Second Identity System

Two years later.

The street in front of the small electronics store was lit by a single lamppost that stood proudly where its neighbors were broken long ago.

A wiry young man was kneeling next to the store, picking its lock. A large, muscular guy was standing over his shoulder, continuously asking if this was going to take much longer.

While his gang mates were breaking into the store, Tristan stood at the corner of the store, looking out for trouble. His leg tapped on the ground, and he clenched his hands tight in the pockets of his dark jacket.

Tristan joined this gang after several months of wandering the streets on his own, iterating odd jobs with petty crime. However, this was the first time he was taking part in full-out breaking and entering.

The last member of the gang approached him. Evelyn, a beautiful young woman wearing black leather and fishnets.

"Nervous, Scarface?"

Tristan's lip twitched in annoyance.

"I told you not to call me that, Evelyn."

The woman chuckled, then smiled at Tristan with a seductive twinkle in her eyes. She leaned toward him, getting close enough that her chest was almost brushing his.

However, her flirtatious and friendly demeanor didn't fool Tristan. He knew that she disliked him since their first meeting, even if Mark and Ricky considered Tristan useful enough to keep in the gang.

"Oh, you know I mean nothing bad by this. Those are just facts, aren't they?"

Tristan's raised hand firmly pushed Evelyn back to a more appropriate distance. However, it was too late.

The buff guy and the leader of the gang, Mark, spotted the interaction between the two. In his eyes, it was Tristan who put his hand on Mark's girlfriend.

Tristan was trying to steal his girlfriend—again!

"Scarface, stop diddling around—keep your eyes peeled on the street! And Evelyn, baby, come here, we are almost in!"

Evelyn clicked her tongue in disappointment.

"Coming, dear!"

She strutted toward Mark, leaving Tristan to glare at her back. He wasn't the same naïve teenager who couldn't see disdain under the sweet words anymore.

However, he couldn't out Evelyn outright. Not when Mark and Ricky—the lockpicker—were lapping up her every word.

'Maybe it's the time for me to leave this gang,' Tristan thought. 'Being with them was better than on my own, but Evelyn has been especially insufferable lately.'

The sound of the opening door made Tristan turn toward the store's entrance. The next moment, a blaring alarm cut the air.

"Shit!" Mark shouted. "Everybody, take the bags and grab what you can! We have… five minutes!"

The duffel bags were lying in a pile at his feet, and Mark immediately picked two to throw one at Evelyn. Ricky and Tristan also rushed to get theirs.

Then they all charged into the store.

Ricky and Mark went right to the cash register, which Ricky began trying to break into. In the meantime, Evelyn and Tristan spread around the store, navigating by the dim light from the outside.

Tristan went to the display shelf with the latest model smartphones. His heart was beating somewhere in his throat, but his hands were still steady.

He grabbed a trusty wrench he was carrying in his pocket and smashed it over the glass.

Once, twice, thrice—and the display shelf broke into pieces.

Tristan moved them aside with his sleeves and began throwing all the phones into the duffel bag, when he heard a change in the piercing alarm sound.

A new note added into it.

"Cops!" he shouted in a raspy voice. "Time to get out!"

"To our car!" Mark shouted back, already running. "Go, go, go!"

Everybody went to the exit, hitting each other with their bags in a hurry.

Tristan was almost out of the doors when Mark charged past him, at the same time shoving him to the side with his shoulder.

The push made Tristan lose balance and fall on the glass-covered floor.

'Shit!'

By the time he scrambled to his feet, the rest of his gang was already outside. Hurrying with all his strength, Tristan followed them toward Mark's car, which was parked nearby.

Mark and Evelyn already sat at the front, and Ricky on the back. When Tristan ran up to the car, Mark looked up at him and sneered.

"Bye, Scarface. If I see your ugly mug again, I will just beat you up for putting your dirty paws on my girl!"

Tristan gaped at him.

He knew that Evelyn was trying to get at him, but he thought that he made it clear enough for Mark that he wasn't interested in his girlfriend. What lies did she tell him about Tristan?

"What?!"

Evelyn looked up at him, scowling.

"You heard it!"

