jackpot_kun
patreon
[A Gamer In Gotham]—❈—01:: In Which I Get Mugged
🕑 Added 2024-01-20 20:01:24 +0000 UTCSo, I started another story; a Gamer!fic set in Gotham... as anyone can no doubt deduce from the title.
Please, consider checking it out on QQ if you're interested. There's more info there.
—❈——❈——❈—
My name is Eugene Berger… and I’ve been isekai’d.
Location? An empty dumpster in a dark alley.
Time since isekai? Twenty seconds and counting.
Current activity? …Getting mugged.
Which can only mean I’m either in Gotham, or Brockton Bay.
I look up at the buildings looming over me; at their tippity tops, I see things that might just be gargoyles.
Gotham then.
I still feel the need to get confirmation though, so I ask the level. 6 [Junkie] pointing a knife at me; “Hey, is this Gotham?”
[Junkie] blinks at me in surprise and some confusion.
“Well?” I ask.
He opens his mouth to speak, but someone else answers me before he can, the voice coming from under a pile of cardboard in the corner that I hadn’t even noticed and likely would have ignored if I had.
“Yeah, ‘is Gotham. Ya lost?”
“Well, I was,” I say, “but then you helpfully informed me of my whereabouts so… thanks for that.”
“Ya welcome.”
“Shut the fuck up, Dave,” [Junkie] says at the mystery cardboard voice. “And you, gimme all your fucking money. Now!”
I sigh. “Fine.”
I stick my hands into the pockets of my jeans, then pull them—and the pockets—out. Empty.
“Yeah, I don’t have any money,” I say.
[Junkie] blinks, peering at me through the dirt caked hair hanging across face.
“The fuck you mean you ain’t got no money?” he asks, half rotten teeth bared in a snarl.
“He mean he sleeping in a fucking dumpster, Wallace,” mystery cardboard voice (because that sounds so much better than ‘Dave’) says. “How many people ya met who got money sleeping in dumpsters?”
“He’s got a point though,” I say. “See, this is why you shouldn’t do drugs, they make you stupid.”
“Not weed though,” mystery cardboard voice says. “Weed’s great. Doctors proved it and shit.”
“Yeah, buddy, I don’t think anyone who says sucking smoke into your lungs is okay is any kind of doctor.”
“You a doctor?” mystery cardboard voice asks.
“No.”
“Then shut the fuck up,” he says.
“You shut the fuck up, Dave,” [Junkie] (because I refuse to call him Wallace) shrieks. “And you, gimme all your fucking money.”
“I just told you I don’t have mo—you gotta quit it with the drugs, man,” I say and [Junkie] practically sees red.
He grabs my shirt, sticking his filthy, rusted knife in my face.
“Nigga, you wanna die?” he asks.
“Hey, you can’t call me that,” I say.
[Junkie] blinks. “The fuck you mean I can’t call you that? Nigga, I’m black.”
“Wallace, shut ya lying mouth, you tan ass motherfucker.”
“I’m one-quarter black, you piece of shit!” [Junkie] shrieks.
“One-quarter?” I ask. “And you think that gives you the right to use the N-word? Jesus, man.”
[Junkie] shrieks in unarticulated rage, and I realize that, yep, this one-quarter nigga really might just kill me at this point.
“Okay, okay,” I say. “You win. Jesus. You want money, right?”
[Junkie] pauses, looking victorious. “Where is it?”
“I don’t actually have any money, but,” I rush to add before [Junkie] can speak, “let me suck your dick.”
“What!?” two voices ask in unison.
“Let me suck your dick,” I repeat. “I’ll deep-throat that motherfucker. Lick the balls and everything. Hell, I’ll even hold your cum in my mouth, so I can stick my tongue out and show it to you before I swallow.”
[Junkie] jerks away from me like he suddenly realized I’m made of worms or something.
He holds his knife now in a defensive manner; like he’s trying to fight off my gayness or something.
“What?” I ask. “Don’t want these supple lips wrapped around your cock?”
I pucker my lips and make kissy faces at him.
“Shove your big, fat cock down my throat, Daddy.”
[Junkie] pukes up something green with a smell so foul.
“Stay the fuck away from me, you fucking fag,” he curses, then hurries away.
I watch him go.
Saved by the power of homophobia. You don’t see that everyday.
Good thing he turned out to be homophobic though, because if he’d actually taken me up on my offer I would have needed to bite off his dick, and that would have been unpleasant for the both of us.
Alert!
Quest [Survive the Mugging] Completed!
Rewards: $100. EXP 100
Alert!
You have levelled up!
You are now level 2!
Alert!
You have received a bonus for completing your first quest.
Bonus: all quest rewards doubled.
Well, that’s nice, I think and pull up my status screen.
Eugene Berger
Level 2 (100/200)
HP: 50 (regen: 5/min)
Money: $200
Stat Points: 05
STRENGTH: 05 (+)
DEXTERITY: 05 (+)
VITALITY: 05 (+)
CONSTITUTION: 05 (+)
CHARM: 05 (+)
SKILLS: [Gamer’s Body], [Observe], [Quest Generator], [PG mode], [Outfit Customization]
Seeing as I have an automatic and complete understanding of the workings of my power, I don’t waste time gawking over anything, instead, I put three points into VITALITY (5→8) and two into CONSTITUTION (5→7).
HP: 70 (regen: 8/min)
A junkie with a rusted knife just almost killed me; STRENGTH, DEXTERITY and CHARM can go sit in a corner for now.
With some effort, which makes sense considering my physical stats are at a robust 5, I pull myself out of the dumpster, making sure to avoid the nasty sludge [Junkie] puked up.
I take my first step in the opposite direction from [Junkie], and mystery cardboard voice says; “You know, if ya serious about that blowjob, I don’t mind—”
“Fuck off, Dave,” I say, and as I walk off into Gotham, I hear him say; “Meh, worth a shot.”
