephens is apathetic, he doesn't know who was responsible for this, but he understands there is no need to be a hero or greedy to harm others to be considered a villain. He had plans, and he would accomplish them to the best of his abilities using all the advantages he had.
He did wonder what his old self would have done. Just maybe he wasn't a great guy. It can also be assumed he wasn't some priest or an officer of the law, and he shrugged his shoulders. When the decision comes, his gut will be the only vote that counts.
He shelved the thought. Everything has a cost. The only free lunches he'll get will be his constant breathing. At the moment, he needed money, and the shop function would unlock when he had got his hands on it..
He had some choices to make, but first he needed to understand his arrangement better.
The first floor of Carmichael's was loud with the chattering of a dozen or so kids, each and everyone troubled. His discerning eyes landed on the brooding teen inside the living room; Ricky Marco, kleptomaniac.
The girl speaking into his ear was beautiful, beautiful as a human-sized Venus flytrap could be. Her face was serene, and her honey words impactful. No doubt whatever was being whispered wasn't mutually satisfying. Like him, she was a newer tenant. Her name was lost to him, and he only had memories of hearing she was a firebug, and she is still under suspicion of burning down her last placement home family that wanted to adopt her.
He sniffed the air, catching the breeze from the open window as it traveled past her, she smelled of kerosene, and her pockets were filled with matches. To be precise, the brand was called Dirty Ash. An arsonist in the making he deduced.
A hand slammed on his shoulder as his mind was enraptured in an ideal investigation, no doubt his ability working unconsciously. He wondered if this was what the bat experienced?
"Twerp," said the fat man arriving out the kitchen, dirty white apron that told tales of weeks of going without washing. He rolled his shoulder, it was a small, almost unconscious action on his part but enough to cast the man's hand away. Their eyes met, and the man squinted as confusion briefly surfaced.
"Ballsy this morning," said Mama Carmichael's natural-born son. He was the youngest and the fastest out of the three, and he was almost a full head taller than Cole. "Ma' told me about your delay last night. I don't need to say to you again, try and run, and I'm breaking your fucking leg like the last time, comprende?”
I scanned his body and determined that a well-placed blow to the solar plexus would cause him to lean forward. My knee traveling moderately into his chin will snap his head backward before a sudden clap to both ears will render him unconscious...
"Are you dumb and deaf? I said, get the fuck out of here. No breakfast for you until the damn government checks clear; go beg on the streets." He thundered, startling the other children. He leaned closer, grabbing the collar of my one good t-shirt. He whispered menacingly. "Better have the dough. No more bull shit. You sale. You fucking sale. I don't care about who's turf either." He shoved him or tried to. He shuffled off, mumbling about bureaucracy and what he was not being paid to do.
I looked around at the children snickering at my situation. Klepto and Pyro eyes locked on my figure. Without the care, I exit the door, leaving the hustle and bustle of the group home behind.
The drugs were already gone. Jeremy had used it. That was why his healing factor was working so hard that he could physically feel it. An addict too. He sighed.
The group home was situated in the seedier parts of lower Manhattan, on the outskirts of Hell's Kitchen. The only nice things nearby were the Rockefeller building and the notable famous Central Park zoo. Jermey hasn't been near either. Though one could see the Stark Tower from the high school, also it seemed Jeremy attended Midtown high.
New York City is significant, and I mean massive. It consisted of 5 boroughs sitting where the Hudson River meets the Atlantic Ocean. It's equivalent to an ant colony, drones wandering to and fro.
Manhattan's core is a densely populated borough among the world's major commercial, financial and cultural centers. Its iconic sites include skyscrapers such as the Empire State Building and sprawling Central Park. Broadway the theater is staged in neon-lit Times Square.
The noise was another thing. It was loud and always louder at night. The city never sleeps. I chuckled loudly at that part.
I waited for the train to arrive, but my attention was drawn to the two darkly dressed Asian men.
Between the two was a teenage girl, seemingly no older than myself, she too looked of Asian descent, though her nose and slight musculature noted some European ancestry.
How they were half carrying, half dragging her across the pavement told me she was unwilling. Scanning around, I notice people chose to ignore what was before them. Normal?
The three figures vanished down an older seedier street, no doubt one without CCTV and me looking at my watch, 6:45 AM. The train was late, and I cast my eyes back toward the dark path.
Fuck it!
"Leave it, kid." a man's hand shot out from the crowd and grabbed my arm. I was startled. I didn't even sense him or have an opportunity to respond.
"Excuse me?" I said.
"I know your type, don't bother. Those guys aren't the carbon cut out of the local bangers," he observed me. "Like you." He said in admonishment
My Interest was peaked. I roamed over him. Holstered pistol, right-handed, snub nose left ankle. Ah. I see. Handcuffs. A cop. A shitty dirty one at that. He's not overly lethal. Possibly military or some else...
"No, mister officer. I'm only taking a walk to take a leak."
He tensed. My face was a mask, and nothing could be gleaned from it. Inwardly I snickered.
