7: System here you come

In the weeks that followed my initiation into the world of underground fighting, I had managed to establish a stable presence within the fight club. What started as a single, victory had evolved into a routine of regular appearances, almost like clockwork. Twice every week, I would descend into the dimly lit abyss of the bar's basement to prove my mettle in combat.

During this time, I remained undefeated. The swift and efficient manner in which I dispatched my opponents became the stuff of legends within the club. While my initial victory had been a surprising revelation, my consistent success only served to cement my growing reputation. Fighters from various backgrounds tested their skills against me, seeking the glory of toppling the enigmatic figure known as "Red."

Some of my adversaries resorted to tactics beyond the confines of a fair fight. Knives, machetes, and other deadly weapons were brandished in futile attempts to subdue me. Yet, I emerged from each encounter unscathed, a testament to my combat proficiency and the martial arts disciplines I had honed over the years.

The club's patrons, a diverse and eclectic mix of individuals from every corner of society, began to recognize my name. My victories were celebrated with fervor , and spectators would often cheer for "Red" before I had even set foot in the ring. It was an atmosphere that had rapidly transformed from indifference to admiration, and I had carved out a niche for myself as an enigmatic force to be reckoned with.

In the realm of underground fighting, "Red" had become synonymous with victory, and the legend only grew with every fight I won. My mysterious persona, coupled with my unwavering commitment to perfection, had made me an unforgettable presence in the gritty world of illegal brawls.

Today was another one of those nights when I would make my way to the bar. I drove my car silently through the moonlit streets of the city, the world draped in a silvery glow. The full moon cast a spectral light, illuminating my path, as I tuned in to the soft drone of the radio, catching fragments of news about a certain Tony Stark and some weapons deal. It was all distant noise, a world away from my midnight journey.

I arrived at my familiar parking spot, two blocks from the club. There, I preferred to abandon the convenience of my car and take to the streets on foot. It was a choice driven by caution and a desire to remain unnoticed. The city, despite its relentless energy, felt subdued at this hour, and the quietude resonated with me.

But tonight was different. The chill in the air was more biting than usual, an unwelcome undercurrent that left me on edge.

My instincts snapped to attention as a subtle rustling to my right startled me. Reacting with the fluidity that only years of training could instill, I assumed a defensive stance, my fingers ready to draw my pocket knife from the utility belt I had meticulously crafted. But as my senses zeroed in on the source of the disturbance, I found myself face to face with a feline intruder. An annoyed purr was its response to my tense readiness.

Just as I loosened my stance and took my hand of my belt, a sharp, piercing sensation struck my neck, akin to the jab of a syringe. It happened so fast, and the impact was jarring. The instant this mysterious substance coursed through my veins, my body betrayed me. It felt like all the strength had been sapped from my limbs, leaving me unable to stand. My senses grew cloudy, and I teetered on the brink of unconsciousness.

As I lay sprawled on the cold concrete, my vision blurred, and darkness encroached upon my consciousness. Amid this fading awareness, I caught a glimpse of a peculiar assembly of figures. They were all adorned in red.

As my consciousness was on the precipice of oblivion, I heard a distant, almost surreal sound reverberating in the depths of my mind. It was a soft yet oddly mechanical chime, accompanied by a voice that resonated with an artificial clarity.

DING!

[SYSTEM INITIALIZING]

The words echoed in the recesses of my fading awareness, soon I descended into an abyss of unconsciousness.

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My eyes shot open, and I gasped for breath. My heartbeat thudded in my ears, a disorienting rhythm after a vivid, jarring dream. I drew slow, measured breaths, the foreign room surrounding me. The atmosphere held an almost meditative tranquility.

As my racing pulse gradually steadied, I took in my surroundings. Slender wooden screens, known as shoji, filtered gentle rays of sunlight. They cast a soft illumination on tatami mat flooring beneath me. The scent of aged wood and woven straw mats lingered in the air, an earthy aroma that was a world apart from the city I knew. As I gathered my senses, the realization began to dawn upon me. The unfamiliarity of the surroundings, the absence of any memory leading up to this moment lead me to only one conclusion- I had been kidnapped.

What flustered me, however, was that other than the overwhelming sensation of hunger, I found nothing else physically wrong with my body. No missing limbs, no pain, and I wasn't even restrained.