Then Mark pressed the gas pedal, and with a screech of tires, the car sped off, away from the crime scene.

Instead of it, a police car was approaching from the other side of the street.

Tristan clenched his fists.

'I knew it… It ended badly even faster than I expected! Damned Evelyn… Holding a grudge just because I didn't show the desire to lick her leather shoes and kiss her ass!'

If he was faster to process things, he could've at least thrown a wrench in Mark's face before the car drew off!

A blinding light of the police car's headlights hit Tristan in the face. He squinted at it, seeing silhouettes of the policemen in the front seats.

With a sinking feeling in his gut, Tristan knew they saw him and will easily recognize him later. Maybe even his family will be notified.

Although his parents didn't care. If they did, they would've at least started a search for Tristan two years ago.

"Raise your hands in the air and freeze!" a cop shouted.

Dropping his duffel bag, Tristan turned and ran, ignoring the shouts behind him. He turned into a narrow alleyway around, hoping that the cops won't follow him deep into this neighborhood.

However, he soon heard two pairs of heavy footsteps behind him. Worse, they were steadily growing closer and closer.

'Fuck, fuck, fuck! I will get into prison for this… Definitely!'

[Ding!]

[Congratulations! You won the Heavenly Lottery and got a special prise—'Second Identity System'!]

The sudden ringing in his ears and a floating window that popped in front of him made Tristan stumble and fall onto the asphalt. Cursing and ignoring the pain in his palms and knees, Tristan jumped up and continued running.

However, the strange windows kept appearing in front of him, while a machine-like voice read the text from them aloud.

[Creating identities based on the user's aptitudes… done! Calculating identity points based on preexisting skills… done! Creating a second set of documents… done!]

[Identity 1: Criminal. Identity 2: Pop-star.]

[User, for improving skills and status of one identity, you will get 10x reward points for the second identity. These points could be spent on improving skills and buying talents.]

[Your first free talent is 'Clark Kent Effect'. Change a single detail of looks around your face to set it up and activate it.]

Tristan barely listened for these hallucinations as he ran until another turn led him to a dead end. That alleyway ended with only a wall and a dumpster.

He turned around frantically, but the cops were getting too close. If he ran out now, he could even get shot!

'System… Fuck, is that like in one of Ricky's shitty books? It's supposed to help me?'

It all felt like a dream, but Tristan was desperate enough to follow even some shady voice from inside his own head.

With shaking hands, he took off a small silver earring from his left ear—one of the last things left from his old life.

[Clark Kent Effect is set up successfully. From now on, putting left earring on and off will change your identities. Current active identity is Pop-star.]

The system didn't stop talking yet, and Tristan already was turning his jacket inside out and huddling next to a dumpster like just another hobo.

Not a second after he lowered to the ground, the cops ran into the alleyway, flashing him with the torchlights in their hands. Like Tristan feared, their guns were also out.

"Raise your arms in the air! Show your face!"

"I d-didn't do anything, sirs," Tristan pleaded, taking off his hood and raising his arms.

The officers lowered their torchlights and Tristan saw them studying his face.

At that moment, he was sure that he was done for.

But to his surprise, a moment later, the cops' faces became disappointed.

"That's not him. They look nothing alike, and our guy's face was recognizable as hell!"

"Hell… Hey, hobo, have you seen a guy here? Dark jacket, face a mother would hate?"

Tristan wordlessly shook his head, huddling into the shadow of the dumpster.

"Maybe he got inside one of the apartment buildings… Damn, and his buddies already left. The boss is gonna chew us out for this…"

Grumbling under their noses, the cops left the alleyway.

Tristan waited twenty more minutes, ignoring the dumpster stench with a force of a long habit.

Then he stood up and walked out, feeling dazed.

'Was this real? I have a system now?'

This outweighed even his gang mates abandoning him.

In this state, Tristan walked to a nearby 24h diner and ordered himself fries and cola. At this time of night, he was the sole visitor. The only other person was a cashier, who, after bringing Tristan his food, returned to openly scrolling through his smartphone.

Alone in his corner, Tristan took in a deep breath.

'System… Uh… Do you have a FAQ or something? Help? How do I use you?'