He released me. "Sure. I warned you. This isn't your group of hoodlums turf anymore. The real gangsters are in town." He wandered off, but he glanced back at me and shook his head in disgust.
I needed money. My clothes weren't the best, but I didn't even consider that I'd give off gangbanger vibes because of my appearance. I pushed my dreadlocked hair back and fashioned them into a ponytail. People regarded us but quickly looked away and never made eye contact. What has come over the city?
I waited until the officer got into his undercover vehicle, but I memorized his tag. I do hate dirty cops and especially ones working with The Hand.
I glanced back toward the buildings where the group had disappeared. Maybe there's some talking to be had. I decided my first in this world with a single step, undoubtedly, not my last.
Name: Cole Stephens
Known Name: Jeremy York
Alias- None
Alignment- Neutral
Persona(s)Jason Peter Todd- Red Hood 15%|100%
Intelligence- Potential Tier 2
Strength- Potential Tier 2
Speed- Potential Tier 2
Durability- Potential Tier 2
Energy Projection- Potential None
Fighting Skills- Potential Tier 2
Gear-Inventory
• Red Hood Costume
• Combat Knife
• Dual Pistols [9mm Glocks]
• Smoke Grenade
• Pocket Explosives
Abilities
•Holder of the Hero-Villain System
•[Limited]-Enhanced Investigation.
•[Limited]-Skilled marksman and expert tactician
•[Limited]-Skilled martial artist and hand-to-hand combatant
•[Limited]-Understanding and Utilization of high-tech equipment and weapons
•[Limited]-Enhanced strength, speed, and durability due to exposure to the Lazarus Pit
•Inhuman Healing Factor, due to being the holder of the System
New York City, New York
Volume 1: Origins
Cole slung his backpack over one shoulder as the notification flared. Cole couldn't help but think of video games and literature-RPG books from his past life, and yes, Cole has thrown away his original life, or was it his first? The message made him shake his head.
System-Generated Mission: Jeremy York's avoidance of school has left you with a dilemma. But, choices are important, so make the best one for your future!
Before his untimely demise, he was warned that his choices were a detriment to him inheriting his fortune as the rightful heir to York Enterprise.
Forces are availed against you. Those that brought down the previous CEO won’t sit by and allow you back.
Choice-Hero: Attend school, against the wishes of the Carmichaels and improve your image and failing grades. Reward(s) Persona-related upgrades. One thousand dollars.
Choice-Neutral: Although Your attendance is required by law, and for the right of inheritance there is something suspicious about the demise of the York's, find a way to skip school unnoticed and still bring your grades up to good standing. Whoever said you can't be of both worlds? Reward(s): Unknown
Choice-Villain: Don't attend school, wallow in immorality and continue down the path preordained for Jeremy York. Reward(s): Villain alignment percentage increase. Wayne Industries Excalibur 9MM (50RD) Drum Magazines.
Cole scanned the mission details briefly, then nodded slowly; he was right; something must have gone wrong; the Yorks demise couldn't be as simple as he thought. Although Jeremy wasn't as inquisitive as he thought he would be, there were bound to be things he missed, especially with his new persona and the fact that the world's best detectives had trained him.
The man descended the rickety staircase from the attic, where his bedroom was, to the ground floor. The mission window was transparent and invisible to everyone besides him. With a small measure of will, he shoved the system screen away.
In a sense, alignments were akin to his charisma and how the world and its inhabitants perceived him. Just the idea of the concept made him realize that it was very powerful and that it had the potential to affect everyone in both a positive and a negative way.
Cole Stephens is apathetic, he doesn't know who was responsible for this, but he understands there is no need to be a hero or greedy to harm others to be considered a villain. He had plans, and he would accomplish them to the best of his abilities using all the advantages he had.
He did wonder what his old self would have done. Just maybe he wasn't a great guy. It can also be assumed he wasn't some priest or an officer of the law, and he shrugged his shoulders. When the decision comes, his gut will be the only vote that counts.
He shelved the thought. Everything has a cost. The only free lunches he'll get will be his constant breathing. At the moment, he needed money, and the shop function would unlock when he had got his hands on it..
He had some choices to make, but first he needed to understand his arrangement better.
The first floor of Carmichael's was loud with the chattering of a dozen or so kids, each and everyone troubled. His discerning eyes landed on the brooding teen inside the living room; Ricky Marco, kleptomaniac.
The girl speaking into his ear was beautiful, beautiful as a human-sized Venus flytrap could be. Her face was serene, and her honey words impactful. No doubt whatever was being whispered wasn't mutually satisfying. Like him, she was a newer tenant. Her name was lost to him, and he only had memories of hearing she was a firebug, and she is still under suspicion of burning down her last placement home family that wanted to adopt her.
He sniffed the air, catching the breeze from the open window as it traveled past her, she smelled of kerosene, and her pockets were filled with matches. To be precise, the brand was called Dirty Ash. An arsonist in the making he deduced.
A hand slammed on his shoulder as his mind was enraptured in an ideal investigation, no doubt his ability working unconsciously. He wondered if this was what the bat experienced?