Just as I was lost in thought, I heard a familiar mechanical voice, a haunting echo from the past. I see a blue screen pop up in front my eyes.

[Host has awakened.]

[The system has been set up.]

[Character Interface]

Name: Bruce Wayne

Age: 19

X-Gene: Adapter

[Skills]

Hand-to-Hand Combat Mastery: A master in various martial arts disciplines, capable of handling hand-to-hand combat with exceptional skill, making him a formidable opponent in close-quarters combat.

Martial Arts Mastery: A master in various martial arts disciplines, capable of handling hand-to-hand combat with exceptional skill.

Peak Human Strength: Possesses physical strength at the peak of human capability, allowing for extraordinary displays of power.

Exceptional Agility: Demonstrates remarkable agility, enabling acrobatic maneuvers and swift reflexes.

Marksmanship: A sharpshooter with unparalleled accuracy in both firearms and projectile weapons.

Acrobatics: Possesses acrobatic skills that grant remarkable dexterity, balance, and the ability to perform complex maneuvers.

Tactical Genius: A strategic thinker and master tactician, able to analyze complex situations and formulate effective plans to achieve objectives.

[Active Missions]

None

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A system? "Can you talk?" I said internally.

[Yes] it replied mechanically

"Can you brief me about yourself"

[Certainly. This system is the boon that was planned for you.] The mechanical voice explained, [I solely exist to help you accomplish your goals.]

I nodded to myself and began to explore my status page. One particular thing that caught my attention was the X-Gene. The existence of an X-Gene was news to me. I wondered whether it had been dormant or if I had never been able to harness it properly, which was a likely possibility, as X-Gene was wide-ranging, spanning from trivial abilities to life-altering powers. It could be something like control mosquitoes and I would never know because I have never tried controlling mosquitoes. As I was about to ask the system about my gene, I heard a soft knock from across the room.

Dressed in traditional Japanese maid attire, a woman appeared before me. Our eyes met, and she executed a polite bow. "You have been summoned to the master's quarters. Please follow me," she said in a soft voice. Without waiting for my response, she began to walk away, leaving me little time to process the situation.

With a sense of urgency, I quickly rose from the futon bed and made my way to the door as I followed behind the maid. Whoever was my captor had chosen to not tie me up or imprison, so the person was confident in their ability to keep me imprisoned or they just thought of me as a spoilt rich brat. Regardless I had to find a way out perhaps the system would be of help. The fact that I wasn't killed when unconscious meant I my life wasn't in immediate harm I could always stall for sometime and plan an escape. As we made way through the labyrinthian mansion, we finally reached what looked like "Master's" room.

The maid slid the door open, revealing the room beyond, and then turned to me with a polite smile. She gestured gently towards the interior and said, "The master is waiting. Please, go in."

As I crossed the threshold, the door slid closed behind me. Upon entering the room, I found myself in a traditional Japanese setting, the decor reflecting the elegance of the culture. Soft, ambient lighting from paper lanterns cast a warm glow across the room, and the subtle scent of incense hung in the air.

As I took in the surroundings, my eyes were drawn to a man seated gracefully across a low, lacquered table. He sat in a traditional Japanese posture, with my red mask resting in his hand. This stranger exuded an aura of quiet authority, and I could sense that I had entered his domain.

The man before me was of Asian descent, his appearance marked by strong, chiseled features. His lean, muscular frame hinted at a lifetime of disciplined training. His complexion was flawless, as if untouched by the passing of time, and his hair, neatly tied back in a traditional Japanese style, added to his air of sophistication.

Dressed in a well-tailored, charcoal-gray kimono with elegant, intricate patterns, he exuded an air of timeless class. The fabric of his attire appeared to be of the highest quality, draping gracefully around his form.

The most notable aspect of his appearance, however, was his blindfold. A simple, yet symbolic piece of cloth, it covered his eyes.

As if sensing my presence in the room, the man set the mask aside and uttered in a low, composed voice, "Welcome, Wayne. Please, have a seat."

Internally, I couldn't ignore the growing realization that this man seemed strangely familiar, as if I had known him, not from this life, but from the fragmented memories of myself. My thoughts seemed to align with the fleeting recollections of a past that was slowly resurfacing. An asian man with long dark hair and a blindfold. Only one man checked all these boxes. This was "The Gorgon".

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