"Twerp," said the fat man arriving out the kitchen, dirty white apron that told tales of weeks of going without washing. He rolled his shoulder, it was a small, almost unconscious action on his part but enough to cast the man's hand away. Their eyes met, and the man squinted as confusion briefly surfaced.
"Ballsy this morning," said Mama Carmichael's natural-born son. He was the youngest and the fastest out of the three, and he was almost a full head taller than Cole. "Ma' told me about your delay last night. I don't need to say to you again, try and run, and I'm breaking your fucking leg like the last time, comprende?”
I scanned his body and determined that a well-placed blow to the solar plexus would cause him to lean forward. My knee traveling moderately into his chin will snap his head backward before a sudden clap to both ears will render him unconscious...
"Are you dumb and deaf? I said, get the fuck out of here. No breakfast for you until the damn government checks clear; go beg on the streets." He thundered, startling the other children. He leaned closer, grabbing the collar of my one good t-shirt. He whispered menacingly. "Better have the dough. No more bull shit. You sale. You fucking sale. I don't care about who's turf either." He shoved him or tried to. He shuffled off, mumbling about bureaucracy and what he was not being paid to do.
I looked around at the children snickering at my situation. Klepto and Pyro eyes locked on my figure. Without the care, I exit the door, leaving the hustle and bustle of the group home behind.
The drugs were already gone. Jeremy had used it. That was why his healing factor was working so hard that he could physically feel it. An addict too. He sighed.
The group home was situated in the seedier parts of lower Manhattan, on the outskirts of Hell's Kitchen. The only nice things nearby were the Rockefeller building and the notable famous Central Park zoo. Jermey hasn't been near either. Though one could see the Stark Tower from the high school, also it seemed Jeremy attended Midtown high.
New York City is significant, and I mean massive. It consisted of 5 boroughs sitting where the Hudson River meets the Atlantic Ocean. It's equivalent to an ant colony, drones wandering to and fro.
Manhattan's core is a densely populated borough among the world's major commercial, financial and cultural centers. Its iconic sites include skyscrapers such as the Empire State Building and sprawling Central Park. Broadway the theater is staged in neon-lit Times Square.
The noise was another thing. It was loud and always louder at night. The city never sleeps. I chuckled loudly at that part.
I waited for the train to arrive, but my attention was drawn to the two darkly dressed Asian men.
Between the two was a teenage girl, seemingly no older than myself, she too looked of Asian descent, though her nose and slight musculature noted some European ancestry.
How they were half carrying, half dragging her across the pavement told me she was unwilling. Scanning around, I notice people chose to ignore what was before them. Normal?
The three figures vanished down an older seedier street, no doubt one without CCTV and me looking at my watch, 6:45 AM. The train was late, and I cast my eyes back toward the dark path.
Fuck it!
"Leave it, kid." a man's hand shot out from the crowd and grabbed my arm. I was startled. I didn't even sense him or have an opportunity to respond.
"Excuse me?" I said.
"I know your type, don't bother. Those guys aren't the carbon cut out of the local bangers," he observed me. "Like you." He said in admonishment
My Interest was peaked. I roamed over him. Holstered pistol, right-handed, snub nose left ankle. Ah. I see. Handcuffs. A cop. A shitty dirty one at that. He's not overly lethal. Possibly military or some else...
"No, mister officer. I'm only taking a walk to take a leak."
He tensed. My face was a mask, and nothing could be gleaned from it. Inwardly I snickered.
He released me. "Sure. I warned you. This isn't your group of hoodlums turf anymore. The real gangsters are in town." He wandered off, but he glanced back at me and shook his head in disgust.
I needed money. My clothes weren't the best, but I didn't even consider that I'd give off gangbanger vibes because of my appearance. I pushed my dreadlocked hair back and fashioned them into a ponytail. People regarded us but quickly looked away and never made eye contact. What has come over the city?
I waited until the officer got into his undercover vehicle, but I memorized his tag. I do hate dirty cops and especially ones working with The Hand.
I glanced back toward the buildings where the group had disappeared. Maybe there's some talking to be had. I decided my first in this world with a single step, undoubtedly, not my last.
Name: Cole Stephens
Known Name: Jeremy York
Alias- None
Alignment- Neutral
Persona(s)Jason Peter Todd- Red Hood 15%|100%
Intelligence- Potential Tier 2
Strength- Potential Tier 2
Speed- Potential Tier 2
Durability- Potential Tier 2
Energy Projection- Potential None
Fighting Skills- Potential Tier 2
Gear-Inventory
• Red Hood Costume
• Combat Knife
• Dual Pistols [9mm Glocks]
• Smoke Grenade
• Pocket Explosives
Abilities
•Holder of the Hero-Villain System
•[Limited]-Enhanced Investigation.
•[Limited]-Skilled marksman and expert tactician
•[Limited]-Skilled martial artist and hand-to-hand combatant
•[Limited]-Understanding and Utilization of high-tech equipment and weapons
•[Limited]-Enhanced strength, speed, and durability due to exposure to the Lazarus Pit
•Inhuman Healing Factor, due to being the holder of the System
